Carlotta and the Krius Scepter (Carlotta Series Book 1) by John Booth Page B

den. The Don had deserted the card table for a sofa near the bar. A coffee table in front of him held an enormous ash tray filled with half a dozen cigar stubs. The table sported a couple of small white boxes, about cigarette packet size, with thin plastic strips extruding eight inches or so out of them. The white boxes had a USB socket and an LCD display. I had a bad feeling about those boxes from the moment I saw them.
    Brian and I ended up a few feet in front of The Don on the far side of his coffee table. I followed the flick of The Don’s eyes to see a man holding what looked like a remote control. When I returned my gaze to The Don, he grinned at me.
    “Just in case, girly. If you or your boyfriend so much as cough out of turn, you find out what being covered in silver feels like.”
    That was a feeling I was determined to avoid if I could. I scowled at The Don and his grin got wider.
    “I expect the boy told you some of it. A VIP asked a favor. Doin’ that favor would make me very powerful among my peers. Then your mob, the Hawks, they interfere in my business in my town. I’d hired the best specialists in these United States to pull off a little inconsequential heist and what happens?”
    It was a rhetorical question and The Don was going to tell me exactly what had happened whether I wanted to know or not. However, now it was clear he knew Brian and I had talked; the only question in my mind was ‘had they seen me change into a vampire?’ I wondered if Mike would have given me a key this morning if I hadn’t already got one from Vinnie. I hate being played for a fool. The Don continued, apparently unaware of the thoughts racing through my head.
    “The morning after the night of the heist, this local funeral parlor delivers five coffins. Here, to the den. Said they got a call to make a pickup from a church. We open them up and what do we find? My team of specialists; all gagged and bound so they can’t make a noise. The Hawks, they put lights in the coffins so those guys would know exactly where they were, but wouldn’t know whether they were about to be cremated or buried. Believe me, those coffins stank when we opened them.”
    I sniggered and The Don frowned. Well, it was funny. The sort of thing I’d do if I got the chance.
    “Naturally these guys don’t want to try the heist again. Nuthin’ I can say or do will persuade them, and you two don’t know it yet, but I can be very persuasive. The Hawks left me a note, one of their letters with their fancy wax seal. It tells me the Museum is out of bounds and I should stay away. So am I goin’ to tell this VIP that Carlo DiMaggio can’t get him the trinket he wants? That I can’t rob the museum in the middle of my own territory?”
    Another rhetorical question. So The Don was ticked off at the Hawks. What did that have to do with me?
    “Now this VIP, he phones me this morning and he says ‘Carlo, I heard you had some trouble. I need the box by tomorrow night. Do you want me to send in some of my boys to take care of it for you? ’ Have you any idea what that makes me look like?”
    Even though it was yet another rhetorical question, I was bored and decided to give him an answer.
    “The prize schmuck of the western world?”
    “Leave her!” The Don said quickly.
    I felt a shadow on the side of my face and turned to see the handle of a gun inches from my cheek. Looks like The Don just saved me from a beating.
    “Yeah, that too. So I says to the VIP: Nah, everything’s fine. I got me the best two museum robbers in the world up in my penthouse suite right now…”
    The Don’s voice changed to a snarl.
    “ Put the collars on them. ”
    The goon behind me picked up a box from the table and the next thing I know the plastic strip has gone around my throat and I feel it being pushed through the box behind me. Somehow he locks it into place. The guy pulls it tight enough to be uncomfortable, but I can still breathe okay. The box is held against the