The dude

Esposito's gaze shifted to Jack, his eyes scanning him from head to toe. "You got a **** wish, chubby?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Or were you just not raised around these parts? Do you know how much lead was aimed at you the moment you put your hand on me?"

"No, I'm aware. Luckily though, I have these broad, italian mafioso shoulders in front of me, ready to shield me from any harm," Jack said, giving the man his most charming smile.

The crime boss snorted, then glanced back at Liza, still trapped in his grip. "Is this guy for real?" he asked, then turning back to stare at Jack, eyes cold and calculating. "I don't smell any fear though, which makes me curious. Is it the crowd? Are you stupid enough to think I wouldn't blow your fucking brain out in front of everyone and their mothers if I wanted to?"

Jack held his gaze as old instincts floated to the surface. The don was a predator, and you couldn't allow him to sense you as prey. "No, I know your kind. I don't doubt you would, Mr. Don. Or at least try to," he said, taking another step closer to Esposito. The air between them crackled with tension, the entire bar watching their interaction with bated breath.

"Fuck boss, I think that's the dude," one of his bodyguards whispered. "The dude a dude talked about. Remember? The Delta dude?" His attempt at a whisper failed miserably, his voice easily reaching Jack's ears.

"A dude's been talking, huh?" Jack asked, drawing even closer to Esposito. "And what did your dude tell you about this Delta dude?"

"Jus' somethin' about kicking the ass of some-"

"Shut the fuck up, Antonio. So it looks like we have a war hero in the room," Marco said, finally releasing his grip on Liza and turning to face Jack fully. "With a little bit of PTSD perhaps? Causing him to do all sorts of suicidal shit?" He smiled mockingly, a bully trying to regain the upper hand. "Is that the case, my friend? Is your brain a bit… busted?"

Jack maintained eye contact with the crime boss, his gaze steady and unwavering. He could feel Millia's presence behind him, a calming influence that steadied his nerves. For some reason, she seemed completely unbothered by the potentially lethal situation unfolding before them—confident he'd kick the shit out of five professional killers without breaking a sweat.

"You've let the lady go. How about we start this conversation anew, from the start," Jack said, his voice a low yet sharp, a razorlike edge imbedded within. "Then I won't have to risk getting my brains blown out, and you won't have to learn what a former Delta with a fractured brain is capable of."

The Esposito crime lord looked at Jack for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed—a deep, booming sound that echoed through the silent bar. "Fuck Liza, I hope you're paying this guy well! I might steal him otherwise." He said, slapping Jack on the shoulder. "As you suggest, war hero, let's start over."

The crime boss took a step back, raising his hands in a pacifying—though somewhat mocking—gesture. "So, my name is Marco Esposito. You?"

"Jack Temple," Jack replied. "Head of security."

Esposito's smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the bar's dim lighting. "A pleasure, Jack Temple," he said. "Now, back to the core. Someone inside this room better fucking tell me where my daughter is, or I'll order my men to fetch the gasoline. You've got one min-"

The sound of his phone vibrating cut him off mid-threat, and he clenched his teeth in obvious annoyance. "It's always during the cool moments, isn't it?" He said as he reached for his inner pocket and looked at the caller ID, his face scrunching up when he read the name. "Oh, well, this is awkward," he said, scratching the back of his head just before he answered. "Hello angel, where have you been?"

He held the phone up to his ear, and Jack watched as the cold, calculating crime lord listened to his daughter's answer, his face turning all the more sheepish every second. "Yes, I know you're a grown woman, angel, but... yes... no... well, I was - and you'll think this is really funny - but I was just about to burn down The Parthenon in order to-"

The man fell silent, listening intently to Nox as her voice turned incredulous enough to reach the crowd, though no words were discernible. "Yes- yes, angel, you're right- No, I know I'm a little dramatic," he said after a moment, struggling to get a word in. "But you've been missing for almost 18 hours and I got really worr- What you talkin' about 18 hours isn't a long time? It's 18 fucking hours angel!"

He sighed heavily, running his free hand through his slicked-back hair. "Listen, can you please tell me where you are? What, why? Angel just... alright, but you're good though? You've been eating and drinking- hello?" He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it with a look of disbelief. "She hung up on me."

Don Esposito put the phone back in his pocket, clicking with his mouth as he turned back to Jack. "So... this might have been an overreaction. I guess I haven't gotten used to having a grown-up daughter, you know. Got any kids, Jack?" He asked, still scratching his head as he smiled awkwardly.

"Just a step-daughter. 18," Jack responded.

"18, huh? Fuck, buddy. That's gotta be a shitshow. Welcome to hormone land, am I right ladies?" Esposito laughed, looking at Liza and Millia. His grin faltered at their blank expressions, the humor clearly not appreciated. "Well, I'll let you get on with your night. Sorry about the whole thing, I guess." He said, awkwardly patting Jack on the shoulder again.

Jack nodded. "Of course. Sorry for your concern, I can understand it could be scary to lose track of your adult daughter for... almost a day," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Esposito said. He then turned to leave, pointing a finger at Liza as he walked. "You still owe me, though. I expect a deposit within the week, or I'm gonna have to carry all this gasoline right back here."

Ignoring Liza's panicked expression as her eyes flickered to Jack, he and his bodyguards left the bar, Antonio still failing to understand the theory of whispering as conversed with his buddy:

"The dude didn't even tremble, dude. Fucking Delta, cool as fuck! You think he knows krav maga or some shit-" The door closed behind them, leaving the bar in stunned silence.

Jack turned his gaze to Liza. The blonde club owner had been staring at the door as if considering making a run for it, her fingers white-knuckled around the edge of the bar. When Jack cleared his throat, she finally tore her eyes away, though her blue irises still avoided meeting his.

"Look, Jack, I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice cracking. “I… Oh, fuck, I think I need to sit down.”

She staggered to one of the barstools, her slender legs trembling beneath her designer dress. As she collapsed onto the cushioned seat, her platinum blonde hair fell across her face in disarray, framing her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Jack sat down beside her, his broad frame a stark contrast to her petite form, his intense gray eyes never leaving her face. "You owe him, Liza?" He asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

She nodded weakly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "Let's talk in my office. I need a drink."