Page 85 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“I’m well aware.” My jaw is sore from clenching it. “But I know he has his men in there at all hours of the day. The place is a front for money laundering, so it’s likely they’ll be down in the basement.”

Sloan nods. “We taking out all of them, boss?”

Marco’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I think we should leave at least one, don’t you?”

I glance sidelong at him.

“It only takes one man to send a message. I say we carve the words into his chest.”

Dez chuckles, loading his gun. “This is why I like working for your guys. There’s much more…creative freedom.”

“We aim to please.” Marco smirks, loading his own gun.

“Cover your tracks, and leave the messaging to me, got it?” I’m anxious to blow the lid on the rage that’s been simmering inside me all day.

Three voices come at once. “Got it.”

There’s something about it being broad daylight that sends a thrill rushing through me. Lorenzo wouldn’t expect us now. It’s not our style to be so obvious, but he’s given me no choice. He’s already threatening to take out my sister. If he catches wind of the fact there’s a woman walking around New York carrying my heir? All hell will break loose.

“Check the exit,” I hiss under my breath at Jerry.

He nods, keeping his gun close as he heads around the side of the club.

There’s no one in sight, the place appearing deserted, but I know better.

Jerry makes quick work of the lock with nothing but brute force and a crowbar he pulled out the back of his pants. He quickly waves us over, and we hurry inside, making sure to keep our footsteps light and our guns locked and loaded.

“Basement’s this way.” Jerry tilts his head left. He’s worked the rounds of most of the clubs in New York, which is why he’s worth every penny I pay him. The information he offers is specific, but invaluable, especially for situations such as this.

I follow close behind him as we head past the bathrooms and down a flight of stairs.

Jerry glances over his shoulder at me and nods.

Muffled voices come from a bit ahead, and I hold up three fingers to Marco, Dez, and Sloan.

My finger itches to squeeze the trigger, and the adrenaline coursing through my body is clearing my mind. This is exactly what I needed.

Three.

Two.

One.

Jerry kicks down the door, and I’m already pulling the trigger at the two men sitting around the table in the center of the dimly lit room. Stacks of dollar bills surround them, and soon enough blood is turning the green notes red as their heads hit the table with a heavy thump, their mouths open in silent screams.

Marco charges past me toward a guy cowering in the corner, fumbling with a handgun.

“We’ll use him!” I order Marco as I turn and find Dez and Sloan taking on the final two guys.

I duck as they stupidly try to fire at Dez, but are too panicked to aim correctly.

With two shots, they’re both slumped against the wall.

I whirl toward the man Marco has pinned to the floor, his foot to the guy’s throat.

I pull out my knife and stalk toward him, a smile tugging at my lips as I take in the fear in his eyes. He’s gagging against the pressure on his throat, his hands scrabbling at Marco’s leg, but my brother doesn’t budge.

“I was hoping you could deliver a message to Lorenzo Rossi.” I crouch down beside him and slice open his shirt with my blade.

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