God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

Dressed in black cargo pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a coat, and boots, I tuck my Glock behind my back as I leave my suite.

As I take the stairs down to the first floor, my phone starts to buzz like crazy.

I dig the device out of my pocket, and a dark frown forms on my forehead as I answer, “What?”

“The hotel is on fire!” Emilio shouts, sirens blaring in the background.

Anger explodes in my chest, my fingers tightening around the phone.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m on my way.”

“Carlo!” My voice thunders through the foyer.

He comes running out of my mother’s sitting room. “What?”

“The hotel is on fucking fire,” I relay the message to him as I stalk toward the French doors. When I step out onto the veranda, I mutter, “You’ll have to fly.”

“On it.” He runs ahead of me to start the helicopter.

When I climb inside, I glance at the house and see Gabriella standing on her balcony. She’s only wearing a bathrobe, and it’s freezing outside.

I yank my phone out, but not remembering the number Gabriella used to call me last week, I send a text to Gerardo.

Get Gabriella off the balcony. She’s not allowed out in the cold until she has warmer clothes.

We lift into the air, and I keep my eyes on her. She glances behind her, and I see Gerardo pulling her into the room before shutting the door.

As Carlo turns the aircraft in the direction of Manhattan, I shove my phone back into my pocket.

During the flight, ice pours into my veins, and the soft spot Gabriella carved out in my heart hardens again.

Twenty minutes later, Carlo sets us down on the helipad, and I shove the door open.

“Wait for me,” he says as he switches everything off.

Impatient to get to the hotel, I order, “Hurry the fuck up.”

“It’s a helicopter, not a fucking car,” he mutters.

I clench my jaw, and by the time he joins me, I’m ready to kill someone.

We take the elevator down to the basement and rush to the SUV.

I climb into the passenger seat while Carlo slides behind the steering wheel. When he starts the engine, he says, “Hopefully, there isn’t too much damage to the hotel.”

“Hmm,” I grumble.

The roads are fucking busy, and as we get closer to the area where the hotel is and I see the plumes of dark smoke, rage shudders through me.

I’m going to kill whoever’s responsible for the fire.

The road is closed, and Carlo has to park two blocks away. I climb out of the SUV, and pushing my hand beneath my coat, my fingers curl around the handle of my Glock as we begin to walk in the direction of the hotel.

Carlo’s tense beside me, and we both keep glancing around us. He stays between the road and me.

Rounding the corner, we’re met with fire trucks and police cars.

“It’s a fucking shit show,” I growl as I look up at the flames licking from the windows. “Christ.”

“Boss!” I hear Emilio shout.

He comes running toward us with Vito right behind him.

When they’re closer, I ask, “How did it start?”

“Don’t know yet,” Emilio answers.

Vito moves in behind me, covering my back.

My eyes lift to the burning hotel, and I watch as months of work, and a fuck ton of money goes up in smoke.

“Go to the club, boss. I’ll stay and clean up the mess,” Emilio says. “It’s too dangerous for you out in the open like this.”

He’s right.

Nodding, I order, “Pay off whoever you have to. I want complete control of the situation.”

“I’ll handle everything,” he assures me.

I turn around, and when I stalk back to the SUV, Vito comes with us to offer extra protection.

Once we’re back in the safety of the armored SUV, Carlo asks, “Do you think it’s arson?”

“We won’t know until the inspection’s been done,” I reply, my tone harsh with anger.

If it’s arson, then someone’s attacking me.

Probably Miguel because I sent men to wipe out his family after the fuckers took Eden.

Fuck.

I pull my phone out and quickly dial Gerardo’s number.

It only rings once before he answers. “Boss?”

“Cancel the shopping trip for the women. I don’t want them leaving the house at all.”

“Okay.”

“Get Aunt Greta to contact her personal shopper to bring warm clothes for Gabriella.”

“Will do.”

“Keep my women safe,” I order.

“With my life, Mr. Falco.”

I end the call and stare at the device for a moment before I bring up the last number Miguel called me from. I press dial, and I’m not surprised when it says the number is not in service.

When we reach the club, I stalk inside and head straight for my private lounge. I gesture for Carlo to pour me a tumbler of whiskey.

I dial Tommy’s number, and when he answers, I mutter, “I want all available men in the streets. Kill every fucking drug dealer you can find.”

“Everyone?” he double-checks. “Not just Miguel’s men?”

“Every-fucking-one,” I grind the word out.

Even if Miguel is not behind the hotel burning down, I’m done waiting for Dario to find the fucker. I’ll work my way up from the bottom. Eventually, we’ll find someone who’ll lead us straight to Miguel.

Carlo holds the tumbler out to me, and taking it, I toss the whiskey down my throat.

The past week has been fucking tiring. It’s been one fucking problem after the other, making the anger in my chest reach boiling point.

Tommy and his men were attacked, and I lost six good soldiers, the alcohol delivery to the club was hijacked, and the senator I had in my pocket was found floating in the Hudson.

When my phone rings, I’m in a piss-poor mood and bark, “What?”

“They said the fire was started on the fourth floor. It was arson, boss,” Emilio gives me the news I’ve been waiting for.

Uncontrollable rage pours like hot lava through my body as I mutter, “We’re definitely under attack. Put everyone on high alert.”

“Okay. I’m on my way to the club,” he informs me.

I end the call and immediately phone Dario.

“Miguel was last seen in South America,” he answers.

“I want the fucker found, Dario,” I order, my tone low and deadly. “Stop fucking around and make it happen.”

He must hear I’m at the end of the little patience I have because he doesn’t try to crack a joke.

“Hold up,” he says. “The whereabouts of Migue’s uncle just came in.”

“Send it to me.”

“Okay.”

“Be extra careful out there,” I mutter. “Miguel is attacking.”

“Thank God I have Eden at my penthouse,” he breathes.

I end the call, and when the uncle’s details come through, I forward it to Carlo.

“I just sent you a message,” I say. “Have men bring him to me.”

“On it,” he replies, getting to work.

I start a group video call with the other heads of the Cosa Nostra, and when they all answer, I say, “Miguel’s attacking. He burned down the new hotel and took out six of my men. Be extra vigilant while I deal with the problem.”

“Christ,” Angelo mutters. “Anything I can help with?”

“Be on standby. The second Dario finds out where the fucker is hiding, we’re attacking.”

“Okay.”

When I end the call, I have to suppress the urge to throw the fucking phone.

“We’ll find Miguel,” Carlo says. “He can’t hide forever.”

“We better,” I snap.

Carlo pours me another drink, and while I take a sip of the whiskey, my thoughts turn to Gabriella.

I haven’t been home the past week, and I’d give anything to ease some of the tension by sinking deep into her sweet pussy.

Suddenly, Emilio rushes into the lounge, and it draws my attention back to work.