Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,21

how?” He always called me Luca during these meetings. It was an honorable version of my name, he would always say.

I had heard the stories a million times. When Detroit first became a booming city, it was us that created great wealth for other Italian immigrants. And soon enough, it was us that shaped this city. We were the builders of Detroit. I held my tongue, but it was us that created corruption.

The government was no better. The police were even worse. But we didn't do a damn thing to stop it. We were no heroes to the people of this once great city. Slowly but surely, the infrastructure eroded away, until finally it collapsed. We were forced into obscurity, like rats. I always said one day I would get out. But that day came and went. I had my chances. Family was too important. I stayed in the game.

“I hear you, Don,” I said, smiling. I liked giving my dad a hard time.

“Don't call me that.” He sighed, putting his cigar in the fireplace. I watched as the fire peeled away at the tobacco. His real name was Antonio, or Anthony, as he liked to be called. Anthony Luciotti.

“Alright, dad. I hear you. But why did you call me all the way back here? What's on your mind?” I asked him.

“I wanted to hear how that job is going. Has there been any leeway on that yet?” He was always careful enough to talk without mentioning too much. Truth was, he was turning into a very paranoid man. All with good reason, of course.

“It's, uh, going,” I lied. Ever since I met Dahlia, all progress had come to a standstill. I didn't think I'd be called back to the city so quick. I thought I had a lot more time.

“But there's been setbacks? Explain this to me. Explain how you haven't found the man and delivered me his body. Is everyone in this family incompetent?” He slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, choosing to look away from me.

As for me, I couldn’t care less what he had to say for me. I was good at what I did and he knew it. Shit, I was the best in the business.

“My car died on me,” I said, staring right at him. I wanted to say, you want to fight me, old man? But I chose to bite my tongue and be a little more pragmatic.

“So what? You need a new car? I'll get you a new car. Just say the word.” He pulled out a wad of cash and threw it on the floor. It was a laughable display, pathetic in nature. He was grandstanding me, making sure I still knew who was boss. But deep down, I knew the tides were shifting. Soon, he would grow too old to lead. And then I would assume the “throne.” Well, it was either that or Ricky.

“It'll be fixed in two days. Besides, it's good that it happened. I've found a lead,” I said.

My father leaned forward in his chair, excited by the news. “A lead? Come on, let's hear it.”

“Carmelo. Born in Calabria. Moved to Detroit when he was just 12 years old.” I smiled and leaned back in my chair, waiting for his response.

“Hm. Carmelo? Doesn't ring a bell.” He groaned.

“That's because it's not his real name. At least, he never used to answer to that. He used to go by the name of Vinny the Butcher. Does that ring a bell for you, pops?”

A thin smile creased onto his weathered face. “So. You've found old Vincenzo, have you? Good. We’re getting closer. He’ll know some things if you can get to him in the right way. Better be careful. He was a maniac back in his heyday,” he said, pleased with me and the job I had done. That bought me at least an extra week.

“Don't worry about the job, Dad. Have I ever let you down?” I got up from the leather chair and gave him a hug goodbye. He kissed my cheeks, in that Italian way, and grabbed a fresh cigar from his pocket.

“No. No, you haven't.” He sighed. “Forgive me. Your brother has made things very difficult for me. Do you know how much I spend on him?”

“I know. You can always count on me,” I said.

“Time isn't forever, son. Someday soon I won't be here anymore. Our family will need a stronger leader than me. Someone who's going to be able to