Page 53 of Dirty Mafia King
The man grunts. Any fresh blood who walks in here always believes they’ll swagger out. Part of the fun is allowing them to believe so, until the urge for violence takes hold.
Everything I hoped for is coming to fruition. Sure, I’ll miss Don Lucchese when he’s gone. He’s been more of a father to me than my own. A role model. A mentor. Not that I trust him—the day that happens is the day I might lose everything. But right now, I’m sitting pretty and smelling goddamn roses.
Two weeks have passed since his departure. Dante’s settled in Atlanta, and Sandro in New York. Dante likes to report to me in person, and Sandro’s a motherfucking ghost.
Permits are approved. General contractors and construction crews are in place. Ground will break shortly in both cities. My patience is paying off.
My opponent lunges, and then swings.
I shoot my arm out straight and smash his ugly mug.
“Another knockout,” Freido exclaims.
I shrug. In one way or another, I’ve been fighting my entire life. It’s either win or lose—go fucking big or go home. I work hard to win. And I’m in my prime right now.
My men rush forward and carry the man away.
I unwind the blood-soaked gauze around my hands and toss it in the trash before drinking from a water bottle.
Freido waits until I’m finished. “Dante asked me to tell you Conti’s been running his mouth.”
“Of course he is.”
“He flew to LA to meet with Matteo Lombardi.”
I flex my jaw. Lombardi’s smart. But a phone call will reinforce the need to remain so. “Anything else?”
Freido clears his throat.
My eyebrows dip. “What is it?”
“Renzo. He nearly escaped the facility.”
Ma va’!“I thought I said he’s to be guarded at all times?”
“He is, sir. But Renzo’s … um … creative.”
My fists clench, and I immediately regret knocking out my opponent so quickly.
“Send two of our men. Make sure they understand my expectations.”
Freido nods.
God, I need a shower, a drink, and a good cock-sucking. I cross the grounds and head back to the house, thumbing through the contacts on my phone for a throat skilled enough to take me deep.
Movement at the corner of my eye catches my attention.
Alessia.
In the garden.
Holding a basket filled with fresh-picked vegetables like she’s Little Red Riding Hood.
She stares.
I keep walking. Because if I don’t, there’s no telling what this big fucking wolf might do.
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