Page 254 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

He whines and cries through the duct tape because, while he may be stupid in most situations, he knows exactly what awaits him at that warehouse.

Well, at least, he thinks he does.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m not going to kill him…right away.

Tony drives down the desolate street, finding parking right behind the old, dilapidated building. There are a few in this area, close to Pier 26 and the Hudson River.

But that won’t be his final resting place.

I crack my knuckles before getting out of the car, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me as Tony drags Dario out of the backseat and toward the large metal door. The whole area is unlit, making it that much more ominous. I’m sure Dario is shitting bricks right now, and rightly so.

He just contributed to one of the biggest heists in our organization’s short history here in Manhattan. Whether or not he knew he was being duped is irrelevant. He humiliated me by letting himself get lured away from his responsibilities.

Obligation and loyalty always trumps pussy.

Always!

And because of that, he will pay the very steep price of his negligence.

I get out of the truck and jog over to where Tony wrestles Dario just outside of the door. I pull it open and shove Dario inside. He stumbles, face-planting on the cold, hard cement. I kneel down next to him and yank his hair, pulling his head backward. “Get up,” I hiss into his ear.

He staggers to his feet, his eyes red and wet with tears. They plead with me to untie him, to pull off the tape covering his mouth, to let him beg for my forgiveness.

He’s gonna be begging for a whole lot more than that.

I look around, my trust in Tony creeping up a few more notches. No cartel ambush, no indication of an impending coup.

A couple of shadows appear at the end of the corridor and my spine stiffens.

Motherfucker…

My hand goes directly to the gun in my waistband, my palm wrapped around the handle. “Who the hell…?” I mumble.

“You’re gonna need transport once Dario is handled,” Tony says in a low voice. “To the site in East New York. I didn’t think you’d want to be the one to take him there.”

“Obviously,” I reply quickly. See, this is one of the reasons why I like Tony so much. He thinks of shit I don’t. I can’t be the one dragging a body to East New York.

I need to stop thinking like an enforcer.

I need to think like the fucking king.

Not that I need to admit any of that to him.

A couple of guys from the club appear once we get closer. They don’t say much, just a few grunts are exchanged. I really don’t need them to speak. Not now, anyway. I just need them to watch and take this very colorful story back to the others under my rule.

By now, everyone already knows how splintered our organization is and how easy it was to infiltrate under my control.

I need to grab back some of that control, making Dario a pawn in the process.

One of the guys drags over a rotting, wooden chair and I push Dario into it. He shudders, his eyes wide as I hover over him. My fingers tug at the corners of the tape and I peel it off with one quick tug. He screams, and I slap him across the face, holding up a finger to my lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “You know nobody can hear you, and if you have any hope of walking out of here, you’ll listen real good andthenspeak when I tell you to. Not fucking before.” I close my hand around his throat. It’s not too tight that he can’t breathe, just tight enough that he knows I can choke him if he doesn’t cooperate.

And I have other tools in my arsenal if the hand doesn’t do enough to scare him.

“I want to know exactly what happened tonight. Who was the girl who came for you?”

“Camille or Camilla,” he sobs. “I don’t know. She had nice tits and a great ass so, you know, I just?—”

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