Page 5 of Stolen Dove

I lean forward and grab his face, squeezing his cheeks hard before slamming his head back and letting go. "My father's word means shit. You're dead either way. I was just deciding if I'll go slowly or fast. Frankly, at this point, it doesn't matter to me."

"He's supposed to protect me," he whines.

"Who?" I just need clarification.

"Your father."

"A dead man can't protect anyone."

"What?" he gasps.

Are you fucking kidding me? This fucker fainted. "Seriously, this pussy fainted. Get the bucket."

Fernando grabs a bucket and then walks over to the hose, filling it with ice-cold water.

"Son of a bitch," he grumbles as water splashes on his feet, which pisses him off so he launches the water into Oscar's face, shocking him awake, then in a fit of anger hits him with the bucket.

"Do you feel better?"

"A bit."

"So what does Julio have to do with all of this?"

"Nothing. He was supposed to be next."

"What?"

"After your mother, I was supposed to attack him so it would look like it was the Italians attacking his family, even the illegitimate ones."

"You tried to kill my mother."

"She didn't die either?" Oh, I’ve fucking had it. I whip out my gun and put slugs into his heart and head.

The two came inside, soaking wet. "Clean this up. No one comes after my family. Ever. They will pay with their lives." I storm out of the warehouse, fuming with violent need.

"At least you got the one who attacked your mother."

"That is good. Now to deal with the rest of this mess. Are you coming?"

"I'll drive." Good, because I'm not in the right frame of mind for this shit.

1

Victor

Six Years Later

“What’s your plan?” Hector asks, taking a seat in front of my desk and resting his foot over his knee while I walk over to my sideboard for a drink. I look at my brother who has grown into a man over the past six years. With a degree in finance, I made him my personal accountant and the treasurer for the organization. Having seen the fucked-up side to the supposed legal workings, he made his choice to come back and work alongside me.

“I’m going to see if it’s worth doing business with the Americans,” I say, taking a sniff of my new bottle of the latest wine from our vineyard.

“I went to school there. The mafia’s in thick with the politicians and is hiding in plain sight. Depending on what you’re willing to pay, you can have anything you want,” he grumbles, twisting his lips to the side while I pour us a drink.

Passing a glass to him, I sit in the same spot where I ended my father’s life, although this seat is my own. As the head of the Serrano family, I’ve made some changes: one of them was my father’s tacky office. For God’s sake, the old fuck had had a pinup poster of a naked woman on the back of the door like a teenage boy. My father partied harder than he worked, leaving me to clean up the mess, put the Sicilians in their place, and rebuild trust in my men.

It’s been a rocky six years with a lot of bloodshed, but we made peace once the heir took over for the Vitali family. Not that I trust him, but a détente is for the best. They’re out of our territory, and they know never to cross me or the price will be more than they can afford to pay.

Now, I need to ensure that no one, and I mean no one, tries to come at us when my companies are taking off so well.