Page 9

O ne call and my crew was assembling at my apartment less than an hour later. I have three men dedicated to my service. They know every intricacy of how I wish to proceed as an enforcer, and each of them has his strengths which complements my job.

I met Gianluigi Costa at university. He was there to study medicine, following in the footsteps of his healer grandmother who wanted him to look after the family when she was gone. Our areas of interest overlapped, and when I figured he’d be a good man to have on my team, he agreed to my offer and opened up to me. He also had two brothers who could prove helpful. Giancarlo was a tech whiz, and Gianluca was a party animal who knew someone who knew someone and so on all over Torino and Piedmont.

It was a no-brainer to recruit them, and tonight, they proved to me how right I was in deciding to trust them. We’re ready to roll out almost immediately because they came prepared, all the logistics already in place.

“What now, Boss?” one of them asks.

It’s strange to hear myself referred as such. I’ve always been the one following around until this moment. To think I now hold the reins… It’s a big responsibility. And remembering what’s at stake, my resolve shakes before it solidifies. Kaya. Nothing can happen to her.

“We need to get my work kit.” I turn to Gianluigi. “You have the stuff?”

He’s meant to carry half the paraphernalia to operate my tools. I split it up this way so neither of us could get caught for what we’d be carrying.

Gianluigi nods. A man of few words, he leaves the talking to his other siblings usually.

Forcing in a deep breath, I take my first step as Don Giacomo Rossi’s enforcer. It’s the start of the rest of my life, however long or short it will turn out to be.

“ Andiamo ,” I cry as I wave them out. “We also need to pick up someone along the way.”

Good, they’ve brought the Mercedes Jeep. These three lanky boys can fit in the back seat—we won’t need another vehicle. One car doing a stake-out can be easily overlooked. Two or more is a recipe to be noticed and made.

Our first stop is a small train station on the outskirts of the town. A locker room is the perfect place to stash something you don’t want to be found, plus it makes for an easy spot for a dead drop should you ever need someone else to get it for you.

Giancarlo fuzzes the camera feeds while I go in to retrieve the suitcase I’ve been keeping here for occasions such as tonight. Afterwards, it’ll be coming back home with me, my new title granting me diplomatic-like immunity in our world now.

Bag safely stowed in the trunk, we make our next stop in Sal Salvario. I didn’t phone ahead because what else could Valentino have going tonight? Yes, he’ll surely be wrapped in the arms and legs of a tall beauty, but that’s par for the course for this ladies’ man.

Indeed, he greets me at his door with his hair all mussed and in briefs barely able to hide the state he’s in. One look at my face, though, and his expression turns from thunderous irritation to curious wariness.

“Shit’s about the hit the fan, brother. I’ve been activated.”

Frown lines appear on his forehead, but he takes it in stride. Minutes later, a beautiful woman with flax-colored hair is exiting his apartment. I watch her with narrowed eyes, Mamma ’s words tickling my mind. Is this the girl he’s in love with, the one he thinks about when he’s playing Debussy on the piano?

But he’s with a different woman every other night—can’t be love if he’s bed-hopping so much. Love is when you’ve found a woman and there’s no one else for you. You can’t conceive of your cock sinking into any other body but hers, of only her hands touching your skin, her mouth brushing every imaginable reach on your person. It’s her smile you want to see brightening your night, and your day, and your every morning from here on. It’s—

An image of Kaya pops inside my head, and there it is. It’s love. I’m in love with Kaya Norton.

A woman who’s not even mine.

“Stef?”

I snap out of my spell and face my cousin standing in front of me. He’s mirrored my outfit—dark jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. It’s not because we’ll be doing the dirty jobs that we have to let ourselves go.

I should get my shit together. I’m doing all this tonight at the Don’s bidding, yes, but it’s also because I need to protect Kaya. No one should be putting her life in danger. They’ll have me to answer to should they even dare to think this.

“Let’s go.”

At the car, Valentino does a double-take seeing the boys in the back. It’s true they make a formidable sight side by side like this because of their insane resemblance.

A notification pops up on my phone. It’s Don Giacomo, telling me to head to one of our safe houses before getting started on Daku. Taking the wheel, I head to the periphery of Chivasso, the spot we’re to hit tonight some twenty clicks northeast of Torino.

Two cars are parked in the driveway of the safe house. They look like ours, but I’m not sure. I park behind them and cut the engine.

“We’re packing?” my cousin asks.

I glance at Gianluca in the back seat. He nods and pulls a case from under each front seat. Black Beretta semi-automatics get handed around, a spare magazine also following. As if we’d need that. If we’ve gone through the fifteen bullets already in the gun’s magazine, then it’d be safe to say we’re screwed.

Gianluca is to be my boots on the ground. As such, he’s the first to get out of the car, gun cocked with the safety off. His brothers follow behind, Valentino having my six. I needn’t have worried, though, because the door of the safe house is opened by none other than Aldo, the Don’s capo who used to work with my father.

“Boss,” he says with a nod.

I know right then he’s been apprised of the change of the old guard. He’s now my man to command, his crew an extension of mine.

“My padre ,” I ask him softly, to not alert the other men.

“Being looked after.”

I can feel Valentino tensing behind me. He hasn’t been made aware of what happened to demote Gennaro Beccario from his post. Aldo’s words can be construed as the old man getting medical care, sticking to the story the Don has put up.

“Good.” I nod as I enter the space fully to find about a dozen men sitting and lounging around.

They all stand up when I come in. Most of them are older than me, the two capos around the Don’s age and the soldiers running the gamut between thirty and forty-five. I always knew I would step up to be their leader one day, and I knew keeping on their good side would be paying off today. In their stance, I see the respect and deference they are bestowing me as their Don’s enforcer. They’d follow me into the fire and the storm for him.

“Come on, you fuckers. Sit down. It’s just me,” I throw with a wave.

Laughter rumbles around the room, some peppering the outburst with a few choice words.

“ Sul serio , Boss,” the other capo , Sergio, says.

Nods of ascent follow his comment. Yes, every man in here will follow me and do as I say. They have my back.

“Okay. What do we have on Jasir Daku? And what the fuck are we going to Chivasso for?”

I know the what and why and how—but where men like my father led and divulged just crumbs of their plans to their subordinates, I want their full input and for them to feel they matter in the scheme of things.

Before long, the entire plan of action has fused aloud around the room. I confer with a nod.

“Aldo, your men will breach once I give the go-ahead.”

The capo acquiesces, as do his men.

“Sergio, you and your men will stay one street behind the entire time. No offence to your team, but Aldo’s is trained to breach, and you having my six is just as important.”

He also nods, seeming satisfied he’s not being relegated to mere backup.

I never understood how men like my father thought dismissing people would amount to much. It’s a cliché to state you win more flies with honey than vinegar, but such ideas become clichés for a reason—they’re true.

“My men will be with me,” I continue. “You all know Valentino, my cousin.” I then wave the Costa brothers in from where they’d stayed put in the shadows of the vestibule. I stifle a laugh as every man just about jerks when seeing them. They are indeed a sight. “Giancarlo, Gianluigi, Gianluca.” Not that it’ll make much difference to know their names—to anyone who doesn’t know them, it’s hard to work out who’s who, especially when they’re dressed the same. I stand and wave them all up. “ Vai, vai .”

This is their cue to hit the road and set the plan in motion.

“Is your father okay?” Val asks me once back in the car.

“Long story. But he’s fine.”

I don’t want to talk about him right now. Not when I’m collating him in the same batch as the cogliones trying to hurt my Kaya.

We’re in Chivasso soon after. Luck would have it that Giancarlo manages to catch a phone call to a nearby pizzeria through his tech gear. It’s an order for an insane amount of large pizzas. They’re voracious eaters, or it’s a big group holed up inside that house. Either way, we won’t be taking any chances. I send a text to Sergio asking him to dispatch some of his men as extra support for Aldo’s crew. Aldo’s already hit the ground, and he and some of his men intercept the delivery boy and send him on his way with twice the sum of the order as his tip.

Gianluca is up next. I’d have sworn he must have some Irish blood in him—even Italians don’t have the gift of the gab like he does. He’s sent to deliver the pizzas, and he puts on a good show, even gets invited to watch the English FA Cup match live on TV. We can hear and see everything thanks to the buttonhole camera on his jacket.

It looks like six to seven men inside that living room. I can’t see Daku, though we know he’s here tonight. Give or take a cazzo or two not watching the game, we’re cutting through fewer than a dozen guys

I let Aldo handle this part of the mission. It doesn’t take him and his men long to get through the house. I’m supposing it’s a rain of bullets, a roar of shouts, a massacre of blood. It’s how he’s proceeded all this time, and I don’t see that part of operations changing.

But where I come in, that’s not staying the same as Beccario Senior’s work.

When Aldo gives me the all-clear, I nod at the men with me to get out of the car. Sergio’s lot comes to a stop behind us, and once they have our six, we make it into the double-story house. It is indeed a carnage, but Aldo’s men are also specialized in cleanup. They’ll handle this.

We descend to the basement, where Aldo has secured Jasir Daku, his hands and ankles bound to a sturdy chair. His back is to us, exactly as I asked.

So this is the figlio di puttana who decided to come after Kaya? Coglione couldn’t bear being brought down by a woman. We’ll see how he fares when the tables are turned.

I pat my cousin on the shoulder. “Watch and learn, brother.”

Val rolls his eyes at me. “Not the time to get cocky, Stef.”

I smile. “What’s the first thing you should bring to every fight?”

Valentino knows me, so he doesn’t fall into the trap of saying the most obvious thing. Gianluca, however, isn’t as aware.

“A gun,” he says.

I shake my head. “ Amico . Anyone can bring a gun to a fight.” Pausing for effect, I scan the room with my gaze. “Does everyone remember to bring their brain?”

Yes, this is how I’m going to play it. My generation has grown up shooting Nerf guns all over our houses. We’ve got the bullet-flinging urge out of us. Yes, we’re also not stupid and won’t pop up at a fight without packing, but do we need to bring our pistols out? No. There are so many more ways to do things and get as good if not better results.

I stroll down the stairs and march until I’m facing Jasir Daku. Bastard has the gall to spit at me. Bad move. He’s in his fifties, so he must know how enforcers work. Doesn’t he appreciate the fact he’s sitting in a chair with a full seat, the bottom not hollowed out so someone can swing a weight or rock at his balls for fun? Doesn’t he realize he’s still fully clothed, his legs still encased in trousers, socks, and shoes? Anyone else would’ve had his shins bared with electrodes attached to his skin and the soles of his feet, electrical capture being a very efficient way to get someone to talk.

Courtesy goes a long way, and I never go for the big guns if I can help it. So I lean in front of Daku and stare him in the face.

“You threatened someone you shouldn’t have. And Don Rossi doesn’t like it when his near and dear are exposed to peril.”

“ Vaffanculo ,” Daku spits at me.

At least he made the effort of learning Italian—I’ll give him that.

“Last chance, Jasir. Tell me what you’ve planned to happen to this woman, and I’ll be off your back.”

He spits and laughs again.

So be it. Steely resolve flows in my blood and fortifies my stance. What I’m about to do, it will surely take a piece of my soul with it. But I don’t have a choice. This is Kaya we’re talking about.

I give Gianluigi a nod, and down he comes with my work kit in one hand and a large case in the other. Behind him, one of Aldo’s soldiers follows with a metal contraption he unfolds into a medical tray table on wheels at Daku’s side.

Our target’s gaze is getting shifty, but he’s not the only one. Across the room, Valentino catches my eye, his face expressionless, but his eyes full of worry.

Taking a few steps to him, I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze.

“I know what I’m doing. What did I study at university, Val?”

His eyes grow wide; it’s dawning on him now. No one really fathomed why I chose that route for further studies, even getting a PhD in it. Now, it’s all making sense.

Pharmacology is the science of making drugs and figuring out their effects and workings across all areas of the human body. It’s pointed knowledge about medicines, their specific compounds, their interactions. Despite looking like a hooligan gym bro meat head like I’d once said to Kaya, I had the brains of a nerd for chemistry and science. Don Giacomo figured it out and encouraged me to pursue this field, and here we are today.

What better means is there for an enforcer who wants to do things differently yet also get good if not better results?

After Gianluigi has finished setting up the tray, I walk back to my target and welcome the small rolling stool someone shoves my way. Once seated, I reach for Daku’s bound hand and wrap my palm around his wrist. His veins start bulging already. Good, it won’t be hard to put in the IV catheter.

I can feel horror rolling off of him when I get Gianluigi to press hard around his wrist and I wipe the alcohol-soaked cotton on the back of his hand, removing the catheter from its sterile wrapping and placing it swiftly and deftly into a raised vein and pulling the needle out, a small drop of blood chasing the vacuum just created.

“Now, I can use this…or not. Your choice.”

“You are fucked up.” Daku spits again. “You think you’ll get me to talk? With what? A truth serum?”

He jeers the last words. It’s true a real truth serum doesn’t exist, even though sodium pentothal does make people blabber sometimes.

“Who do you take me for? A James Bond villain?” I shake my head. “But I can make you talk. Let’s see.”

I pull the rolling table with the tray closer and exchange a look with Gianluigi. He smiles in return. Oh, he wants to play. Sick fuck. Let’s see what he’s come up with. There are two syringes on the deep green sterile fabric, both filled with clear liquid. We did discuss what I wanted to make happen tonight. Either way, we have Flumazenil to neutralize the effects of the drugs in my bag which holds all the drugs, his kit holding the paraphernalia like syringes and catheters.

When I grab a syringe, Daku starts to squirm, the heavy chair making a racket on the bare concrete floor.

“What are you doing?” he gasps out. “No. Stop. I… Wait, what is…”

The first syringe has been emptied inside his IV. I’m waiting to see his reaction. He’s still breathing, so…

“Jasir?” I ask, drawing out his name. “Jasssiiiirrrr?”

“What…no…stop…”

I glance at Gianluigi and roll my eyes. “I gave him the ketamine, didn’t I?”

Cazzo just smiles softly.

“What…what is that?” Aldo asks behind me.

Across the room, I can also feel Valentino’s attention on me, asking the same thing.

“Ketamine. Wonderful anesthetic, amazing pain reliever, too. But that’s mainly the case for children. In adults, not so much, thanks to its psychotropic effects.” I shrug. “Jasir, how are those hallucinations?”

“Fu…fuck you.”

He’s still not going to crack. He planned to hurt an innocent woman, not to mention all the innocents he abused in his sex trafficking rings. I know what they’ve done to these girls. The branding and mutilation alone…

I’m going to have fun with this one. And I have just the right idea. I wave at the brothers.

“Guys, come here.”

When they step into Jasir Daku’s eyesight, the man visibly recoils. This isn’t a hallucination, though—he is indeed looking at a triple-vision oddity, since it’s not every day you come across identical triplets.

I send them away, and we’re all laughing now, even Aldo. Val, not so much. I’m sure my cousin must think I’m crazy, but this is Italy, the cradle of the Mafia, and not the gentle and peaceful New Jersey he’s from. He’d do well to see the real, grimy, gory side of the crime life before taking the reins of his Borgata one day.

“Jasir,” I coax again. “What is it you planned to do to Kaya Norton?”

Valentino’s sharp inhale is audible even from here. Ah, now he gets it. It’s this woman at stake. The woman I lo— Well, that stick up his ass is coming out, and he’s taking a few steps toward us.

“Make him talk,” my cousin spit out.

“Gladly,” I say, my tone stone-cold sober.

I’ve got another trick up my sleeve, and between this and the ketamine, I can go on all night. After all, I have a doctor right here—Gianluigi will make sure we can always bring this fucker back from the brink.

I take the other syringe and push its contents into the IV line.

Daku’s eyes start to boggle. Strangled sounds come from his throat, until only silence permeates even as he stares at me with horror-filled eyes.

“Suxamethonium chloride,” I tell Val and Aldo. “It’s a muscle relaxant of sorts, paralyzes a person when it’s administered. It’s usually used in anesthesia or emergencies to intubate someone safely.”

I watch him choke for a few seconds. It can’t be pleasant to feel all his muscles seizing up and jerking to a halt, even his lungs. Combined with the hallucinations the ketamine must still be producing, he’s in a quandary. Hopefully, this will make him think twice about not answering my questions.

I can see when his eyes start to show his panic, then there’s a heaving intake of air. Shouldn’t have taken long to clear from his system, but I wonder in what shape his liver is. If he’s not been living the too-good life, it won’t be much longer before his plasma cholinesterase starts to degrade the Sux. He’ll be ready, though out of breath, in a short while.

Soon enough, he’s breathing again. It’s ragged and a tad irregular, but he’s functioning properly.

I stare at him for long seconds, then pull my stool closer. “Kaya Norton. What. Have. You. Planned?”

When he fails to answer, Gianluigi hands me a vial of colorless liquid with no label attached. Guess we’re playing this version of Russian roulette again. Like I said, I’ve got all night. I’m not getting out of here—and Jasir Daku certainly isn’t—until we can all make sure Kaya will be safe.