Page 68 of Stalking Ginevra

Breaking in is easy. The door barely creaks as Vitale jimmies open the lock. Malfi’s apartment is small, cluttered with cheap furniture and the smell of stale cigarettes. We move through the narrow hallway, finding him passed out in bed, his mouth open, his stubbled chin glistening with drool.

With the stuffed animal cradled in his arms, he looks nothing like this morning’s cocky bastard.

I press the barrel of my gun against his temple and cock the hammer. At the sound, his eyes snap open, and he sucks in a terrified gasp.

“Boss... I?—”

“Quiet.”

He clamps his mouth shut, his breath quickening. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his gaze darts around the room like a trapped animal searching for an escape.

“Tell me everything you know about the counterfeit chips,” I growl.

Panic flashes across his features as his lips flap, scrambling for a response. “I was just following orders. My old boss was the one running the operation from the inside. I swear, I didn’t make a dime of profit!”

“Prove it.”

Lorenzo steps forward, snatching Malfi’s phone from the bedside table. He thrusts it in front of his face. “Unlock it.”

Shivering, Malfi swipes his fingers across the screen. Lorenzo digs through the apps, using his Mortis House training to track any trace of offshore accounts or hidden assets. While he runs through emails, messaging apps, and whatever else he can find, the other boys search the apartment.

Minutes pass, and tension mounts as we wait. I glare at Malfi, daring him to move. He’s clever enough to remain silent, yet sweat rolls down his face in rivulets.

Finally, Lorenzo breaks the silence. “All I’m seeing is his personal account. Nine hundred bucks and change. No offshore holdings, no big transfers.”

Malfi collapses, his fear morphing into relief. “I would have said something, but I didn’t want to be a snitch. That sort of talk can get a man killed.”

“Who else was involved?” I demand.

He rattles off a list of names, his gaze locked on mine, too terrified to look away. Vitale makes notes with the occasional question.

When he’s finished, I ask, “Anything else?”

The man hesitates, his eyes darting to the stuffed bear beside him before he blurts, “My old boss had a contact at BV Holdings. Maybe he knows something about the chips.”

BV Holdings. The name rings through my mind like a warning bell. Salvatore Bellavista’s company. If he’s involved, this scam is much bigger than I thought.

I motion to Vitale. “Dig into the Bellavista family tree. I want to know if any of their members are employed at the casino.”

Nodding, Vitale jots down my command. I spare the stuffed animal a glance before turning to leave the room.

“What about me?” Malfi asks.

I pause, my lips tightening. Contrary to my actions, I’m not a monster. I understand how power works in this world. Going against one’s boss might get a person killed. I should have set up one-to-one meetings with every department head. Given them the opportunity to inform me of the corruption within their ranks.

But I’m the last person to trust what anyone says. Two people I loved and trusted the most, Ginevra and Mother, said they loved me one day and were gone the next. Despite this lack of trust, I regret skipping the private sessions. Maybe we could have sifted through the bullshit faster.

“You’ll submit to a beating. If you survive, you can keep your job.”

He nods, his face streaming with tears. “When?”

I smirk. “At a time of my choosing.”

“Thank you, boss.” He exhales a shuddering breath. “I swear, I’ll be loyal.”

Leaving him alive might be a mistake, but the casino is already desperately short-staffed. Its entire management team are now ashes scraped off the corners of my cousins’ cremators. Besides, I have more pressing concerns than Albert Malfi.

Salvatore Bellavista is powerful and connected to families across the United States. If he’s involved in this counterfeiting ring, it could be the tip of a festering pile of shit.

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