Chapter 3 - The Wilmington Debt
The basement of the warehouse near the Schuylkill River was cold, damp, and smelled of rusted iron and river mud. Jimmy "The Hook" Lucero sat on a plastic crate, his face swollen, his greasy grey hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Two of Dominic’s personal enforcers, Angelo and Silvio, stood behind him like granite pillars, their arms crossed over their dark suits.
Dominic sat five feet away on a wooden chair, a lit cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up toward the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
"I didn't know she was yours, Dominic! I swear to Christ, I didn't know!" Jimmy whimpered, his voice cracking as he looked at the blood dripping from his lip onto his tracksuit. "Marcus came to my game in Wilmington. He lost twelve grand in one night, and he already owed eight from the summer. He told me his ex-wife was hiding out in South Philly with thirty grand in cash. He said she was an easy mark."
Dominic took a long drag from his cigarette, then dropped the butt onto the concrete floor, crushing it slowly with the heel of his Italian leather boot.
"Clara Rossi doesn't have thirty grand, Jimmy," Dominic said softly. "She works for me. She takes care of my dying father. Which means she is under the protection of the Bruno family. Do you know what happens to people who try to extort my staff?"
"I’ll wipe the debt!" Jimmy screamed, his hands shaking as he held them up in a pleading gesture. "The twenty grand—it’s gone! Marcus doesn't owe me a dime! Clara doesn't owe me a dime! Just let me go back to Delaware, Dom. I won't ever cross the state line again."
Dominic stood up, buttoning his coat with a slow, chilling precision. "The debt isn't wiped, Jimmy. Marcus still owes you twenty thousand dollars. And you’re going to make sure he pays every single cent of it."
Jimmy blinked through his black eye. "What?"
"If Marcus has to work three jobs, if he has to sell his blood, if he has to dig ditches until his fingers bleed—you collect that money from him," Dominic said, leaning down until his shadow completely enveloped the older criminal. "But if Marcus ever sets foot in Pennsylvania again, if he ever contacts Clara or the boy, I’m going to consider it a breach of our agreement. And I’ll hold you personally responsible for his behavior. Do you understand the terms, Jimmy?"
"Yes, Dom! Yes, I understand!" Jimmy choked out, nodding frantically.
"Good," Dominic said, turning his back on him. "Angelo, give him fifty dollars for a cab back to Wilmington. He looks like he needs a ride."
Dominic walked out of the warehouse into the crisp night air, the city lights reflecting off the river like scattered diamonds. He got into the back seat of his dark sedan, his driver immediately pulling away from the curb.
"Back to the social club, boss?" the driver asked.
May you like
Dominic looked out the window, his mind drifting back to the small kitchen at number 44—to the sound of Clara’s soft voice and the way Leo’s tongue poked out when he was coloring.
"No," Dominic said. "Take me to my father’s house."
