Used By The Mob Read Free Page B

joked, attracting a wave of boisterous
laughter from his men. “Take her to the car and put her in the
trunk. We owe my brother an apology.”

Chapter 2
     
    “You see, my brother had earned himself something of an
unwanted reputation,” explained Vincent, staring out the window
from the backseat of his car. “I’m not saying he didn’t do the
things he was accused of, I know he did. He used to call me and
tell me about it. I’m actually starting to miss those late night
phone-calls.”
    Sat next to him was Stacey, who had spent the last fortnight
in complete silence in a single room within Vincent’s large family
home. His Portuguese house-keeper, Monica, who quite probably ended
up working for Vincent after an ordeal similar to Stacey’s, had
taken care of her during that time, but like everybody else, she
had so far failed to have any meaningful dialogue with her new
guest.
    “Are you even listening?” Asked Vincent. “I have ways of
making people listen, as you know, so God help you if you’re not
listening to me right now. I thought that maybe after bringing you
into my home you might have been more grateful, but it seems I was
wrong.”
    “I heard you,” she replied, venomously.
    “Oh, it talks! Tony did you hear that? She has a
voice!”
    “I heard, boss,” said Tony, designated driver for the day. “A
pretty voice too.”
    “I like what you’re wearing sweet-heart,” Vincent sniggered.
“It looks very familiar.”
    Stacey looked out of the opposite window, deliberately
ignoring his remark. She knew he was trying to play games with her,
and she was determined not to let him get inside her head. She had
of course arrived at Vincent’s house wearing just a T-shirt, and it
had been Vincent himself who had supplied her with his own wife’s
pink chemise. Stopping halfway down the thigh and showing a
generous amount of cleavage, it wasn’t too unlike the selection of
dresses she used to choose from at home, but that was all she had
been given. No bra, no panties, no undergarments of any
description. Nothing else. She had worn the same thing, unwashed,
ever since arriving.
    “She’s gone quiet again,” Vincent noted.
    Tony chuckled quietly to himself.
    “You’re gonna have to talk sooner or later, you know? In the
meantime, you may be wondering what became of your husband. Well…
remember that story I told you about him being comparable to…
whatever it is that fish eat? Well, it turns out I was right! Can
you believe that? I thought I was just being clever but you should
have seen those big fish nibbling away at him, it really was
something else.”
    “They were Tiger Sharks, boss. They eat anything you throw in
the water. Remember that guy from the bank who…”
    “Stop it,” Stacey snarled.
    “There we go, she liked that one, Tony. Hey, how much further
do we have to go? It seems like every time we visit this place it
moves a little further away, what’s the deal here?”
    “Almost there, boss.”
    “Excellent,” Vincent cracked his knuckles before lighting one
of his cigars and turning towards Stacey. “Alberto is my brother,
so treat him with respect, as best you can. I know you struggle
with that concept. This might be the last time any of us see him
for a while, so don’t ruin it for him, and remember it’s because of
you that he’s up here in the first place.”
    Vincent had just finished imparting his wisdom when the car
slowed to a halt outside a huge steel gate. Tony got out and walked
over to an electronic box on the outside wall.
    “Moriello,” he shouted irately, and the gate creaked sideways
behind the wall, eerily grinding through the grooves in the floor
like it was rarely ever used.
    The asylum was just about in view at the summit of a hill in
the distance. The lawns were exceptionally well kept, and the
driveway, long but in relatively good condition gave something of a
false impression of the building itself. Run-down, missing tiles,
blackened bricks; it