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

Chapter One

Nico Costa

Isabella never turned her lights off.

Day and night, they always blazed like a beacon. And yet, every window in the three-story red brick house was dark, reflecting the glow of the streetlights outside while shrouding the interior in blackness.

I stared at the wide living room window, trying to see in through the darkness while a prickle of apprehension raised the hairs at the back of my neck.

Gabe stepped out of the car, oblivious to the darkness that was blaring just as bright as any beacon in my head.

“Go around back. I’ll take the front,” I told him, getting out of the Porsche and slipping the Glock 17 out of its holster beneath my jacket.

The carefree look on his face fell away, replaced by a furrow between his brows as he surveyed the property.

“What exactly am I looking for?” he asked, glancing around at the quiet scene.

Gabe would never question my orders, not out loud. But clearly, he didn’t know Aunt Isabella like I did. After all, she never called him to fix the squeaky floorboards in the front foyer, or to do something about the leaky plumbing in the kitchen, or check her lawn for justone last timeto make sure the racoon had left.

She’d had my number on speed dial since I was sixteen.

“I don’t trust anyone else, Nico,” she’d said then.

Just a paranoid old woman, I’d thought then.

“There’s someone in there,” I told Gabe as I scanned the darkness. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. A burglary in any other house was probably just that: a burglary. But not here. Not in a property that belonged to a Costa. Not even a dumbass punk kid would be stupid enough to set foot in here.

Gabe nodded, drawing his gun. He took a wide circle across the front lawn, slipping silently over the dark green grass and then the endless row of ornate stepping stones that led to the backyard.

I waited until he disappeared around the corner of the house before heading straight up the front walk to the double oak doors. They weren’t locked. The handle turned easily in my grip.

I flexed the fingers in my free hand. It had been a while since I’d gotten down and dirty. The thought held a certain amount of appeal.

The door squeaked noisily on its hinges as I pushed it open, but the noise didn’t bother me. I wasn’t in the mood for a game of cat and mouse, so I’d rather the scumbags came right at me.

Inside, the house was quiet. I could hear the rustle of fabric scraping my skin lightly as I moved. The sound of my own careful breathing seemed to pound in my ears.

The back door swung open and then shut. It was Gabe. Right on time.

I flipped the light switch next to the front door, but it remained dark.

I clicked my tongue. They hadn’t just turned off the lights. They’d cut the power.

This was no small-time hit.

The shattering of glass burst through the silence. The noise came from the second floor. I crossed the foyer in five steps, gun cocked and ready, watching for any sign of movement from the top of the spiral staircase. Heavy footsteps sounded from further down the hallway, getting louder with every step.

The thud of flesh against flesh. Then a deep, muffled scream. Even muffled, I recognized the voice.

Gabe stepped into the foyer as three dark figures appeared in the spill of moonlight at the top of the stairs. Two of the figures were unfamiliar. Tall and lanky, with the familiar blob-like outline of Matteo wedged between them, and two guns pointed at his meaty head.

“Put the gun down, Costa, or I’ll kill him,” one of the lanky men said, making Matteo whimper like a child.

I laughed.“Perdonami, mi amico, but you just picked the most worthless piece of shit for your shield.”

Matteo was family—Aunt Isabella’s grandson who spent his days doped and his nights jacking off to Maria Ozawa. No matter how tempting it was, I’d never deliberately get him killed, but relinquishing my gun wasn’t an option.

Gabe and I would be dead before it hit the floor.

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