I can feel Fia’s presence behind me at the door, listening.
“Daddy will destroy them. Take everything from them. I’m not happy with mommy but I’m doing this for her. She deserves justice. Mafia justice.”
“Rip their throats out,” Fia sniffles.
I glance over my shoulder. “Li torturerò per giorni. I will torture them for days,” I promise in Italian. “Then I’ll chop their bodies into small pieces.” I shrug.
A sly smile curls at the corners of her lips as she turns and strides away.
Chapter Six
NICO
THREE YEARS LATER
“What do you want?” He grits out, frustration heavy in his tone.
I lean back in the chair, kick my boots up on the wooden kitchen table inside one of his drug houses. I stare at the iPad screen. “Isn’t it obvious? Newark.” A devilish grin lifts the corner of my lips.
“You’ve been a thorn in my side for three years. I lost tons of men because of you.”
“I get it. The underground pipeline makes the town lucrative. However, you can’t steal from someone who earned it to line your fucking pockets.”
He arched a bushy brow. “Aren’t you doing the same thing?”
Muffled voices sound around me. I tune them out and focus on the call.
The asshole is dressed in a pristine blue suit.
“Yes and no, Ettore. The town’s proximity to New Jersey aligns more closely with my plans.
Newark, Delaware shouldn’t have connections with Washington D.C. or Baltimore.”
Sitting behind his oversized desk, he curls his meaty fist with a look of annoyance on his olive complected face. “You’ve crippled many of my businesses with the help of the Don of the Cosa Nostra in Sicily,” he snarls.
“What can I say? The Don will make a shit ton of money off this town.”
“You’ll pay for this, Nico,” he roars.
“No. We’re done here. Run your territories and don’t return to Delaware or New Jersey.” I drop my feet and lean into the screen. “Because if I catch your men in my territory, I will go right for your pipeline that runs through D.C.”
“You motherfucker,” he yells.
I tap the disconnect button and close my iPad. Standing to my feet, I grab my muzzled Glock off the table.
“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to talk while a person’s on the phone?”
The four men, bound tightly with zip ties and gagged, writhe helplessly on the living room floor beneath my bodyguards’ intense stares.
“Fuck you,” one spits through the gag.
I step forward, gloved finger hovering near the trigger. “Go straight to hell.”
I aim the Glock at his head and squeeze the trigger. Moving down the line, I put a bullet in each of their heads.
Grinning, I look at Lune. “We own this territory now.”
He smirks. “Today’s a good day.”
