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“Someone better speak now,” I said, my patience wearing thin by the second.
How the fuck did these idiots manage to lose $20 million worth ofproduct?
“It was the Outfit,” Joe blurts. “We had the shipment ready to go, and they ambushed us at the docks.”
“Why the hell would the Outfit attack our docks if they need access to our harbors for their businesses?” I ask.
This doesn’t make any sense.
“They wanted the shipment. They made off with most of it and destroyed the rest,” Rafaele chimes in.
Fucking hell.
“You sure it was the Outfit?” Bash asks.
It seems he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Once upon a time, the Outfit had been a pain in our ass, but they haven’t been an issue for at least two decades, since shortly after our father became capo. Why now?
“Had to be. They used their typical M.O.—cyanide bombs and tranquilizers, spoke Italian, which was stupid. Who else is remotely strong enough to think they can take us on?” Joe answers.
“Did you actually see their faces?” I ask.
They all shook their heads.
“They had ski masks on,” the third guy, whose name I can’t remember, replies.
“We gotta look into this. We need proof.” Bash looks over at me.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say as I walk off.
“Nico, I don’t want you shrugging this off to get laid. This could mean war,” Bash calls after me.
I wave my hand without turning around. No shit. I know this is serious.
And so my work begins. I love my job. Our father recently retired, making Bash the capo of the Cosa Nostra, King of the East Coast. Naturally, the title of consigliere, his right-hand man, fell upon me—Prince of the East Coast—the brains. That was always the plan since we were boys. My brother is a monster and a good talker, which made him good for business and our public image, but he needed me for my skills. I’m a damn good hacker, and I intend to learn everything about the Outfit. Where they sleep, what time they shit, and all their mistresses’ names.
My family owns the East Coast, and since we own most of the shipping harbors, it was easy to get a cut from all the otherbusinessesthat want to get their products in and out of the country, with our legal global logistics company easily being our main cover and bringing in billions.
I love this life. Live and breathe it. I thank the Lord every day that I was born into this world.
Chapter Two
Nico
“AAAAHH!” the ugly fucker screams as Dante pours water over his head.
Dante wears a sinister smile on his face as he removes the towel from Ugly’s head.
“Are you ready to talk?” I ask.
He spits in my face.
Dante punches him in the face.
Okay,the hard way it is.Adrenaline surges through me as I crack my neck. I’m in my element.
Staring at the pathetic fucker, who is now tied down to a chair in one of our club basements, I can’t help but snarl. This low-life makes me sick. Did he really think he could rat us out?
I move over to the table off to the side and examine my options. Pliers, hammer, blow torch, various-sized knives, brass knuckles, and a ton of others to choose from. I grab one of the knives and turn back to Ugly. His eyes grow wide, and he shakes more violently. Another rush of excitement passes through me.
