Mafia Heir by L. Steele

8

Michael

I snatch a knife from the array of blades spread out on the cloth on the table. Yeah, I keep my most prized possessions safe, only to be brought out when I need to indulge myself. Like now, with the anger coursing through my veins at that figlio di puttana’s words.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.What the hell did he mean by that, anyway? I may look like him, I may think like him… But where it counts—in my heart, in my mind, in my soul—I am nothing like him. I can’t be.

And what about the sick proclivities that hover under my skin? What about the tendency toward tipping over to the dark side that I harbor within me? What about the overindulgence in some of the more extreme forms of S&M that my brothers and I tend toward? Did we not get that from him? Did I not get that loss of control I sometimes encounter when my needs get too much for me to contain, when I need the release that only cutting up my own skin brings me? And when that isn’t enough, I carve up the skin of another. Normally, one of my sexual partners—with her consent, of course. I only take women to bed who know what they’re in for… Mostly.

Many of them don’t anticipate just how far I’ll want to take it. Most enjoy it, and want to come back for more. Some leave, running away in the middle of the night, never showing their faces to me again. Considering I’m not ready to face the sight of another woman—not someone who isn’t her—in my bed, it leaves only one way out.

I raise my arm, throw the knife. It slices through the arm of the man tied to the column on the far end of the room.

No sweating of palms, no churning guts. Guess that wave of remorse at killing the previous guy was a one-time thing. I widen my stance, narrow my gaze on the man who's arms are stretched out on either side and tethered to poles. He must have screamed. I can’t tell, considering he is blindfolded and gagged.

Not that I care. He’d been questioned earlier by Luca, then by Seb. Neither of the captives had shared any information. Which is when I had stepped in.

I had told the guys they could leave, and my younger siblings had taken me up on the offer. Luca and Seb, however, had opted to stay. Their choice. It doesn’t matter to me either way.

His friend, the other man Antonio had brought to the basement, watches with wide eyes. He’s similarly tied to a pole a few feet away. He, too, is gagged, but not blindfolded. He’d already pissed his pants when I had let loose the first knife. By the time I get to him… Well, we’ll see how long he can hold out before giving up information.

I take another knife, aim it at the man directly in front of me, then let it fly. This time it slices through his other arm. I follow it up with another knife, then another. One to each of his thighs. Then another two, this time to his feet. I reach for another, take aim, and Luca steps forward.

"Don’t you think he’s had enough, Mika?"

"Don’t you think you should keep your opinions to yourself, Luca?"

He falls silent as I take aim, let the knife fly. This one embeds in the man’s stomach. I snatch up another…aim it for his forehead.

"If you kill him, we won’t know who sent him."

"The fuck I care?"

"What did he say to you?"

I pause, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what I mean. Every time that brutto figlio di puttana bastardo meets you, you lose your shit."

I pause, take aim lower, let the knife fly. The zing of the blade through the air, followed by the thud as it hits solid flesh, sinks into my blood. The anger slowly recedes. I pick up another knife, aim, let it fly, and another, then another. By the time I am done, all but one of the knives is buried in the flesh of the man who dared to attack me.

"Take off his gag and blindfold," I order.

Seb walks over to the man, and takes off the cloth from his mouth. Blood drips from his mouth as Seb removes his blindfold. The man blinks, then groans. His eyelids flutter open. He glances up at me then winces.

"Who sent you?" I murmur. "You may as well as tell me, considering you are one step away from dying. Don’t you want to depart with a clear conscience?"

The man tries to speak, but more blood spills from his lips. His companion shudders, then mumbles under his breath.

"What’s that? I didn’t hear you."

"I…" He gulps, "I’ll tell you who sent us."

"Tell me then. What are you waiting for?"

"The Kane firm," he mutters. "They sent us."

Porca puttana!"Who’s the leader?" I growl

He hesitates, and I raise the last knife and aim it at him, "Tell me and I might spare you."

I pull back my hand and he splutters, "Frankie…" He bursts out, "Frankie, that’s the person who calls the shots."

"Frankie, who?"

"I... I've never met him. I merely follow orders."

"Are you lying?"

"No… no…" He swallows, "I swear, I took my orders by text message. I am not part of the Camorra, I’m not, I—"

I let the knife fly and it nails him right between his eyes. He slumps forward held back only by his restraints. I turn to the other man, but his eyes are shut and he’s still too.

Luca moves forward, places his finger against his throat. "He’s gone," he confirms.

Well, fuck. I crack my neck, "I was getting tired anyway." I roll my shoulders as Antonio walks in the door. That man… He always knows when his services are needed.

"I need every single knife cleaned and returned, Tony," I snap.

"You got it, Boss." He begins to take down the first man from the pillar, when a phone rings.

I glance toward Luca, who pulls out his phone and answers it.

He listens, then nods, "London, huh? You know the whereabouts of his daughter?" He listens again. I can hear the voice on the other end of the line, but can’t make out the words.

"Karma West?" he says. "That’s her name?" He nods, "Got it. Send through the details, and we’ll be there."

He turns to me and I hold up my hand, "I’ve got this."

He arches an eyebrow, "You knew we were getting this information today?"

When I don’t say anything, he blows out a breath. "That’s what the Don came for? To tell you that you need to make her pay for what her old man did?"

"Among other things."

"Right." He rubs his jaw, "Seriously, fratellone, you could share some of the burden, you know. We are here to back you up every step of the way."

"I know that." I grimace. "Old habits, I guess. It’s not that I don’t want to share. It’s just, I am too used to protecting you guys from il nostro bastardo di padre.

Luca’s features soften, "We’re not boys anymore; we’re grown men."

"And you’ll always be my younger brothers, my family, those I am sworn to protect."

Sebastian shuffles his feet, "So…this girl, we are going to get her?"

"I am going to get her."

"You?" He stares, "Since when does the Capo put himself in the line of fire?"

"Since it’s my reputation at stake, I can’t afford to fuck this up."

"You can trust us to do this job, you know?"

"You questioning my order?" I frown and he folds his arms over this chest.

"Just a suggestion, Boss," he grumbles.

"Keep your suggestions to yourself from now on, Seb."

He sets his jaw, then nods. "Of course, Boss."

"Her father betrayed us, it cost us millions, took us many years to get back on our feet." I glance between them, "It’s my responsibility to ensure that she pays for what he did."

"And how do you intend to make her pay?"

"With her life, of course."

To find out what happens next read Mafia King HERE

Read about the seven in the Big Bad Billionaire Series here

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Read an excerpt from Mafia King

Karma

"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…"

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Goddamn Byron. His words creep up on me when I am at my weakest. Not that I am a poetry addict by any measure, but words are my jam. The one consolation I have is that, when everything else in the world is wrong, I can turn to them, and they’ll be there, friendly, steady, waiting with open arms.

And this particular poem had laced my blood, crawled into my gut when I’d first read it. Darkness had folded within me like an insidious snake, that raises its head when I least expect it. Like now, when I look out on the still sleeping city of London, from the grassy slope of Waterlow Park.

Somewhere out there, the Mafia is hunting me, apparently. It's why my sister Summer and her new husband Sinclair Sterling had insisted that I have my own security detail. I had agreed...only to appease them...then given my bodyguard the slip this morning. I had decided to come running here because it's not a place I'd normally go... Not so early in the morning, anyway. They won’t think to looking for me here. At least, not for a while longer.

I purse my lips, close my eyes. Silence. The rustle of the wind between the leaves. The faint tinkle of the water from the nearby spring.

I could be the last person on this planet, alone, unsung, bound for the grave.

Ugh! Stop. Right there. I drag the back of my hand across my nose. Try it again, focus, get the words out, one after the other, like the steps of my sorry life.

"Morn came and went—and came, and… and…" My voice breaks. "Bloody asinine hell." I dig my fingers into the grass and grab a handful and fling it out. Again. From the top.

"Morn came and went—and came, and—"

"…brought no day."

A gravelly voice completes my sentence.

I whip my head around. His profile fills my line of sight. He's sitting on the same knoll as me yet I have to crane my neck back to see his profile. The sun is to his back, so I can't make out his features. Can't see his eyes... can only take in his dark hair combed back by a ruthless hand that brooked no measure.

My throat dries.

Thick dark hair shot through with grey at the temples. He wears his age like a badge. I don’t know why but I know his years have not been easy. That he’s seen more, indulged in more, reveled in the consequences of his actions, however extreme they might have been. He’s not a normal everyday person this man. Not a nine-to-fiver, not someone who lives an average life, definitely not a man who returns home to his wife and home at the end of the day. He is… different, unique, evil… monstrous. Yes, he is a beast, one who sports the face of a man but who harbors the kind of darkness inside that speaks to me. I gulp.

His face boasts a hooked nose, a thin upper lip, a fleshy lower lip. One that hints at hidden desires, Heat. Lust. Sensuous scrape of that whiskered jaw over my innermost places. Across my inner thigh, reaching toward that core of me that throbbed, clenched, melted to feel the stab of his tongue, the thrust of his hardness as he impaled me, took me, made me his. Goosebumps pop on my skin.

I drag my gaze away from his mouth down to the scar that slashes across his throat. A cold sensation coils in my chest. What or who had hurt him in such a cruel fashion?

"Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light…"

He continues in that rasping guttural tone. Was it the wound that had resulted in the scar which made his voice so… gravelly… so deep… so… so, hot?

Sweat beads my palm, the hairs on my nape rise. "Who are you?"

He stares ahead, his lips move,

"Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour

They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks

Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black."

I swallow, squeeze my thighs together. Moisture gathers in my core, how can I be wet by the mere cadence of this stranger’s voice?

I spring up to my feet.

"Sit down." He commands.

His voice is unhurried, lazy even, his spine erect. The cut of his black jacket stretches across the width of his massive shoulders. His hair… I was mistaken; there are threads of dark gold woven between the darkness that pours down to brush the nape of his neck. A strand of hair falls over his brow. As I watch he raises his hand and brushes it away. Somehow the gesture lends an air of vulnerability to him, something so at odds with the rest of his persona that surely I am mistaken? My scalp itches. I take in a breath and my lungs burn. This man, he’s soaked up all the oxygen in this open space, as if he owned it, the master of all he surveyed. The master of me. My death. My life. A shiver ladders along my spine. Get away, get away now while you still can.

I angle my body, ready to spring away from him.

"I won’t ask again."

Ask. Command. Force me to do as he wants. He’ll have me on my back, bent over, on the side, over him, under him, he’ll surround me, overwhelm me, pin me down with the force of his personality. His charisma, his larger than life essence that will crush everything else out of me and I… I’ll love it.

"No."

"Yes."

A fact. A statement of intent, spoken aloud. So true. So real. Too real. Too much. Too fast. All my nightmares… my dreams come to life. Everything I’ve wanted is here in front of me. I’ll die a thousand deaths before he’ll be done with me… and then, will I be reborn? For him. For me. For myself. I live first and foremost to be the woman I was… am meant to be.

"You want to run?"

No.

No.

I nod my head.

He turns his, and all the breath leaves my lungs. Blue eyes, cerulean, dark like the morning skies, deep like the nighttime, hidden corners, secrets that I don’t dare uncover. He’ll destroy me, have my heart, and break it so casually.

My throat burns. A boiling sensation squeezes my chest.

"Go then, my beauty, fly. You have until I count to five. If I catch you, you are mine."

"If you don’t?"

"Then I’ll come after you, stalk your every living moment, possess your nightmares, and steal you away in the dead of midnight, and then…"

I draw in a shuddering breath, liquid heat drips from between my legs. "Then?" I whisper.

"Then, I’ll ensure you’ll never belong to anyone else, you’ll never see the light of day again, for your every breath, your every waking second, your thoughts, your actions… and all your words, every single last one, will belong to me." He peels back his lips, and his teeth glint in the first rays of the morning light. "Only me." He straightens to his feet, and rises, and rises.

This man… he was massive. A monster who always gets his way. My guts churn. My toes curl. Something primeval inside me insists I hold my own. I cannot give in to him. Cannot let him win whatever this is. I need to stake my ground in some form. Say something. Anything. Show him you’re not afraid of this.

"Why?" I tilt my head back, all the way back. "Why are you doing this?"

He tilts his head, his ears almost canine in the way they are silhouetted against his profile.

"Is it because you can? Is it a…a," I blink, "a debt of some kind?"

He stills.

"My father, this is about how he gave up on the Mafia right? You’re one of them?"

"Lucky guess." His lips twist, "It is about your father, and how he promised you to me, he renegaded on his promise and now I am here to collect."

"No." I swallow… no, no, no.

"Yes." His jaw hardens.

All expression is wiped clean of his face, and I know then that he speaks the truth. It’s always about the past. My sorry shambles of a past… why does it always catch up with me? You can run, but you can never hide.

"Tick Tock, Beauty." He angles his body and his shoulders shut out the sight of the sun, the dawn skies, the horizon, the city in the distance, the rustle of the grass, the trees, the rustle of the leaves all of it fades, and leaves me and him. Us. Run.

"Five." He jerks his chin. Straightens the cuffs of his sleeves.

My knees wobble.

"Four."

My pulse rate spikes. I should go. Leave. But my feet are wedded to this earth. This piece of land where we first met. What am I but a speck in the larger scheme of things? To be hurt. To be forgotten. To be taken without an ounce of retribution. To be punished... by him.

"Three." He thrusts out his chest, widens his stance, every muscle in his body relaxed. "Two."

I swallow. The pulse beats at my temples. My blood thrums.

"One."

To find out what happens next read Mafia King HERE

Start the BIG BAD BILLIONAIRES series with Sinclair & Summer’s story here

Read Saint & Victoria’s story here

Read Weston & Amelie’s story here

Read Damian & Julia’s story here

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