Page 9 of Mafia Star

Papa and Uncle Salvatore have remained quiet for a while. I watch my uncle, hoping we can decide and get on with things. I need some sleep, and I need to get some shit done before I figure out what I’m going to do besides jack myself off until I find someone to take my mind off Beth. I breathe a sigh of relief when Uncle Salvatore looks at Gabriele and nods. We have his decision.

Since I’ve been Hunter’s contact, I speak up.

“Do you want me to give him the order tomorrow? Do we know the next time Luigi’s supposed to meet with the NYPD?”

Luca scrolls something on his phone before he turns to me.

“He has Sunday night off. My guess is sometime then.”

It’s Thursday now. Perfect. I’ll talk to Hunter tomorrow and gets things in place for the meeting. As long as that’s not Hunter’s day off too, we should be good. He’s cozied up with enough people that he should be able to get close enough to overhear a conversation with no one questioning him. It would be great if he could be right there in the middle of it. But we have sensitive mics that pick up an ant sneezing. He just needs to be in the vicinity.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Anything else?”

My dad shoots me the same stare he’s been giving me since I was a squirmy toddler in church. Normally, even in my early thirties, it’s enough to make me freeze. But I’m over it today. I need to get out of here before I snap at someone. Uncle Salvatore’s not looking any more pleased with me than Papa, but oh well. He wraps things up.

“Yes. We’re done. Report back to me once you have things set up. I want to know time and place, so we’re ready.”

This has been the longest fucking week. Friday was just a regular long workday. Saturday was supposed to be my day off. I was getting changed last night into my jeans and tank top to head to my club when my phone rang in the sets of three. That automatically means it’s a work call. I get calls from my family that just ring until I answer, or it goes to voicemail.

But three, then stop, then three, then stop until I answer means get my ass on the line. I had to change out of my tank top— which gives me plenty of freedom to wield whatever impact play device I want while covering my very recognizable tat of Italy on my left pec. We all have them. Our men have them on their forearms, but the don’s family gets them on their chest, right over their heart.

I wound up at the garage all night and half of today. Enzo doesn’t know it, but he just got another wedding gift. The stronzo— asshole —who was giving Chelle shit at work tried to back out of a deal we set up with him. We knew he would, so it gave us the excuse to deal with him. Part of our decision to bring him to the garage was for Enzo and Chelle’s sake— he can’t harass my newest sister if he isn’t breathing. But most of it is because he tried to hire some of our guys to do a build for a Diaz connected project.

We let him take on two of our construction teams for cheap, knowing he bought the land he’s building on from Enrique Diaz, the Colombian jefe. Enrique’s a silent backer, and Simon Shapiro thought he was doing Enrique a favor by making us indebted to Enrique and him since he’s employing our guys. Dumb fuck. He didn’t get that it’s the other way around. We control just how fast or slow, how expensive or cheap a build is when our guys work it.

But he did the unacceptable when he told Enrique he’s paying us from money he’s embezzling from a charity Chelle represents. It’s one that’s near and dear to her heart since she lost an older brother in combat. Trying to fuck us over was his first strike. Fucking over Chelle after harassing her was his last.

Things could have gone a lot faster, but drawing out his agony was the wedding gift. Chelle will never know what we did, but Enzo will. She’ll just know he disappeared. She’s smart enough to know we did it. She’s also smart enough to know he must have done something more than just target her since Enzo didn’t haul him into the garage after the fuck wad cornered Chelle in her office. He held off for Chelle’s sake at work.

Shapiro sang like a little bitch, telling us several things about how Enrique was investing on the sly. He gave up the account information where Enrique deposited the money. Carmine isn’t our hacker, but he’s good at sleuthing shit out. He knew enough to backtrack and get into Enrique’s account. He drained it. We are ten million richer, and that money is already in untraceable accounts all around the world.

Shapiro also told us about some other projects Enrique’s nephew Pablo is planning. Shapiro intended to invest in those to reciprocate for Enrique’s support. Pablo is Luca’s equivalent as Enrique’s heir and second in command. Unlike Uncle Salvatore who has two young daughters— their age and gender make them ineligible to inherit —Enrique has no children, so Pablo will one day take his place.

Shapiro reached the limit of his usefulness and he’s now a pile of ash floating into nothingness in the Hudson. Since I finished at the garage, I’m now sitting in a van with headphones on while Carmine fine tunes the audio and video for the wire our cop is wearing.

“Yeah. We have something we gotta do. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch as a cop bumps fists with Hunter. Not encouraging that he’s getting the brush off before they’ve even stepped out of the precinct building.

“Looks like we’re headed in the same direction though.”

Hunter isn’t giving up. Good. I didn’t have to offer him shit to do this. He took one look at me as I approached him, and I knew I had him. He was only too happy to do what I said. I think he figured I’d off him right then and there if he didn’t. My baby brother won’t be kvetching at me over wasting money.

A second guy comes into view. I recognize him as someone else on our payroll. Interesting.

“Yeah— uh —we have something going on. We gotta hurry.”

“I walk faster than the two of yous. I won’t keep yous waiting.”

Hunter steps past both of them and takes long strides down the street. When he passes a couple of women, he twists to let them pass. It allows us to see the other two officers are still following. He continues on until a man on a stoop comes into sight. Hunter stops when he comes even with the steps up to the building.

“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you out here. How you doing?”

Hunter thrusts out his hand to Luigi, who’s looking around.

“Great. Good seeing you.”

Luigi definitely doesn’t sound like he wants to strike up a conversation. Hunter turns again, so the camera picks up the two officers approaching. We observe them slowing down, and I can see them talking to each other. It’s obvious they’re debating whether they should change course, walk past like they don’t see Luigi and Hunter, or stick with the plan.

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