Dealer and his Bestowed Bride (The Rossi Family Mafia Book 2) (3 page)

“What happened?” The man had trouble staying alert and awake. If he died, there would be a problem.
 

“They k-killed my men,” he groaned.

“How many of them did you see?”

“I don’t know … a dozen or so?”
 

“Did they take our product?” I leaned in, gripping the man’s shoulder.
 

“All of it. All of it’s gone.”
 

“Shit!” I stood, turning away from the man. There was a soft chair that I kicked near me, sending it careening into a wall. The guards looked at me uneasily, but I didn’t care.

“Take him to the hospital,” I ordered one of the men. He hesitated for a moment, which added to my fury. “NOW!” I yelled.

The bulky man leaned over Rick and helped the poor guy up. Simone’s face was lit up as he texted our backup.
 

“Come on,” I told the other guard. My brother already knew to follow me, even if he was distracted by his device.
 

On the side of the VIP area, there was a back door that usually stayed locked. It lead to a lonely hallway, with two connecting offices. That’s where Simone would spend most of his time during the work day. I would mingle and oversee the operations and he would take care of the paperwork.

I turned into one of the offices and headed straight for a lock box that was hidden under one of the office desks. I reached into my back pocket for my key and after some fumbling was finally able to open the metal contraption.
 

My firearm collection wasn’t the most impressive, but what I had would do. I grabbed a rifle and threw it at my brother, who just barely looked up in time to catch it.
 

“W-wha?” His eyes darted between myself and the gun in his hands. Simone was never the one who had to do the dirty work, but today was different.
 

“We need every man we’ve got,” I explained, taking as many guns and as much ammo as I could, handing a few pistols to the guard beside us. Simone looked like he was going to shoot me for a second, but he placed the rifle over his shoulder, waiting for me.
 

“Are the men on their way?” I asked as the three of us exited the building and waited in the back gravel parking lot. The muffled sound of the shitty electronic music pounded in the distance. I prayed that no one had noticed Rick or called the authorities.
 

It was warmer than usual for the fall, but the night’s breeze was nice after being cooped up inside the club all evening. We stood waiting in the parking lot.
 

The longer we waited, the further away the Russians would get with my drugs. I couldn’t stand for that, not if I wanted to be a respectable Mafioso.

“Dammit,” I pulled my sleeve down to look at my silver watch, “Where the hell are they?”

“There’s traffic on the highway,” Simone told me, his phone out and checking every single route, “Even so, it shouldn’t be too long.”

“Grraaaggh!” I paced back and forth, the gravel crunching beneath my leather shoes.
 

Everything was out of control, and on my watch. I knew exactly how my father would react and it wasn’t good.
 

After what seemed like a fucking eternity, headlights turned into the parking lot. The wheels on the beaters squealed and dust was propelled into the air as they came to a stop in front of us. Two cars, seven men.
 

“Is this all we’ve got?” I asked, opening the door to talk to the driver in the first car. He shrugged.

“What did you expect, the cavalry?”

I threw my guns into the back seat next to a man with a scar on his forehead and a leather jacket, then took the front seat. Simone sat behind me, tapping his knee with his fingers nervously.
 

“Go,” I said, exasperation in my words, “Just fucking get us to the warehouse.”

We sped off into the night and away from the dingy club.
I rolled down the windows and watched as the night zoomed past. The warehouse was ten minutes away from the club, but I doubted that would be enough time to secure the product.
 

Hundreds of thousands of dollars were slipping through my fingers and I was the one who would pay for it in the end. Even if my twin and I owned the business equally, I was the one who would be held responsible if the Russians got away with the drugs.
 

The ride felt like it lasted forever and by the end I was tapping my foot hard against the ground.
 

A hand reached out from behind me, offering me a few pills. Glancing over my shoulder, Simone raised his eyebrows in annoyance. One of our men spoke up. “It looks like your brother wants you to chill the fuck out, dude.”

I snatched the pills from his hand and popped them into my mouth.
 

“Hey man, share the love.” The guy with the scar in the backseat grumbled. Simone shrugged and showed the man his hands, he was all out.
 

The quiet ones were always the best liars.

It was a mixture of a lot of things, more than I knew a little pill should have. Mostly, it gave me courage and stopped the anxious jittering. I wasn’t hallucinating or feeling impaired, but the world did change for the better.
 

The warehouse was located on a dock on the Hudson. We had bought the space because it was isolated from many of the major corporations that used the docks, but still had the security needed for us to receive and distribute illegal drugs. It was a fine balance between looking like we had a legitimate shipping company and not having too many eyes on what we were doing. From the small road that took us to the docks, I could see that the chain-linked gate that kept people without clearance out had been blown open. The box where security usually sat was empty, the flickering lights still on.
 

My hand reached for my gun, making sure it was fully loaded with ammo. The others in the car followed suit.
 

“Turn your headlights off,” I hissed at the driver. “Don't make too much sound.”

The cars slowly inched past the gate and toward the looming building in the distance.
 

Fog swirled among the trucks and the shipping equipment, making it hard to see a damned thing. As we came to a stop next to the warehouse entrance, I noticed that the door was wide open.
 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” I said under my breath. We opened the doors quietly, and I used my own as cover as I exited the vehicle. My gun was at the ready, aimed on the open, ominous building.
 

After a few seconds of watching and waiting for gun fire, I was able to relax my shoulders. While I wasn’t in any immediate danger, I realized that it wasn’t exactly a good thing.
 

It meant that the Russians had already come and gone with our product. I lowered my gun and motioned with my shoulder for the men behind me to follow.

Simone had his rifle at the ready, hands shaking. My twin wasn’t a warrior, I knew that. If he wanted to be a Mafia leader, he’d have to learn to get his hands dirty.
 

We snuck forward into the open doors. It was barely lit by an outside lamp, leaving most of the building hidden in shadow and allowing anyone that was waiting for us to come and corner us.
 

“Find the lights,” I ordered the man with the scar and leather jacket. He grunted in reply and ran into the darkness, feeling with his hand on the wall for the switch that would tell us what happened.
 

The silence was cutting, more than I expected it to be.
 

“Simone,” I said, “how many men were allocated to watch this warehouse?”

“Five,” he replied.

If there were five men, wouldn’t we have seen at least one of them? If the Russians had come through, that meant we were missing some men at least.
 

Finally, the lights flicked on and I realized where those men had gone.
 

Four bodies were lying in pools of red on the concrete ground. Bullet casings were strewn everywhere. There was no sign of their firearms and the spot where the crates had been was empty. We hid product in the crates, then shipped them separately to businesses we worked with.
 

I ran my hand down my face, trying to focus on what I could do, rather than the dead men across the warehouse.
 

“Search the place.” I ordered.
 

“Luca …” Simone was shaking even more. The poor bastard got sick at the sight of blood. His face was like a ghost.
 

“Search.” I told him firmly. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually caught his breath and slowly made his way into the building.
 

It took three minutes to get the place cleared. However, that was three minutes wasted as the drugs were taken further and further away by the goddamn Rooskies.
 

I glanced at the door, wondering where they could have gone. As I scanned the area, I noticed tire tracks. Instead of making their way out to the main road, it looked like a car had pealed out and took a sharp right. I followed the tracks out of the building, then studied the direction they went in.
 

The docks.
 

As soon as it clicked in my mind, the sound of a boat’s horn hit my ears. It was close and casting off.
 

“Ay!” I yelled at my guys searching the warehouse. One of them was pushing one of the dead men with his shoe curiously. I waved them my way, then started off in a sprint toward the docks. If they didn’t get the idea to follow me, I would need to hire new workers.
 

There was no time for me to look back or to think about what to do next. There was only the docks and the water. Of course the Russians would fucking bring a boat to steal my shit. They were always out of their minds and would pull stupid stunts in order to outmaneuver the Italians.

I rounded the corner and was suddenly in a field of shipping crates. The horn sounded again, ahead and to the left. Pivoting as quickly as I could, I made my way into the maze of shipping containers toward the water. I could hear the sound of the water sloshing against the docks, all I had to do was make my way through the metal boxes.
 

When I finally found an opening to the water, I quickly took cover and peaked around the corner. There was one man working on taking the staircase leading up into a large vessel away for cast off. The vessel was named “Natasha.” Russians.
 

Like hell I’d let him get away with it.
 

After checking to make sure I couldn’t see anyone else, I raised my gun and took aim.
 

The silencer did its work, only a small sound escaping from the gun as soon as the horn sounded once more. It hit and the worker fell to the ground, writhing in pain. I couldn’t let him live long enough to call out for help. Before I could move forward, Simone stepped up from behind me, scaring me to the point of wanting to crawl out of my skin. He took aim and fired and the man was still.
 

The shot was loud, but luckily the horn blared and covered the sound. I touched his shoulder lightly in thanks before motioning my men forward.
 

The boat was starting to move, so I sprinted as fast as I could toward the stairs that lead up to the boat. Luckily, it hadn’t moved that far away from the shore yet, but there wasn’t a lot of time left before we wouldn’t be able to get on the boat at all.
 

We all worked our way up the stairs. Without pausing to think about the consequences, we jumped onto the moving boat. I quickly lost my footing and rolled onto the ground, hoping and praying that no one noticed the men flying onto their ship.
 

I was wrong.
 

I heard yelling in the distance as the last man from our group jumped aboard the ship. The yelling was soon followed by gunshots. The bullets ricocheted off of the metal shipping containers to our right.
 

We all took cover until the gunshots ceased. I crept to one side, keeping an eye out for our product. All I could see were huge containers, no wooden crates. That didn’t mean they weren’t hidden among the containers on the ship.
 

Simone was near me and we shared a glance. His eyes clearly said, Are you CRAZY?!

I tried to reply with confidence, but I was sure my body language said, Maybe?

Fuck it, I kept moving forward with Simone at my back. I heard more gunshots further up ahead, and I wondered if our guys were starting to get involved in the firefight.
 

We would have to kill every single man on the boat, I knew that the moment my feet touched the ship. I had no clue how many men were aboard, but I was ready to take on all of them.

Damn, those drugs Simone gave me were good.

I saw a figure pop out in the distance and ducked before he turned our way. It would be better if we took them out quietly. As I was thinking of where to sneak to next, Simone elbowed me in the ribs. Before I could glare at him, he pointed toward one of the many shipping containers. There, at the bottom of a three-high stack, was a container with the Italian flag quickly spray-painted on it. Cheeky bastards.
 

We crept forward, keeping on the alert. It seemed like our men were keeping the Russians busy while headed for the containers.
 

When we got to the metal box, I stood up straight and looked around. There was no one in the area and most of the shipping containers gave us cover. In any case, it would be best if we worked fast to check that we had the right boat ... As I turned to open the door, I heard a shot in the distance. Half of a second later, a bullet passing me grazed my head.

I opened the door and the pain followed a second later. We had to rush into the container for cover. My hand rose to check the damage. The bullet had grazed my cheek and blood was starting to roll down my face.