Page 7 of Shattered King
Luca
“ B ug says his car’s parked outside of a bar called Iron Horse Saloon.” Davide’s voice comes through the tiny earpiece, tinged by static. “It’s a couple blocks north of your position.”
“You hear that, Stefano?” I ask, calling into the radio as I slowly move my truck into position. “You sure you can identify the guy?”
“Show him to me and I’ll make him out,” Stefano rumbles back.
“How are we doing this, chief?” Leo asks.
I consider for a moment. “Davide keeps an eye out from his command post back in the depot. Stefano and I go inside. He IDs the guy. You and Enzo wait out by his car. When he leaves, we corner him and ask some hard questions. Should be simple.”
“It’s never simple,” Enzo murmurs.
“Sounds like a great plan, chief.” Leo’s way too chipper, but I appreciate his enthusiasm. “I’m two minutes away.”
“Quiet on the line from here on out,” I order, and the others call back with an affirmative, and then the channel goes dead.
Iron Horse Saloon is a shitty little dive out in West Philly.
The building’s square and gray with a black door and ancient signage out front for beers that probably aren’t even made anymore.
I spot the car Leo bugged earlier—a simple gray Nissan Altima—and pull my truck over half a block further down from it.
The rest of my crew shows up over the next few minutes. Young Leo is first, ever eager to prove himself. He’s another Marino cousin, but only twenty-two. The guy’s ambitious, but he takes too many risks. That’s why he’s not going in with me.
Next comes Stefano. He appears outside my window like a phantom. For such a big, monstrous man, he sure can move quietly. He’s my main enforcer and one vicious motherfucker. His nose is hooked like it’s been broken before, and his dark eyes are piercing and intense.
I push open the truck door and climb out.
“Where’s Enzo?” He’s my second-in-command and my most trusted lieutenant.
“Keeping an eye on the new kid.” Stefano’s all business now. “You ready?”
I gesture for him to lead the way.
Iron Horse is surprisingly crowded for such a dump.
The place is supposed to be Western themed, but mostly it just looks like a cowboy costume shop vomited all over the walls.
There are a lot of young people, probably the Drexel crowd, bodies jammed into booths and two deep at the bar.
It’s ten at night on a Saturday, and this place must be popular with college kids.
We elbow our way through the crowd. People part out of Stefano’s way like he’s a shark and they’re a bunch of tasty-looking tunas. He takes us to the corner of the room near the bar, and he spends a minute looking out over the crowd before he nods at a little group packed by an unused dart board.
“That’s him. Right there. Skinny, bleached hair, black button-down shirt.”
“How many people are with him?”
“Looks like two or three. I don’t know any of them.”
I nod to myself grimly, thinking it over.
Our target is Mario Lopez, a minor member of a Latino gang called OperationSixty running out of North Philly.
We don’t have beef with that particular crew, at least not yet.
I have no idea why they’d want to attack a Serrano garage considering they’re not enemies and aren’t even competing in the same business.
OperationSixty mostly deals meth, while the Serranos do cars. Makes no fucking sense.
That’s why we’re here though. For some answers.
“Took us too long to track him down,” I say, making my way back through the crowd. “We’ll wait him out. We take him tonight.”
“Works for me,” Stefano mumbles, sounding a little too pleased.
Back out into the night, Leo and Enzo are sitting together in Enzo’s car with a good view of the Altima. I nod at the pair and they nod back. I get into my truck and Stefano joins me. The big man has to slide the seat back to fit.
I stare into the night and think about my future wife.
She wasn’t too happy to see me the last time I went to check on her.
I’ve never met someone so defensive before.
I swear, I could’ve shown up with flowers and money, and she would’ve assumed I was trying to insult her somehow.
But even with all that anger and mistrust, she still looked fucking glorious covered in dirt and grease and wearing that oversized clothing.
Even better now that I know what she’s hiding under there.
Years of working on cars made her lean and hard. Her muscles are toned and incredible. Two weeks after fucking her, and I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about getting another taste. I can’t help myself. It’s like a sick obsession.
“There he is,” Stefano says gently, and I look over. Mario’s crossing the street with his two friends. All three get into the Altima together.
“Damn,” I murmur. “That’s a shame.”
“Should we call it off?” Stefano’s frowning at me.
I shake my head. “Collateral can’t be helped.” I reach up and touch my earpiece. “Davide. I need a good spot to ambush these fuckers. You got your maps up?”
“Once they’re moving, I’ll work on something,” he says right away.
“Alright, Enzo and Leo, you two stay close.”
When Mario pulls out, I wait a moment before we follow, keeping a safe distance behind. “Hacked his GPS,” Davide says, sounding very pleased with himself. A route suddenly appears on my truck’s entertainment screen. “That should do it.”
“Where was he going?” Leo asks, sounding curious.
“Strip club.”
I grunt because, of course, he was. Stefano grins at me. “Man of simple tastes,” he says.
We follow Mario for a few blocks as he moves south.
Davide’s guiding him along without him even realizing.
Our resident hacker not only plans and maintains the depot’s legitimate trucking routes, but he’s also one of the most skilled cybercriminals I’ve ever met.
The only problem is, he doesn’t like leaving his little command post, and he’s extremely introverted.
The neighborhoods here are rough. Fewer street lights, more boarded-up houses. I make a few turns, drive fast, until I reach a little side street. I count to ten in my head, watching the dot move along on the screen, until I slam down on the gas.
The Nissan appears as I’m barreling toward the intersection.
Poor Mario doesn’t have a chance. He tries to brake, but it’s way too late.
I slam into the driver’s side door, smashing the little sedan sideways and sending it skittering around in circles.
My seatbelt digs into my shoulders, but my truck’s been reinforced for this exact purpose.
Metal and plastic pieces fly into the air, and Mario’s windshield shatters against his passengers.
Seconds later, Enzo and Leo pull up, their BMW screeching to a halt behind the Nissan as I put the truck in park and leap out, Stefano right behind me.
The car doesn’t move. There’s silence and stillness inside.
I keep my gun up and ready. Stefano moves around to the side while Leo and Enzo flank the other ends.
I approach the driver’s door carefully, watching as Mario slowly lifts his head, his brow bleeding into his eyes, and blinks in confusion at me.
“Who the fuck?” he starts, but I’m already yanking open his door.
I grab him by the shirt and yank him out before shoving my gun in past him.
The first passenger stares in shock and barely has time to register what’s happening before I put a bullet in his head.
His brains splatter the other guy, who understandably starts screaming his fucking face off. I finish him a second later.
Behind me, Enzo’s got Mario down on the ground. Three guns are pointed at the bastard’s face as Stefano and Leo join him. I make sure the dead passengers are very dead before turning to the little group.
“The fuck?” Mario’s saying over and over. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”
I crouch down and stare into his eyes.
He looks like nothing. That’s what pisses me off the most. This man nearly killed my future wife. He hurt her, traumatized her, fucked with her family’s business, and he’s barely even scum. The man’s so far beneath my notice that he’s nothing. He’s a stain on the concrete.
“Who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage?”
He blinks at me rapidly. “The what? Who are you? What’s going on?”
I shove my gun against his neck. “Who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage?”
Mario’s face goes pale. He stares around him at the grim faces of my crew.
“We need to be fast,” Enzo murmurs, always the sensible one. “Kill him so we can get out of here.”
“Wait.” Mario’s eyes go wide. “Hold on. Please, don’t.”
“The garage.” I press the gun harder against his throat. “Tell me who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage.”
“I don’t know!” He’s shaking now. Probably pissing himself. Fucking nothings like this won’t hesitate to kill whoever they want, but as soon as the gun’s turned on them, suddenly life and death matters. Pathetic slime.
“Not a good answer.”
“Hold on. Wait! I was just given orders by my crew chief! That’s all I know!”
“What were your objectives? Were you trying to sabotage the Serrano family’s business? What were you doing there?”
“I don’t—I can’t—” He looks around in a panic. Distantly, the whine of sirens echoes over the city. Perfect fucking timing.
“Time to go,” Enzo says gently. He’s such a damn good actor. Everyone here knows we’re not killing this guy until he talks. “Pull the trigger and be done with it.”
“The girl!” Mario screams, eyes wild with terror. “We were there for the girl!”
I go very still. My men stare at me with varying looks on their faces. Enzo seems thoughtful. Leo looks confused. Stefano’s pissed.
“It wasn’t the cars? You weren’t trying to hit the Serranos directly?”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. We were told to kill the girl no matter what. Make it look like a robbery, but kill the girl. Please, that’s everything I know. Please?—”
I pull the trigger.
Mario’s throat bursts out the back of his neck in a spray of blood. He topples backward, gagging and choking, clutching desperately at his wound like he can turn back time. I step back, rage rolling through me in white-hot waves.
They were there for Fiorella .
“Guess we’re not getting more out of him,” Enzo comments with a sigh.
“Should we clean this up?” Leo asks, looking around.
“No, you idiot,” Stefano says, batting at his head. “Come on, time for you to go.”
“Don’t talk to me like that; you know it annoys me.”
“Now, now, boys,” Enzo says, dragging Leo away. “See you back at the depot.”
I’m barely paying attention. I keep staring at the corpse in front of me, trying to make sense of what he just said.
I went into this assuming it was some kind of hit against the Serranos.
I figured whoever was behind it wanted to drive their business into the ground.
The Serrano Famiglia is deep in debt, and they can’t afford to lose more work.
It wouldn’t take that much effort for a rival to torch them to the ground.
I figured Fiorella was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But it’s so much worse than that.
“Boss,” Stefano says from my shoulder. “We really do have to go.”
The sirens are getting louder.
I pull myself away and storm back to the truck. Stefano climbs in beside me as I take it out of park and pull away, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles hurt.
“New orders,” I bark over the radio. “From now until the wedding, we’re watching over Fiorella. She doesn’t go anywhere without at least two of us nearby. Do you all understand?”
“I’ll start making schedules,” Davide says with a sigh.