Ruthless Mafia Daddy (Alpha Mafia Daddies)

“Why the fuck couldn’t you deal with this on your own, Marco?”

My younger brother is on speaker as I drive away from the Ritz-Carlton, and a very naked Lila, toward my family penthouse in the Upper West Side.

“Because you would’ve been pissed as hell to learn about this after I killed the fucking snitch.”

Snitch?

“Who?”

“Over the phone? Fuck, no. Just get here quick.” Marco hangs up.

Grinding my teeth, I slam the accelerator.

It’s almost one a.m., and I had hoped to spend a little more time exploring Lila’s body before heading back to real life, except Marco’s tone meant shit is about to go down.

I just hope he kept Rosa out of this. She’s only fifteen and needs to be kept away from the gory reality of our world for as long as possible.

I pull into our underground car park, parking alongside Marco’s blacked-out Hummer and Rosa’s shiny red Porsche—a present for her birthday a few weeks ago. Legally she can’t drive yet, but ‘legally’ is not really our thing.

I roll up my shirt sleeves as I take our private elevator, bracing myself for who I might find in our living room.

But when the doors slide open, the place is empty.

What the fuck?

I check my phone.

Marco sent me a red pin, showing me he’s on the fucking roof. Luckily for us, it’s private so we tend to take a lot of our…dirtier business up there. Which means whoever is up there is likely not coming back down.

Hurrying across the open plan living space into my office, I open up the safe and pull out a handgun along with a six-inch knife, tucking both into the waistband of my pants. The champagne and sex high I’d been riding has officially evaporated, and one look around my office has me switching back into work mode.

I nod once to the picture of my deceased parents on the wall, as I do every time I leave, and head up to the roof to meet my brother.

“What have we got, Marco?” I step out onto the roof.

My brother glances over his shoulder at me. He is wearing an almost identical outfit to my own.

“You tell me.” His expression is grave as he steps aside, revealing Tommy Munro, one of our most trusted employees.

What the hell? Snitch?

I fold my arms across my chest as I observe the man chained to a fucking garden chair on the top of a Manhattan skyscraper. “This is a new low, Tommy.”

Tommy’s already sporting a black eye which has swollen and completely sealed shut, and blood is crusting the corner of his lip. His own white shirt is wrinkled and blood-stained.

“Speak.” Marco pulls his gun so fast from the waistband of his trousers that Tommy flinches as the barrel is pressed against his temple.

Teeth bared, he takes a swift kick to Tommy’s shin.

“Marco,” I warn.

“Fine.” Marco takes a step back, keeping his gun pointed at a trembling Tommy.

The sight is pathetic, and I let out a long breath.

“I suggest you start talking.” My voice is low and even.

Tommy squirms, but the chains around his ankles and wrists are too tight to give much.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Then why does my brother have you chained to a fucking chair, Tommy?”

“Because he’s a fucking psychopath!”

Marco makes to strike, but I hold up my left hand, reaching with my right to pull the six-inch blade free of my waistband.

“That may be true, but he never acts without reason. So, I’m gonna ask you one more time, what did you do to get you chained to a fucking chair?”

Tommy turns his head and spits bloody drool onto the ground.

I wrinkle my nose at the sight, my patience starting to waver.

“I never told him nothing.” He glares at me.

“Who’s him?”

Tommy glances at Marco, who nods.

“Lorenzo Rossi.”

A red mist clouds my mind as I fight the urge to run my knife across Tommy’s throat.

“You’ve been speaking to Lorenzo?”

“Not just speaking. He’s been passing him classified information about our drug shipments. He’s the reason we lost those shipments from Mexico last week.”

I take a deep breath, caressing the sharp blade with my thumb.

I wasn’t lying to Lila when I told her I have my fingers in many pies, but the majority of our money comes from drugs, so when a shipment gets ‘lost’, or rather, stolen, I don’t take it lightly.

“You cost me two million dollars, Tommy.”

“I-I never said nothing, Andre. I swear.”

I take another step toward him.

The sound of Marco clicking the safety off his gun fills the frigid air around us, but I shake my head at him. “Now, how do you think you can pay me back?”

“I-I have money⁠—”

“So, you did it?”

Tommy flinches, realizing his mistake.

“You’re not leaving this rooftop alive, Tommy, so you might as well tell me everything you know. Try to redeem yourself at least before you bleed out on the concrete.”

Tommy’s eyes widen, or should I say eye, as he starts shaking his head.

“He threatened my family.” His voice quivers. “My kids.”

“And?”

“And I had no choice.”

“You could’ve come to me. To Marco. We would’ve dealt with it. You think you’re the first person to work for us whose families have been threatened by the Rossis?”

Tommy stays silent, and I take another step until he’s looking up at my towering frame, reduced to a quivering, spineless piece of shit.

“We’re going to have some fun, you and I.” I reach out to trace my blade along Tommy’s jaw.

He flinches at the touch of the cold metal, and I smile.

“You see, Tommy? This is just another thing that Lorenzo Rossi has taken from me. So, I’m going to make you a deal. If you want to ensure your family’s protection, because I assure you Lorenzo Rossi will likely slaughter your family anyway, then I suggest you start giving me something in exchange. Something…useful.”

I tilt my head to the side as I trail my knife down the side of his neck, pressing it against the skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. Yet.

“I don’t know anything.”

“Wrong answer.” I flick my wrist and slash my knife along his cheek.

Tommy hisses as blood starts to trickle down his ashen skin.

He will die tonight, but not until after I get what I want. And what I want is to make Lorenzo Rossi pay.

“He has a s-shipment coming.”

I slice my blade along his forearm. “When?”

“T-Two… W-weeks.”

I nod to Marco who turns his back to me, pulling out his phone to start making calls.

“Who’s running it?”

Tommy strains against his chains, blubbering like a fucking baby, and my patience finally snaps.

I could be losing myself in Lila right now. She was a much-needed light on the darkest night of the year, and I wanted more of her. All of her for as long as I could have her.

Tonight was not long enough, but it was all I had. And because of this fucking coward, I’m stuck on a rooftop.

I only had the chance to spend one full night with her. And thanks to fucking Tommy I don’t even get that.

Fuck this.

I toss my knife to the side, craving the feel of his flesh beneath my hands. So, clench my fist and send it crashing into Tommy’s face, splitting his cheek along with my knuckles.

I grunt, flexing my fingers. “I don’t like to ask twice.”

“Sergio,” Tommy splutters. “He could be…useful.”

I tilt my head to the side.

“Why?”

“His loyalty to Lorenzo is wavering. He could be persuaded to switch sides for the right price.”

Interesting.

“That’s more like it.” I take another swing at Tommy, sending his head snapping to the side.

Marco flinches. He hangs up the phone and glances at a now unconscious Tommy. “Andre?”

I’m panting, my knuckles screaming, but my head is a little clearer.

“Yeah?”

“He would’ve talked anyway. Was this really necessary?” Marco narrows his dark eyes at me.

“Says the person who chained him to a chair.” I look to Tommy. His body is limp, pathetic. “He betrayed us, and I don’t take that lightly. You shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t.” Marco folds his arms across his broad chest.

“Good.”

“I can take it from here.”

“No, I’m finishing this.” I move to crouch beside Tommy’s ankles to start removing the chains.

“Andre—”

“Stop.”

Marco stays silent as I finish unchaining Tommy and drag his limp body onto the concrete.

I nudge his face with my shoe.

“You ruined my night.” I land a swift kick to Tommy’s stomach. And another. And another.

The darkness starts to take over, whispering sweet nothings of death in my ear.

And I oblige.

My body doesn’t feel like my own as I grab Tommy by the shirt and land another punch to his already beaten-up face. Blood crusts on my hand, and I need more.

“Andre.” Marco’s voice sounds as if it’s underwater, distant and muffled.

Tommy’s face morphs into the face of Lorenzo Rossi. He’s the one I’m killing, and I won’t stop until his blood stains my skin.

My hands grab the collar of his shirt, and I lift his head off the ground before slamming it back down against the concrete.

Over and over.

Blood starts to pool. Bone starts to crack.

Death is near.

I can feel it, taste it.

“Andre! Stop!”

Hands are on me, hauling me away.

I round on my enemy, my hands ready to throw a punch, but it’s not an enemy. It’s Marco, and he steps back, holding his own hands up in surrender.

His eyes are wide and filled with concern.

What have I done?

I look down at my hands, bloody, bruised and trembling. My whole body is shaking, and I take a step back.

“Andre,” Marco breathes. “Are you…ok?”

I blink, almost wincing at the sight of Tommy lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood, his skull smashed in.

“I’m fine.” Lies.

“Was that because of what today is?”

My eyes snap to my brother, and I let my rage shine through, but Marco doesn’t back down.

“A job needed doing, Marco, so I fucking did it.”

“A bullet to the head would have sufficed, Andre.”

I shake my head, moving to pick up my discarded knife and pocketing it.

“No, it wouldn’t have. Send Tommy back to Lorenzo as a message.” I run my bloody hands through my hair as I head toward the door.

“You heading back out?”

I don’t bother to look back over my shoulder at my brother. “I have somewhere to be.”

Washing the blood off myself in the shower, I watch it pool at my feet with no sense of satisfaction.

I would’ve thought that pummeling a fucking snitch to death would have released some of the rage within, especially given what day it is. But if anything, I feel more tense.

Of all people Tommy snitched to…

I bet Lorenzo was like a kid in a fucking candy store when he intercepted our shipment.

I grind my teeth together. I hate looking weak, and the fact that one of my own went running straight into the claws of my fucking rival rather than coming to me has me seething.

On any other day, having the blood of a snitch on my hands would bring me a sense of relief.

But instead, I feel empty.

Getting back to the hotel and finding Lila naked and asleep in the huge bed, the silk sheets draped over her lower half, gives me a sense of relief. It isn’t a perfect solution for the long-term problem, but it will do for as long as I have her.

After taking off my fresh suit, I slide into bed beside her, letting my fingers trail up her thighs until her eyes start to flutter open.

My time with her is limited. I will not waste it on sleeping.