Page 122 of Luca
“We have confirmation?” I demanded to know, ignoring their blabbing.
“Yes.” The Sicilians and other members of Cosa Nostra from nearby territories were coming. Guido built himself a new criminal organization. Apparently, he was out to get the DiMauro mafia under his new rule too. It was the only reason I’d pulled in extra forces. Otherwise, I’d prefer to work alone.
“The only variable is whether Marchetti is backing up Guido,” Cassio reasoned. “If he is, all the help we are getting will turn on us, and we’ll have more enemies to fight getting out of this country.”
“And they say Italy is a romantic country,” Sasha grumbled, rolling his eyes.
* * *
Marchetti wasn’t backing Guido.We tore through the bastard’s defenses effortlessly. It was almost too easy. The moment we captured him, all the members of Cosa Nostra disbursed fast. Too fast.
It seemed odd, but I didn’t dwell on it too much. I was eager to get to work on this fucking family member.
Sasha and Luciano were leaning against the stone of Guido’s dungeon. Ironic that he’d die in his own dungeon. It was poetry really.
“Thank fuck,” Sasha grunted. “This fucker just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”
Luciano grinned. “He thought he had enough to bribe us.”
That alone showed how stupid and inadequate Guido was. He was Nonno’s youngest cousin, but it seemed the dumbest too. If he’d done his research, he’d know that Luciano had more money than he’d spend in ten lifetimes. And that was if he lived like a king.
“Shame he was only a few billion short,” Sasha snickered.
Guido sat in the middle of the cell, strapped to a chair. He held a resemblance to Nonno. He was family. Until he no longer was. Family didn’t stab you in the back.
“Marchetti won’t let you get away with this,” he hissed.
He was Marchetti’s age, but not nearly as rich nor charismatic. It was probably the reason he had gotten so greedy and so conniving. He was lacking so he resorted to betraying his family to prove himself.
A cruel and cold smile twisted my lips. “I don’t see him here.”
He sneered. “He rules the organization. You just run a fraction of it.”
“But my fraction makes Marchetti more money than all the other organizations in Italy. He’d be hard pressed to lose it for someone like you.”
Grinning like the devil, I pulled over a chair and sat facing him. I wouldn’t let him get the best of me. I’d make him suffer, for a very long time. The only thing I wanted to hear from his mouth were his screams.
“How is your wife?” he taunted. “I bet Marchetti won’t be happy to hear your daughter is lost to you. How will you fulfill the agreement if you don’t have a daughter?”
My control snapped. I lunged, my fist connecting with his face. Once. Twice. The chair rocked from the force of the impact and fell back.
I lifted him, then continued pounding on him. Blood quickly stained his face, his split open lips causing blood to coat his chin. But I took pleasure in making him suffer, pouring all my rage on his face. For costing methem. The two most important humans of my life.
A hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was my brother’s. I never even heard him enter the cell.
It was only then that it registered. My heavy breathing. The buzzing in my ears. Red marring my vision. Guido’s face was swollen beyond recognition. His skull smashed flat against the stone cell floor.
He was dead. Brutalized. Unrecognizable.
“Now isn’t this a sight?” A voice penetrated the fog in my skull. A familiar voice. Then it registered.
Marchetti. The Padrino.
Fuck, this was not a good time for a visit.
An army of Marchetti’s men crowded into the room, leaving space for Capo Dei capi. Two of Marchetti’s men, his consigliere and his enforcer, stood beside him with their guns pointed at us. Dante Leone and Giovanni Agosti.
“It’s been too long, Luca DiMauro,” he drawled.
