Prologue
La Cosa Nostra
“There’s a very powerful feeling that comes with becoming a made man. From the way people treat you, to the easy money, easy women, and the sense of family that ties true crime brothers. You feel invincible. Unstoppable. It’s like a drug. Speeding at ninety miles per hour, you become a different person. Cocksure, and brash. You start throwing the dice on your freedom, on your life. Committing criminal acts in the name of loyalty and ball kicking revenge. Risking it all in pursuit of a colossal payoff. Moving too fast for logic to remind you that every high has its come down. So shit faced delusional that you feel nobody can touch you. Not unless they wanna wind up in the trunk of your car by the end of the week.
It’s howtheywant you to feel, the bosses. The godfathers of the mob.
It’s why they recruit prospects young. Young...and desperate. Amateur, street-level criminals willing to trade their souls and blacken their hearts for a shot at a big-time score.
That’s right, in this sorry ass pool of misguided faith is where the raging megalodon sharks of the mob reef feed.
Once you’re in it, you start to realize all the rules, trust, honor...it ain’t so. Nobody plays fair in this game. You can’t trust anyone fully. Not even your own brothers. The only way to win. Make it to the top before somebody’s bullet plants eyeballs into the back of yourskull.
Myself, I don’t have any regrets. Clichéd as fuck, but I know in my heart, this life chose me. Like everyone else, the oldies lured me in with promises of money and notoriety. Most never get there. Most limp along, never achieving the success they were promised. But I did. Was I to live like some assholes bitch the rest of my life? Fuck no. I always wanted to beboss, knew it from day one. To live, die, and be remembered as the boss, no matter what it took. Hell, I knew that hunger was dangerous.
Real fucking dangerous.
Like a little dumbass bitch, I always figured I’d be ok. Thought I was better than that. Like a cocky ass fucker, I saw myself as the exception. Not like most of those wise guys out on the streets; I was raised tough. And I saw what was coming outta this life. Knew what to expect. Most don’t. See, it’s only later, when you’re a made man –sworn into that life ? that you start to taste the bitter aftertaste ? of what you’ve become. And it’s a BITCH of an aftertaste. When the mob has you by the throat, by the balls, infiltrating your every thought even while you sleep, most realize it’s too much for them. When you learn all thatpoweris just a fucked-up mental state with deadly repercussions and shit, therein lies the dilemma for everybody who eats the poison…there’s no walking away from the mob. No ifs, and or buts about it. No Walking Away EVER.
Not even for the idiots and the pussies that should have never been let in to start off with. It’s a sad fucking truth for those who are weak. It’s an unhappy story for others, whose lives found new priorities and things they’d rather fucking do, but there it is. Yourtheirsuntil death, or until the jury brings their guilty verdict.
You’re mafia for LIFE – La Cosa Nostra.
You can’t leave. Shit, they’ll carry you out feet first before you’ll ever do that.”
Bruno De Luca
Chapter One
The very unfortunate beginning.
Sicily, Italy. 1973
“You ready?” Bruno winked at his brother.
Gunz nodded firmly. “Bring it on.”
Nobody saw when the two brothers in black scaled the metal gates around the parking area of Alcantara Gorge, Sicily. No one noticed how the fluorescent street lighting bounced off their bodies, casting eerie elongated shadows.
The streets were empty and quiet tonight. Although partially lit and locked behind tall steel gates, the parking lot was unguarded. In the moonless dark, the lonely car park seemed somehow sinister, but these men were used to a sense of foreboding. Two, broad-shouldered, bears of men, scurried in unison, deep into the parking lot and disappeared behind the far wall of the unlit security box. It was one of only five blind spots from the security cameras ? perched on telephone poles on the perimeter, facing inwards.
With his back to the wall, Bruno’s eyes panned the scene and quickly sighted on a red Fiat. He looked back at his brother and grinned. “Over there. That’s our mark,” he whispered.
Gunz glared at the vehicle. “You think it’s alarmed?”
Bruno shook his head. “Not this one.”
Gunz nodded. “Cool. I’ve got your back.” Drawing a knife from its sheath on his belt, he slid the blade through the base of the sash window, unlocking it from the outside. He pressed upwards with his palms to free the bottom of the window from the windowsill.
Once the sash was freed, Bruno placed his hands underneath the sash and pushed up the window allowing Gunz to climb inside. Swinging a black duffel bag from over his shoulder, he passed the other man the bag and waited in silence for a few minutes while his brother tinkered around inside. When the lights went out and darkness fell, Bruno switched on his torch and knew the surveillance cameras were now as dead as the lights.
When Gunz gave him a thumbs up from the open window, Bruno jerked his chin towards the red car and narrowed his eyes, listening intently to his surroundings for anybody else who could be around. Silence. Squatting low, he hustled across the tarmac towards the shiny red Fiat in the far corner. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his bomber jacket, wrapped it around his fist and punched through the window, shattering the glass with aSMASH.With his fist inside the vehicle, he dropped his coat onto the floor of the car. He felt just under the window frame on the inside for the lock, then, unlocking the door he clicked it open and jumped in.
At once, he shoved a screwdriver from his pocket into the ignition. He turned it like a key and grinned as the engine fired. Flicking the headlights on low beam, he shifted into reverse and turned the wheel toward the exit. A natural born risk taker, Bruno’s veins were stiff with adrenaline, but his hands rested calm and easy around the steering wheel like an Indy driver’s grip.
Rolling slowly forwards, he raised his eyes to the locked gates and saw his brother loitering there. He watched as the other man tugged a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters from the duffle bag. Then, positioning the giant cutters over the stainless steel chains, he snapped them in half with two bites of its metal teeth.
Bruno sighed with a mild frustration. If he had his way, they’d have cut the front gates in the beginning and walked right on through. Surely, that was why they were dressed head to toe in black, right? Even if the cameras caught them, they couldn’t possibly be identified. But his brother always wanted to be careful, always cut the cameras first to be sure they’d never be caught. Gunz was no coward, but he’d always been vigilant. Every week, it was the same routine, different location. Every time, it was the same...the slow, boring approach was Gunz’s style all over.
