Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Turning my attention to the phone, I glance down to see my cousin’s name across the screen. Sergiu is my second-in-command, and he’s the closest thing I have to a brother. However, given the chance, he would rip my beating heart right out of my chest and take it all for himself. It’s just who we are, who our grandfather raised us to be, and because of that, I’m the most dangerous man walking this earth.
Friends close. Enemies closer.
My name is Killian DeLorenzo, and I am the head of the DeLorenzo Mafia, a position I have more than earned. I am ruthless. Unforgiving. And because of this, our reputation has flourished with fear. Our competitors don’t stand a chance as long as I stand at the head of my family. And Sergiu? While he might be foolish enough to challenge me, he knows I’m his best chance of survival.
“What do you want, Sergiu?” I growl, frustrated that this rare moment of peace has been disturbed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Sorry, Killian. I thought it was best you heard this from me.”
“What?”
“There’s been a raid on our warehouse downtown. The place is a mess.”
Fuck. I mentally go over everything we have stored in that warehouse, and while it’s a pain in the ass, it’s not a complete loss. I have four warehouses spread across the state, and the one downtown that we use for distribution is our smallest. After a large shipment went out last week, anyone who dared raid my warehouse would have come up empty-handed.
“FBI?” I ask, wondering just how much trouble is about to come knocking on my door.
“No,” Sergiu says, his accent thickening with his rage. “This was no police raid. It was . . . messy.”
I nod, quickly going over my current list of enemies, competitors, or anybody else who’d be so fucking reckless as to steal from me. The only issue is that list is longer than the fucking Nile. “What did surveillance pick up?” I ask, my hand curling into a fist on my thigh.
“Nothing identifying yet. I have a team on it,” he explains. “Maybe ten or so men in black hoodies and balaclavas. They came prepared for a full house. Automatic weapons and trucks. They were clearly expecting to find product.”
“They take off with much?”
“Nothing that’s going to push back our schedule,” he says, knowing the exact answer I was looking for. “Perhaps 100k worth of E and a few of the weapons for the DeAngelis shipment next month.”
I let out a breath. Those DeAngelis brothers aren’t to be messed with, and I was honored when Roman wanted to work with me, but I’ll be damned if his shipment is anything less than perfect. I don’t often get in business with other mafia families, but like I said—friends close, enemies closer.
“Alright. We can work with that. Let me know once you’ve got something concrete,” I tell him. “I want to know exactly who these bastards are, and when we do, I want their fucking heads. Nobody steals from me.”
“Yes, boss.”
“How many casualties?”
“Twenty-three,” he says, his tone dipping with heaviness. “Most of the workers were able to run or hide, but these assholes were brutal.”
“I want a list of names and contact numbers for their next of kin,” I tell him. “We’ll cover funeral expenses, but Sergiu, when I tell them we’re going to find the bastards who did this and make them pay, you better fucking come through.”
“Of course, Killian.”
“Cops are going to swarm the warehouse soon enough,” I remind him, though I’m sure he’s already on it. “I want a team down there to clear out anything left behind, and make it fast. The last thing we need is to hand the FBI more ammunition against us.”
“Already on it,” he says. “How’d things go with Ezekiel? That asshole still in line?”
“For now,” I admit, pressing my lips into a tight line as my gaze shifts to the sleeping beauty beside me. “I want him watched. He’s getting too cocky with his side businesses. It was too loud. He’s been inviting all sorts to his auctions, and I don’t like it. Too many witnesses looking around.”
“Speaking of Ezekiel’s auctions and having too many people,” Sergiu says. “I’ve heard whispers from tonight.”
“What kind of whispers?”
“That you made a rare appearance and claimed some whore for yourself.”
My jaw clenches, not approving of the casual way he called her a whore. None of the girls in Ezekiel’s cages should be classified as whores. They didn’t ask for this, and if they had their way, I’m sure they would have chosen to be anywhere but there.
Sensing I don’t plan to respond, Sergiu goes on. “I think it’s great. Once you’re through with her, I’ll happily take her off your hands. You know how I like them young.”