Page 113 of Mob Queen

“Lady doctor?” G grunts.

“So fucking what?” I say. “Besides, I was the one who made the appointment for her, so of course I know.”

“I can’t be with her.”

Rome is quickly killing my buzz. “She has five men with her, she’ll be fine.”

“What if something happens?”

“Five men, Rome,” G says. “Even Frankie doesn’t have that many with her when she leaves the house.”

I can see Rome becoming agitated by my and G’s response. “I’ll put another man with her.”

I look to G who shakes his head. “I’m not doing it.”

I arch a brow and roll my eyes. “Make sure she has someone with her,” I instruct. G’s face drops as if to say, are you fucking serious? “Get it done.” I turn to face Rome. “Happy?”

Rome gives me a half nod, then returns to his work.

This girl better not fuck my brother up, because if she does, I’ll kill her myself.

* * *

“It’s a good night,” I say as we glide through the water.

“You’re gonna fuck shit up, aren’t you?” G asks with humor.

“Hey,” I start. “If they’re smart, then no.”

The sky is dark, the wind is cold, but my blood is pumping heat and excitement through my body as we approach the drop point. G kills the motor, lifts the night vision binoculars, then hands them to me and points in the direction I should be looking. “On my go,” G says into the comms.

Ahead is a small boat and three men are lifting packages out of the water. G starts the engine again and slowly navigates toward the boat. We approach it and the three all stop and draw their weapons on us. “What the fuck?” one of them grumbles.

“Boys, what are you doing?” My eyes skim the ten bricks of cocaine sitting at their feet.

“This has nothing to do with you,” one of Augusta’s men say.

“I want those bricks.” I pointedly look at the cocaine.

The one doing all the talking snickers. “Over my dead body.”

“Sure,” I say. G lifts his hand, and the mouthy one is shot dead. The other two look around, trying to find where my other men are. “As I was saying, I want those bricks.”

The two remaining men are fucking idiots. If this was me, I’d try to get at least one round off before being killed. But nope, they’re standing in their boat, looking like dumb fucks. “No,” one says.

“Wait,” the other says.

“The one on the right,” G says into the comms. And with the second one down, now there’s only one left. “Frank?” G waits for my go-ahead.

The third looks like he’s about to shit his pants. I gesture for him to start tossing the bricks over to us. He throws them onto our speed boat, and once he’s finished, he waits to see what I’ll do. “What’s your name?” I ask.

He flicks his gaze between G and myself before finally answering, “Pio.”

“How long have you been with Augusta?”

Again, there’s hesitation. “Three years.”

“Well, the choice is yours. You can work for me, or, we’ll leave you out here.”