Page 32

CHAPTER 32

M assimo

Every step feels heavier than the one before it as I march to my execution.

I’m not afraid of death. I never have been. Death is one of those things you learn to accept when you’re born into my family. There are more funerals than weddings.

Leaving Lea behind is what truly hurts. Knowing she’s sobbing her eyes out—over me. I’ve been a miserable wretch for way too long to deserve sympathy or tears. But the connection we have is genuine. It was too soon for those three words, but they came from my heart. A heart that is finally free of the malice and poison that left me a shell of the man I used to be.

“Massimo!” a familiar voice calls out; I turn to see Theo approaching me. “Glad I could catch you before you left. Your father called me. He’s been trying to reach you.”

I pull out my phone and glance at it. I have several missed calls from my old man, along with a few other calls I’ve ignored.

“I’ll call him when I get to the ferry,” I mutter, pushing my phone back into my pocket.

“Alright, he said it’s important,” Theo replies. “Something about Leo.”

“He didn’t say what is going on?” I ask.

“No,” Theo answers. “He just asked me to find you and tell you to call him. Anyway, I delivered the message. Have a safe trip home. I hope we can get together again soon.”

I nod and shake Theo’s hand, then tolerate a quick hug. I’d like to tell him goodbye and thank him for a few things, but that would be out of character for me. It would definitely raise some suspicions. Truthfully, Theo has been more like an uncle to me than one of my father’s business associates. He was the one who taught me how to hold a gun when I was in elementary school—much to my mother’s displeasure.

“I’ll see you around, Theo,” I say, turning away before I let my emotions show.

Lea has brought so many emotions to the surface I’m having trouble bottling them like I usually do. I shake my head to clear it as I walk toward the hotel exit. As soon as I’m outside, I pause and pull my phone out.

I don’t really want to talk to my father, considering the next call he’s going to get will be about my death, but I need to know what is going on with Leo. My brother and I aren’t as close as we used to be. His decision to turn to the cloth had a lot to do with it. But he’s still family.

I apprehensively tap my phone and hold it up to my ear.

“Dad?” I ask. “Theo just stopped me in the lobby. What’s going on with Leo?”

“He’s missing!” my father fires back in his usual gruff voice. “His office was torn apart, and they can’t find him anywhere. Have you heard from him recently?”

“No,” I answer truthfully. “It’s been several weeks.”

“Fuck,” my father growls. “Okay, I’ve got my guys on it. If you hear anything, call me. And come see me as soon as you get back to Las Vegas. We need to talk about a few other things, too.”

“Sure thing,” I mutter, ending the call.

Part of me wants to call around and try to figure out what happened to Leo, but Ronaldo is already waiting by the car. I’m sure the hitman is nearby. If I delay too much, he may not wait until I’m in the car, and I don’t want to be lying on the ground with my things all around me when Lea comes through the doors.

“Ronaldo,” I say, motioning to him as I approach. “Open the trunk.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Morandi!” he replies, hurrying to the back of the car.

It’s not the first time Leo has disappeared. The last time it happened, we found him in the worst part of Las Vegas, drowning his painful memories in a bottle of whiskey. I can relate to that. Sometimes, they’re too painful to ignore.

There’s no reason for Emilio to go after Leo. He’d be next in line after me, but Leo made his decision about the family years ago. Even if he wanted to come back, the door wouldn’t swing wide open for him. That was made clear when he left.

“I hope you find peace one day, brother,” I sigh, walking to the back door of the luxury sedan.

“What was that, sir?” Ronaldo asks.

“Nothing,” I mutter, getting into the car.

The door slams and I let out a sharp exhale. This is it. In a matter of minutes, a man will walk up to the side of my car. He’ll look like a lost tourist until he fires a single shot, drops the gun, and vanishes into the crowd. He never misses and he’s never been caught. My brother spared no expense and chose the absolute best.

A shadow appears outside the window, and I take a deep breath. I wondered if I would turn and stare into the barrel of the gun or close my eyes. I don’t do either one. I stare ahead in a daze, thinking about Lea, and the precious moments we shared.

“Goodbye, bambina ,” I whisper, waiting for the end.

The shadow gets closer. I see the outline of a gun in my peripheral vision. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, I choke up as I imagine Lea mourning me. Giving into the same malice and poison that I allowed to devour my soul.

Then the gun fires. The window shatters. Hot, scalding pain shoots through my right arm. I look down and see blood. Panic erupts around us and people run screaming in every direction.

“Fuck,” I growl, looking at the hitman through the broken glass. He has a blank look on his face. “Finish the fucking job!”

But he doesn’t. He puts a hand on the car, and it’s covered in blood. He slumps forward, and I see a knife with a cherry-wood handle sticking out of his back. If that wasn’t enough of a shock, I see Lea standing behind him. She’s trembling and all the color is drained out of her tearstained face.

“I’m sorry!” she squeals. “I didn’t know how else to stop him! He already had his gun drawn!”

“Lea, what the hell did you do?” I roar, holding my arm as I get out of the car.

“Mr. Morandi! Are you okay!?” Ronaldo asks, hurrying to my side.

“I’m fine!” I growl. “Get back in the car!”

There’s chaos all around us. People are screaming. The hitman is on the ground. It looks like he’ll live, but the knife has done some damage.

“Theo’s men are going to be here soon,” I snap, grabbing Lea by the arm and shoving her into the car. “Fuck, ow!” I grab my shoulder as I get in beside her. “Ronaldo, drive! Don’t stop for anything! Take us to the resort’s private marina.”

“You have to see this!” Lea trembles out, trying to show me her phone. “Oh, god, your shoulder! Are you okay?”

“We have to get out of here.” I shove her phone away. “I don’t know who I can trust right now, and you just stabbed a hitman who works closely with the Mafia. If they get their hands on you…”

My blood runs cold at the thought. If someone loyal to Emilio gets their hands on Lea—I can’t let that happen. I have to get her to safety. Then I’ll sort all of this out.

“Massimo, this is important,” she says, leaning forward with her phone, but then she glances at Ronaldo and shrinks back. “W-we can’t wait until we’re alone.”

I don’t know what Lea has to show me, but it can’t be that important. Anger builds inside me as I consider what could happen next. Emilio will find out the hit was unsuccessful. If he’s anything like me, he’ll start taking out the people who would stand by my side during a civil war, especially if he thinks the trail will lead back to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I yell, slamming my hand into the seat and wincing as the pain radiates from my shoulder.

“I’m really sorry, Massimo. I promise you’re going to want to see this,” Lea whispers. “It changes everything.”

I glare at her, probably with nothing but fury on my face, because she shrinks back again. Getting her to safety is my top priority. Then what? I don’t fucking know. I’ve got an enormous mess to clean up. I pull out my phone and send a warning to my closest allies, but I don’t elaborate. I tell Rowan to get out of Las Vegas, because he’ll be the number one target.

I don’t think Emilio will go as far as killing our father. Especially now, since the hit failed and I’m next in line. But war is coming. There’s no way around that now. I can’t pretend I don’t know there’s a bullet with my name on it anymore.

“Here’s fine,” I bark, yanking the door open before Ronaldo stops. I immediately turn to Lea and grab her by the arm. “Let’s go. Where did you leave your bags?”

“I-in your suite,” she answers, stumbling out of the car, but I keep her steady, so she doesn’t fall.

I fire a message to Theo to take care of Lea’s bags. It’s too risky to wait, so I tell him to burn them. I grab mine from the trunk, pull out my Glock, and stuff it in the back of my pants. I might actually need it now.

Theo will have questions I can’t answer, and so will the others who run the resort with him. Especially since there’s a hitman with a knife in his back in front of the hotel. Hopefully he is able to get away, because if he gets caught, he’ll sing like a canary to save his own skin. If that happens, everyone will know Emilio put a hit on me—and that I didn’t do anything to stop it.

“Massimo, please!” Lea says as I grab the keys and storm toward the mini-yacht, half-pulling and half-dragging her along. “You need to see this!”

“Once we’re in the open water,” I snarl. “We’re not safe until then.”

I push Lea onto the boat, wipe some blood away from my shoulder, and hurry to the helm. I point at the anchor and Lea hits the button. As soon as it’s up, I start the engine and open it up. This isn’t a leisurely drive.

“Okay,” I say, turning to her once the marina is out of sight. “What is it, Lea? What is so fucking important you had to destroy my family?”

“Y-your wife,” she whispers, holding up her phone. “T-the Bratva weren’t the only ones involved.”

“What?” I stare at the screen. I see several vehicles that look like the ones the Bratva use, passing through an intersection. I remember setting a few of them on fire. “The date… That’s the night Layla died.”

“Y-you’re going to be really mad at me, and I’m sorry, but I told Sarah everything,” she whimpers. “And she told a hacker who… she investigates a lot of true crime, looking for things the police may have missed.”

“Lea, I already told you about this Mafia fangirl bullshi—” I stop before I finish. The screen flickers to a different angle, and I see the Bratva vehicles passing by. “Is that… Is that Erica?”

“T-that’s what I had to show you!” Lea says. “Sarah said that is Emilio’s wife!”

“It is…” I stare in disbelief. “Why… why is she with the Bratva ?”

“I don’t know!” Lea answers. “The cops thought all the cameras were wiped, but they weren’t. I can’t explain it like the hacker did, but it has something to do with the frequency you use to mask your phone calls.”

“Fuck,” I growl. “We’re the only ones who have that technology. My father commissioned a Department of Defense contractor to create it and paid him enough to walk away without ever sharing it with the government.”

The malice and poison begin to seep back into my heart. If Erica was with the Bratva on the night Layla was killed, then she’s involved. Which means Emilio is involved. But why? Why would they kill my wife? Erica and Layla were like sisters, or so I thought.

“Was my brother in any of these vehicles?” I ask, watching the screen shift to a different camera, but there’s nothing visible.

“Not that they could find,” Lea whispers. “Once they figured out which direction the vehicles were traveling, they scoured every single camera.”

“That one wasn’t masked,” I say, pointing at her phone. “It shows the license plates. That’s how I found out it was the Bratva. The cops never connected that dot because they didn’t know what to look for.”

“If all the others were masked, do you think that was intentional?” Lea asks cautiously.

“Has to be,” I mutter. “I still don’t understand why Emilio and Erica would want to kill my wife. I wasn’t the target. If I was, they would have waited until I got home. This doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

I turn back toward the helm and steer the mini-yacht toward the coast, but I head north, instead of the dock that the ferry uses. If anyone is looking for us, that’ll be the first place they look. It’s safer to make landfall somewhere else. Then I have to get back to Las Vegas.

“I don’t know if I should kiss you or take my belt to you,” I grumble, shaking my head.

“I couldn’t let you die without knowing about it,” she whimpers. “But we need to do something about your shoulder. Do you still have your first aid kit?”

“That won’t do much,” I sigh, motioning to my bag. “It’s in there. You ever removed a bullet before?”

“N-no,” she whispers, her eyes getting wide.

“There’s a knife in the side pocket. Clean it with alcohol and give me the bottle,” I mutter. “I’ll dig it out.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, hurrying to my bag. “I tried to get to him before he took the shot, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“A second later and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” I say. “Not my first time getting shot.”

Considering what’s coming?

It probably won’t be my last.