Page 1 of Bound to the Mafia King

Chapter One

Valerio

Death. She was a cruel and vicious mistress, who took no prisoners when she made a house call. For some, she came a little too soon; others came to beg for her call. But there was a third group, one I belonged to. We dodged her call every single time. I had cheated death more times than I could count.

I had stared down the barrel of a gun more than I had entered a woman’s pussy. And seeing as I had an ongoing rotation of women I used for my entertainment, that was quite the comparison.

Death had my number, and she called me often. But every time I faced her, I managed to cheat my way out of the inevitable.Every. Single. Time.

I knew that one day she would come for me. But for now, I would keep evading her.

Some would have called it luck; that I had the favor of the heavens on my side. It was comical to think about, really, because I knew that the heavens worked more against me than the other way around. I had too much blood on my hands to bean angel’s favorite. And yet I still breathed freely, and my heart still beat. Was that due to luck being on my side, or did that have more to do with the fact that I was immortal? Many had joked that I had an infinite number of lives.

“Sir, all the arms are accounted for.” The guard stood in front of me with his clipboard. "We have them all boxed and ready."

“Good. We will have these moved in the meat container to New York tomorrow morning. Make sure that transport goes off without a hitch.” I clicked my fingers in my fist to release the pent-up tension. “Good job. Lock up and make sure everything is secured.”

I had been sent out to Michigan to finalize a firearms deal with the Colombians three days ago. This was a job that a lesser-ranked member could have done, but, for some reason, Big Brother wanted me out of the city.

I knew what he was doing. I knew what both heandSavina were doing. They thought New York was a toxic place for me due to all that had happened. It was ironic to think that the city we self-imposed ourselves on was toxic when we were the ones spilling the blood on the streets. We were the ones littering the pavements with drugs and contraband. How could a place I polluted be toxic for me?

I was fine. Had my father’s betrayal sucked? Yes. But it had been two years going on three, and I could not dwell on what was dead and gone. I had dealt with the grief in my own way and managed to pave the way for myself.

As soon as I walked out of the large barn, the rain came from virtually nowhere. When I walked in an hour ago, it was nothing but a midnight sky and a blue moon. But I guess that’s what happened in the Midwest and why no one wanted to fucking live here.

I walked to my McLaren and got inside. Truthfully, I should have been driving a more inconspicuous car, but I could give twofucks about that. I was part of the mafia, and I didn’t give a shit who knew me and who didn’t. I wasn’t here for long anyway.

I could not understand why Andres even wanted to have the exchange in a small town like Wiggleberry. Yep, that was the name of the little shit town he had me in. It was small, conservative, and highly religious. I was shocked I didn’t melt the minute I crossed the city lines.

I settled into my seat and breathed in the scent of the expensive leather.

Where could one get a stiff drink in these parts? I was almost certain that the only alcohol these people knew was Apple cider.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Like fucking candy, man.” I swiped the screen and answered the call. “Yes, brother.”

“Don’t sound so excited to hear from me, little brother,” he said sarcastically. “I would think that you miss being so far away from me. After all, we are usually rarely apart.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to contain my already short fuse. If this was one of his many ‘checking in on you’ calls, I was going to lose it. I was tired of him babysitting me and acting like I was a ticking bomb.

“What do you want, Andres?”

“I just wanted to check and make sure that you’re doing alright.”

“Bloody hell, can you stop trying to be my keeper? I’m not going to self-combust, I’m fine.” It was no secret that I had taken my father’s betrayal the hardest. To say I had spiraled was an understatement. I had damn well nearly started a war when I found myself in Chicago one night. “I’m not on drugs, I’m not fucking whores, I am on the straight and narrow, just like you wanted me to.”

None of that was true. I was taking drugs, but more respectably, and I wasn’t indulging in the whores that belongedto other mafias. I had learned my lesson once, and that had been enough for me.

“You know it’s only because I care for you, Rio.”

“Marriage and fatherhood have made you soft.” If you had told me five years ago that my brother would be what he is today, I would have laughed in your face. He had been much like my father, who didn’t believe in frivolous emotions such as love.

I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You trying to insult me won’t work, brother. I can read you very easily, and trying to shy away from the topic at hand won’t work. I know you aren’t on the straight and narrow. We may distribute the drugs, Rio, but we never use them. You know what that shit can do, you know what it did to our mother.”

At the mention of our mother, lightning ripped through the sky and sliced through the air with violent strength.

“I’m not taking anything,” I quipped. “It offends me that you think that I would even try to take anything.”

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