Page 1 of Taken By the Enforcer
CHAPTER 1
Donatello
Each timethat fucker Aldo Buratti stands within 10 yards of me, I want to slice his goddamn throat. And tonight is no different.
“Donatello, we should kill the asshole. Get it over with already,” the dick tap dancing on my last nerve pipes up.
This fucker right here.
As if he can decide for the Lucchese mafia family—the head ofLa Cosa Nostra. The most omnipotent crime family in the world based in Sicily with capos throughout Europe, Canada, and the United States. Now under Luca’s control as Boss,the primary focus is arms dealers. Lucchese S.r.l.—known as an import/export company—provides the largest assortment of top-quality weaponry. Individuals and organizations seek us out for pistols to missiles, adding to the family’s billions of dollars every hour. And they don’t want to miss one euro. Or else.
“What made you think you could steal from the shipment and get away with it?”
I ignore Aldo and step closer to the fool dangling from the darkened warehouse ceiling. Naked, bruised, and bloody, his wrists swell in the chains wrapped around them. As he sways from the last punch to the gut, his toes draw trails in the filthy mixture of broken teeth, piss, and blood on the cement floor. A floor all too familiar with similar body fluids and guts.
My footsteps stop when the tips of my shoes reach the puddle. I cock my head to the side and study the fool’s unrecognizable face. One eye swollen shut—I always leave one open so they can see what’s coming next—nose smashed, lip busted. Not even his mother would know her son. And she’ll never see him again.
I may not be a Lucchese. But for generations, the Romano family’s role as top-level enforcers and assassins made us closer to the family than any of their capos. We take it personally when someone dares to go against the Luccheses—family or money.
“Donatello! Did you hear me?”
In an instant, I spin and backslap Aldo across the face. He grunts and stumbles sideways, eyes wide, clutchinghis reddened cheek. My obsidian eyes narrow on him, flashing with danger.
“Unless you want to hang beside this fool, shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
He crumbles further beneath my withering stare, backing away in silence. Not until he returns in line with the other two soldiers do I refocus on the hanging man.
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
His one good eye flicks behind me.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry, Donatello,” he stutters around broken teeth. Blood mixed with saliva dribbles down his wobbling chin. He chokes and spits. “I-I never would have. Swear. Please…”
My fists pummel his stomach in rapid succession of blows. Blood expels from his mouth. Splatters stain my white dress shirt rolled up to my elbows. More blood from the open cuts in his torso covers my bare forearms. The fucker is lucky a bundle of fresh shirts remains on hand in the trunk of my Bugatti. My lip curls in disgust.
“You failed to answer my question. My patience ends.”
I stride to the table. A variety of instruments line its surface. My eyes scan the pliers, brass knuckles, scalpels, pinchers, and more to extract answers from the unfortunate. This one cries for God when I lift the handsaw.
“You’ll meet the devil soon enough. But first, I take the hand that dared to take from the Luccheses. Get him down.”
Aldo and the soldiers rush forward.
“Wait! I’ll tell you,” the fucker cries, wild-eyed. At their approach, he thrashes, head swivels, and his chest heaves. “I’ll tell you all!”
The strength only a dead man walking possesses has his arms flailing.
“No! It was?—”
Bang!
A gunshot pierces the air, followed by two more close-range blasts.
Aldo kneels over the still body of the thief. Three holes gape open in his chest. Blank eyes stare unseeingly.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?!” I thunder at Aldo. The two soldiers who jumped to their feet at the first gunshot glance between us warily. They know I do not tolerate disobedience. “I didn’t give the order to kill him. You tried the last of my?—”
“He reached for my gun. It was self-defense,” Aldo says, staring at the dead man. He stands and faces me as he holsters his weapon. “My apologies, boss.”