Chapter 17
Late Friday night, early Saturday morning
Danny was tied to a chair in what looked like a damp basement. His eyes were swollen shut and he thought his nose was broken. He had survived a pretty bad beating on top of the scene he and Gary did at the club.
There was a small ugly man he could barely see standing in front of him with a cell phone. He watched him dial a number. He turned to Danny. “You tell him to send me the money. I want two hundred and fifty thousand in small bills or you’ll never see him again.” The man put his cell on speaker.
“Goddamn you, Marty, where is my Danny?” Gary shouted loud enough for Danny to hear.
The man, obviously, Marty, shoved the phone in his face.
“Danny, Danny…” he heard from the phone.
“Gary,” he mumbled, through split lips.
“Are you
