Page 11 of Sinful Mafia Prince

A large hand whipped out and grabbed Luca around the throat. He quickly reached for the man’s wrist, trying to pull the hand free, but this guy’s grip was like a vise.

“You, however, I could gut with a knife right here,” he sneered, his top lip curling up in a way that made his face even more grotesque to look at. “You’re so damn weak.”

Luca struggled to no avail as the man’s fingers dug in even tighter around his neck, but as he began to gasp for air, the door opened and a voice he faintly recognized from the trip over here said, “Mick, let him go.”

Luca’s eyes were watering now, his ears ringing, and when “Mick” released him with a shove backward, Luca reached for his neck. He sucked several deep breaths into his lungs as he tried to focus on the two men now talking to one another, but the momentary lapse of oxygen made it difficult to concentrate.

This Mick guy was scary as hell. Luca thought he’d faced down the worst of them back at Dom’s, but this man very clearly wanted him dead or at the very least gone—in whatever way possible.

“What the fuck are you doin’, man? What if I’d been Constantino?”

Luca rubbed at his abused throat and tried to listen as his breathing became more normal.

“Then I’d be dead.”

“You need to get the hell out of here. If the kid talks—”

“Thenhe’llbe dead.” Mick glared over his shoulder at Luca. “Somethin’ I wouldn’t cry about.”

“Just go, man. Gabriella is going to want to see him again before she goes to bed, and if she catches you up here…”

“What do I care what she thinks? She doesn’t run this place.”

“Mick, you need to cool off. Long game, remember?”

Long game? Long game for what?

“Fuck this, I’m out.” Mick walked to the open door and at the last second turned back to Luca. “Sleep with one eye open, or you might not see tomorrow.”

CHAPTERSIX

“THINK THE BOSS has figured out you’ve left yet?” Chef cut the engine of his car and grinned at Dom. In the dark, he could only see a flash of teeth. His friend was a little too excited about this act of rebellion.

Dom checked his phone before putting it on silent. “Doesn’t look like it. But I doubt we have long.”

For about the hundredth time during the ride to Long Island, the thought that this was crazy crossed Dom’s mind, but he was too stubborn to turn back now. There was no telling what was happening in the Fiore place, what lies they were filling Luca’s head with. And that was if they hadn’t done worse.

“So the plan—”

“Get in, get out, don’t get killed,” Chef said.

They’d been out here before to spy on the fuckers, but that was a bit different to the breaking and entering that was about to happen. No doubt the place was crawling with people, not to mention cameras and whatever security measures they’d put up to keep the likes of Dom out.

Somehow, he just didn’t give a shit.

He got out of the car and began to unbutton his shirt. It would’ve been a little suspicious if Dom had put on a bulletproof vest at his father’s house, but it was necessary before attempting what they were about to. Hopefully they didn’t decide to shoot at his head.

Chef, on the other hand, rarely took his off. Hell, he probably slept in it.

Dom adjusted the vest and then pulled his shirt back on, and as he buttoned it up, Chef opened his arsenal of weapons.

“What are you feeling tonight?”

Dom eyed the semiautomatic rifles and pistols, along with the knives and what looked like a grenade. “You just keep these in the back of your car?”

“I mean, you never know the kind of situation you might find yourself in.”

“What if the situation is being pulled over by a cop?”

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