Page 21 of Sinful Mafia Prince

The man opened the door quickly, and it was obvious by the way he was dressed in only a wifebeater and loose boxers that he’d been dead asleep two minutes ago.

“Hurry up, then,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he moved to let them inside. Luca stayed close to Dom, while Chef brought up the rear, clapping the man on the shoulder as he passed.

“Good man, Milton,” he said.

Milton muttered something that sounded likedon’t have a choice, and then he looked out into the alley like he was making sure no one was following them. Once satisfied, he shut the door and began to lock up. There were several latches on the door, and it took him a hot minute to get them secured.

Luca supposed in a sketchy place like this you’d need all those locks, though he doubted they’d be any match for the two men he’d come with. Hello, they’d just broken him out of a house full of Fiores—one small apartment in an alley would be nothing.

Milton turned on a lamp, washing the room in a dim yellow light. As Luca got a good look at where they were, he subconsciously moved closer to Dom. The room was much smaller than he’d imagined, hardly big enough for the twin bed and desk pushed up against two walls. Damn, he’d thought the room he was locked up in at the Fiores’ place was small, but this was half the size.What could this guy possibly have that Dom and Chef needed?

“Two passports,” Dom said, forgoing any small talk. “And we need them now.”

Milton crossed his arms and scratched his thick brown beard, which Luca found amusing, considering the lack of hair on top of his head. “It’s three a.m. and you want a rush job? It’s gonna cost you.”

Dom narrowed his eyes. “Double, so you said. Does it look like I give a shit about any of those things? Just get it done.”

“Fine, fine,” Milton said, holding his hands up as he went over to the desk and sat down. “Who are these for?”

“Us.”

Uh…what? Is he kidding?

“Where are we going that we need passports?” Luca said.

“Shut up.”

“That’s not a place, Dom. Where are you—”

Dom clamped a hand over Luca’s mouth. “I said shut. Up. Nod if you understand.”

Luca didn’t, but something in the intensity of Dom’s expression told him it wasn’t the time to ask questions. At least not in front of this stranger.

Luca nodded, and Dom let go of him but didn’t move away.

“I’ll, uh”—Milton cleared his throat—“need your names. Whatever names you’re using for these.”

“Raoul Berruti for mine. And…” Dom shot Luca a mischievous look. “What’ll it be? Gary? Stuart? Herman, perhaps?”

Luca wrinkled his nose. “Can it be something a little more current and…I dunno, better?”

“Current and better? What do you think, Chef?”

“Hmm…Chorizo Grinder sounds good to me.”

“Oh my God, do not put that on there,” Luca said. “Just let it be…um…Silas. Silas…Wheeler.” Surely his friend wouldn’t mind Luca borrowing his first name, since it wasn’t likely they’d ever see each other again. Especially now that it was apparent Luca was leaving the damn country.

Dom didn’t look impressed by his name choice, but he nodded at Milton. “If that’s what he wants.”

If that’s what he wants?Was he serious? When did Dom ever care about what Luca wanted?

Milton produced a camera from one of the desk drawers and pulled down a white shade from the ceiling. “All right, Silas, you’re up first.”

Before Luca’s feet could move, Dom pushed him forward. Luca stood in front of the shade and looked down at what he was wearing. There were smudges of dirt everywhere from his kidnapper’s hands as well as rolling around in the trunk.

“Don’t worry about your clothes,” Milton said, focusing the lens. “I can change them.”

“Oh. Okay.” Luca smoothed his hands down his shirt and looked into Milton’s camera. “Do I smile or not smile?”

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