“Is this totally necessary?” I asked, looking at the intruder bound together between his hands and feet, hogtied on the lavish Venetian couch before us.

  “He did try to kill us,” Jack said, “as if you needed a reminder on that.”

  The man sent us daggers with his eyes, and growled like a feral dog through the cloth tied in his mouth.

  “Sure you want to be here for this?” Jack looked at me, finally dressed in a black clad henley, with his sleeves rolled up, and tight fitting grey jeans. A step down from just the boxer briefs earlier, if you ask me.

  “Yes,” I nodded resolutely, but uncertainly.

  Jack shrugged and approached the intruder, yanking the cloth out of the man's mouth and baring his fangs.

  “I'm not telling you anything, American swine!” the man howled, casting a wad of spit at the floor.

  “And we're off to a good start,” Jack groaned.

  “Who do you work for?” I cut in, arms crossed over a worn jean jacket that was left by a former lover of the crime kingpin here. The bedazzled jeans weren't the best either, but they'd do in a pinch...circa 2003.

  “I'll tell you...” the man licked his lips, “for a price, whore!”

  WHAM! Jack whacked the man across the face with a firm backhand. “Language.”

  The man's face contorted, as his tongue moved frantically inside his mouth, before fishing out a tooth, which he spat to the ground. “I don't owe you anything.”

  “Hate to break it to you, buddy,” Jack sat down across the man on a wobbly ottoman, “but the tooth fairy ain't coming for that one.”

  “What happens when our tooth fairy comes for you...eh?” The man shone a toothy grin...or rather toothless.

  I stepped back, feeling anxious, clutching my chest.

  “You think Don Armando takes such transgressions lightly?”

  “So that's who you work for?” Jack said, his eyes darting to me as well.

  “It doesn't matter...we're all dead anyway.”

  “Well then,” I spoke up, “If we're all dead anyway...why does this...Don Armando want us?”

  “Just business. Someone wanted you...wanted the girl.” The man rolled his head back and looked up at the ornamented ceiling. “But now...now his business...his reputation...has been damaged too.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Where is the Don now?” Jack asked.

  The man laughed, a hearty laugh at that. “He's everywhere.” The man sighed. “You two musta' really pissed off the wrong people. And now...you pissed off the worst of them all.”

  “Clearly,” I said, popping my hands on my hips, “you haven't met my mother.”

  Jack glared at me, indicating that now was not the time.

  “I let you live,” Jack affirmed, “you tell us where we can find him...hell, you might have a chance of making it outta this country alive then.”

  “You don't understand. It don't matter who you are...or who you know. The Don always wins.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Jack said, “he just hasn't met me yet.”

  The man burst into laughter. “I misjudged you, American. You're a funny one. A standup comedian taking on the Don.”

  “Enough of this 'Godfather: Part 2' stuff,” I butt in, “Where do we find him?”

  “This one too,” he chuckled, coughing on his own saliva. “He'll find you.”

  Jack languished uneasily in his seat. “I'm growing tired of this.” He rose and stomped to a small toolbox that he'd brought up from a supply room a short time ago. Wrenching open the rusted iron lid and yanking out a worn set of pliers, Jack scowled menacingly before returning to his seat. “We can even out that smile.”

  The man's brow raised as his joking demeanor vanished.

  “You've already talked enough,” Jack glared. “Just a few more words, and if they're not what I want to hear, I'm going to make things difficult.”

  “I told you before,” the man muttered, “it doesn't matter.” Jack breathed a heavy sigh.

  “Ari, you might want to leave the room.”

  “Uh,” I swallowed, shrinking away. “Are...you sure?”

  He nodded slowly, and gravely.

  I looked back at the man, his jaw sinking in disbelief.

  “You made this choice,” Jack said, grabbing the man by his matted hair and pulling him forward, as he lifted the pliers, chomping them together feverishly.

  “Wait...wait...wait!” The man yipped. “The Pequod, that's his yacht. He's usually sailing along the Almafi Coast...I swear!”

  “See," Jack plunked down the pliers on a side table, "that wasn't so hard, now was it?”

  I sighed in relief on my own. Wait...was that a Moby Dick reference? That screams narcissism to me. Not the best trait in a crazy mafia leader.

  Sweat droplets catapulted off the man's face, as he shook his head. “They're definitely gonna kill me now.”

  “Who said we weren't?” Jack grinned, brandishing his knife.

  “You said you'd let me live!” The man cried, struggling for life.

  “I did...” Jack said, bending over into the man, severing the bindings at his hands and feet. “And I'm a man of my word.”

  The man sighed, rubbing his wrists. He wasn't the only one, as I damn near fainted with all this excitement.

  “Even though you did try to kill us,” Jack said, stepping back. “Don't do it again.”

  “I won't,” the man shook his head, frazzled. “I promise.” He stood at attention. “Stolaro,” he added, motioning to himself.

  Jack looked at me, almost waitingly, unsure of what I wanted to do, though knowing what was best, for sure.

  “I'm Ari,” I said. “That's Jack.”

  “Well,” Stolaro said, “I hope we meet again some day...under better circumstances.”

  “Yes,” Jack said dryly, watching at Stolaro hobbled towards the door. “Less...murderous...circumstances.”

  “That was nice,” I said reflexively, almost forgetting that he TRIED TO KILL US!

  “We didn't even get a thank you.”

  “Yeah...,” I said. “How rude.”

  “How are your sea legs?” Jack quipped.

  “Not great...I have regular legs.”

  “Good enough,” Jack affirmed, that winning charm of his always catching me. He'd done it again.

  “You better be careful,” I laughed, “I might fall for you.” I snapped my mouth shut and turned away from him, very embarrassed by my words...and their potential truth.

  Jack held silent. I could feel his warm gaze cutting through me, though I couldn't bear to see his face at that moment. Still, I wondered what he thought.

  “Well...we got a mission to take care of first," Jack started up. "I hope you're well rested, as we have a date...in Rome.”