Page 93 of The Chameleon

Following the capture of Massimo and Edwin, Ares made an anonymous call to the authorities, tipping them off to the trafficked victims. Once the call was complete, Matteo and crew quickly doused the facility in gasoline they found lying around and struck a match. Fire was always the best way to destroy any sort of evidence that might have been missed.

Most trafficked victims waited outside the facility for the authorities to arrive, while others chose to run off, not wanting the police involved in their lives.

Letting the victims choose for themselves, Matteo and the gang made a quick departure with Massimo and Edwin bound and gagged and stuffed in their trunks. They wanted to be able to dispense their own version of justice… and revenge without the interference of Italian law enforcement.

Then the big question—what to do with their two special guests.

Edwin was an easy decision. He would enjoy a couple of nights’ stay atLa Maison de M’sexclusive and highly selectiveDungeon de Maison Suite. During which, Matteo’s old friend would be treated to a lovely one-on-one spa treatment provided by a certain Irish bloke who specializes in making people talk… or keep secrets. After a luxurious, intense three-day stay,MonsieurEdwin would be released on his own accord after, of course, being microchipped. Marc had created a nifty new device that transmitted a person's location as well as theirvoice to a designated server for observation—a.k.a listening and monitoring. Marc had been dying to try out his little invention, and it turned out that this was the perfect opportunity for a human trial.

Win. Win.

What to do with Massimo was another issue. Everyone knew that they couldn’t just let him go. For one, Matteo wanted that bastard dead and mutilated beyond recognition. The thought of feeding Massimo to Raj had initially crossed Matteo’s mind, but then he began thinking about the consequences of having a highly well-known drug kingpin suddenly vanish. There would be… questions. People poking their noses around. Sniffing. Asking pain-in-the-ass shit that, quite frankly, Matteo didn’t want to have to deal with.

So, murder by tiger was off the table.

But then brilliance smacked Matteo right in the face.

Death by plane crash.

Poetic, wasn’t it?

Yes! That was the perfect solution. It would be very public, look like a tragic accident, and no one would come looking for his killers.

With the help of Marc, who was an excellent strategist, they planned, arranged, and executed the perfect accidental murder plane crash.

As it turned out, Ares knew a pilot who also loved skydiving. After paying the man an exorbitant amount of money, they loaded an unconscious Massimo into a private jet and watched as it took off, heading toward the Caribbean.

The news reported that the plane suffered a mechanical malfunction, causing it to fly directly into a mountain. The authorities found Massimo’s body, and who they assumed was the pilot—but was, in actuality, a cadaver from a local university. They weren’t monsters after all.

The pilot’s body was burned beyond recognition, and his teeth had been removed, making it very difficult for the authorities to positively identify the body. In the end, they used the flight manifest to identify the pilot who, coincidentally, had no living relatives to ask questions.

Now, no one would be asking questions about Mr. Zitti’s death or searching for his killers. Matteo’s family would be safe, and the Zitti name would fall from existence.

Oh, and Ares had already reached out to Mrs. Zitti, letting her know that he was willing to make her a very hefty payment to take over her late husband's smuggling routes and contracts. Wasn’t Ares so helpful? They had a meeting scheduled for next week to finalize the details.

Raising his glass once again, Matteo smiled.

“Enjoy yourself tonight. Drinks are on the house, and your rooms have already been set up for your stays this weekend.”

As a thank you, Matteo offered to host the group at the château for the weekend. This would give them all a chance to relax, enjoy themselves, and get to know each other a bit better.

The group cheered and downed their champagne. Ares’s death squad finished theirs in one gulp—because apparently, that’s what straight guys do when they hear “open bar.” Others, like Matteo’s boys and the Irish crew, sipped their champagne like they were making love to the liquid over hours instead of seconds.

Classy as always.

Matteo chuckled when a sea of empty glasses was suddenly held up following his toast. Stefan, the shirtless server, was at their side before Matteo could even turn his head. He seemed to take a particular interest in filling the glass of an angry-looking Russian dude with a perfectly squared jaw, piercing blue eyes, and arms that could pop the stuffing out of any medicine ball.

The Russian held out his glass as Stefan filled it almost to the brim. Not proper etiquette, but Matteo would allow it, considering the boy seemed distracted by the man’s intense gaze. Judging by the thickness of the Russian’s bulge, Matteo feared for Stefan’s tight hole should he choose to provide any midnight entertainment.

Shaking his head, Matteo took a sip of his champagne and decided to make his way over to where Ares was chatting with Patrick.

Patrick was tall and insanely fit, with intense green eyes that could make a man come just from one of his stares. According to Ares, in addition to being the crew leader's right-hand man, Patrick also had a special talent for making unwilling men talk. Sometimes they walked away, missing only a few pieces of their body; sometimes they didn’t walk away at all. Word on the street was that Patrick was really good at his job.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Matteo greeted, raising his glass toward the two.

“I hear you’ve seduced my husband,” Patrick noted, giving Matteo a sly grin.

Matteo paused for a moment, confused by the comment. Then he remembered.

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