Carefully, I maneuver a little to the left, ensuring I have Carlo’s face in the shot as I snap pics of him with the cartel’s chief representative in the US.
Saverio Salerno in Las Vegas had tipped Don Mazzone off a few months back. He’d explained a contact of his had reached out to him on behalf of the cartel, looking to open a new route through Las Vegas. The situation in Miami between the cartel and the authorities is explosive, and the cartel is looking to expand. They can hardly piss in Miami without law enforcement breathing all over them, so I’m not surprised they are exploring other options.
But Italian Americans stick together, even if we are sometimes at war among ourselves. The five families have agreements in place that divvies up districts in New York, and we all buy our supplies from the same supplier and use the same distribution channels. That way, everyone profits and we keep the peace. Until some greedy fucker decides he wants a bigger piece of the pie.
“I wonder if he is acting alone or on his father’s instruction?” Mateo whispers, and I shrug because who the fuck knows what the hell Carlo is up to. We thought we were trailing him to a clandestine meeting with Gino Accardi. Carlo obviously slipped that intel to a few sources, knowing it would get around, so he was covering his tracks. He already laid the foundation a few months ago when he outright accused Accardi of shady dealings in front of his father and Don Mazzone.
Carlo shakes hands with the cartel underboss, and I nod at Mateo, hoping Frank and our cousin Ian are on guard outside and ready to swing into action. We wanted to bring Brando in on this, but until we catch the mole, we couldn’t risk it. My brother and cousin are trustworthy, and both are great shots with the ability to keep their mouths closed. They were our only option because we couldn’t risk coming here alone and being outnumbered.
Carlo waits for the man to leave through a side door before throwing his head back and chuckling. He rubs his hands, talking animatedly with his foursoldati, as I spot Frank and Ian slipping into the warehouse at the back. Carlo and his men are too busy celebrating to notice. Setting the camera aside on the window ledge to retrieve later, I get into position and point my rifle at the back of the short stocky dark-haired guy. He matches Natalia’s description of one of the men in the car the day Carlo showed up at her school. I wish I could prolong his death too, because he deserves to suffer, but we can’t risk it.
Carlo is our main concern, and the rest should feel grateful for their quick deaths.
I give the signal when Mateo nods and Frank and Ian look up at me, and on the silent count of three, we open fire, each of us taking one man down until Carlo is the last man standing.
Predictably, he has his gun out, shooting indiscriminately as he backs up toward the side door the cartel underboss exited through. I can smell his fear from here, and it pleases me to no end.
I insisted Ian and Frank wear Kevlar vests, in case any stray bullets ended up in their chests. Mama and Aunt Cecilia would never forgive me if anything happened to them. I’m glad now as the jackass continues shooting wildly with no aim.
“Stop right there,stronzo,” Mateo calls out, climbing to his feet as he points his rifle at Carlo’s head.
“Drop the weapon and raise your hands,” I add, slinging my rifle around my back and swinging down from the eaves in three fluid moves as Frank and Ian move in closer, training their guns at Carlo’s skull and chest.
Carlo chuckles as his gun drops to the floor, amusement dancing over his face.
“If you think your men outside are coming to your aid, think again,” I say, kicking the gun away from him. It skitters across the debris-strewn dirt floor. Removing plastic gloves from my back pocket, I pull them on, keeping my eyes on the degenerate.
“They’re taking a permanent swim in the Hudson,” Frank confirms, his voice and tone expressionless as he pats Carlo down for other weapons. Frank prods his gun into Carlo’s temple while Ian hands me our tool bag. Dropping it on the floor, I unzip it, ensuring Carlo gets a good look inside.
Carlo’s look of amusement fades, but he’s still an arrogant bastard. “You won’t hurt me. We all know it would start a war.”
“Wrong, motherfucker.” Mateo storms toward him as Ian drags over a chair. Mateo slams his fist into Carlo’s face, and the force of the punch sends him sprawling to the floor. Before he can get up, I kick him in the head, and we both lay into him with our feet and our fists, rendering him bloody in record time. The pussy barely puts up a fight.
After tying him to the chair, I take his phone, slipping it into my back pocket. Then I use my knife to rip his clothes off, and he howls in pain every time my blade digs into his bare skin. Rivulets of blood trickle down his torso, and he glares at me, as if he has any power in this situation. I send Ian and Frank up to the eaves to watch both entrance points from the upstairs windows in case anyone shows up when Carlo fails to return home.
We know we can’t take as much time as we would like, but we still intend to make the fucker suffer.
“Did you seriously think we would let you get away with the shit you pulled on my sister?” Mateo says, spitting in his face before he lands a hard punch to his solar plexus.
“She fucking loved it,” he grunts in between pained gasps, and I pummel his face some more, enormously satisfied when one of his teeth pops out.
“You enjoy forcing yourself on women?” I snarl, pushing my face all up in his. One of his eyes is half closed, and his left cheekbone is swollen. “You’re a pathetic son of a bitch.”
A rough laugh escapes his mouth. “Jealous much, Messina?”
“Of a piece of filth like you? Never.” I glide my knife across his lower belly, deep enough for him to feel it but not so deep that he’ll die too quick.
He screams, and it’s music to my ears.
Pressing my knife to his throat, I grin as I taunt him with my words. “I didn’t have to force Natalia. Every touch was wanted. Every kiss desired.” If Mateo, my brother, or my cousin is surprised at my admission, no one betrays the emotion. “Tell me. How does it feel to know your fiancée loves me? Enough to let me be with her in ways you could only ever dream of.” I’m lying because I haven’t touched Natalia inappropriately, and I intend to tell my best friend that before he shoves me in the chair after Carlo. “We’ve been sneaking around behind your back for months.” I drag my knife down the center of his chest, stepping back as he pisses all over his legs and the floor. “Making a fool out of you all this time.”
“She hates you,” Mateo adds. “And I fucking loathe you.” He slices his dick off in one quick thrust of his knife, and his penis flies off to the left as tears leak out of Carlo’s eyes and he howls in pain. “I was never letting her marry you.”
“Tell us who has been feeding you intel from inside, and we’ll make this quick,” I lie, extracting the blow torch.
“Fuck you and your mother.”
I light the flame, blasting it over the top of his head, singeing his hair and blistering the skin on his brow.
