Page 2 of The Wicked
“What the fuck did you just do?” Casmiro yelled, brieflyforgetting who he was talking to. “We were getting somewhere! The man was right! We’re targeted!”
Elio rose to his feet, pressing the lit end of his cigar into the warm blood. “And you think the Nazaris are possible suspects?”
“Rasheed Nazari knows better than to fuck with us like that.”
Elio nodded once. “Do not go looking for trouble where there is none. I am not bothered about what we lost. Focus, Casmiro. They are children throwing tantrums. Hm?”
Casmiro hid his glare. “Why am I not surprised? You care less about the real business these days. Politics wasn’t what our fathers chased.”
Elio paused and regarded him for a bit before speaking. “I am not my father. I am not your father. I do not know what it means to carelessabout something. Besides, I chase and crave power, and only power, Casmiro. Politics is power. Have someone clean up this mess.” He fastened the two buttons of his suit as he asked, “Where is Angelo?”
“Work.”
“Hm. Extend word to his right hand to assign men to take over this place. I want business running here in a few hours,” he ordered.
At this, Casmiro’s jaw clenched. “The occupants? Basilio’s family?”
Elio’s indifferent gaze swept over his underboss. “Wipe it all away. The sinner doesn’t exist if my bullet ends up inside them.”
Casmiro gave a curt nod, getting to his feet as well.
About to walk out the door, Elio held him back by his arm. “Never. Ever. Raise your voice at me. The next time it happens, I will feed you your vocal cords. Clear?”
Casmiro didn’t bat an eye. “I apologize.”
Nodding, Elio let him pass, his gaze not leaving the man’s back for one second.
His apology meant nothing; Elio would have been a fool not to see it.
He also knew the man disapproved of how he handled things—but Elio was okay with it; as long as Elio’s father consented, no other opinion mattered.
CHAPTER ONE
Zahra
Was there such a thing as having too much money?
I shook my head, ignoring the single bead of sweat running down my spine as my gaze roamed over the pool table before me; the endless cash bundles shocked me while at the same time sending a thrill through my body that was hard to disguise.
Thiswas the biggest heist we had ever pulled. What’s more, with all five of us still intact, with no casualties, and no mistakes made. It was fucking fantastic, and my grin was about to split my face in half.
With gloved hands, I pushed my hair away from my face, my tongue running over my bottom lip in anticipation.
“Bloody fucking mental,” Upper said in awe, his accent coating his words.
Dog blew out a whistled breath, soot-stained fingers rubbing his stubble as he looked up at each of us. “This is what I’m fucking talking about. I want to keep hitting the people who have more than they should.”
“Yeah.” Milk nodded in agreement, her pink hair still in a ponytail as she shrugged out of her coveralls. “I gotta say the thrill of hunting the people at the top of the food chain is—God, it’s sweeter. So much money…” She clasped her hands in glee. “Our vacation is guaranteed.”
Removing the black gloves from my hands, I picked a bundle of money from the table, fingers skimming through it, the smell going straight to my head—the smell of new, fresh, illegal money was like a hit of cocaine.
Familiar arms wrapped around me from behind, followed by a kiss on my neck. Devil. He was a good six foot one and towered over my five-foot-five frame. “We should listen to Zahra more often,” he said, and I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was grinning from ear to ear. My own grin spread wider when I leaned into him.
We called ourselves Street. Growing up in the streets, surrounded by people who stole and killed to eat, we were built from the cracks and crevasses of neighborhoods too rough to survive in, but we made do through theft and trickery, break-ins and shoplifting.
Every member of Street, aside from me, went by a code name.
There’s Dog. He was one crafty motherfucker; partially good with computers, but his humor sometimes was the very relief we needed when things went awry on a mission.
