Page 111 of Mob Queen

“How?”

“I’ll meet with Carlo, and I’ll give him Augusta’s cocaine shipment.” G’s brows lift.

“What stops Carlo taking you out?”

“I’m going to offer him Augusta’s territory.”

“What the fuck, Frank? Why would you do that?”

“We need the territory to move our product. I’ll offer Scala a cut, in return for Scala taking out the rest of Augusta’s business. Then I’ll hit Augusta when he’s looking over his shoulder at Scala.”

“Augusta might go on the lam.”

“He won’t have a chance,” I say. “He’s gonna be hit so fucking hard, he won’t know where it’s all coming from.”

“You’re gonna use Scala to get to Augusta, then hit Scala.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re either going to get us all killed, or you’re gonna make us richer than the Catholic church.” G does the cross from head to chest, then shoulder to shoulder. “Your father would’ve played it safe.”

“I don’t want safe. I want Augusta to pay for what he did to my father, and then I want to take Scala territory,” I say in all seriousness.

G takes a long, slow breath, but finally nods. “You’re fucking dangerous, Frank.”

“I know.”

“And the girl? Do you think she’ll forgive you for killing her father?”

“She wants him dead too.”

“What about?” G points upstairs, gesturing toward Miller. “He’ll get in the way.”

“No, he won’t. He’s had more than ample opportunity to turn me in, but he hasn’t, and he won’t.”

“Do you love him?” I screw my nose at the thought of such a debilitating emotion. “Would you put a bullet in him if you had to?”

“Without a doubt.”

G takes a moment and looks around the office. “I’ll set up a meeting.”

The door opens and Rome walks in. He reads the room and furrows his brows. “What’s going on?”

G fills him in while I think about the question I was asked. Would I kill Miller if I had to? Maybe. But could I pull the trigger? I’m not sure.

* * *

“Miss DeLuca,” the flight attendant says to get my attention.

“Yes.” I look up to her, still on a high that my meeting with Scala went to plan.

“The pilot has instructed that we’ll be landing soon.”

“Thank you,” G says. She returns to the front of my jet, leaving G and me alone. “I don’t know, Frank, Scala is a snake.”

“So am I,” I say.

“He’ll prepare for that though.”

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