Page 1 of Valentino

CHAPTERONE

VALENTINO

“What now?” I grunt over the phone as I unlock my car. Slipping into the driver’s seat, I sigh when our newest recruit tells me there’s been another break-in by the docks. “And still no idea who it is?”

“No, Captain.”

“You don’t have to call me captain every time we talk,” I tell Michael for the tenth time.

“Yes, Captain.”

I roll my eyes but let it go. I remember what it was like starting from nothing in the Di Salvo crime family. In just over ten years, I went from lackey to foot soldier to Capo, charged with maintaining my own territory and commanding my own tier of soldiers. Not only that, but the Boss, Romeo, has trusted me enough to let me into the inner circle.

“Which facility did they hit up this time?” I ask, already frustrated that I’ll have to make one last stop before going home for the night. Michael rattles off the address, and I hang up before pulling into New York City traffic.

The drive to the docks isn’t horrible, it’s just annoying. For the last three days, my men have been reporting strange things going on around some of our properties. At first, it was petty complaints like missing snacks and lunches throughout the day. Then someone found a makeshift sleeping area in a rarely used storage closet, indicating we had a squatter.

Usually, I’d let someone else handle the riff-raff. This wouldn’t be the first time a homeless person thought they found the perfect shelter. After scaring the shit out of them at gunpoint, the protocol is to set them up at one of our cheaper hotels for the night and send them off with an all-you-can-eat continental breakfast in the morning.

Of course, we also let them know if we see them on our property again, we’ll shoot first and ask questions later. So far, no one has come back.

Everyone in the family is on high alert right now, however, this situation needs a more delicate touch. While I’m nearly one hundred percent certain it’s another squatter, there’s a small chance the Colombos, our rivals, are trying some shit again.

We know war is on the horizon, which means every detail matters. Including riff-raff.

I turn my headlights off before pulling into the alley leading to the warehouse in question. Parking in the shadows next to the building, I make sure I have my gun at my side and my knife secured to my ankle before stepping out and heading inside.

I debate whether or not to turn on the lights and scare the shit out of whoever is trying to sneak around, but ultimately decide to go the stealthy route. Grabbing a flashlight from the bench inside the door, I proceed to walk around the perimeter of the open room, shining the light into all the little hiding spots where someone could be lurking.

A macabre sense of power settles over me. I know it’s fucked up, but I enjoy these kinds of missions. For so long, I was the one who hid from monsters. Now, here I am, the monster other people run in fear from.

I suppose a sinister outlook on life is required for a made man such as myself. I don’t mind. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today, and if my dark, twisted heart helped pave the way, so be it.

A muffled sound catches my attention, and I freeze, waiting to hear it again. Silence stretches on for long moments, and I almost think I imagined it, but then I hear it again. Clearer this time.

A sneeze.

“Gotcha,” I say under my breath as I stride toward the corner where the noise came from.

There’s nowhere for the trespasser to go. Pallets filled with contraband to be sold are stacked fifteen feet high on one side, and on the other, a wide-open area leading to a locked and reinforced steel door. If they run, I’ll sink a bullet into them long before they're able to escape.

Moving in closer, I see a few empty pallets leaning up against the wall at an angle, creating a makeshift barrier. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the sneeze that drew me to this spot.

I creep along the side, keeping my flashlight pointed away until I get to the shadowed entrance. Then, all at once, I flash the bright, powerful light on the intruder and point my gun right between their eyes.

Round, golden irises blink up at me, catching me off-guard. It takes a second for my vision to adjust to the harsh light, but when I see the woman huddled on the ground with her legs tucked up and her arms around her knees, I feel like I might collapse. In fact, my knees shake, forcing me to squat down before toppling over.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I keep my gun trained on the woman, but I can’t keep my eyes from wandering over her face, taking in her delicate features. Midnight black hair frames her large eyes and round cheeks, and her nose is slightly curved at the end, giving her a doll-like appearance.

Well, shit. I’ve never encountered a sweet little thing like her in a dark and dangerous place like this. It’s usually delusional old drunks or meth addicts. I can tell by the clarity in her eyes she’s not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, which only makes her presence here that much more puzzling.

“I-I’ll come out,” she says, her voice scratchy and barely above a whisper. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Jesus, why does my chest feel like it’s caving in on itself at her words? I should be happy. This is going to be easier than I thought.

I grunt, lowering my weapon and nodding once. I’m about to stand from my position when the mysterious woman screeches and lunges at me, tackling me to the floor before scrambling off.

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