Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
My father would have gotten in the way of that. He never would have stopped trying to destroy me. And so he’s dead now, the way he wanted it to happen.
I walk over to the truck and toss the shotgun in the back. I get out my large bowie knife and a roll of plastic sheeting. I walk over to my father’s body and stand over him, taking a deep breath.
It’s time to finish this.
I bend over him and do my work.
Several hours later, I find myself driving through the dusk hours as I head out to the Romanos main compound. I don’t bother calling ahead because I know I won’t be welcome either way. I’d rather this visit be a surprise than anything else. And to get it over with now, before I go back to my princess. I know she’s worried, and I have the phone in my hand. But I can’t call her yet. Not until this is done.
The Romanos often gather in a large Victorian house sitting on two acres to the north outside of the city. It’s a beautiful little estate, probably owned by some fucking rich asshole back in the day, but now it’s used as the center of one of the most powerful mafias on this side of the coast.
I pull up to the front gate and stop. A man holding a rifle stares at me as I lower my window.
“Gio, here to see Marco,” I say.
“Who?” the man asks.
“Gio. Tell Marco that I have something for him from my father. It’s important.”
The man stares at me, then nods. He goes to his radio and calls up to the main house. After a short conversation, he heads back over to me.
“Marco says to come up.”
I nod at the man as he opens up the gate. I drive up the path and park my truck out front. More men holding weapons hang around the front. They eye me suspiciously, but I don’t care. I grab the plastic-wrapped bag next to me and hop out of the car.
“Hold on,” a thug says. “Gotta check you for weapons.”
“By all means.” I grin at him as he pats me down. When he’s finished, he gestures at the bag.
“That too,” he says.
I open it for him. He recoils at what’s inside.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Uh, shit, no.” He’s clearly shaken, and has a look of disgust on his face.
“Thanks.” I walk past him and into the front of the house.
Marco is waiting for me in the kitchen. Several of his men are scattered around the large room, and I can smell something cooking on the stove. It’s probably some kind of tomato sauce and pasta, if I had to guess. It’s a cliché, but pasta is easy as hell when it comes to feeding large numbers.
“Gio,” Marco says, standing. “What a pleasure.”
“Marco.” We don’t shake hands. He looks at me with a smile on his face, but I know there’s menace behind everything he does.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks.
“I have a message for you from the Rossis.”
His face darkens, and the smile disappears. “Since when do you work for them?”
“I don’t,” I say. “But he did.”
I open the bag and dump my father’s severed head out onto the table.
The men all take a step back except for Marco, who stands his ground without changing his expression in the least. Marco stares at the head with a shocked silence surrounding us, his men waiting for orders.
Fucking pussies. For a bunch of hardened criminals, they sure do act like a bunch of babies over one severed head.
“That’s your father,” Marco says at last.
“That's right. We were going to hit the Rossi Don, but my father sold me out instead.” He clucks his tongue and takes a step back, narrowing his eyes and considering my words.
“How did… this happen?” he asks, gesturing at the head.
“The Rossis made a new deal with me. The old Don, Martino, is dead. His daughter killed him, and Toni is in charge now. Toni’s offer for peace is that if I killed my father and brought you his head, we’d be square.” I shrug and nod at the head. “That’s what I’ve done.”
“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded. “Why the fuck would he want that?”
“My father was a piece of shit. I think he’s trying to tell you that the war is only going to get worse from here on out.” I shrug. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
“Why would you do this to your own father?” Marco stares at me, shaking his head and looking at me like I’m a rat, like I’m the piece of shit here. It pisses me off.
“You know him. He was a scumbag. You were never going to let him in.” I begin to walk backward toward the door. “He betrayed me, and he paid for it. Now we’re finished.”