Page 79 of Broken Mafia Prince
“Go on,” I grit out.
He tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “They just asked me to tell them where you were going to be and what you were up to. I didn’t think it was a big deal, boss. I owe so much money at the casino, and they said they’d clear my debt and give me a little extra. You know how it is, money was a little tight and?—”
“And you thought betraying me instead of coming to me with your money problems was the better option?” I ask him.
“I didn’t want to bother you, and anyway, it turned out to be nothing, right?” He laughs nervously. “You don’t look hurt or?—”
Bobby’s words end with a grunt of pain as I smash my fist into the side of his torso, targeting the kidneys knowing it’ll hurt like a bitch. As he doubles over, I raise my knee into his face, satisfied when I hear the crunching sound of his nose breaking. I dig out my gun from my holster, dig the barrel under his jaw, and I’m about to press the trigger when he makes a startled sound.
“Wait, wait, don’t kill me. I’ll tell you something else if you swear to let me go,” he cries.
I grip his jaw and raise his head, so his eyes are meeting mine. “Go ahead.”
“Her fiancé is working with the Syndicate, too.”
I narrow my eyes. “You mean Luca Cozzoli?”
The man nods hurriedly. “I saw him hanging around the present Syndicate hideout. I don’t know what they discussed or what they’re up to, but the person who told me who he was says he’s been moving in and out of there for weeks.”
I nod. “Thank you, Morricone.”
He begins to smile, thinking that he’s redeemed himself and he’ll escape death. I smile back and then press the barrel of the gun harder against his jaw. His eyes widen, a protest forming on his tongue, but I’ve heard enough.
His head explodes into a shower of blood, bone, and brain matter, decorating the wall and ceiling. I wanted to take my time sending him to his grave, but in light of this new revelation, I have bigger fish to fry.
I turn to Tommaso. “Find out where Luca Cozzoli spends his days.”
“A strip club by the name Revolve,” he replies. “He’s either there or at the Champions Golf Club, losing all his money to lawn bets.”
Why anyone would willingly tie their daughter to that lazy son of a bitch is a serious question. There’s nothing good about Luca, and I owe him one for putting his filthy hands on Giulia the other day at the restaurant. I crack my knuckles and make my way toward the metal staircase leading back into the club.
“You can’t kill Cozzoli,” Tommaso says as I walk past him. “You’ll bring the wrath of his father on our heads. The son might be a good-for-nothing moron, but no man will watch you off his heir and say nothing.”
“I just want to talk to him.” It’s a lie, and we both know it. I want to make Luca cry and beg for mercy. I want to hear him say with his own mouth that he’s not even close to good enough for Giulia.
Without another word, I walk out of the basement. I don’t stop walking until I’m sliding into the leather interior of my Dodge. I step on the gas, peeling out of my private parking lot.
Revolve is half an hour drive from my club, but I get there in twenty after breaking all the speed limits and running red lights. I’m eager to get my hands on that Cozzoli bastard. I know I can’t kill him, but rearranging his face won’t hurt.
I walk into the ostentatious club, unsurprised that a man like Luca will be found in a place like this. The large chandeliers hanging overhead nearly blind me as I make my way to the bar, while my eyes roam around, clocking the entrances, exits, and security manning the place.
A blonde wearing a barely-there green dress walks past me and does a double-take, almost spilling the drinks on her tray. I shoot her a crooked smirk, and a smile splits her face. She changes direction, heading for me.
“Hey, handsome.” She winks.
“Hey,” I tell her easily.
“Need a room?” she asks huskily. “We will have a lot of fun together. I promise. I won’t even charge you much.”
I chuckle. “How about some information?” I pull out a rolled-up bundle from my pocket and tuck it into her cleavage. “I’m looking for someone. All you need to do is point me in the right direction.”
“Who might that be?”
“Luca Cozzoli,” I respond. “Brown hair, brown eyes. Loud-mouthed and obnoxious. Come here two to three nights a week.”
She makes a face. “Thatbastardostill owes me. I would have given you information about him for free, darling.” She spins on her sky-high heels. “Follow me.”
I trail after her up a flight of stairs and down a dimly lit hallway. She stops at a door and motions at it. “That’s where you’ll find the asshole. Have fun. And give him a kick in the dick for me.”
