Take Me A Dark Billionaire Mafia Romance - Faith Summers Page 0,1

start crying. He’s trying to talk but he can’t. The words aren’t coming out. I just need him to say one word though. One name. That’s all.

Nobody would dare steal from Giordanos. Not a damn chance. So, I want a fucking name. As I study Jonny though … I see clearly that whoever got to him must be really good, powerful. The man’s not talking, and he’s got my knives in his legs. Most people would have been singing like a canary by now.

That enrages me further.

Who the fuck could he be working for?

“Jonny, I’m serious as fuck. You allowed these people to steal from us. Steal shit from us that could land us in trouble with the feds and end us.” Essentially that is what could happen.

This fucker could have opened up Pandora’s box and whatever evil came out would trace back to us. To me.

“I don’t…” Jonny begins, and his voice trails off.

This is turning into a game of shit. I don’t have time for this. I’m already late for the club and I don’t want that part of my life in the shitter, too.

I pull another knife from my pocket and throw it into his shoulder. This time when he screams, I’m on him.

I grab his mouth and set the gun at his temple, ready to blow his head off. “Motherfucker give me a name,” I bellow.

Click. Clack. I cock the hammer. On the sound, his stupid eyes go wide and his breath hitches.

“Falcone,” he garbles and I take the gun out of his mouth so I can hear him.

“Say that again,” I demand, hoping like hell it’s not the name I thought he said.

“Falcone, it was him,” he blurts tripping over his words, now in a haste to talk.

I grit my teeth and glance back at Salvatore balls his fists.

Fuck.

Damn it.

Falcone…

I close my eyes briefly and seethe. Anybody but him. Any other fucking criminal but that asshole.

It’s not that we can’t handle a guy like Falcone. It’s because we don’t know how much he’s infiltrated or how far he’s reached. The guy is what we call fluid. You can’t quite track his work, and you don’t know what he’s up to. He’s able to infiltrate from the ground and work his way up. In our case, because Giordanos Inc. is a shipping company, it could mean the fucker wormed his way across the seas.

“Where did they take the guns?” I shout in Jonny’s face.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know that part.”

“Fucker, you don’t know where they took the guns?” I find that hard to believe.

“That’s how Falcone works. I just got the shipment ready for them to make the drop and they took it. I …don’t know anything else,” Jonny stutters.

Damn it. I’m fucked.

I’m fucked and I’m pissed. The time for compassion is over.

I stand and Jonny full well believes I’m gonna pop a bullet between his eyes, but I won’t because he deserves worse than that.

“You and you get over here,” I say pointing to the two men to my left. Both are built like tanks. “Take him outside and leave him behind the dumpster for Falcone’s men to pick him up.”

Yes. That’s what I’m gonna do. A tear tracks down Jonny’s chubby cheeks. He knows what will happen next. Torture of the worse kind for talking to me and he’ll have to beg for death.

Falcone’s people would have been watching. That’s how it works in our world. People know shit. They know when shit’s happening and when the silent speak.

They’ll know what it means for me to have left Jonny alive.

Without question the men take Jonny away. His sobs are the last thing I hear as they carry him out the door.

The rest of the men stare back at me, wondering what I’m gonna do to them.

Jonny was the manager. He’d worked for the family for close to five years with no problems until he made one. The problem I’m having here though is I don’t know who else was involved and this shit.

The shipment was a two-million-dollar contract. My first real gig since my cousin, Vincent, took over as boss of the family.

It was my first real gig with Angelo Tripoli, a long-standing client who’s been with Giordanos Inc. since it started.

He hired us to ship a ten-pack crate of small arms worth three million to Italy. The men stole a crate containing three hundred weapons whose value is close to a million. The guns are a new generation