Craving Danger (Kings Of Mafia)

When Renzo and the others follow me into the room, Miro’s eyes dart between us from where he’s tied to a chair.

With Samantha back at the office, I had the guys come over so we could put our plan in motion.

“I can see why he isn’t the head of the Slovak mafia,” Angelo mutters. “Why did he piss himself?”

Miro might be older than Ivan, but he doesn’t have the balls to run a criminal organization.

I let out a sigh. “Because he’s shit scared.”

“We didn’t even slap him around,” Renzo mutters.

“Let’s do this,” Damiano orders.

I hold out my hand, and Marcello passes me Miro’s phone. When I move closer to Miro, he starts to breathe faster, his eyes growing wide with fear.

“What’s the password for your phone?” I ask.

“T-three, nine, f-five, five, t-t-two,” he stammers.

I unlock the device, and checking the contacts, I find Ivan’s number and press dial.

I put the call on speakerphone as I move to stand behind Miro.

“Bál som sa!” Ivan snaps.

“Your brother is a little preoccupied,” I mutter.

“Ivan!” Miro shouts, which earns him a slap against the head from me.

“Quiet until you’re permitted to speak,” I growl.

There’s silence for a moment, then Ivan asks in a thick accent, “Who is this?”

“Really? You don’t even want to take a guess?” I say in a mocking tone.

“Vitale?”

“Bingo,” Dario chuckles.

“Is my brother alive?” Ivan barks.

“Yes, and he’d like to say hello.” Pulling my gun from behind my back, I tap Miro’s shoulder with the barrel. “Tell your brother how well we’re treating you.”

“G-good. T-they treat me w-well.”

“What do you want?” Ivan demands.

“A meeting,” I inform him. “I think it’s time we talk face-to-face.”

“I’m not meeting the Cosa Nostra. I’m not that stupid.”

“Enough men have died,” I mutter. “This is between you and me. We’ll fight old-school. No weapons.” I press the barrel into Miro’s neck, and it has him whimpering, then I continue, “If you win, you get Castro and Diaz. If I win, I kill your brother. I think it’s fair.”

“What about the others?” Ivan asks.

Damiano steps forward. “A deal is a deal. We won’t interfere.”

Renzo shakes his head, not happy that I’m going to fight Ivan. He voted that we attack full force, but the others agreed with me.

“Fine, but I say when and where,” Ivan spits out.

“Last time I checked, I was the one with the gun to your brother’s head,” I mutter. “I’ll send you the time and place.”

I end the call and copy Ivan’s number to my phone to send him the message once I’m ready.

We’re all quiet as we leave the room, and only when we’re out of the armory does Renzo mutter, “I’m going with you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll have Marcello and Milo.”

Renzo grabs hold of my shoulder, and I stop walking to lock eyes with him.

“I’m going with,” he growls.

“I’ll take my sniper rifle,” Dario says. “I found a nice spot in the building next to yours that gives me a perfect view inside your warehouse. Just make sure both doors are open.”

“Angelo and I will wait nearby with our men in case Ivan brings an army,” Damiano informs me.

I glance at them, then shake my head. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, right?”

They all mutter some variation of ‘fuck no’ as we continue to walk out of the guesthouse.

“Give me thirty minutes to scope the warehouse,” Dario says. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, then you can notify Ivan of the location. I want to make sure he doesn’t send men to take up sniper positions so he can take you out the second you get there.”

“Thanks.”

“We’ll get the men ready,” Angelo says.

I nod and watch as they leave, then turn my attention to Renzo, who’s still glaring at me.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks. “Why not just hit the fucker hard and call it a day?”

“I don’t want to lose half my men going up against the Slovak mafia.”

“And?” he pushes.

“They fucking shot at Samantha and traumatized her.” When Renzo opens his mouth to argue, I shake my head hard. “I’m doing this my way.”

“You have no idea how well Ivan can fight,” Renzo argues.

“So? Have you forgotten I’ve trained with the best?”

Frustrated with me, he shoves a hand through his hair. “No, I haven’t. I just don’t want to risk your life.”

“Brother.” I shake my head. “I’ll be risking my life whether we attack full force or I fight the man old-school.”

He stares at me, and realizing I’m right, he lets out a sigh.

I punch him hard on the shoulder before I walk toward the mansion.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“For giving me shit,” I mutter.

When I enter the house, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial the direct number for my line at the office.

“Mr. Vitale’s office. Samantha speaking.”

“Hi, baby.”

“Hmm…who is this?” she teases me.

“Your mystery man.”

I hear a loud bark of laughter behind me, and as I glance over my shoulder, I watch as Renzo stumbles out onto the veranda, where he proceeds to die of laughter.

Fucker.

I’m never going to hear the end of that.

“Who’s laughing?” Samantha asks.

“Renzo.”

 “Have I met him?” she asks.

“Yeah, he was with Dario at the office,” I remind her.

“Oh, I remember now.” She pauses for a moment, then asks, “Why did you call?”

“I wanted to hear your voice,” I murmur. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I hear her typing on the keyboard, then she says, “I’ll see you after work.”

“Okay.”

I wait for her to hang up, but she doesn’t. Instead, her voice is filled with emotion as she says, “I love you with all my heart, Franco.”

She ends the call, and I tuck the device back in my pocket before heading to my bedroom to change into my combat gear.

When Milo stops the G-Wagon near the entrance of the warehouse, I take in our surroundings before my eyes lock on Ivan, where he’s leaning against the side of his SUV.

“Let’s do this,” I mutter while shoving the door open and climbing out.

Marcello hauls Miro out of the back while Milo remains in the G-Wagon, so he can alert the others if anything goes wrong.

I unlock the doors and push them open before heading inside and switching on the lights.

For a split-second, my eyes flick to empty crates where Renzo is already hiding.

Marcello pulls Miro to the side and forces him onto his knees while training the barrel of his gun on the back of Miro’s head.

Ivan saunters inside with one of his men. He only glances at his brother before locking eyes with me.

“I like New York,” Ivan mutters in his thick accent. “Good opportunity for drugs.”

I roll my shoulders and slowly move to the right. “Let’s do this, Vargo. I want to be home in time for dinner.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not going to make dinner.”

I’m not just fighting for my territory and the Cosa Nostra.

I’m fighting for a future with Samantha.

I shrug. “We’ll see.”

“If I kill you, I take my brother, and I supply to Castro and Diaz.”

I nod. “When I win, you both die.”

He lets out a chuckle and tries to taunt me as he darts two steps forward before taking one back.

Fuck this.

I lunge forward, and twisting to the side, I deliver a kick to Ivan’s throat. He staggers back while gagging, and with rage tightening his features, he storms me.

His shoulder plows into my chest, and as he lifts me from the ground, I wrap my arm around his neck and knee him in the gut.

I hear the air wooshing from his lungs as he lets go of me and moves away so he can catch his breath.

“Not bad,” he mutters before he comes at me again, and as he throws the punch, I duck while sweeping his feet from underneath him.

Ivan falls hard on his back, and before he can try to get up, I’m on top of him, delivering a blow to his face.

He manages to slam his fist into my side, making pain shudder through my ribs.

As my fist connects with his nose and blood spurts from it, Samantha’s face flashes through my mind.

Determined to get back to her, I deliver two consecutive blows to his face.

Ivan tries to buck me off him, but I grab hold of his shoulders, and lifting myself up, I slam my knee into his chin, making his head whip back.

Climbing to my feet, I take in his bloody nose and where the skin split over his cheekbone.

He pushes himself up, and when he’s back on his feet, he shakes his head and glares at me.

I point to my nose, saying, “You have a bit of blood here.”

Letting out a growl, he storms me again, but having had enough, I lunge myself into the air, and twisting, I slam the heel of my boot against the side of Ivan’s head.

He staggers to the side and drops to one knee. Again, he shakes his head, but it’s game over for him.

I hold my hand up, signaling to Marcello to take out Ivan’s man.

The gunshot is loud, and it has Ivan darting to his feet. “You have no honor!” he shouts at me.

I shake my head as I lock eyes with him. “You came into my city and sent your man to kill me. To kill my woman. You took the life of one of my guards. He was like a brother to me.” I shake my head again. “No, there’s no honor between you and me.”

“Marcello,” I bark, keeping my eyes locked on Ivan as Marcello shoots Miro in the head.

I drink in the absolute devastation on Ivan’s face.

That’s for you, Lorenzo.

While Ivan is reeling from the loss of his brother, I hear gunfire erupt outside. I let out a cynical chuckle as I hold out my hand.

When Marcello places the gun in my palm, I train the barrel on Ivan, muttering, “You’re one to speak about honor.” I pull the trigger, burying a bullet in his gut before moving closer.

He drops down to one knee again, and before he can say anything, I growl, “Say hello to your brother for me.”

I pull the trigger and watch as the bullet hits his forehead. His head snaps back, and a second later, he falls dead to the floor.

“Renzo,” I shout.

“He ran out the door to help the others,” Marcello informs me.

I jog out of the warehouse and find Milo waiting with Uzis. Grabbing the submachine gun, I’m about to head toward the sporadic gunfire when I see Renzo coming back to us.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Damiano’s making the last of Ivan’s men tapdance because he’s bored. Apparently, killing over twenty men isn’t exciting enough for him.” He glances into the warehouse then pats my shoulder. “You have to show me how to do that flying kick move.”

I glance up to where Dario is watching Damiano and Angelo through the scope of his sniper rifle.

“Marcello, give me my phone.”

He places it in my hand, and I dial Dario’s number.

“What’s up?”

“What are Damiano and Angelo doing?”

“Damiano just shot the last Slovakian. Now they’re signaling for our men to head out. Now they’re climbing into Angelo’s SUV. Now they’re driving toward you.”

“Christ, Dario, I didn’t ask for a play-by-play,” I snap. “Get your ass down here.”

“Anything for you, mystery man.”

I hear the fucker chuckle before I hang up on him.

Glaring at Renzo, I mutter, “I really fucking hate you for telling them about the mystery man thing.”