Page 11 of Dangerous King
"My papà is Cesare Costa, and my mother's name is Loredana. My father is the mayor of Porto Sangue."
That makes me pause.
Costa. Porto Sangue. The pieces are falling fast.
Porto Sangue, also known as theBlood Port, is where Giovanni handles most of his human trafficking. Lying between North Africa and Southern Europe, it's the perfect spot. If Giovanni has been holding the Mayor's daughter hostage, it explains why he has been looking the other way for all these years, allowing our organization to cash in billions of dollars from blood and tears.
For years, Toni and I have been trying to shut down this antiquated part of our organization, but Edoardo stands firmly behind Giovanni on this. It makes me sick.
I grab my phone and scroll to Marcello Orsi's number, another up-and-coming capo, who recently returned from Sicily. He will have the resources to get the mayor and his family out. I'll owe him, but that's for another day.
This is risky because we haven't spoken much; we've only exchanged a few words during parties or meetings. Rumor has it that he's not interested in playing nice with anyone, but he seems to get things done. I'm not a fan of his father, who killed Toni's, but Marcello has been in Sicily for the past ten years due to the fact that his father exiled him, so I can't imagine him being a big fan of Carlos Orsi either. It's a chance I have to take. I don't have any other connections to Sicily. None I could call up within the next few minutes, anyway.
It rings once, twice, then a deep, surprised-sounding voice asks in an amused tone, "Enrico Sartori, to what do I owe the honor?"
"I need an extraction," I say without preamble. "In Sicily, and you're the only person I know with contacts down there."
"Interesting. Sounds like it's not just urgent, but personal?" Marcello fishes.
I grind my teeth, not willing to give too much away. "Do you have contacts in or around Porto Sangue?"
"Maybe," he replies guardedly. "Depends on what you're asking."
"I need the mayor and his family out. Tonight. Without any headlines, bloodshed, or loose ends."
A pregnant pause enfolds. The bastard is letting me dangle, and my fingers drum against the butt of my Staccato XC. I'll give him a few more seconds.
"You're asking for political cleanup in a city crawling with dirty cops and freelance killers," he finally replies in a cool voice. "You realize that, right?"
"I'm not asking for favors," I bite out. "I'm telling you I'll owe you."
He lets out a short breath, almost a laugh. "You offering that means things must be bad."
"They're worse."
"I'll make some calls," he says after a pause. "I know a guy who can ghost them out by morning, but if it gets messy, I'm not wearing the blood."
"You won't have to."
"And what do I get?"
"I said I'll owe you."
"Hmm." He sounds satisfied, dangerous. "I like that."
The line clicks dead. No goodbye. Just a silent calculation and a promise to hold it over me. Fuck it, it's fine. I only make bets I can afford to pay.
I slide the phone back into my pocket. "They will be safe," I assure Cat after I hang up with Marcello, just as she and Izzy begin walking toward the balcony entrance to the house.
"You girls might not want to go in there," I call after them. "Oscar, Piero, take them around to the cars."
I watch them leave as Silvano slides up next to me. "What now?"
"Now we take care of Giovanni and Ringo. Nobody touches my family," I snarl and turn to the balcony door, the same one I warned Izzy and Cat away from. Bodies lie scattered inside the living room, mostly Giovanni's guards.
"Take them down," I order, pointing at the bound Giovanni and Ringo. I've been to Giovanni's basement before, but as much as I hate it, I must see it again. I have to see where they held Izzy.
Everything inside me turns to ice when my eyes fall on the metallic chair. The leather straps, meant to hold a prisoner in place, have been cut through. Two forgotten scalpels lie at the chair's feet.
