Page 167 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

F austo stared at me in shock. “What are you doing?”

“I decided to take your advice from when we first met – and cheat.”

He gave a contemptuous laugh. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Deadly serious.”

I pointed the gun towards the monitors and deliberately opened fire.

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!

Fausto shrieked and stumbled away, his arms covering his head, as the monitors blew up in a shower of sparks and all the screens went black.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” Fausto shrieked.

“The problem is that I’ve seen how you treat people once you’re finished with them.”

“What are you – ” he started, then stopped. “The morgue attendant in Verona. The man Dante strangled.”

“Exactly.”

Fausto shook his head. “He was a nobody. I would never do that to you.”

“Good. Pay me, then.”

“There was no need for this unpleasantness,” he snapped. “You didn’t need to do any of this.”

“I disagree. Now stop stalling.”

“Why would I be stalling?”

“Because you think Dante’s going to come through that door any second and shoot me. But he’s not – because he and I cut a deal. Isn’t that right, Dante?” I called out.

“Yup,” a muffled voice said through the closed doors of the library.

The blood drained out of Fausto’s face.

“DANTE, YOU GODDAMN TRAITOR!” he screamed.

“Oh, the irony,” I deadpanned. “Should’ve paid your men better.”

“WHATEVER’S SHE GIVING YOU, I’LL TRIPLE IT!” Fausto shrieked.

“Don’t you remember?” Dante’s voice asked sarcastically. “I’m a goddamn traitor.”

I gestured with my gun at the laptop on the desk and said to Fausto, “Stop talking to him and get over there and fucking pay me.”

He bared his teeth. “And if I don’t?”

I aimed the gun at his feet and fired.

BLAM!

Shards of marble kicked up from the floor, leaving behind a visible gouge mark.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!” Fausto screamed as he scrambled over to the desk.

He bent over the laptop, his face enraged. A couple of minutes passed as he typed.

“What’s taking so long?” I asked.

“I don’t have all 20 million in one account,” he snarled, “so I have to open several of them.”

“Well, hurry it up.”

“How long have you been planning this?” he seethed.

“What, making sure I got paid? Ever since Verona.”

Fausto looked up at me, his face a picture of rage. “I shouldn’t even bother doing this. You’ll just kill me once you have the money.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Right,” he said sarcastically.

“I swear I won’t kill you,” I promised.

He squinted. “You say that like someone else will.”

“Not me.”

“Dante?”

“No.”

“My other foot soldiers?”

“No. Are the accounts open?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Good – then back away,” I said as I gestured with the gun to the side.

“Swear you won’t kill me first,” he growled.

“I swear.” I smirked, then said, “I could do it like you Cosa Nostra types do and swear on something holy to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “And what would that be?”

I stared straight at him. “On my love for the man I’m going to marry.”

Fausto’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “…what?!”

“We’re ready, Dante,” I called out.

The doors to the library opened…

And seven dead men walked through the door.