Page 4 of The Mob Boss' Pet

“Is he still bleeding?”

“Naw, it’s okay. That’s from when we moved him in here. We’ll change the bandage in a bit,” Anton says from across the king-sized bed.

“Charlie, put that fucking cigar out!” I point two fingers at our guard dog.

“Sorry, boss.” He smothers the stub into the ashtray on the end table.

“He’s going to be okay?” I ask, pointing back to Roberto.

“Yeah. It didn’t look like the bullets hit anything important,” Anton explains. “But there was a fatality,” he goes on, walking around the bed to my side. “Sergio didn’t make it,” he says somberly.

An ache hits my chest. Sergio grew up with me, side by side we caused hell—and took our lumps together as well. A first cousin by blood, a brother by love.

I swallow the pain. “What the fuck happened? It was supposed to be just a fucking meeting. A simple exchange.” I fist my hands at my sides. Shit doesn’t go sideways without there being blame. And whoever did this is going to pay the price.

“Well, it went to shit.” Anton rakes his hands through his hair, keeping his voice low. “We met with the Mancini brothers like we were supposed to. I gave them the envelope, then some asshole walks in the back door from the alley and takes a few shots at us. Roberto took two to his chest and Sergio took one to his head.” He blinks away the tears in his eyes. There’s time for mourning later.

“And the Mancini brothers?” I demand.

“One of them took a bullet to the shoulder, too. The little one, I can never remember his fucking name. The other grabbed him and hightailed it out,” Charlie filled in the blank.

“So, they weren’t gunning for us, not a hit from the Mancinis?”

“I don’t think so.” Anton blows out a long breath. “There was so much fucking blood, Vincenzo. The bakery’s covered in it. I sent over a crew to clean it up. Tony’s freaked the fuck out.”

The bakery really isn’t a high concern, but our meeting did fuck up the old man’s business. The Manetto family takes care of those who take care of us. We don’t leave a mess like that behind.

“Any of his family or customers hurt?” I ask. Last thing I need to worry about is collateral damage.

“No. The café was empty. He sent his kids away when we got there.”

“Good.” I rub the back of my neck and look back down at my youngest brother. Only twenty-one and this could have been his last day on earth. It’s the way of our life but fuck, he’s so young. Thank Christ Mom’s not here to see her baby lying with two holes in his chest. She’d have my fucking head. I swore to her I’d keep Roberto safe. And you can’t fuck with a promise given to your mother on her deathbed.

My phone rings.

“Mancini,” I say as I check the screen before accepting the call.

“Vincenzo.” Joseph Mancini, the head of the Mancini family, starts talking before I can. “We had nothing to do with that mess at the bakery.”

“I know,” I say in a calm tone. “Your kid got hit too?”

“Jimmy. Yeah. He’s okay, your brother?” He asks the question with hesitation.

“Roberto’s going to live, but Sergio wasn’t so lucky.” I press the phone harder against my ear, my fingers ache from gripping it so tight. Physical pain is better than the sort rumbling through my chest.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His words are sincere. There’s no ill will between our families. We work together when it benefits us both, and one of us losing a family member benefits no one. “Sergio was a good man.”

“Any idea who did this?” Sergio was better than good, but I’m not going there right now. Right now, I want to get to the bottom of what the fuck happened this afternoon. I sent my brothers and cousin to meet up at a neutral location to exchange information for cash. An easy fucking meeting. No one should have walked away with so much as a paper cut, but I have a dead cousin and a shot brother.

“None. I’m looking into it. You?”

“I only just got home. I’ll start digging. If you find out who did this, don’t act without me.” It’s not a request. My cousin died. I get first dibs on the motherfucker.

“Of course.” Joseph used to deal with my father before he died and left me in charge of the family, and his respect for my father has rolled over to me. It doesn’t matter to him that I’m young enough to be his son, I’m his equal.

With the call over, I stuff the phone back into my pocket and turn back to Roberto. “The bandages need changing. I don’t think there should be so much blood.” I poke at the edges of the white bandage.

“Wait.” I grab hold of Anton’s arm when he starts to reach for Roberto. “Who patched him up?” Anton’s smarter than taking him to the hospital. They have to report gunshots, and we don’t need that sort of heat.

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