Page 38 of Shattered King

Luca

T he depot’s bustling on a busy Tuesday morning.

I pause in the middle of the action, and a strange feeling comes over me.

In all the years I’ve been working for the Famiglia, running errands, driving cars, doing odd jobs, committing acts of violence and crime, I’ve never once wished I were anywhere else, especially not since being made a full Capo and given my own crew to run.

Except now I can’t stop thinking about my wife and our growing child back home.

Being apart from them is like a constant nagging pain right in the center of my chest. If I can’t see her, I can’t know she’s completely safe. Even though I have highly dependable and skilled guards watching over her, that’s not nearly enough.

I need her here, right here, with me.

All the fucking time.

Which isn’t reasonable.

Enzo spots me and waves me over to the main office. I follow him inside and shut the door behind me. He’s got a mountain of paperwork on the desk, and I’m pretty sure this whole place would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for him keeping it all running.

“I hear you’ve got a full house,” he says, sighing as he sinks into his chair. He clicks around on his computer before looking at me. “How’s that going for you?”

“Surprisingly fine,” I admit, emphasis on the surprise . When I took in Elisa and Raf, I figured it would be a huge pain in the ass. But it hasn’t been that bad.

“Really?” Enzo’s eyebrows raise. “You always were the kind of guy that valued privacy.”

“My wife likes having her siblings close.” I stare at him and dare him to say something about that.

The change that came over Fiorella was almost palpable.

She must’ve been as stressed worrying about her sister and her brother as I am worrying about her sweet ass all the damn time.

With Elisa and Raf under my roof, at least they’re close to Fio, and she can check in on them.

That’s why I can’t send them somewhere else, even if it might be personally better to have peace and quiet back in my house. Fiorella’s happy, and that matters to me.

“Well, look at you,” Enzo says, folding his hands over his chest. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“And you won’t see it for long if you keep this shit up.”

He grins at me. “Come on, I’m happy for you. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time you seemed content. But ever since you married Fiorella, it’s like suddenly you have everything you’ve always wanted.”

“Never knew I wanted a random fucking girl for a wife.”

“Funny how things turn out?”

I grunt in reply to that. When Fio first came into my life, I figured she’d be nothing but a burden.

I fell for her mouth and her body first, and slowly, I began to realize it was everything else that kept me wanting more.

It’s her strength and dedication, her desire to be better and stronger, and even her need to be free.

It’s all admirable. It’s impressive as all hell.

“I’m guessing you have something for me since you called me in.” I nod toward the computer, and that finally knocks Enzo back into business mode. His face hardens as he turns the monitor in my direction.

“Stefano looked into one of the guys that assaulted Raf at the hospital. Poor dumb fucker kept his ID in his pocket. We found an address in Delco.”

My eyebrows raise as I look at the map on the screen. “It’s not that far from here.”

“Here’s the fucked-up part. That house is owned by Corrado Serrano.”

“Well, I’ll be fucked sideways.”

“Obviously, it’s not a safe house since it’s under his legal name, but I’m thinking we might find someone who knows where he is.”

“We should pay it a little visit.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Enzo gets up and grabs a gun from the top drawer of the desk. He shoves it into his waistband. “Got the trucks waiting out back.”

Outside, Stefano’s sitting behind the wheel of his massive Ford. He nods and cranks the engine as we approach. “You hear we’re on a hunt?” he asks, sounding like a kid about to go watch the Super Bowl. “Might get messy.”

“Try not to sound too happy about that.”

“You know me. I like to get my hands dirty.”

I exchange a look with Enzo. Crazy fucking bastard .

We climb into the other waiting F-150 and get driving down south.

I get behind the wheel and concentrate on following Stefano’s breakneck speed, mostly to keep my mind from wandering to Fiorella.

I’m tempted to check in with her. Davide set up security cameras all over my property, and there’s a remote app I can use to look through them any time I want. But that’ll only drive me crazy.

I have to trust she’s safe. Or else I’d hear right away.

The house is in a quiet neighborhood in a town called Ridley.

It’s a middle-class area, mostly moderate-sized homes with big green lawns and lots of trees.

The address takes us to a gray-stone building with a tiny garage and no cars parked in the driveway.

There’s one of those ugly silver stars next to the front door, and an old, tattered American flag flutters in the breeze.

The front flowerbeds are choked with weeds, and the grass looks like it hasn’t been cut for a couple weeks.

“You sure this is the place?” I ask as we drive past to get a feel for it first.

“Positive.” Enzo looks about as impressed as I feel, which is not fucking at all. “I assumed it would be empty, but that looks straight up abandoned.”

“If Corrado’s name is on the property records, he must’ve cleared out.”

“What was that random Serrano killer doing with this address on his license, though?” Enzo takes the truck around for a second pass. “Doesn’t feel right.”

We don’t speak again as we do another few circuits, taking wider and slower trips around the block to keep from being too obvious. The house never changes, though, and eventually Stefano calls, sounding impatient.

“Let’s just storm the fucking place.”

“You don’t think we should watch it first?” I ask, rubbing at a bit of tension between my eyes. “We rush in there and we could tip off Corrado that we’re getting close.”

“Fuck him. Let’s go in.”

Enzo grunts and slows the truck, parking it about a block away from the house. “For once, I agree with Stefano’s recklessness.”

“Hell, yes, you do. Always liked you, Enzo.”

“Not because I’m a bloodthirsty maniac—” He glances at the phone meaningfully. Not like him . “But I doubt we’ll find anyone. I’d bet anything it’s just a front.”

It takes me all of ten seconds to decide. I check to make sure my gun’s loaded before kicking open the truck door. “Then let’s get this over with.”

Stefano seems downright joyful as we walk with purpose.

Ahead, the grass flutters in the wind. A neighbor’s cutting his lawn without a shirt, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He doesn’t even look up. There’s not much traffic, though, and I feel good about going right around to the back of the house.

The rear yard’s almost worse than the front. Old tires are tossed in a corner. A deck’s in total disrepair. There’s a shed, or at least it used to be one. The roof’s falling in on itself.

“Allow me,” Stefano says as he walks right up to the back door. He takes one look at it before using his massive boot to kick three times. The whole damn frame cracks in half, splintering wood, and it teeters inward.

The kitchen’s not bad. It’s dusty and looks unused, but at least it’s not filthy.

I go slow, gun out and ready, clearing each room in turn.

The place looks like an average suburban house, except there’s nothing personal anywhere.

No photographs, no family names, nothing to indicate humans ever stayed in this place.

It feels like a cheap Airbnb more than anything, one that hasn’t been rented in a while.

“Check this out,” Enzo calls from the bedroom. I find him sitting on the bed, frowning at a stack of papers in his lap. He’s flipping through them and inspecting something at the top.

“An electric bill?” I frown as he hands me one of the pages. It looks like basically any other official document.

“Look at the address in the top corner.”

“It’s for a different house.”

“Exactly.” He holds up the stack. “There are like five different addresses in here.”

“Why the fuck would there be mail for a bunch of different houses?”

“Because I think Corrado used to live here, but he left when shit went down. He tried to clear out, but—” Enzo shakes the papers. “He missed some stuff. And now we know which properties he owns, or at least where he’s paying their bills.”

Stefano comes stomping down the hall, looking pissed. “We came all this way to this shitty little town for some fucking bills?” He picks up a lamp and throws it against the wall. It smashes into a million pieces. “I’m tempted to wreck this whole fucking place.”

“Another time.” Enzo gets up and shoves the pages into his back pocket. “Relax, you’ll get another shot at them soon.” He pats Stefano’s arm as he walks past.

“Who knew war could be so boring?” Stefano glares as he lightly knocks a small porcelain cat statue onto the floor. It clatters and rolls into the corner.

“If you really want to break shit—” But my words get cut off by the sound of shattering glass. Enzo shouts something and I’m running toward him, gun drawn and ready, with Stefano at my back.

The living room is a sudden mess. I don’t know how, but there’s fire everywhere. Enzo’s screaming and throwing shit at the flames, trying to douse them, but it’s too late. The couch is already ablaze, filling the space with thick smoke way faster than I thought possible.

“Out the back!” Stefano roars and we’re racing after him. There’s another crash and another loud whoosh as more fire spreads behind us, engulfing the entire front of the house.

We burst through the ruined back door and into clear air.

I’m coughing roughly and spitting while Stefano goes storming around toward the front.

I hear him yelling and I run after, but it’s too late.

I get there in time to see a black van peel out and drive off, its back door slamming shut. It careens around a corner and is gone.

“Molotov cocktail,” Enzo says, hacking something ugly up from his lungs. “Came right through the window.”

“There are eyes on this place.” I shove him away and we go staggering back down the sidewalk.

The guy mowing his lawn’s still there, sucking away on his cigarette. He barely glances over.

“Almost,” Stefano laments as we part ways and get back into our trucks. “That was almost fun.”

But once we’re driving back to the city and I feel like I’ve coughed enough to scald my lungs to bloody ribbons, Enzo looks at me and pats the bills he’s got still tucked into his pants.

“We’re on to something,” he says with a grin and a gleam in his eye.

For all the shit he gives Stefano, he likes the thrill just as much as the rest of us.

Most of my life was spent chasing the high of a good fight.

But now all I can think about is getting back home to Fiorella.

I can picture her tent on fire, her car burning, her screams echoing through the night.

It fucks me up how badly I need to see her.

And I know this distraction isn’t doing anyone any good.

I drop Enzo off back at the depot but don’t stick around. “Give Davide those addresses and see what he can find.” I head back to the city, driving straight for home. When I park, I get out and have to fight the urge to go sprinting into Fiorella’s tent.

Relief floods me when I finally step inside and find her with her head under the hood of the Spider.

She’s doing something to the engine, cursing loudly and creatively the whole time.

“You donkey dick licking, sunburn of a fucking piece of shit belt, I’m going to choke you to goddamn death with my big fat?—”

She yelps when I grab her from behind. I nearly get smashed in the face with a wrench, but at least I was expecting it and manage to catch her wrist before she brains me. “Hey, baby,” I say, holding her tight.

“Jesus Christ, Luca, you scared the hell out of me. What are you?—”

I silence her with a hard kiss.

God, I needed that.

I needed her taste. Her whimper. The way her hard body turns soft against mine like she melts into me. Everything about her is pure perfection, and seeing her safe makes something lightly unclench from around my heart.

“I missed you,” I say, kissing her gently one more time.

“Announce yourself next time.” She’s smiling, though, her hands on my chest. “But actually, I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to try something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She wriggles from my grip and slides into the Spider’s driver’s seat. She flips the visor down and grabs the keys as they tumble out.

I stand back, arms crossed in surprise. “You’re ready to try it?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She looks nervously at me and tries a sheepish smile. “Don’t judge me if it explodes, okay?”

“I’ll pull you from the wreckage.”

“Maybe let me burn.” She chews her lip for a second then shoves the key into the ignition. “You better goddamn work.”

She cranks it. Once, twice, three times.

For a beat, I think it won’t turn over. But then the Spider roars to life, a glorious hum of engine and power, and she’s screaming with pure ecstasy as she hits the gas and the car responds.

It growls, low and throaty, sensual and beautiful, and the goddamn thing doesn’t explode at all.

It sounds perfect.

She leaps out of the car, leaving it running, and dives at me like a maniac.

She’s screaming and laughing, and I’m laughing too.

Her pure joy is infectious. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. I grab her and lift her into the air and swing her around and she’s squealing like this is the best moment of her life.

We kiss again, but this time it’s sloppy and happy and she’s laughing and hugging me.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I tell her as we turn together to admire the running Spider.

“Honestly? I’m proud of myself. I wasn’t sure it’d ever actually work.”

“Look at you now. Think it’ll drive?”

“Definitely. I mean, it’s ready. I have a few little tweaks, but nothing major.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m alright.” She leans against me and sighs. “No, you’re right, I am totally incredible.”

We stand together and watch the car rumble and idle in the tent, and I’m wondering how I got through my days before her.

Because now that she’s here?

This is everything I need.