Page 33 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

“I had just made the announcement of the merchandise ready for delivery, tonight,” Elio adds. This is the final bait− the wiggly worm on the fishing hook.

“Got you, Tomasso.” I zoom the binoculars.

Tomasso thinks he’s slick, but I’ve seen this routine a hundred times. It is only a matter of time before he screws up. Tonight will be his mistake.

A finger taps my sides, and I lower the binoculars to see Elio handing me a radio. “I wiretapped the garden so we can hear him,” he explains when I shoot him a quizzical stare.

I give him a nod of approval.

Good job, Elio. Always one step ahead.

Time to finish this. I take a deep breath.

We stand by the window for a few more minutes, observing the suspect as he suspiciously brings a phone to his ear.

“Signal the men to standby.” I clench my jaw, satisfaction rising in my chest. “They should be discreet about it, too. We don’t want to scare the rat just yet.”

Elio nods and conveys my orders to his radio. “All men get in position.”

I should have noticed the rat sooner, it would have been too easy. He joined the cartel barely six months ago but won’t keep his head down. Tomasso was always too eager, always quick to jump on duties that kept him closer to me, and from what I hear, he asked so many questions above his pay grade.

Had he joined the family solely for this purpose? Or was he corrupted somewhere along the line?

I’d initially attributed his actions to him wanting to fit in, wanting to please me, wanting to climb up the ranks. I hate to admit I was wrong.

The scratching sound of the radio snaps me out of my thoughts, and I bring the binoculars back to my eyes.

Tomasso is on the phone. His voice is low, but he’s so close to the wiretap that it’s easy to make out what he says.

“We just heard from the right hand. It is tonight...” He falters, digging his four fingers between his armpit while his thumb rests on his chest. From the way his thumb rapidly beats against his chest, I can tell he’s nervous.

A man on the other line says something we don’t catch.

“The boss is jumpy. Extra measures are being taken…” His voice wavers, reducing drastically, but we still pick up his words. “What if it is a trap? You know Marino would not hesitate to eliminate me if he finds out.” His fingers are now between his teeth. He seems to be biting into his nails.

My lips lift at his fear. The fact that he knows and still goes ahead to screw me over. Bad boy.

“The plan is foolproof. You can’t get cold feet now.” The man on the other end speaks in a harsh tone, voice raised and more urgent.

His head turns from side to side, his eyes scanning the surroundings wearily like he thinks he's being watched. “I know the plan. I just don’t think…” he trails, the fear thicker in his voice.

“It is not your job to think. It is your job to do as I say,” the man screams over the phone. “The location! Now!”

“Grab him,” I order Elio. I have all the proof I need− Tomasso is the mole.

Elio nods once and relays the command. “Grab him.”

Through the binoculars, I see eight of my men. They’re lying on the floor, elbows against the floor in a crawling position as they hide behind the flowers. At the order, two of them stand. Their position is behind him so Tomasso is unaware of the danger lurking. He tells the man on the phone the bait location we slipped out.

The two men swiftly jump out of the flowers. One of them lunges a kick to the back of his knees, and he falls to the ground.

“Don’t move.” The other one aims a gun at his head. The rat looks stunned and the phone slips from his grip onto the floor beside him.

“What…What is going on?” Tomasso stutters and tries to stand, but the remaining six guards rise, and he slowly backs into his initial position. My men have him circled. There is nowhere to run.

We have him. The Cheshire smile breaks through my face.

Not wasting another minute, I make my way out of the study, down the stairs, and out to the garden. A mix of anger and excitement engulfs me.