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Fuck, he’s truly deluded if he believes Davide took what was his.
God, our father was a fucking bastard. He was playing all sides. He was friends with all the enemies. It’s no wonder why we were never at war. That fucker always passed the buck to someone else. Anytime we were close, one of our men would die. My father was never good enough to be the boss. He should have been killed like the traitor he was.
Rocco laughs. He’s had enough of this shit. “You were never going to ascend the ranks, Umberto. You would have never got higher than Davide’s right-hand man. You betrayed your brother, your friend, and for what? Nothing. Marianna and Portia are gone and you’re alone, just as you’ve always been.”
“Fuck you,” Umberto hisses. “I never thought he’d betray me. He promised Marianna to me.”
“Where is she now? Hmm? Where the hell is Davide’s wife and daughter?” I ask, wanting to know what he’s going to say about that. “For a man who was so eager to have her, where is she?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. The moment we found out Davide was dead, we went to the house, but they were gone.”
“Who called in the death?” I ask, wondering how everyone found out it went down. “If you both got the call, who called it in?”
“He was already at the house when I arrived,” Amadeo snarls as he turns to his friend. “You were there, Umbo. You were there. I made the call to the boss, but you were already in the house.”
This fucker is lying through his teeth. The bastard is going to die. I’d rather he be honest about what went down.
“Think about Portia,” I say, hoping that him moving away from Davide and Marianna will help him see that we can help her. “She’s with that asshole now. We need to get to him and you’re our only shot.”
“She was so young,” he says. “So very pretty. She looked like her mama, except for her eyes. They were his,” he snarls. “She didn’t deserve to be taken by Marco. She was so scared when they took her from the house. So terrified. Marianna tried to shield her with her body, but it wouldn’t do any good. What Marco wants, he gets.”
“You were there,” I snarl, my feet taking a step forward, but Roc’s hand on my shoulder stops me from going for Umberto’s throat. “You were there that night. You were in that office.”
His eyes widen. He knows he’s been found out. “How?”
“You’re working with Scaffidi?” Amadeo asks in disgust. “You’ve been working with him all this time?”
Umberto flashes a blinding smile. “I have. He’s giving me a lot of work. It pays a ton of money and I’m able to fuck my way through as many whores as I want.”
Christ, he’s part of it. Fuck. What a sick bastard.
“Where is he running his operation from?” Rocco demands. “Tell me, when’s the next shipment?”
“Why should I tell you anything?” he asks with a wicked smile. This fucker knows he’s got the information we need, but he’s keeping it from us, and I’m not sure if he’s going to give it up. Fuck.
“If you want to know how Portia is, Umberto, how Marianna is, then you’ll tell us.”
He swallowed hard. “They’re alive?”
Rocco nods. “Yes, they’re alive, but they need your help to escape. Scaffidi has them locked up. Once we find Scaffidi, we can free them. So help us help them.”
The fucker swallows. “He’s got a shipment coming next week. He’s bringing women from all over the States here to Missouri. He has no idea that Dario is the underboss here. He thought it was safe.”
“Who else is working with him?”
“Turgenov,” he snaps. “He’s working with Sergei Turgenov.”
I grit my teeth. That asshole has been dead for at least a month. That cunt abused Niccolò’s wife and beat her until she lost the baby she was carrying. I wonder if Scaffidi knows that Sergei is dead? I sure as fuck hope not. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
“What’s going to happen when the shipment comes in?” Rocco questions.
“They’ll take the women to a hotel here in the city, Cooney Hotel, where they’ll auction them off. Those that don’t fetch a good price will be put into the whorehouses around the country,” he tells us, but there’s no emotion to his words. He’s done this so many fucking times that it doesn’t faze him any longer.
“How many women?” Elio asks. “How many do they have?”
“Around a hundred and twenty. This will be the biggest shipment they have. There are a lot of clientele who ask for something specific, and Sergei and Marco find the women these clients need.”
“Trafficking women,” Rocco snarls as he steps forward, his gun steady as he aims it at Umberto’s head, “isn’t a fucking game. We do not do that shit. The Famiglia is not part of that. You are a traitor, Umberto, and you’ll die as one. When our men find out what you have done, they’ll all piss on your grave.”
