Page 2 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

“Easy,fratellino.Keep your head clear.” It sounded like a simple enough instruction, but keeping one’s mind sharp under pressure was no easy task.

Leo breathed out in one slow huff, but his eyes widened just a little as they settled on the lead guy.

“An old friend of yours?” I asked quietly enough to keep the conversation between the two of us.

“Yeah, a real piece of work. Don’t trust him, Dom.” Leo clenched his jaw.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I scoffed. “Just stay focused.”

Leo nodded just as the trio came to a stop two yards away.

The prickle at the back of my neck felt like needles poking into my skin. Something definitely wasn’t right. It was all I could do to keep from shooting all three of the motherfuckers and calling it a day.

The lead guy nodded to me then turned to Leo.

“Cute mutt, Leo,” he joked with an ugly, toothy grin. His teeth were yellowed, and it looked like his incisors had been filed down into wicked points. “Got yourself a new girlfriend?”

My hands clenched tight, and I could feel blood throbbing in my temples. Nobody spoke to a Luca that way. Ever.

Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him. I repeated the silent mantra over and over again, resisting the urge to put a bullet right between the fucker’s eyes. No goddamned respect—that was the problem with this cartel. Someone needed to teach them some fucking manners. But since Vincent’s orders had been to make the trade, no mention of teaching these lowlifes a lesson, I unclenched my fists.

I committed every feature of the guy’s face to memory. Every pockmark, every bristle of his goatee. Maybe today wasn’t his day, but no one disrespected a Luca and lived to tell the story.

“Where’s Alejandro?” I asked between gritted teeth while Leo took another breath. Alejandro was a piece of shit—he’d sell a man out for a quick buck—but the devil I knew was better than the devil I didn’t.

The guy smiled. Damn, what fun it would have been to yank those ridiculous incisors right out of his mouth.

“Alejandro’s been… retired,” he said, crossing his meaty arms over his chest and dangling the beat-up briefcase from one finger. “I’m the new point man for the Free Birds now. Just think of me as the new team mascot.”

I’d take Bullet as a mascot over this guy any day. “And does the Free Birds’ new mascot have a name?”

“You can call me Jimmy.”

“All right, Jimmy. As soon as I have the cash in hand, the two trucks in the warehouse are all yours. But you tell Harry, the next time he changes his point man, he better tell me about it first.”

The two lackeys stood up straighter, their beefy hands hovering in front of their open jackets.

Jimmy just smiled, creasing the skin around his dark, beady eyes. “A bit arrogant of you, don’t you think, Dom?”

The guy was just asking to die. “My family and my friends call me Dom. You’re neither.”

“My apologies, Mister Luca.” An insincere apology if ever I’d heard one. No fucking respect.

“The money, Jimmy. Now.”

“Of course.” He tossed the briefcase, and it landed just inches from my shoes, forcing Bullet to scamper out of its way.

Leo leaned down to pick it up.

“Don’t bother, Leo,” I told him, keeping my eyes on Jimmy.

“What’s the problem, Mister Luca?” the guy cajoled.

The problem was that a briefcase holding twenty-five thousand $100 bills—the exact price of the merchandise in the two trucks in the warehouse—weighed about fifty pounds. By the light thud this briefcase made when it hit the ground, no way it weighed more than fifteen pounds.

“You’re a little light, Jimmy,” I said, kicking the shitty leather case back at him.

“Am I?” He smirked, stopping the case with his worn black loafer.

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