novelxo Nanny for the Don: Chapter 31
“Your life depends on giving me something useful. I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”
I lean in closer, my voice cold and steady.
The man’s sweating like a pig, his eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape that isn’t there. He’s trembling, and it’s clear he’s close to breaking. But I can tell he’s holding back. He knows something, and he’s trying to decide if it’s worth spilling.
“You’re holding out on me,” I say, my gaze locked on him. “I can see it. Don’t think you’re smart enough to play this game with me.”
Sal, reading the situation perfectly, pulls his gun and presses it against the man’s head. “Time’s up. You tell us what we need to know, or you die right here. No one’s coming to save you.”
His eyes widen, darting between Sal and me. He’s shaking like a leaf, knowing he’s got no good options left. He turns to me, his voice cracking. “You won’t find out anything if I die.”
I narrow my eyes, watching him closely. He’s bluffing—or trying to—but the fear in his voice tells me otherwise. He’s got something, something important. He just needs a little more pressure to crack.
He’s close, and I know he’s about to spill. I start counting down, my voice cold and steady. “Three…”
He’s panicking, stammering out useless excuses. “I-I don’t know! I swear!”
“Two…”
He’s sweating bullets now, his voice shaking. “Please, I’ll tell you everything!”
“One…”
Just as I’m about to hit zero, the guy breaks. “Jack!”
I pause my grip on the situation tightening. “Jack?”
“Yeah, Jack,” he says, nodding frantically, like he’s finally decided to save his own skin. “Jack Swinson.”
The name hits me like a sledgehammer, my blood starting to boil. My face is blank, but inside, I’m ready to snap.
“Describe him,” I say, keeping my voice even.
He swallows hard. “Young guy, good looking, long, stringy hair… he’s—he’s the one. He’s been working with the Rossis.”
I had him in my fucking basement, within reach, and now my blood’s burning hotter than ever.
I take a step back, letting the anger simmer just below the surface. The guy’s lucky he’s still breathing, but now I’ve got the name I need.
Sal’s face twists in rage, knowing Jack slipped through our fingers because of him. He looks like he’s ready to tear the poor schmuck apart. He steps toward him, fists clenched, but I stop him, throwing out an arm.
‘Not yet,’ I tell him. ‘I haven’t decided if I’m gonna kill him, but he’s bought himself a little more time.’
Sal’s nostrils flare, and he shoots a venomous look at the guy. ‘You’re not off the hook,’ he growls, his voice low and dangerous. ‘Not even close.’
I grab Sal by the arm and guide him out into the hallway. The men stay inside, guarding our guest while I shut the door behind us.
‘Listen,’ I say, my voice sharp. ‘Contact everyone. Put a price on Jack Swinson’s head— alive. We need him breathing when he’s brought to me.’
Sal nods, already reaching for his phone. ‘How much are we talking?’
‘Enough to make him impossible to hide. We end this.’
Sal pulls out his phone, but curses under his breath. “No bars.”
“Yeah, reception’s generally shitty in this place.”
‘I’ll take care of it outside,’ he says, turning on his heel and heading for the door.
I watch him go, the tension in my chest tightening. Alone in the hallway, I let the silence settle for a moment, my mind already racing with the next move.
Jack’s still out there—and when I find him, I’ll end him. Letting him out of my sight won’t be a mistake I make twice.
Once I’m alone, the rage takes over. I slam my fist into the wall, the crack echoing through the hallway. The plaster splits, pain shooting up my hand, but I don’t care.
I take a slow, deep breath, trying to calm myself. Focus. Losing control now won’t help anything.
What if they don’t find him?
I shake the thought off. There’s no use worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. We’re going to find him. And when we do, he’ll wish I’d killed him the first time he was in my basement.
With my anger under control, I head back into the room. I stand over the Rossi stooge, my expression cold and hard.
“Here’s the deal,” I begin. “Whether or not you live or die depends on one thing—whether the information you gave me about Jack turns out to be true.”
His eyes widen even more, and I can see him calculating his chances. He knows his life is hanging by a thread, and I’m the one holding the scissors.
I lean in closer, my voice cold and deliberate. ““Here’s how it’s gonna go, prick. If your information checks out, you’ll make it out of this alive. Hell, I’ll even pay for your flight out of town so you can run from the Rossis. But if you’re bullshitting me…” I trail off, letting the threat hang heavy in the air.
His eyes dart around, frantic. “I’m not! I swear I’m not lying! It’s the truth!”
“We’ll find out. ,” I say, my tone sharp. “One way or another.”
I glance at the guards in the room and nod toward them. “Until then, you’re staying right here with your new friends. They’ll either be your executioners or your oh-so-charming escorts out of the city. The choice is yours.”
His face pales even more, sweat dripping down his forehead. I can see him panicking, trying to figure out if there’s any way to talk himself out of this.
“If you’ve got anything else to tell me about Jack,” I say, “now’s the time.”
He swallows hard, panic all over his face, then blurts out, “Jack’s got a place in the Bronx. Hunts Point, near Spofford and Manida Street. Three-story building with blue trim. That’s where the Rossis meet him.”
“Rough part of town.” I narrow my eyes. “They meet him there?”
The man nods quickly, desperate. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard them talk about it.”
I stand up straight, letting the silence stretch for a moment before turning to leave. This better be true.
I step out of the room, tossing a quick command over my shoulder to the men. ‘Wait for my call. Don’t do anything until I give the word.’
As I make my way down the hallway, something tugs at the back of my mind. I haven’t checked my phone in hours. It’s been sitting dead in my pocket, no reception in this godforsaken warehouse. I pull it out and glance at the screen—still no bars. I curse under my breath and push open the door, stepping outside. The cold air hits me immediately, biting at my skin, but I barely notice.
Off in the distance, I see Sal on his phone, pacing back and forth. The sky above is thick with gray clouds, heavy and ready to dump more snow. There’s a tension in the air, something ominous. It’s not just the weather, either.
As I move away from the building, reception starts to creep back. My phone lights up with missed calls, a flood of notifications filling the screen. Ms. M. Texts, voicemails—dozens of them.
A strange feeling washes over me. Something’s wrong. My instincts scream it loud and clear. All I can think about is home—the girls, Willow. Those domestic feelings, ones I haven’t felt in years, rush back hard and fast. I should be with them.
I don’t bother sifting through the texts or voicemails. My gut’s already twisted tight. I hit call on Ms. M’s number, and she picks up on the first ring.
‘Nico,’ she says, her voice tense. ‘It’s Willow. She’s missing.’
I hear a younger voice in the background, and then someone takes the phone. “Nico? This is Kendall, Willow’s cousin,” she says quickly, her words rushing out. “I was with her at the park.”
“What happened?” My voice is low, dangerous. Every muscle in my body tenses as I wait for her explanation.
“We were with the girls, feeding ducks in the park. Some guy came up to us—said something happened to you. He told Willow it was an emergency, and she went with him. She sent the girls home with me.”
My blood boils. Every word she says cranks the rage tighter and tighter inside me, burning like fire. “The girls?” I ask, barely controlling the fury in my voice.
“They’re safe. He didn’t touch them,” Kendall says, her voice shaking.
I clench my jaw, the rage seething inside. Some piece of shit has Willow, and he’ll pay for it with his life.
‘Do you know who this guy was?’ I growl, already forming a list of who’s going to die.
“He said his name was Enzo, but that could be a lie.”
I don’t say another word. I hang up, my mind already going dark with thoughts of vengeance.
I spot Sal wrapping up his call, and I stride over, my fury barely contained. “Willow’s missing,” I say, my voice sharp as a knife.
Sal’s eyes widen, rage flickering across his face. “Fuck, Nico. I—damn it. This is on me. I screwed up letting Jack get away.”
I shake my head, shutting that down. “We don’t have time for that now. What matters is figuring out who the fuck took Willow. And I’m damn sure Jack’s involved. It all fits.”
Sal grits his teeth, fists clenched. “What’s the play?”
“We’re going to the Bronx,” I say, the words cold and final. “Get four of our heaviest hitters—no more fuckups. This ends now.”
Sal nods, already pulling out his phone again. “I’ll have the guys ready in ten.”
I don’t bother waiting for a response, already moving. My mind is set, focused. Jack Swinson made this personal, and now I’m going to end him.
This is bigger than business. Bigger than revenge. Willow’s involved now, and whoever thought they could touch what’s mine is about to learn a painful lesson.
Sal finishes his call and nods at me. “They’ll meet us in the Bronx. We’re bringing everything we’ve got.”
“Good. We’ll finish this once and for all.”