Caj nodded. “Tommaso phoned me once and then came to see me, asking for a sit-down. I heard him out. We have the East Side corner buildings for rent or lease. They’re used mainly for large commercial ventures such as garages, or the larger butcher operations for beef or pork where they are cut up, packaged and frozen before being shipped out. The East Side is mainly our legit operation. We have some smaller businesses in there as well, but for the most part the warehouses are quite large and anyone who leases there needs the space. We vet very closely. Those businesses are all ours, of course—at least, we own the majority of stock in them.”
“What did Tommaso want on the East Side?”
“The buildings at first. He offered a large amount for them. When I said absolutely not, he wanted to meet in person. I took the meeting because I was interested in what he had to say. There’s one corner warehouse three stories high, extremely large, with a deep basement that runs nearly the length of the entire building. He wanted to convince me that could be turned into a lucrative strip club with another, even more lucrative club below the first one, a more exclusive club catering to kinky tastes for men and women willing to pay huge fees to play.”
Valentino drew in a deep breath. He had a lot to talk to Parisi about down in that interrogation room. He hoped Stefano had given him the tools he would need. If not, he had his hands. It would take longer, but he had broken men with his fists before. He needed to find out what each of the other capos behind in their payments had that Parisi wanted before he confronted the monster to see what deal he had made with the devil.
CHAPTER NINE
Emmanuelle stood just inside the alcove of the door where the Ferraro family entered and exited the hotel in private. Leaning against the wall, she pressed a hand to her churning stomach. She’d never felt so violently ill in her life. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen anyone beaten or tortured before. Her brothers were guilty of such behavior when they were extracting information from someone. Emilio and Enzo were as well. It was just that … this was Valentino. Her Valentino.
She had never seen him look so hard. She’d known he could be, but not like that. So cold and distant. So completely emotionally turned off. He’d never raised his voice. He hadn’t raged. He’d smashed a man to pieces with a hammer, one part at a time, asking him questions in that same low, very calm voice. So soft. Almost gentle.
She shuddered. She knew that voice. So patient, as if there were all the time in the world. Ask a question. Listen to the sound of sobbing. Of pleading. Val hadn’t repeated himself. He’d waited the exact time he’d said he would wait and then swung that heavy hammer and broke another kneecap. Or an elbow. Or a hand. He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t flinched. He’d simply done as he’d said he would, following through as if Parisi were a child and his lies wouldn’t be tolerated. Just tell the truth.
The screams had been inhuman. Then the words had come tumbling out. Children as young as three, as five, taken from their parents. So much more lucrative to sell. Easier to handle. To keep. Miceli had started with women, but had gone to snatching young teens, preferably very young. Miceli knew someone who’d suggested young children were worth so much more. Did Parisi know anyone willing to pay very high prices for young girls and boys? He wasn’t a pedophile. He liked women, but he knew several men who liked them very young.
The more body parts Val had smashed, the more Parisi had spouted information. He’d given up names of others in territories bringing teens to sell. It had taken longer to get the names of the ones bringing in the children. He hadn’t known where Miceli and his sons held them. Angelo was in charge of the children. Tommaso was in charge of the teens. Miceli’s underboss, Dino Lombarto, oversaw the entire operation, along with Marge, particularly the women. There was someone in one of the other famiglias overseeing the entire network, but Parisi had no idea who.
Emmanuelle knew the information was needed. She knew it was absolutely important to rescue the children, the teens and the women, and to put a stop to the network. It didn’t matter that closing one didn’t stop others from springing up. It meant saving those already out there. It meant stopping the insanity from continuing.
It was just that … this was Valentino. He was utterly cold. Utterly inhumane. So capable of turning off all emotion. She pulled out her phone and texted Henry, keeper of their large fleet of cars. She was tired and didn’t want to ride shadows. She wanted—no, needed—to feel human.