Page 35 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
“Listen, asshole. He’s coming for you. You need to get yourself gone.” It’s an odd expression Tommaso is fond of using. The drugs I’m on must be getting to me.
“Who?” he asks.
“My father.”
“Fucking hell.”
I smile. For a ballbuster who gets beat up for enjoyment, he’s terrified of my father. “Listen, get the story straight because his men fact-checked fucking everything. Tell him you tried to dissuade me from breaking lockdown. Share how you jumped on the van’s goddamn hood while attempting to stop Conti’s men—he likes heroic bullshit like that.”
“Boss …”
“His men are searching for Conti right now. We’ve got to find him before they do. Capisci?”
“Yeah, I get it.” Pause. “Are the men interviewing Ciro Cigorelli today?”
My fists clench. Shitty food, nervous nurses, and three days confined to a hospital bed make me want to murder someone. But today’s my lucky day. “Yeah, but my father isn’t aware of his involvement, so keep your trap shut. I need to grab Conti before my old man can. Cigorelli can lead us to him.”
He clears his throat. “Sandro…”
“Conti’s not in Atlanta?” I demand, wondering at the odd tone in his voice.
“No. He’s gone underground since you diced and sliced his men.”
“You hire a tech geek like I asked? One skilled enough to hack Cigorelli’s bank account and search his devices?” An average person never disappears without a trace. But mafiosi excel at hiding bodies, dead or alive.
“Won’t be an issue. We got a few men on payroll.”
I frown. As we talk, Tommaso’s voice becomes more and more strained. My father boldly butchered another capo, so I get it. “Calm down. He’ll put a beating on you, and that’s it. Then we can recover by my pool, bourbon in hand, cocks in a sexy brunette’s mouth.”
Auburn hair, wound around my fist. Riley, struggling for breath while she swallows me deep down her tiny throat.“Listen, asshole. One more thing. If my old man bringsherup, don’t say a goddamn word. She’s a nobody, capisci?”
“About her …”
I roll my eyes. “You busting my balls right now? While I’m incapacitated, laid up in pain—”
“She’s alive. I fucking saw her.”
I freeze. “Where?”
“Here. At the trailer … She was collecting an envelope.”
“An envelope?”
“For her boss … at C&C Enterprises.”
The room fucking spins. “What did you say?”
“Sandro. She was in on it.”
RILEY
What couldCiro have possibly done to causethatreaction?
Mind racing, I hurry back toward the warehouse and desperately piece together what I know to be true. Tommaso, the Uber driver, works at the Riverview Casino. He despises Ciro—hates him, if I read his expression correctly. Therefore, by association, he now dislikes me. This much I can understand.
But dislike mehow much? Enough to hurt me? Was he reaching for his gun? If his call hadn’t interrupted us, would he have harmed me? Or was it that I was overheated, caught the shift in his expression, saw his gun, and overreacted?
My thoughts circle around to the most heart-wrenching fact of all—I’ll never reconnect with Al now.
