Valentino was uncomfortable with his underboss asking. Next to Dario, Severu was the most intelligent—and the most lethal—of all of his men. He was also the man he trusted with his shit—if he did trust. He lived in a fucked-up world where he had to question everyone’s motives. He didn’t want to have to kill Severu, but he didn’t want the man to get too close to the Ferraro family secrets.
“Their skills are renowned. Right now, I don’t care how they do it, just that they do.”
Fourteen girls. Six boys. All of them are bruised but in relatively good physical condition. They’ve been beaten, some more than others. Boys in the worst condition. They aren’t being held together. They can’t see one another. He has them scattered throughout the house with handlers for each of them.
Valentino could feel Emmanuelle’s anger coming right through her text. She was safe, or she couldn’t be texting him. That meant she was no longer in the house, but back with her family, ready to start the assault, ready to open the way for him and his men. They were just two streets over, in a house that his family owned—one Miceli knew nothing of. Few did.
William Gibson had died years earlier saving Giuseppi’s life. He’d left behind his wife of forty years. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a made man. He was a gardener. A gentle soul who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved roses. So did Greta. His wife, Clara, often accompanied him to have tea with Greta, when he came to trim the roses. She had come that day, and the two women were in the gazebo together when gunmen had burst onto the property.
Giuseppi had been leaning against the outside of the gazebo talking with William as the two men admired their women. Giuseppi told Valentino he had just been laughing, feeling happy. The sun was shining, the day beautiful, and his Greta was happy with her friend over. He liked simple, uncomplicated William. William didn’t ever want anything from him. He was happy with his life. He worked for his money and went home to a woman he adored. They had no children and went through their life loving each other. Giuseppi and Greta considered them a guiding light when they learned they couldn’t have children.
The two gunmen opened fire without warning. William flung himself at Giuseppi as Giuseppi yelled at the two women to get down, to get on the floor of the gazebo. William took the bullets meant for Giuseppi. The bodyguards killed both assailants, but it was too late for William. He was dead immediately. Greta held Clara in her arms, rocking her back and forth while Giuseppi looked up at his underboss, a man at that time he could count on, vowing to find out who was behind the attack.
Giuseppi took care of the funeral expenses, and he bought the house around the corner outright, paying cash. Clara was moved in so she could visit Greta easily. The two women remained close. Giuseppi paid for Clara’s private nurse when she needed one, and Greta visited her daily right up until they lost her. The house remained empty, but was cleaned regularly. Now, Valentino and his army waited in it until Stefano said they had a clear point of entry to the Saldi estate.
Bernado had enough feed to loop the security cameras, particularly to the garage and grounds. They needed the garage for the dead bodies. It wasn’t like they could just leave them piled up in the rose garden for Tommaso to spot.
“I want complete stealth. Use knives or a suppressor on your weapons,” Valentino said. “And I want kills. Don’t bother to take prisoners. Make certain you are wearing gloves. You don’t want evidence traced back to you.”
As far as the clients went, Val didn’t care if they would be valuable to him, he wanted them dead. All of them. They had come to buy young teens, and they deserved death—a slow one—not the quick kill they’d get, but one couldn’t have everything, and he was going to get the teenagers home to their families. If they had no families, he was going to make certain they were taken care of.
“Bernado, last chance. You make absolutely certain there are no undercover operations going on. Stefano’s people are checking as well. We don’t want any mistakes.” No one wanted a cop killed, especially a fed, but if they were in deep in this fucked-up operation, that was on them. Who could sit by and watch this happening? He certainly didn’t have the stomach for it.
His phone vibrated again. He noticed Dario had his in hand as well. Be safe. We’re going in. Switching to wires.
It was starting. “Loop the feed, Bernado. Be extremely careful. I don’t want Tommaso tipped off by a rookie mistake.”
“I don’t make rookie mistakes,” Bernado snapped, his voice an outraged hiss in Valentino’s ear. Everyone would hear the wires and his commands.
“Let’s hope not. Let’s hope no one does.” They were outnumbered. On the other hand, Tommaso didn’t have the Ferraro family of assassins or Elie Archambault.
Emmanuelle was grateful Stefano had called in their cousins to help when she saw the size of the force they were facing. Tommaso had not just taken over the Saldi estate in order to hide his teenagers for auction, he was hiding an army, determined not to be thwarted in making back the money his family needed to pay their soldiers and keep face with the other families.
She’d gone through the house, sickened that Tommaso had taken Greta’s home and turned it into something so vile. Nearly every downstairs room was being used for something sinister and disgusting by his men. The waitresses were fair game to any of his soldiers. If they walked past them, they were shoved into walls or thrown over tables, or pushed to the floor. The moment the soldier was done with them, no matter how roughly used, they were expected to carry on with their work. These women had to be part of the trafficking ring as well. They looked defeated. Hopeless. Fearful. They did whatever was ordered immediately, without hesitation.
Stefano had an army of his own he was about to let loose. There were all of her brothers, Mariko and Nicoletta as well as Elie, and three of her cousins from New York, Geno, Salvatore and Lucca. Including Emmanuelle, twelve experienced riders were a huge number of silent assassins to have in one area. Stefano hadn’t stopped there. Like Valentino, he wanted to wipe out the human trafficking ring from their territory once and for all. The two men seemed to take it personally that someone had managed to slide such a depraved operation under the radar on their watch.
Stefano had also called in the LA cousins. Emmanuelle had been shocked. She wasn’t even sure it was legal as far as the council went. She knew Eloisa would never approve, and most likely, the council wouldn’t, either. Elie hadn’t protested, but then Elie liked a fight, especially a dangerous one. The worse the odds, the better he liked it. He also loved Emme and her family, and this one was for her. He detested traffickers, so adding that all together, even if later, his family called him on the carpet, he would still side with Stefano.
She had seven cousins, all excellent, experienced riders from LA. Severino, the oldest, ruled his family with an iron hand, much in the way Stefano did. There were six brothers and one sister. Velia, like Emmanuelle, was the youngest, and her brothers tended to watch over her. Stefano directed them up to the roof to get rid of enemies above them, first on the garage and then on the house. From there, the seven would work their way down to the balconies and kill all guards who might spot Valentino’s army moving on the house. They would then enter the rooms from the upper balconies and kill anyone in the rooms, room by room, upstairs. Their job was to ensure everyone on the upper story was dead.