We arrived at Wilmslow Road, and began making our way to the motherfucker's house.
Tariq Iqbal.
That was what the bastard's name was.
He lived in an apartment block. Me and Fizz took the lead, allowing Massimo and the other men to follow close behind us. I knocked at the door, waiting for the fucker to answer. My patience was wearing too thin.
A debt of ninety fucking grand. I couldn't let such a huge amount of money slide so easily. Just the sheer thought of this man believing that he could get away with not paying it back… Made my blood boil to the point it almost dried up. He was going to be taught a lesson for getting on the wrong side of me.
Rule one in the Cosa Nostra.
Always repay your debts.
After waiting for several minutes, I couldn't even hear movement inside of the apartment. He'd had a fair warning. Because now…
Bang.
I slammed the door wide open with force, grabbing my gun out of my pocket, cocking it and holding it in front of my face, Fizz doing the same.
"Come on out, Tariq," I soothed. "You sneaky little bastard."
We searched the rooms, doing our best to locate him. Slamming open door after door, trying to see if there was a face in sight.
But there was nobody here.
"You can run but you can't hide, Tariq," Fizz tutted, kicking open the bathroom door so hard that the door fell straight into the sink, hitting a pipe, and caused water to start exploding everywhere.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!" I roared, turning around to Massimo. "YOU SAID THAT HE WOULD BE HERE, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU WASTED MY TIME COMING OUT HERE ON A FUCKING WHIM!"
I grabbed hold of him by his collar, causing his face to go beetroot red as he started struggling for air.
"I t – thought he would b – be here, Boss, please!" Massimo struggled.
"You useless piece of shit," I snarled, letting go of him. "You're a fucking joke."
He began wheezing, doing his best to regather his strength, allowing oxygen to fill his windpipes again. I rolled my eyes. I was so fucking pissed off in this moment, I felt like putting a bullet straight through Massimo for the shit-show that was happening right now.
"Wait, Luca, can you hear that?" Fizz breathed, his voice dropping to barely below a whisper.
"Hear what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
The room went eerily quiet as we all listened intently.
It was almost like we could hear somebody cough up a sob.
"We've got the bastard," Sergio, another one of the men, whispered.
We made our way closer to the sound, with our guns holstered and ready, ready to make this motherfucker pay. Ready to warn him that we'd give him one more week to pay up the money, before we put a bullet between his eyes.
I took the lead, walking in front of the other men, and made my way into the bedroom. I neared closer to the bed, doing my best not to make a sound…
And the sight of what I saw…
Almost made my heart leap to my throat.
It wasn't Tariq that was here.
It was two young children, one little boy, and one little girl, with dark hair and brown skin, and they both couldn't have been older than three years old. They were shivering and crying as their mother held them against their chest, and their mother squeezed them, holding them close to her, promising them that she would protect them with her life.
This was the last thing I expected to fucking see.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Massimo sneered, staring down at them.
I swallowed down a lump that had caught in my throat. Their mother looked up at me with pleading eyes. This was a Muslim family, I could already tell. She was wearing an Islamic headscarf, a hijab, and she looked absolutely terrified at the sight of me. Staring into her brown eyes, it was like I was staring right into her soul. And it was like she was screaming at me to spare her and her children, even though she didn't need to say a single word to me.
Rule number two of the Cosa Nostra.
Never let innocent people get caught in the crossfire…