“What about the alarm system?” I ask.
“It’s how we knew, sir.”
Another man speaks up, one of Santo’s. “The system alerted us. There were a bunch of intruders.”
My man nods. “But we chased them off.”
“We did try to get them,” another says, “but they managed to escape.”
“I don’t think they expected to meet a small army. A cohesive one,” the first man states.
I nod.
The men now have the two men restrained and have them on their knees. I stalk up to the first one.
“Who the fuck do you work for?” I ask.
The man spits at me.
“That’s your final word on it?”
His shit-eating grin does it for me. I got a workout this morning, but it was truncated, so I’m a little on edge. I don’t like my routine interrupted, so I kick the fucker in the head.
“Who the fuck are you working for?”
“Fuck you,” the man says, spitting blood.
I kick him again and again until he falls unconscious.
Then I approach the second man.
I grab him by the hair. “Who are you working for?”
The man’s eyes bug as he stares at his unmoving, bloodied buddy. “Antonio Pollino.”
I stare at him so long the man starts to babble and beg.
“Please, please. I was just doing my job. Don’t kill me. I’ll do anything…”
Disgusted, I walk away.
“Take care of them,” I mutter to one of my men.
Any doubts lingering over asking Santo for help are gone.
Yes, the alarm system helped, but it worked because of the extra manpower.
If they weren’t here, even with the alarm, I may be dead. And if Alina had been here…
I shudder.
That’s one thing I can’t think about.
The alarm gives me a fighting chance, but without the men, the place is too big and vulnerable. I’d need an electric fence, lasers, alligator pits. The fucking works.
I want to laugh, but there isn’t a single funny thing about this.
The house has alarms on all doors and windows, but again, manpower is needed for something this big. The alarm doesn’t keep anyone out.
