Page 16 of Vicious Heir

People are running every which way, and a few men book it into the bathroom—probably to flush dope down the toilet.

“Somebody better hit me with why my fucking club is being raided!” I demand.

I spot Benjamin Roscoe, the chief of the Chicago PD, who is on our fucking payroll, tipping over a table as he walks toward our lounge.

“Roscoe!” I yell, and he turns toward me and shakes his head.

Dirty fucker.

I immediately run up to him, but he continues walking. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the hell is going on? You don’t get to come in here, and you know it. Not without warning, or you’re fucking cut off. My men and I work our asses off to keep your fucking officers safe when they need protection, and now you’re in here insulting me?”

I jerk him back by his sweaty collar as he enters one of the empty backrooms, the door still wide open as if the patron and employee who were in here made a mad dash as soon as they heard the tells of a raid. An officer grabs me and puts me in handcuffs, and I throw my elbow back and land a shot to his nose. Blood immediately gushes as Benjamin turns around and throws his hands up in the air.

“Fuckin’ god damn, Amato. Ya’ couldn’t just let us do this, could ya’? Now you’re goin’ down to the fuckin’ station when you coulda just let me do my damn job and mind your own fuckin’ business!” he cries out as the officer behind me tightens my handcuffs and jerks me around to head toward the front door. “We got a tip that you’re keepin’ the mayor’s missin’ daughter in here. Whaddya’ want me to do, Nicco? Ignore it and have even more fuckers comin’ down on my ass? I got a job to do too, ya’ know.”

Benjamin motions to the cop to hold me in place as he and a few other of his men continue checking the rooms.

“You really think if I had the mayor’s precious daughter, I’d keep her somewhere public? Don’t take me for a fool, Rosco,” I say, once again jerking away from the fuck who’s keeping me still.

A few of my men rush in and hold their hands up when the pigs give them dirty looks.

“Can’t fucking arrest men for walking into a club, you fuckers,” I spit out at them.

My friend Dom, who is one of our hitmen, and my brother Matteo both come to my side as Benjamin ignores my comments.

“The fuck are these backward ass, cowboy wannabe, pig-shit smelling fucks doing in here?” Dom asks, and I crack up, despite the circumstances.

Leave it to Dominic.

“Yeah, you heard me, boys. Freedom of speech. I think you got it in that little blue law book of yours.” He mock ponders for a second and then follows it up with, “Oh fuck, you can’t read it because you got the law so far up your fucking asses you can’t see straight.”

Even Matteo chuckles at that one.

A couple of the pigs mutter words to Dom but quickly acquiesce as Benjamin walks back over.

“I’m about sick of seeing you around my shit, Rosco,” Dom grits out as he points at the chief and steps up so he’s toe-to-toe with him. “Somehow you’re always just lurking around like a bad case of the fucking clap.”

Benjamin’s phone rings, and he quickly pulls it from his pocket and answers it just as a few of the officers’ radios come to life.

“Yeah,” he answers, his iPhone to his ear.

The shade of his face turns to a stark white as he looks at me. Either Gabriel is ripping him a new asshole or—

“Big blowout on the north side,” Benjamin says, ending his call. “We need everyone we can up there now. Casualties and plenty of wounded.”

He turns to look at me, and something that closely resembles sorrow flashes on his features. Makes no sense. We aren’t close. Benjamin is on the payroll, but I have a funny feeling he’s about to be off of it. Maybe he’s slowly understanding he fucked up.

“Checkmate Enterprises,” Benjamin says.

Well, shit. Half our men who were available went to Checkmate when we found out about the DeSantises sending in the tip for the cops to raid us. Enzo called, and they went that way, and the rest of us who were available came to The Vault. Gabriel Jr. and a few of his main men went there, along with a handful of my soldiers, because I had a feeling they’d need more help there on enemy territory.

“You fucking men need to leave each other alone. Let shit cool off before you get even more people killed.” He starts to step around me and says, “Uncuff the bastard. He’s got something more important to handle.” Then he turns back to me. “Call your father, Nicco. You don’t want to hear what happened from me.”

Fuck.

* * *

I’ve gotmy arm draped around my mother, Elena, as she sobs into the side of my chest.

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