Page 26 of Shattered King

Luca

“ I ’m going to say something now, and I don’t want you to use it against me later.” Fiorella steps up close to me and presses her body into mine. “I had a really good time today.”

“I did too.”

“But don’t get any ideas.” She gets up on her toes and lightly presses her lips to mine. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of that.”

“Good.” She kisses me a second time, her fingers lightly gripping my shirt. “Are you coming in?”

“I have to take the Spider back.”

She glances past me toward where the car’s parked in front of the house. “Maybe we could keep it for a little bit longer. You know… just another few days.”

I laugh lightly and kiss her. “Sorry, baby, but that’s not the deal. If you want one, you’d better hurry up and finish working on yours.”

“And when that’s done, I’m never letting you get behind the wheel.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She grins and lets me go. I watch her disappear into the house before turning away and walking lightly toward the car, a smile on my face.

It’s late, a little past eleven at night, and the neighborhood’s quiet.

I wait a few minutes, checking my phone, until a figure comes walking toward me slowly down the sidewalk.

“You two took forever,” Enzo comments, though he doesn’t sound like he’s complaining. He climbs into the passenger seat, and I get behind the wheel. “How’d it go with her?”

“She liked it.” I choose not to tell him that it was one of the best days of my life. “I think it helped.”

He shakes his head and looks out the window. “Never thought you’d be the kind of man who cared about his wife’s happiness.”

“People change.” I start the engine. The Spider roars to life.

“What is it about this car, anyway?” Enzo makes a face. “Too small for me.”

“She likes it. That’s all I care about.” I give him a look. “You have the address?”

“Stefano’s on him right now.” Enzo checks his phone and enters a street number into his GPS. “Apparently, he’s at a strip club.”

“That’s good. Not a lot down there.”

“You sure this is a good idea?”

I hit the road and leave the house behind. “Just make sure Leo’s keeping an eye on Fiorella.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his seat. “She’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. What’s Adriano going to say if he hears about this?”

“He won’t. And neither will Raf or Don Serrano. But I’m not about to sit on my ass and wait for that Corrado fuck to start killing my people. I need a plan.”

The city flashes past as we drive south toward the airport.

Out this way, past the stadiums, there aren’t as many houses.

Enormous parking lots fill up most of the space, though there are a few businesses scattered around the trash-strewn streets.

The GPS takes us to a club called Risky, with a big neon sign of a woman grinding a pole out front and advertisements for the girls plastered against the walls.

I find a spot at the edge of the lot and kill the engine. Stefano’s truck is right in my sightline, and he flashes his lights to acknowledge us. A second later, Enzo’s phone rings. He answers on speaker.

“Fucker’s been in there for like two hours,” Stefano says. “Guy’s going to single-handedly put a bunch of strippers through college.”

“Or supplement their child support,” Enzo adds.

“Where’s his car?” I ask, ignoring their banter. “I want eyes on it.”

“No worries about that. It’s the black BMW four spots over from me. You see it?”

“The fucking bumper’s duct taped on.”

“Guess he’s a shit driver.”

I nod to myself, slumping down in the cramped seat. Fucking European sports cars aren’t built for men my size. “Now the fun part.”

“The fun part’s inside,” Stefano grumbles.

Enzo hangs up the phone. We lapse into silence as we watch the club for any sign of our mark. I keep thinking back to my day with Fiorella, and even though I’m doing something stupid and potentially dangerous, that doesn’t change how good things were earlier.

She laughed a lot. I got a feel for her more than I ever have before.

It’s like putting her in that car and letting her drive let her lower some of her defenses.

I was getting to know her in a way I hadn’t up to that point, and it made me want to let her in too.

For a little while, I could almost pretend that we were a normal married couple out for a joyride.

Except this is our reality. A shitty strip club and a puddle-filled parking lot. Enzo’s right to worry, but I can’t let that slow me down. If we get caught taking matters into our own hands, it could make things very fucking complicated, both with our new allies and with the Don of our Famiglia.

Weeks ago, before Fiorella, I never in a thousand years would’ve considered doing anything that might go against the Famiglia’s interests.

My whole life’s been about the Marinos. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be an important member of this organization, especially to make up for that one damn bad decision I made way back in the day.

But Fiorella changed some of that. The Famiglia is still everything to me, but Fiorella’s important too. Her safety has to be a priority, and I don’t know where my full loyalties are anymore.

If it comes down to a choice between her and the family?

I don’t fucking know what I’d do.

All I know for sure is I’m here and I shouldn’t be.

And it’s because I care too damn much about my wife.

Forty minutes pass. Eventually, a few figures emerge from the club, a small pack of younger men. They pause and light cigarettes, laughing loudly, clearly drunk. The group eventually breaks up, and I watch as one of them hurries alone toward the black BMW with its taped-up bumper.

He’s in his early twenties. Dark hair, dark skinny jeans. Doesn’t look like a gangster. More like a kid growing out of his punk rock phase. But I’m positive it’s him.

Dominic Serrano. Another one of the cousins. Corrado’s youngest boy, barely twenty-two, and allegedly not deep into the business.

But there’s a complication. Some of the other guys from his little friend group are still in the parking lot. Their cars are starting, and one pulls out, but we can’t make a move with them watching. The fewer bodies involved in this, the better.

I quickly call Stefano. He answers right away. “That’s him,” he says quietly. “Should we move?”

“Not yet. We need to delay him.”

“Want me to ram his car?”

“Go ask him for a smoke.”

“You sure?”

“Just do it. Hurry up and move. He doesn’t know your face.”

Stefano hangs up. I watch the big man exit his truck and walk slowly toward Dominic.

I can tell the Serrano kid’s on edge, but Stefano can be a charming guy sometimes, and it’s hard to turn down a big man like that.

They talk for a second, and Stefano pretends to fumble Dominic’s lighter, laughing as he does it.

“Cars are clear,” Enzo says, frowning as the last of them pulls out and speeds away.

I shove the door open and get out. Dominic is too busy talking to Stefano to notice me coming until it’s too late. As I approach with Enzo at my back, the young Serrano boy’s eyes go wide with recognition, and he looks around, ready to bolt.

But he doesn’t get far. Stefano grabs him by the face, one big, meaty hand gripping him by the skull, while the other curls into a fist. He punches Dominic in the gut three times and throws him to the pavement, the boy groaning in shock and pain.

I reach out and lightly take the cigarette from Stefano. He grunts at me, eyes shining with joy as he breathes hard over Dominic’s prone body.

“Nasty habit,” I comment, crouching over him. “I’m guessing you know who I am.”

“Fuck… can’t breathe…” He’s wheezing and gasping.

Stefano snorts. “Fucking baby. I barely hit him.”

“Take your time, Dominic. Get yourself together.”

He gasps for air, lying on his back and panting as he stares at the sky. Slowly, his eyes roll to meet mine, and I give him a nice smile as I flick ash onto the blacktop.

“I’m not a part of this,” Dominic says quietly. He’s trying hard not to look afraid, but his face is pinched in terror. “I don’t know anything about my father’s plans, okay?”

“Well, see, that’s a problem for you.” I reach out and grab his wrist. He flinches as I jerk it forward, then quickly jab the cigarette down onto his forearm.

He screams and tries to pull away, but I put my weight on him and hold him down. The skin sizzles and burns until the cigarette goes out. I toss the butt aside.

“Fuck you,” he groans, yanking his arm back when I let him go.

“I just have one question. Where’s your dad hiding?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t!”

I snap my fingers and hold a hand out. Enzo places a hammer in my palm. The head is worn and stained from blood and rust. It’s an ugly piece and could really use a cleaning, but I find it’s a lot more menacing like this. Dominic stares at my hammer, mouth hanging open in tangible fear.

“Last chance.”

“Please, please, don’t do it. I really don’t know where he’s been! I’m not a part?—”

Stefano grabs his wrist. Enzo holds him tight.

I smash the hammer down on his hand, aiming for his pinky finger.

I miss, though, and break his middle and index fingers instead.

They snap with a satisfying crunch, and Dominic screams again, writhing and fighting like a caged animal.

My men keep him steady, and Stefano shoves a dirty rag into his mouth to shut him up for a little while.

He’s breathing hard and staring at me with wild eyes.

I lean back, studying him. I let him sit with the pain as I slowly turn the hammer around in circles in my hand.

He can imagine what I’ll do next. Most likely, whatever’s in his head is worse than what I’m actually going to do. But probably not by much.

“Try again. Where’s Corrado?”

“I don’t know,” he whimpers, but it’s not convincing. “Please. I really?—”

I slam it down on his hand again. This time, I get the thumb. It’s a swollen mess of blood and bone when I’m done smashing it to nothing, and he’ll probably never use it right again. Assuming the doctors don’t just amputate the ruined thing.

“You’re going to run out of fingers soon,” I say, tapping the hammer against his knee. “But don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of bones.”

“Delaware County!” he says through gasping breaths. “He’s in a house in Ridley. He’s down fucking south, okay!”

I glance over at Enzo. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Give me a house number.”

“I really don’t have one. I’m serious, I’d fucking tell you anything right now, but I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Enzo shrugs a little. He seems convinced. I stand and study Dominic, trying to decide what to do with him.

“Stefano? Break his other hand.” I toss him the hammer.

The big man catches it. “Got it, boss.”

“Wait,” Dominic says, panicking. “I told you the truth. Please, Dad’s hiding in Ridley, he’s in Ridley, he’s?—”

Stefano expertly smashes the kid’s other hand, breaking three fingers in the process. We leave him curled around his hands, whimpering, spitting, and sobbing on the pavement, but still alive.

“You sure we shouldn’t kill him?” Enzo asks as we get back into the Spider. Stefano pulls out and heads back to the depot ahead of us.

“This is a more effective message.”

“But now everyone’s going to know we’re making our own moves.”

“If Corrado wanted this coup to be public, he’d have armed guys shooting Raf and Don Serrano as we speak. He wants to be subtle about this. If he starts accusing us of breaking his son’s hands, then he’ll have to start talking about why we’d do something like that. He has too much to lose.”

“It’s a gamble.”

“True, but remember, he’s got a third son. All else fails, we find that fucker and kill him.”

Enzo smirks as we drive away from the strip club. I catch a glimpse of Dominic trying to fumble with his phone but struggling to use his broken hands. Poor fucking guy.

“Almost makes you not want to have kids, right?”

I think of Fiorella’s mouth pressed tight against mine. “Almost, but not totally.”