Page 145 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

He nods, his shoulders slumping a little bit. “They are. But so are you, and so were Mom and Dad. I can’t help Mom and Dad anymore, but I can help you and the club.” He lets out a sigh. “It’s the only way. Rod will take over as President, and Benny will move up. They’re the only two who know we’re leaving, but I didn’t give them details about why, and I didn’t tell them where we’re going. Better that nobody knows. I’m acting alone on this to keep heat off of everyone else. We’ll be okay. I’ve cleared out all of the bank and investment accounts. We leave tonight.”

I let his words settle into my conscious. Leave Miami and everything we’ve ever known behind? Forever? I mean, the club was almost as much my place as his. All of the people we’d known forever were part of it. It’s our extended family, the only family we have left. And now we’re supposed to just walk away? Into the unknown? “So you really did know,” I muse.

“I had to be prepared,” he says gruffly. “I couldn’t wait until the verdict was delivered and then scramble to get our shit in order. I knew we need to act fast and to hit hard.”

“How can you be sure they won’t find us?” My voice trembles as the gravity of our situation settles on my head and heart like a lead brick.

“Look, the only thing you need to know is that I will always protect you, Jae. I made mistakes before, big ones. But I won’t make them again. This is our only chance, the only way we survive what’s going to happen next.”

“And exactly what is that, Nate?” I ask, an icy coldness snaking through my insides. “What happens next?”

His eyes darken, lips stretched into a tight line. “We kill them all.”

CHAPTER2

SERGIO

PRESENT DAY

How the fuck didIget put in charge of the club scene part of Operation: Make Vegas Our Bitch? This place is dying a slow, agonizing death and trying to keep it alive is sucking the life outta me and the cash out of my pockets.

“Capacity is down by about twenty percent as of right now.” Enrico, my top security guy, hands me a slip of paper with a bunch of numbers on it.

“Shit,” I mutter. My family recently partnered with a few others in an attempt to take over the gambling industry here in the States, and we’re starting here in Nevada. But with all of the competition popping up all around our nightclubs, it’s like trying to breathe life into a fucking corpse. Competition lurks in the shadows, just waiting for me to revive shit so they can snuff it out again.

I volunteered to come out here to Vegas, but it was a way for me to make my own name, away from Sicily and my past. It’s not like I’m the underboss. That title is reserved for my oldest brother Matteo. I’m not the youngest, either, like Roman, who always gets the cush jobs because he’s the baby. And thank fuck I’m not my other brother Dante, who manages to set fire to everything in his path because he’s such a ticking time bomb, always running into battle, usually without armor because he never thinks first.

But me? I get no special treatment. No favors. No latitude.

I’m just expected to deliver, no excuses, only results.

Nightlife in Vegas is hard to control, even for a group of families with deep pockets. We’re competing with major drug cartels and motorcycle clubs out here, and they have tons of cash to throw at their businesses. They also run all kinds of shit through them — drugs, guns, contraband, women.

Nothing is off limits out here.

Hence the name Sin City.

And nobody seems to obey boundaries.

We’ve tried to keep things civil, but they see us as a threat to their livelihoods. I get that. Our mass invasion has the competition on edge, and they’d love nothing more than to exterminate us.

They’re doing a damn good job of it, too, which is why I’m stuck in this role.

I’m supposed to be the savior, the guy with the master plan.

If I’m successful, I get a seat at the table.

If my idea tanks, I’ll be running security right alongside Enrico.

A voice. It’s all I want.

Well, that and a future that isn’t dictated to me. I want to call my own damn shots for once. I figured I’d get my chance when I got out here. Running the Excelsior Hotel and Casino for the past year, the hottest new property on the Strip, has been great, but we’re already solid on the hotel and restaurant businesses. And I’m not running the place alone. The Marcone family, also out of Sicily, has skin in the game.

I want something of my own.

And nightlife is the only area where we’re slowly being choked to death.

Luckily, I have a plan that will loosen that noose.

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