Page 16 of A Mafia's Treasure

Pulling up to her address, I step out of my deep blue McLaren Artura V6, one of the best purchases I’ve ever made, the sleek cream interior is pure luxury.

Looking up I am surprised this is her address, so I double check the GPS. It’s not well kept and looks shabby, and knowing roughly what money she has access to, I am surprised she chose to stay here, especially when she can afford something more luxurious.

Walking up the steps, I press the buzzer but nothing happens, so I try the door. Unsurprisingly it opens, and I walk right in, shaking my head. I head toward the group gathering on the stairs, who fall silent as I pass, and go to her apartment.

I knock, hearing her footsteps come closer to the door, and I expect to hear a few locks click but no. She pulls the door open with a yank, as it appears to get jammed.

“What do you want, Tony? I need to get ready for tonight.” She moves, allowing me to enter but heads back to what must be her bedroom.

“I can’t send this information to you over the phone, it could be traced. We have to discuss what’s going to happen and what will happen if you fuck this up,” I tell her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she calls from the bedroom.

“Look, this is the guy you’re after, and you know the rest, what you don’t know is if you fail, then that’s it. Lights out,” I tell her “The boss isn’t into forgiveness.” I raise my brow.

“I get it. We’ve had this conversation, and I can do this. The guy needs to die, tonight, natural causes … got it.” She smiles at me but I’m worried.

I’m not sure she’s taking this as seriously as she should. I’m not sure her bosses in the UK were quite like the one she has now.

“Tony, stop worrying. I’ll text the number you sent when I’m done, then I’ll text you.” She’s putting stuff into her purse as she attempts to reassure me.

“Call me before you text the boss,” I tell her.

“Sure, whatever. Now, unless you want to give me a ride, which I very much doubt, you need to leave. Otherwise I’m going to be late.”

I stand and head toward the door, “Good luck, Frankie.”

Chapter12

Frankie

It’s been a couple of weeks since I last visited the club, but I haven’t been able to think of anything else, that’s why I’ve been so grumpy.

Training has been intense, and I haven’t had the time to go. Now, I have Tony riding my ass about doing this job right.

I mean, why would he hire me for it if he thinks he has to hold my hand the whole way through for fuck’s sake.

The guys at the gym don’t get this kinda treatment, so why does he feel I need it! Well, he can fuck off. I’m doing this my way.

Looking down at myself, I’m wearing the same dress I wore to the club the very first night. I should invest in some more dresses, I guess, but it’s not really my style, although I have a feeling that on the odd occasion they will come in handy.

I choose to get the subway over to midtown as I don’t want anyone knowing exactly where I’m going. To be sure, I switch out at a few stations and then jump off and walk several blocks until I reach the bar.

Big mistake, huge! My feet are aching like a bitch, but heels will do that to you. I probably should have worn flats and switched them out just before I got here. I mean, every day’s a school day, right.

I take out my compact mirror and open it, appearing to check my reflection, when I’m actually checking what surveillance cameras are in place.

Obviously, there’s one above the entrance, which I can’t avoid, and I’ll need to come up with a plan for that.

My hair is pulled back tight in a high bun, and I have sprayed enough hairspray to darken the light blonde that usually cascades down my back.

Snapping closed the mirror, I place it back in my clutch and head toward the bar. There are groups of people making their way in, so I squeeze my way into the middle of the pack.

I keep my head low, facing away from the camera, so if I’m spotted they’ll only see the back of my head. The likelihood of being spotted is slim considering the men tower above me, so that’s a positive.

We all flow toward the stairs and make our way up. No one appears to notice an extra person has joined their group. I continue to follow the crowd until I get into the main bar upstairs. It’s long and narrow, with people sitting at the mahogany bar, which fills the whole wall along the side, but the tall tables thoughtfully placed around the seating area make it look surprisingly intimate. I cast my eyes up and down and spot my target.

He sits at the bar, talking to everyone, well anyone that’ll listen it seems, as he paws at the women around him like he has the right to.

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