Darling James

Chapter 3-2

The telephone rang, and I picked it up. Malossini had been getting some strange calls lately, and they were putting him on edge, making him even more volatile than usual. Not that I could blame him in this instance. That voice…

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Is this the home of Callisto Malossini?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he there?”

“Yeah. Whaddaya want?” I gave my best impression of someone attempting to sound tough and not quite succeeding.

“My business is with Mr Malossini.”

“You gotta give me something better than that.”

The man’s impatient sigh came over the phone. “I’m George Underwood.”

“That name supposed to mean anything to me?”

“No, but it should to Mr Malossini. My company underwrites the insurance for his House of Oddities.”

“Oh, bugger.” It had burned down on Boxing Day, and to say Malossini had been unhappy was putting it mildly.

“Precisely. I suggest you get him on the line immediately.”

“He’s…uh…busy.”

“In the toilet, do you mean?”

I choked. “No. Hold on a minute.” I put the phone down, crossed the small flat to Malossini’s bedroom, and knocked on the door. No one was likely to hear me with the racket going on in there, though. I opened the door, let myself in, and got a gander of what was happening—something I wasn’t likely to ever get out of my mind.

Malossini was driving into the girl beneath him with mindless lust, grunting, sweating, and swearing at his approaching climax.

The girl might have been young, but she’d been on the streets long enough to know what a man like Malossini wanted. She ran her palms over his back and down to the crevice that separated his skinny, hairy backside.

“Don’t put your finger in my arse, you w***e!” He reared back and smacked her in the face.

It looked like she got it wrong. She whimpered but knew better than to protest.

“Boss.” I cleared my throat.

Malossini paused for a second, then resumed thrusting into her.

“Boss?”

He growled, but ignored me.

“Boss!”

“f**k! You don’t want to live no more, Gino?” He rolled over, taking the sheet with him but leaving a corner so the girl could conceal her nudity.

“Sorry, Boss. You got a phone call.”

He froze and regarded me with a wary gaze. “Who?” He was nervous, and he had every right to be. I’d been listening on the extension the last time he’d got a phone call. A voice, rusty as if it hadn’t been used in some time, had growled, “I’m not drugged any more, Malossini, and I suggest you watch your back. I took care of Twitchell and Simmons. I’ll be coming after you.”

“Uh…it ain’t him.”

He spat out another curse, even viler than the one that had preceded it, and I backed up, giving the impression he scared me.

He grunted in satisfaction and shoved the woman out of bed. She landed on her arse and yelped. Her legs were splayed apart and would have given me an eyeful, if I’d cared to look.

Was that what Malossini wanted—the opportunity to get rid of me? He’s used a similar scenario on the poor sap who’d left Malossini’s employ, clutching the place where his balls had been.

“f*****g b***h w***e,” he snarled. “Get the f**k out of here.”

She threw a scared look his way, then scurried into the adjoining bathroom. Her thin, almost boyish body was covered with bruises, and I wished I could help her, but it would blow my cover: such an idea would never have occurred to Gino.

Abruptly, Malossini realised he was naked. “Goddammit, gimme a minute to put some goddamned clothes on!”

“Sorry, Boss.” I remained where I was and closed my eyes. Yeah, Gino really wasn’t too bright.

And maybe I wasn’t either, to take my eyes off a man like Malossini for even a second. I could sense his approach, feel ghost fingers trace the line of my c**k under my jeans.

I let my breathing hitch. Until this point, all Malossini had wanted to do was yell at me and throw the occasional punch. Now, though…

I stood there and let him fondle me, trying to keep from vomiting. I’d do whatever I had to, and with some of his men, I wouldn’t have minded too much. But him?

And then he punched me in the jaw. My legs flew out from under me, and I landed on my arse. “f*****g poof.”

I opened my eyes and cradled my jaw. I’d have a knot there before lunchtime.

“Where’s the f*****g phone?” He grabbed up a pair of trousers and pulled them on, his circumcised c**k flapping against his belly. His c**k wasn’t large, even when aroused, and right now it was about the length of my thumb. Size didn’t really matter: a man didn’t need a stallion c**k to please his partner. But Malossini…he’d take more pleasure in hurting his partner than in f*****g her.

It wouldn’t be healthy if he saw me looking at him, so I kept my gaze fixed on a spot on the floor between my knees.

“It’s in the lounge, Boss.”

He stalked out of the bedroom, trying to give the impression he was ignoring me, but he wasn’t. He wanted me; he hated me for making him aware of that; and he hated himself for wanting me.

I got to my feet and followed him into the lounge, probing my jaw with careful fingers.

He picked up the phone and barked into it, “Yeah? …Yeah, this is him-he—Listen, you.” It was obvious his patience was gone with the wind, not that he ever had a good deal of it to begin with. “I give you two seconds to explain why you call me so early, and then I f*****g hang up on—Ah. Mr. Underwood. So sorry, I didn’t recognise your name.” He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth out the gutter accent that tended to become noticeable the more irritated he became. “I’m not at my best this hour of the morning.”

I was startled at how conciliatory he sounded. That wasn’t something he normally aimed for.

While I couldn’t make out the conversation, I could hear the sibilance over the line. Abruptly, Malossini yanked the phone cord free of the wall and flung it across the room. It shattered on contact, and for a moment that pleased him.

Gino would duck at the explosive sound, so I ducked. Then I tried to pretend I hadn’t. “Uh…trouble, Boss?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re stupid. Of course there’s trouble. That goddamned insurance adjuster said they’re holding up the claim on the House of Oddities.”

Hmm. Malossini had been counting on that money to pay off Burdon. A shipment of cocaine had gone missing when the House of Oddities went up in flames, and Burdon had finally lost patience, especially since Malossini hadn’t paid for the two previous deliveries.

“How come? I thought you had those poofters in your pocket.” It was a fine line I walked at times.

“That arsehole Cooper didn’t make sure the fire would burn down to the cellar. The goddamned police arrived before the bodies could be got rid of, and of course they’re questioning it.”

That’s what he got for hiring such stupid people.

He stormed back into the bedroom, and I followed him.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He glared at me. “Go tell Angelina I want my breakfast.”

I took my time leaving the room.

“s**t! s**t! s**t! This was such a fool proof idea.” He stalked across to the bathroom, tossed the girl out, and slammed the door behind him.

“What am I gonna do?” she whimpered. “My clothes are in there.”

I went to the wardrobe and took out a shirt. She was a little thing, and even though Malossini was only about five foot eight, it would cover her to her knees. “Put this on and get out of here.”

“But my clothes…”

“I’ll send them to you. And listen, ducks. If you’re smart you won’t come back. Cally’s women don’t tend to last too long. Go back to school or find a job that won’t get you beat up.” Or killed.

“That’s easy for you to say.” She put on the shirt. Fortunately, her shoes were lying next to the bed. She stepped into them and held her hand out expectantly.

One of my jobs for Malossini was to pay off his women. I took some money from my wallet, handed it to her, and walked her toward the door.

She ran her fingertips over my biceps. “Ooo, nice! I could be your girlfriend,” she offered with a coy smile as she batted her eyelashes.

“No, but ta very much.”

She sniffed. “Is it because I’m a w***e?”

“No, it’s because you were Cally’s girl. He’d kill me if I looked twice at you.” I opened the door and urged her out. “Remember what I said.”

“Bastard,” she muttered. I didn’t know if she was referring to me or Malossini.

I closed the door and went into the kitchen.

“The boss wants breakfast,” I told Angelina.

The cook was a plump older woman, slow on the uptake, but a pretty good cook for all that, and I was sure that was only one of the reasons why Malossini didn’t get rid of her, the other being she’d cooked for his father.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. You want a cup of coffee? Help yourself.”

“Ta.” I’d have preferred tea, but I poured the coffee, added cream and sugar, and stirred it while I leaned against the cabinets, giving the situation some thought.

Yeah, I was willing to bet Malossini’s plan had seemed genius at the time. Burning down the House of Oddities would conceal all the irregularities with the books, the fact that—as Burdon had warned him it would—it had been losing money hand over fist. With the building nothing but charred ruins, he assumed Burdon would never know. Malossini would collect the insurance money and get out of the hole that had been sucking him deeper and deeper.

I considered the events of Boxing Day. I didn’t trust Twitchell or Simmons any further than I could throw them, and neither did Malossini. If I hadn’t been in the same room with him while he watched some vapid show on the telly, I’d have thought he had a hand in it.

Twitchell and Simmons weren’t the brightest men Malossini employed, which said a lot, but they’d had their uses. The thing was, their drawbacks had begun to outweigh their assets. Twitchell had a weakness for little girls, and Simmons liked to dose his dates with whatever drug was available; Malossini had had enough. He swore if he had to bail them out of trouble just once more, he was going to kill them.

Well, that proved to be a moot point.