Page 146 of My Mafia Queen

Once I reach the service stairwell, I abandon the cart, grab my stuff, and run down the stairs. I change my clothes again in a storage room on the first floor and then go straight to the parking lot. This time, I pick up a set of keys from a panel inside the garage, and moments later, I climb into one of Damaso’s armored SUVs.

I’m happy my plan has worked, but I don’t have time to gloat or be gleeful.

Without looking back, I start the ignition and steer the car away, heading back to LA.

* * *

DAMASO

I’m notcrazy about new technologies for obvious reasons, except for certain circumstances. And this is one of them.

Propped on a bar stool in one of our secret houses, I watch a replay of the moment when Joe’s men pulled up in front of my residence and had a moment of hesitation before shitting themselves.

Fog, smoke, and the deafening sound of bullets had made for an expensive movie production, and it was all worth it.

They’d planned to ambush us. Instead, they fell into their own trap.

At first, they didn’t know what to think.

The soundtrack came with voices barking orders and shadows moving across swiftly. It looked like at least two dozen people getting in formation to confront the unwanted guests.

A few shots were fired before they tried to ram into the gate, which was a stupid move even by their standards.

And then more chaos ensued.

Alarms blaring, voices shouting. Lights flickering.

It was quite a show, and after more moments of confusion, they finally scattered away from my driveway.

In the meantime, I ordered three hits on their secret houses.

While they were away, their dens were destroyed.

But that’s not where they keep Carmina’s sister and her friend. And I knew that.

The whole point was for them to set me up and catch me unprepared––didn’t happen––and for me to create a distraction.

One way or another, they’ll send word to me and ask for a sit down, but I’m not holding my breath.

I’m not planning to wait anyway. I’m just counting on them to make a mistake.

“Boss, look at this,” Vito says, peering at his phone. “One of Joe’s men is heading east.”

“Who says that?”

“Johnny.”

I yank the phone from his hand and check the message.

“Let’s go,” I say, pushing to my feet. “This is our lead.”

“How do you know?” Vito asks.

“I don’t. I’m just listening to my gut.”

I signal to the other men.

“Let’s get going. We’re twenty minutes behind them.”

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