Page 37 of Mafia King: Matteo
“You worry too much.”
“Well, considering I have to keep you alive. You should be appreciative.”
“Noted.”
After we finish eating, Gio calls for a car and a driver. I put on my suit jacket and grabbed my long overcoat. I make sure the gun I put in my belt clip earlier is still there. It would be stupid not to carry a weapon, especially since we’re heading to a place we’ve never been.
Gio has the driver pull up, and I follow behind him as fresh snow falls. It will be nice to have Alena warming me at night. Well, depending on how pissed she is over our meeting. I haven’t seen her in days and wonder if she misses me.
I had paperwork with her father regarding the building and marriage contract. Now, Antonio wants to speak to me about his issue with Finn. It never stops. Put out one fire, start another, rinse, repeat.
We both know he wants to kill Finn. I don’t mind one less dealer dead. It’s easy to make his death look like an overdose. However, I can’t risk any blowback over it.
We make our way into the city’s Lower East Side near Soho. We walk up flights of steps as the elevator has a sign “Out of Order,” which seems odd as it’s in a well-kept neighborhood.
“What moron designs a building with only one elevator?” I grumble as we head to the stairwell. Gio pulls his gun and goes first before opening the stairwell door. He looks up and clears the corner before he motions for me to follow. “What floor?”
“Third.”
Why does it always smell like dead mice and urine in a stairwell?
On the third floor, we walk down an empty corridor until we arrive at number 323, Gambino’s apartment.
“You’d think he’d be living in a nice house with all the money he’s made over the years,” Gio stops when he notices the door is cracked open. Sensing a setup, he immediately goes into defense mode. His head is on a swivel as he checks our surroundings.
I peer across the railing behind me, and as far as I can see—I don’t notice anything unusual. Window cleaners are working; horns honk below, and there are snow-covered rooftops as far as I can see.
Satisfied we’re not being watched, I nod for Gio to open the door. Thankful for the cold that led him to wear leather gloves, he nudges the door open with his foot and enters the room.
We find Mr. Gambino in his recliner with a shot to the head.
We exchange looks of concern.
“That’s a hit. But why?” I ask.
In the distance, we hear the loud horn of an ambulance followed by the sirens of emergency vehicles.
“If an ambulance is coming, so are the cops,” Gio murmurs, voicing his concerns.
“Someone wanted us to find him.”
“We need to go,” he says.
“Fuck.”
What if someone saw us?
“Have Antonio hack the surveillance and erase all the footage,” I order. It helps that he’s a great hacker and has others to help.
“Sure thing, we need to go that way,” Gio points and takes the lead.
We walk to the opposite end of the building to avoid running into the rescue crew and discover dangling cameras on both floors.
“They want us to know they were here,” I mumble.
“Whoever killed Gambino came this way,” I propose.
“The question is, who?”
