Luca
I throw my jacket onto one of the recliners in my room and sit down on the edge of the bed, listening to Donato’s mumbling coming from the phone. There have been some problems with one of the properties we bought and I spent last night and the whole of today in my office downtown, trying to get that s**t sorted out. I really don’t need another fuckup today.
“Oh, for the love of God, Donato. Can’t you deal with at least some of the s**t by yourself?” I say into the phone, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “How many crates?”
“The truck just came in. We opened the first few, but it's likely several more are the same, Luca.”
“Fuck.” I close my eyes in frustration. What the hell am I going to do with a whole f*****g shipment of the wrong caliber ammunition?
A low, moaning sound reaches
