"One last chance," Robert said, pointing at the churning dark water before them. "You talkin' or what?"
Chance smiled icily. "I'll talk the next time I see you, and that'll be sooner than you think."
"Stupid mook," Robert muttered. Then he nodded to Paul, who grinned as he placed his gun to the side of Chance's temple.
"Fuck you," Paul said, and pulled the trigger.
The resulting explosion made Chance unaware of the exact moment when they shoved him in the water. He came to with his feet—still in that bucket, of course—on the river's bottom with his head hurting just as much as he knew it would.
Oh yes. He was going to eat every last one of them and use their veins as dental floss!
But first things first…
Chance kicked free out of the bucket and ripped the lock off his chains with one hard tug. Then, after a few minutes of unwinding and shaking the last of the cement globs from his feet, he began to ascend toward the surface.
If he had his choice, he'd swim after Robert's boat and drink them all until his stomach bulged, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Someone else had Frazier Spaga. Could Robert have guessed correctly? Was it the Salucci brothers, and they hadn't bragged about it because they were more disciplined than Robert realized?
There was only one way to find out.
Robert's boat was moving at a good clip. None of the men were on the aft side anymore, thus they missed seeing Chance's head pop out from the waves as he began to swim back toward the city.
Chapter 7
Isabella looked up as the door to her restaurant banged open. Her heart sank when she saw it wasn't Chance. She'd stayed up all night, but there had been no word from him. Her stomach seemed formed into a perpetual knot of anxiety, and the look on Robert, Paul, and Ritchie's faces as they strode inside only made it worse. It was just a few minutes after two. Her place didn't open until five. Whatever they were here for, it wasn't dinner.
"Frank, Steven, Ed, get outta here," Robert ordered.
Her three chefs gave her an apologetic look as they exited out the back. Isa straightened her shoulders, trying to calm her sudden onslaught of fear. Where was Chance? God, had something happened to him? Had he gotten caught trying to get Frazier away? What if they'd both been hurt—or worse?
"What's going on?" she asked, glad her calm voice belied the lurch in her stomach.
Robert smiled as he came across the room. Ritchie and Paul took up flanking positions on either side of the restaurant's entrance. Robert gave her a kiss on the cheek, and it was all Isa could do not to wipe it away with her butter-smeared hands.
"Just wanted to see my wife-to-be, is all. Nothin' wrong with that, is there? You workin' hard, baby? Not for long. Once we're married, you're quitting this job, but don't worry. Paul's taking over runnin' the place, so you won't have to slave here anymore, but your family's restaurant will still stay in business."
Anger blossomed in her. Oh, she could just imagine how Paul would take over the running of this place. More laundering would get done here than across the street at the dry cleaners. If Isa would have had a gun at that moment, she'd have shot Robert where he stood.
"This is my restaurant, and I'll work here as long as I want to."
Robert slapped her. It wasn't a hard blow, but enough to make Isa's cheek sting.
"You listen to me," he said, voice low and resonating as he seized her shoulders and pulled her near. "I've been real patient with you, Isa. A true gentleman, because a man needs to be considerate of the future mother of his children. I let you work here when you should be with my sister planning our wedding. I let you tell me we're not having sex until we're married. I let your miserable brother live when by all rights, I shoulda put a bullet in his head when I caught him snooping around my house. I let all those things happen, but I will not let you disrespect me in public. You got spirit, kid. I like that, but there's a time and a place. Don't make me remind you again."
Isa touched her cheek, almost abandoning her promise to Frazier right then, because she would not, could not pretend to be this man's fiancée—his property—a single moment longer. She even opened her mouth to say the words, but then a voice stopped her.
"Take your hands off her."
Relief flooded through Isa. It was Chance! He wasn't hurt, thank God, and… why did Paul just drop his gun?
"You're dead," Paul breathed. His face was stark white, and his hand shook as he made the sign of the cross. "I shot you in the head and threw your weighted-down body in the river!"
Isa's eyes bulged at that.
"I am dead," Chance agreed calmly behind her. "And yet I'm still standing here. Makes you wonder how, doesn't it?"