Mario, known as “Meat” inside the family, simply grunted in return.
“And of course you know Tank,” Carlo said with a sugary smile, gesturing to the man on his right. Logan studied the six-foot-three, brown-haired bodybuilder Anthony Tanketti, whose eyes narrowed upon meeting his gaze.
Both remembered the incident three years ago. Angelo had ordered Logan to “take care of” Tank after he’d unknowingly attracted the FBI’s attention by falling in love with an undercover agent. Angelo had luckily discovered her true identity, and he’d commanded Carlo to kill the federal agent and Logan to rough up Tank. The feds had been on the Barberi family like sauce on spaghetti ever since, hoping to avenge the murder of their agent yet unable to prove the family had anything to do with her death.
Eyeing Tank’s transformation from lean to large, Logan surmised he’d decided to familiarize himself with the inside of a gym following such a humiliating beating. Tank crossed his arms in front of his substantial chest, smirking at Logan.
“Where’s Angelo?” Logan asked.
“He sent me instead,” Carlo replied, recalling their heated argument an hour ago. Carlo was incensed that Angelo overlooked Logan’s absence in the latest drug deal, and he’d become even more furious when he discovered his father was planning to loan some cash to his archrival. He’d used all his charm to persuade his father to let him take his place.
Maintaining his saccharine smile, Carlo added, “Angelo’s busy. You know, making money for the family? A concept that seems to be lost on you, cugino.”
Logan cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I couldn’t make it last night. I had someone I needed to see.”
Carefully studying his cousin’s bruised face, Carlo scoffed. “Apparently that someone kicked your ass.”
Logan wondered if he’d said too much. “So, is Angelo showing up or not?”
“Not,” Carlo said.
Trying to appear nonchalant, Logan said, “Well, I guess I’ll leave then.” His subtle step backward caused the human guard dogs to tense behind Carlo.
“Not so fast, cuz,” Carlo warned, taking a step toward Logan with his two sentries by his side. “We got some things to discuss first.”
Despite the pleasant expression on his cousin’s face, Logan sensed the threat immediately, and his mind raced with options. Should he run? No. He quickly dismissed that act of embarrassing cowardice. Should he fight? He didn’t like the odds. Three men at once was a losing bet. The only choice was to try to placate Carlo until he could get the hell out of here and perhaps start a new life—one far away from Chicago.
“What do you want to discuss?” Logan asked evenly, sticking his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket.
His apparent cooperation seemed to calm Carlo, whose shoulders relaxed slightly. “We got lots to discuss,” he began, ticking off each topic on the fingers of his left hand. “Where your brother is, for one. It’s about time the fucking coward joins the family. Why the hell the cops are after you, for another. Then there’s the matter of two hundred thousand dollars you owe us.” He smiled smugly. “But we’ll start with a discussion about job absenteeism. You took an unauthorized vacation day, leaving Tank over here high and dry if the police had caught wind of the transaction and shown up last night. The boss ain’t happy at all about you just deciding not to follow orders.”
“I’m sorry,” Logan replied in a conciliatory tone. “It won’t happen again.”
Carlo turned to Tank and mocked, “Aw, he’s sorry.” They shared a smirk before Carlo returned his attention to his cousin. “Where were you, Lo?”
Remembering the scene in his brother’s apartment, he winced. “I had some business to take care of.” Some lives to ruin.
“What kind of business?” Carlo edged imperceptibly closer to Logan.
“None of yours,” Logan assured him.
Tilting his head to the side, Carlo swept a questioning look up and down Logan’s tense body. His cousin behaved so protectively when it came to only one person.
“Were you with Grant?”
“No,” Logan responded a little too quickly, a trickle of sweat trailing down his spine. “Why would you think that?”
Carlo licked his lips and stepped in even closer. He had his answer. “Where is he?”
Logan felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. “I have no idea. This isn’t about Grant. This is between you and me—”
Carlo must have given some sort of signal because suddenly Tank and Mario lunged for him. Surprised, Logan recoiled to get off a hard punch and a swift kick, but before he knew it, he had both arms pinned behind his back, held in place by the inordinately strong men at his side. Logan managed to kick the side of Tank’s knee, making the big man groan and stumble, but not lose grip of his prey.
“Get him on his knees,” Carlo ordered.
“Get your goons the fuck off of me,” Logan snarled as they wrestled him to the floor. “Angelo is not going to like this.”
Carlo laughed derisively, yanking Logan’s chin and forcing him to look up into his black eyes. Though the motion was harsh, it reminded Logan of Sophie cupping his chin once, lovingly caressing his face as he cried in her office. However, there was nothing comforting about Carlo’s unyielding grip, his fierce gaze, or his livid words.
“You think my father would choose you over me? Think again, cuz.” His grasp tightened and his fingers dug into the bruises lining Logan’s jaw. “Where is Grant, you piece of shit? If you’re not going to do your job, I’ll find somebody who will!”
Logan gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, refusing to look at his cousin, which infuriated him.
Carlo cocked his right arm and sent his fist careening into Logan’s gut. “Look at me!” he screamed, clutching Logan’s chin once again.
Defiant blue eyes stared back at him, and Carlo desperately wanted to wipe the insolent smirk off his cousin’s face. “You and your brother—hell, your father too—the lot of you, you’ve never helped this family once. You only pull us down.”
“Speak for yourself, Carlo,” Logan retorted in his deep baritone. “Should I remind you how badly you fucked up Blackfoot?”
“You son of a bitch,” Carlo sneered, whaling another punch across Logan’s face. A trickle of blood oozed from Logan’s nose, dripping onto his white T-shirt.
“Carlo,” Mario cautioned. “Stare attento. He’s Enzo’s son, for chrissake!”
“Silenzio!” Carlo hissed. “What the hell can Enzo do, locked up in Gurnee?”
“You’re right to be concerned,” Logan told Mario. “Angelo’s going to discipline you both when he finds out you held me down.”
Tank twisted his arm tighter, and Logan grimaced in pain. “Shut the fuck up, Barberi,” Tank commanded.