Storm's Cage Mary Stone (classic reads .TXT) 📖

he rapped his knuckles against the sturdy wooden surface—the only sturdy surface on the house’s exterior. The Leónes couldn’t call this dump a safe house if the damn door didn’t shut.

With a couple faint clicks as locks were disengaged, the door swung inward to reveal a man only a couple inches shorter than Joseph.

“Evening. Come on in.” The glow of a distant lamp gave Joe Dalessio’s dark brown hair a reddish tinge as he nodded and waved Joseph inside.

The sleeves of Dalessio’s dress shirt had been rolled up to the elbow, exposing forearms toned by years of competitive boxing. Though Joseph had witnessed Leóne-run underground fights, he’d never had the opportunity to watch one of Joe’s matches.

From what he’d been told, Joe was a sight to behold in the ring. Too bad this wasn’t the ring. Joseph straightened his black suit jacket as he crossed the threshold. “Is anyone else here other than you and Ulmer?”

“Why you asking?” Joe twisted a series of deadbolts into place before turning around to face Joseph. The sneer on Joe’s face matched the annoyance in the capo’s tone.

“I don’t like surprises,” Joseph answered sharply. His day had been tiring enough, and his patience was running thin. If this was going to be a round of twenty questions, he might just forget his promise to play nice.

After a moment of silence, Joe tilted his head toward the living room. “What do you need to talk to him about?”

Joseph gritted his teeth. Another fucking question. He stared at Joe, debating on how he wanted to reply while running scenarios through his head. Explaining to Brian or Stan why he had to take out a Leóne capo would be an uncomfortable conversation to have.

He hadn’t planned to stay long, anyway. Get in. Get the job done. Get out. He could manage a few more pleasantries if that meant this visit ended quickly.

Faking amusement, Joseph pasted a smile on his face and chuckled. “No need for all the tension. I just need to ask him about the inmate he hired to kill Carlo Enrico.” He peered past the foyer to the slat of light spilling through an open doorway.

“All right. He’s alone in there,” Joe replied with a note of curiosity. “Make it quick.”

The tarnished hardwood was sturdy beneath Joseph’s feet. Based on the smooth, beige drywall, the inside of the house was far better maintained than the exterior.

A pair of light blue eyes flicked away from a television screen as Joseph stepped into the wide doorway. With his five o’clock shadow and full head of caramel brown hair, dark wash jeans, and gray hoodie, Russel Ulmer looked like a normal guy.

They always did.

Joseph’s brother’s abuser had kept his rust-colored hair in a military-style cut, while his clothes were a casual mix of plaid button-downs and jeans. Everyone who met him saw Sawyer Kastner as an upbeat, energetic, and gregarious man.

Joseph pinned Russel with a scrutinizing stare, and the awkward spell of silence wasn’t broken until Dalessio crossed into the living area.

Dalessio pointed to Joseph. “This is a friend. He’s got something to ask you about the guy you recruited to kill Carlo Enrico.”

Russel’s eyes flicked back and forth between Dalessio and Joseph. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay. Um…what do you want to know?”

With an outstretched hand, Joseph beckoned for Russel to leave his comfortable post in the center of a gray sectional. “Come on, Ulmer. It was a long drive over here, and I could use something to drink. Walk with me, talk with me.”

As he pushed to his feet, Russel nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

From the corner of his eye, Joseph watched as Joe Dalessio strolled to the edge of the couch.

The long, rectangular living room ended in an arched doorway that led to a formal dining area, and beyond that, the kitchen. A few picture windows, their frames dusty and splintered, were covered by drapes the same color as the night sky. The overstuffed gray couch and a television took up one half of the room, and the section on the other side of the doorway was home to a couple armchairs and a card table.

“Come on. Kitchen’s back this way.” Joseph gestured to the arched doorway as Russel fell in at his side.

They’d only taken three steps when Joseph stopped short and clamped his hand around Russel’s throat.

Tightening his grasp, Joseph slammed Russel into the wood paneling with as much strength as he could muster. Boards cracked from the weight of the blow, and all the air exploded from Russel’s lungs in a single, heavy breath.

Dalessio cursed loudly, but Joseph ignored him.

Eyes bulging, Russel wheezed as he desperately tried to take a breath. He clawed at the fabric of Joseph’s sleeve, trying to pry away the hand cutting off his airway.

Joseph didn’t loosen his grip. He leaned his weight into his hand, further pinning Russel against the wall.

The man’s throat shifted beneath Joseph’s palm, and the first tears slid down his cheeks. As his eyelids squeezed shut, Joseph loosened his grasp for a split-second, enough to allow the man a breath of air before tightening it again.

“Open your eyes,” Joseph growled from between clenched teeth. “Fucking open ‘em, Russel.”

His damp eyelashes fluttered as he blinked away the tears.

“Good.” Joseph clamped his free hand down over the man’s Adam’s apple. “Now, look at me.”

Cartilage crunched under the force of Joseph’s grip, and Russel let out a gurgle as his eyes closed again.

And again, Joseph relaxed his grip just long enough to slam him into the wall.

“Keep those eyes open, dammit!”

With another feeble attempt to scratch Joseph’s arms, Russel’s bloodshot eyes met Joseph’s. His lips moved, but only a tiny squeak came out.

But he didn’t close his eyes.

Joseph leaned his weight against Russel’s ruined throat. Even as another round of tears spilled down Russel’s cheeks, Joseph’s stare didn’t waver. “Good. Just like that, Russel. I like to watch the light go out.”

Confusion and betrayal in Russel’s expression mingled with fear as his nails clawed at