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Now that I had real feelings for the Luciano brothers, I didn’t want to steal from them. So I let the hedge fund clients contribute to my scheme. These men were so wealthy they wouldn’t even notice.
While going through the books, I spotted a few familiar names. Men who were titans of industry. All of them connected to the Boardwalk Mafia.
Wellington Pharmaceuticals
Salvatore Global
Battle Industries
Atlantic Airlines
Mac Corp
Five publicly traded companies worth billions of dollars. When I looked them up, I noticed all the families lived in the same town called Devil’s Creek. It was off the coast of Connecticut, not far from Hartford.
I wondered what tied them to the Lucianos, apart from one obvious link—the Salvatore family.
The Salvatores were cousins of the Luciano brothers on their mother’s side. They ran Salvatore Global, which specialized in private security and trading. Two of the Salvatore brothers weren’t blood related to the other two and had inherited their parents’ airline.
Drake Battle was a tech genius in the news for his cutting-edge artificial intelligence software. I had owned shares in Battle Industries before my dad liquidated my portfolio. Mac Corp was a global shipping company owned by the Cormacs.
The Wellingtons were even more well-known than the others and the second wealthiest family in the world. Everyone in the United States used products made by Wellington Pharmaceuticals. That morning I had used a lotion from one of their subsidiary brands. They made everything from cold medicine to skin care products and vaccines.
So that was my plan.
To take small amounts from people who wouldn’t notice the missing money. I would eventually replace the funds with the gains on my investments. In the end, it would all work out.
I hoped.
It was still a gamble.
Dante swiped his keycard on the wall scanner when we hit the dead-end at the back of the industrial laundry area. He entered a four-digit number into the keypad. I noticed he only used the extra layer of security for rooms that held money.
He opened the door for me and tapped on my back to push me inside. It was pitch black, further intensifying my anxiety until he flicked on the lights.
Inside the large room was a chute on the wall that looked like something you would see at a bank. Dante grabbed my arm and steered me over to it. “The money you drop from your office comes here.”
Dante trusted me more than I thought. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shown me their operation.
“So someone waits down here to collect the cash?”
He bobbed his head. “We use our associates to recirculate the cash through the casino.”
“The irony of your money washing room being at the back of the laundry is not lost on me.” I grinned, but he didn’t seem the least bit amused. “How come I don’t bring the money here? Why use the chute?”
“Because we can’t risk having anyone know you’re helping us.”
“Why? Don’t you trust your men?”
“I don’t trust anyone.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and studied my face. “It’s best to keep each stage of the operation separate to mitigate the risk.”
“Makes sense.”
He clutched my wrist and pulled me toward another door at the back of the space. This room didn’t require a keycard or passcode.
When he flicked on the light, a gasp escaped my throat. It stunk of bleach and a chemical I couldn’t place. The scent smacked me in the face, choking me. I sucked in a few deep breaths and blew them out as I scanned the room.
They used this place to torture people.
