Page 81 of Mafia Star

“Uno de vosotros conduce cada vehículo. Intenta atropellarnos o salirte de la carretera, y te mataremos como hicimos con los demás.” One of you drives each vehicle. Try to hit us or turn off the road, and we will kill you like we did the others.

We all speak Spanish, so there’s nothing we won’t understand when they inevitably try to escape. They put their hands up without being told. A little common sense. As they each move to a vehicle in their convoy, ours pull forward. They weren’t far from the road but invisible without their headlights on. Carlo, Dante, and Frederico are each behind the wheel. After the shit with being unsure about Luigi’s loyalty, we’re keeping shit tight. These three have been guarding Uncle Salvatore and Papa since they were in high school together.

It doesn’t take us long to get things moving. It’s a thirty-minute drive to the planes. Only one of them tried to pull off the road. Carlo rammed the driver’s side. It was a convincing tactic. We didn’t have another problem after that. We keep gas masks in our tactical gear bags, so we each put one on before we get out at the open strip we used as a runway. We’re not taking any chances inhaling even a speck of carfentanil. None of us have touched their SUVs or any of the men either.

With our guns pointed at their heads, they’re busy little worker bees, loading the drugs onto the plane. They’re wearing masks with respirators, but not ones as protective as our gas masks. They cover their bodies from head to toe, and they’re all wearing beanies. But they left their eyes and cheeks exposed. Dumb motherfuckers. One of them’s dead before he even pulls out the first crate. The other three are way more careful, approaching each crate with care. We lose a second one just as they load the last container into the hold of Alejandro’s plane. That’s how fucking dangerous this shit is. Exposure alone will kill you. Never mind ingestion.

It’ll be about a four-and-a-half-hour flight from here to San Diego, then it’s out over the ocean. We have someone who’ll be monitoring their flight route. They’ll need to refuel in Hawaii, which we’ve arranged for. If the pilot tries to put down anywhere before Hawaii, we’ll know. Carmine makes one brief call, and poof. The plane is in a million pieces. The pilot knows that.

It’s only a few minutes later before we watch the plane taxi, then take off. We watch as it disappears into the night sky. I allow myself one breath of relief. That part went off without a hitch, but there is still so much that can go wrong. I don’t want to tempt fate by thinking about it. But I like contingency plans. I like planning for worst-case scenarios. I’ve faced way too many in my life to not believe in Murphy’s Law.

“You ready to go home?”

I turn toward Enzo when he comes to stand beside me.

“Beth and I have to talk to her parents. Considering how things went when you met them, I’m not sure what to expect when I do.”

“Let’s hope I broke them in.”

“Chelle said she spoke to them, so they know about today. I’m surprised they weren’t waiting for us when we got to Uncle Sal’s.”

“Chelle convinced them not to come. She said there would be things we needed to do that couldn’t get done with them there. She was right. We couldn’t have gotten ready there for one.”

We couldn’t have met in Uncle Salvatore’s office for as long as we did. We couldn’t have walked out of the house in our tactical gear. We couldn’t leave them there for Mama, Papa, and the others to distract. Well, we could have. We could have done all those things, but it wouldn’t have been wise. However, there’s nothing stopping me from having to face them. Having to admit yet another one of their children is going to live with life-threatening danger every day.

I’m not in such a rush to do that. But I want nothing more than to get home to Beth. To make sure she’s okay. I promised Gabe we’d be home in time for Sinead’s doctor’s appointment. It’s a little after one a.m. It’s a five-and-a-half-hour flight plus a two-hour time difference. We need to hurry. I breathe a second sigh of relief as our own plane takes off. Once we’re at our cruising altitude, we turn our phones back on. In hushed voices, we each call the woman we love to tell her we’re on the way home.

I’m exhausted as I climb into the SUV waiting for us. I want a hot shower with Beth and to fall into bed with her. I want to dredge up enough energy to make love to her then fall asleep inside her. But I don’t even have time to get the words “Honey, I’m home” out of my mouth before I realize something is very wrong.

Chapter Eighteen

Beth

I turn as the front door opens, and the men pour inside. I notice the others, but it’s Marco I focus on. He’s exhausted, but he looks untouched. I glance at my parents, who’re sitting between me and Chelle on the sofa. I’m perched on the arm, as I shift my gaze to Chelle. We might be looking over our parents’ heads, but I sense they know Chelle and I are trying to communicate silently. She and I stand and walk toward the men. Enzo gets to her before Marco gets to me. I watch how he engulfs her in his embrace and devours her. No one else cares since women are greeting husbands, and parents are greeting their children. I hang back and let Massimo and Nicoletta hug Marco.

Then it’s my turn. He sweeps me into his arms, pressing me against his front. His hand is in my hair, not fisting it but cupping my skull. His other hand presses against my lower back. I raise my chin to accept his kiss, and for a moment, everything is how it should be. But that lasts only a few seconds before I pull back.

“Marco, my parents are here. The feds went after them.”

I whisper to him as his gaze meets mine. The hand in my hair slides around to cup my face. His thumb strokes under my eye. I’m certain he sees the dark circles there. I don’t think I would have slept even if the night had been uneventful. But my parents arrived half an hour after the guys left. We’ve all been sitting up since then.

“What happened?”

“They got warrants for my parents’ home and offices. The FBI went to each of their offices at 4:50, just as people were finishing up for the day. Of course, Mom and Dad came into the city because of it. It meant the FBI separated them. While they were there, the ATF went to their home. I don’t even know how the ATF can have any jurisdiction to search them. But they claim my parents still have ties to the mob. Obviously, my grandfather was on their lists. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out his living descendants. They’re claiming my parents are active members of the O’Rourkes.”

“The weapons your parents have. Are they all legally registered?”

“Yes. Everything is on the up-and-up. They have nothing to hide. The officers found nothing. Apparently, they bagged nothing at the offices. They didn’t take my parents’ computers or anything. They took the guns from the house, but the ones there haven’t been discharged in a while. They’re ones I compete with. I don’t store mine at my place in Brooklyn. Your men took the ones from when those guys attacked their home. We never got those back.”

“You won’t. They’ve been disposed of. Nothing is left to link your parents to anything from that day.”

That means there are no bodies left either. It’s not just the guns they made disappear when men tried to shoot Enzo, Chelle, and my parents in my parents’ New Jersey home.

“As soon, as the FBI let them go, they came here. They didn’t even go back to their house.”

“How do you know they took nothing but the guns, piccolina?”

I’m not sure when he started holding both my hands, but he’s running his thumbs over the backs of them. That and finally hearing him call me little one is keeping me from full on losing my shit. I want to because his shoulders are broad enough to carry the weight of all this. At least, I want them to be. I want to believe they are. But I don’t want him to actually have to. I want to prove I won’t fall apart again. I’ve kept it together since my parents arrived and told us everything. Everything is such a fucking jumble of thoughts and emotions right now.

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