RDR2: Faithless

15: Angelo Bronte, a Man of Honour

"You had nothing to do with destroying the liquor business?" Bronte practically screamed at him, a bad feeling was settling in the pit of my stomach.

"We was innocent bystanders," Dutch chuckled, "And that which we weren't innocent of, well we... we most surely were ignorant of."

"You, you, you twist words, you lie shamelessly, you think you are better than everyone else," he suddenly started laughing and shook Dutch's hand, "Angelo Bronte."

"Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Ann Wright," Dutch introduced us.

"I know you," Bronte stared at me as he shook my hand, "You're William's girl, no?"

I felt Dutch's eyes on me and cursed inwardly.

"He is my father, yes," I said simply, knowing it would rile Dutch up even more.

We all sat down and there was an awkward silence as we were offered drinks. If there was one thing none of us expected, it was hospitality. In fact, I was quite prepared to be shooting the place to bits to rescue Jack, then legging it from the city never to return. But here we were, drinking alcohol with Saint Denis' own mob boss.

"So," Dutch finally spoke, "Can my friend have his son?"

"Of course, of course," Bronte nodded, "But, should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? Of course, I know you would not want that!"

Dutch glanced at John before carefully saying, "No."

"No, no, no, so, how about this?" Bronte continued, "You perform a simple job for me, and you get the boy back."

"What is it?" Arthur sighed, already knowing he would be the one sent to do the dirty work.

"Couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery," Bronte said.

"That is a fine place for it, the best," Dutch nodded.

"I love this guy, I love you," Bronte laughed, "See, they've taken not only to desecrating the dead, but they've done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, they run a mile. So maybe you two men head off, and you, Mr Van der Linde, you tell me more about my manners. And, Miss Wright, I'd like to get to know you a bit more..."

I fought to keep the disgust off my face and smiled at the man in front of me. Arthur glanced at me with worry but I waved him off, signalling him to follow John and not leave me in this room much longer. All he had to do was this job, then we could grab Jack and get out before Bronte decided to actually act on his apparent urges.

There was an awkward silence until the click of the door was heard, and Bronte leaned forward a bit.

"Why don't you come sit by me, my sweet," he gave me a sickening grin, "Much more comfortable over here, the boy can sit with Mr Van der Linde when my men go collect him."

"Apologies, Mr Bronte, but I don't think there's room enough for two on that seat," I said carefully. He was sat in a chair made for one person, it was bigger than the average chair, sure, but for one person nonetheless.

"Then I guess you'll have to sit on my lap," his look was predatory and I swallowed thickly. I should have listened to my father and not gotten involved, the boys could have got Jack back themselves. Why did I always have to throw myself into these situations?

"I... I don't..." I said slowly.

"Need I remind you, miss, that this is my home that you have forced yourself into, and you are wanting something from me as well?" I recognised the look on his face well enough, and I didn't doubt he would refuse to give us Jack.