Page 108 of Heartless Mafia Prince

“Bosco, I see what you’re trying to do. You want me to fall into my old ways and fuck up what I have with Ryah. Not going to happen.” I reached for the radio knob and searched for a good station.

“If you want to talk about sports, fine. Every other topic is off limits.”

He leaned his head back on the seat and sighed. We listened to sports radio for the remainder of the time.

Right on schedule, Sheldon appeared at Bosco’s window. He gave him the bill of lading. We thanked him and drove toward the exit.

I tapped my earbud. “Gian, we’re on the move.”

“Copy that.”

Bosco rolled to a stop at the security booth. “The same guard checked the bill of lading.”

“One moment,” he said.

The tiny hairs stood on my arms as the guard walked to the back of the trailer. I placed my hand on the Glock under my shirt. My heartbeat thudded my ears. If this was going south, we’d go out in a blaze of glory.

He approached the window and gave the paperwork to Bosco. “You guys have a good night.”

“You do the same,” I stated.

The oversized chain linked fence opened and Bosco drove down the road. I exhaled and tapped the dashboard. “That shit was fun,” I laughed.

“Yeah, it was,” Bosco chuckled.

***P***

Forty-five minutes later, we entered a warehouse the three of our families owned. The warehouse was under a shell company’s name and couldn’t be traced back to us.

I climbed out of the truck and stalked toward the back of the trailer. Our guards were scattered throughout the large building. They stood under the bright lights, eager to see what was inside.

Gian used bolt cutters to clip the tag. I flipped the hatch and raised the trailer door.

We stared at the large brown boxes in front of us.

“Jackpot, baby,” I released a low whistle.

The three of us hopped into the truck.

Bosco produced a box cutter and opened one of the boxes. “These devices will make our families tons of money.” He grinned from ear to ear.

Gian's heavy hands landed on our shoulders. “Let’s toast to a successful job.”

I peeked between Gian and Bosco. “Sounds good.”

We walked into an office nestled in the back of the building.

Bosco flipped on the light.

Sitting on the edge of the desk, I removed my cap.

Gian retrieved three red solo cups from the desk drawer and a bottle of Rémy Martin.

“Good thing I’m not driving tonight. This is the only liquor that can put me on my ass,” I sighed.

Gian laughed. “I remember the last time we drank this.”

He filled each of our cups to the halfway point.

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