Page 121 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

He glances at his watch. “Head around front and locate his bungalow. Keep your chin down in case there are cameras.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

It takes a few seconds to locate Conti’s bungalow. It’s off to the side and larger than the others. I walk back toward Alessandro, who is talking on the phone. Quickly, I relay the information.

“Stupid stranzo is making this easy.” His face hardens, and a shiver races up my spine. It’s a terrifying sight to see him like this. But this is him, Alessandro Beneventi. An important mafioso’s son.

“Stay here, capisci?”

I nod.

He flicks his wrist once more to check his watch. “Time to secure my motherfucking legacy,” he grinds out, and charges off.

Every sound is magnified. Birds rustling in a nearby bush. Conversations drifting from the bungalow patios or the path out front. Robust laughter from guests in much more pleasant circumstances.

But my thoughts keep returning to the chain saw. Is it still in the backseat of the car? Did he place it in the bag?

What in God’s teeth will he do with it? And if that horrible thought isn’t enough, how about this one: If he cuts Conti up like he did his men, how will no one hear?

Lord, I’m unprepared for what’s about to unfold.

I jump out of my skin when, out of nowhere, a siren goes off. It’s louder than ten church bells and more obnoxious than the tornado siren local officials had installed in Marietta. It’s so loud, I swear the ground shakes.

I hurry back to the pathway, and find people flooding out of the buildings, coming from every which way. In panicked voices,they talk over the siren, and as an English-speaking couple passes, I learn what’s going on.

“Is Mount Etna erupting?”

“No, dear. It’s too far away from Salerno. Must be an earthquake’s imminent.”

An announcement comes over a speaker, which then repeats in English. “Please keep away from the buildings and exit onto the main street.”

This isn’t really happening, right?

I wait as the bungalow area clears. But the only thing shaking is my nerves. I head in the opposite way from the crowd, toward Conti’s location.

Outside, I pause. Because even with the ruckus around me, I can hear the chain saw’s hum inside.

Then it all seems to happen in slow motion.

Everything inside goes quiet.

The door swings open.

And Alessandro appears … covered in blood, chain saw in one hand and the decapitated head of Emilio Conti in the other.

Everything quickly fades to black as my legs buckle and I faint.

CHAPTER 25

SANDRO

I remainin Sicily for two more days while my men clean up the bungalow. Not even Riley’s horrified expression as she caught sight of the stranzo’s head in my hand can ruin my glory.

I got the fucker.

Alone and barehanded.

My father will love the chain saw twist, and the Eleven will be sitting straighter in their chairs.