Savage Prince

MATTEO

“He’s gonna pay for what he did to our family,” I growl at my brother Dante, creeping toward the entrance of a dingy bar on the outskirts of Palermo. “I’m not leaving this place until he’s dead. Do you understand? Dead.”

“You know that’s my specialty. But we don’t have a lot of time, Matty. Romo and Sergio are already at the party. Your party, or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “But celebrating is the last thing on my mind right now.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Just stop for a second. For weeks, we’ve hunted this guy and he’s managed to slither away like the fucking snake he is.”

“Not tonight.” I shake off his grip.

“I get that you want revenge. He’s a piece of shit who deserves to die and we’ll get him. But stop letting it rule your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t there that night. You weren’t on the hook to stop it.”

“But getting yourself killed won’t bring back Joey. You were smart to bring me this time. Serge and Romo would have gotten too sidetracked by all the pussy.”

I roll my eyes. “Look, you’re a good assassin but you talk too damn much.”

“Good?” His eyebrows fly up. “Fuck that shit. I’m the best.”

My eyes dart left and right, my spine stiff. “He’s not getting away again. Not on my watch.”

Too much has already happened on it.

It’s dark, quiet, and eerie as fuck outside the bar, which makes me a little nervous. There should be a high-stakes poker game here tonight and from the intel I got, Big Fish, Domenico Salvo is supposed to be right in the middle of it.

And Big Fish needs to be gutted.

That’s why I’m here tonight with Dante.

We’re gonna make sure it happens.

An uneasy feeling wrenches my gut.

Why isn’t there more action? It’s too desolate for a poker night.

“I know this is personal for you, but you can’t let that shit cloud your judgement. Salvo sent a message to us through Joey.” Dante’s voice drops, his heavy black boots thumping along the concrete. “And we’re gonna send our response back tonight. But you can’t go in there, balls to the wall. They’ll be waiting for us. We need to be smart about it.”

I’ll admit, this time, we’re wandering into the lion’s den. And he’s a deadly, big-ass animal with lots of sharp teeth that are primed to tear apart anyone who dares venture into his lair.

My father would demand that we immediately turn around, get back into my car, and drive far the hell away from here.

Like I’d ever tell him what I have planned.

It’s better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

That’s my mantra.

And I exercise it pretty much on the daily, another reason why I’m such a thorn in his side. He’s trying to groom me to take over as boss but I have a slight anger management problem that keeps getting in my way.

I get angry too damn much and shoot people to let off steam.

Not exactly the kind of temperament that a boss should have.

Right now, there’s a lot of rage flooding my insides. Every time I think about Joey and what they did to him…

But it was my own fault. I dug my heels in, not wanting to play the role of babysitter for my cousin who had a mouth that just never knew when to quit.

Salvo closed in on us and wanted to make sure we knew he was here to stay.

And I want to make sure the family is protected from the Stidda, the Sicilian mafia. For years, we haven’t had any bloodshed and they’ve operated their underground card games and gambling rings far away from our territories.

But then Salvo took over and edged closer and closer, taking out any obstacles in his way.

Including my cousin.

So, yeah, it’s personal.

“You know that if you lose one too many ‘whales’, your whole gambling operation is fucked, which is pretty much where we’re at right now because of Salvo. If he’s out of the picture, the rest of his crew will scatter like cockroaches. So you’d better believe I’m not gonna do anything that will scare him off before I sink a knife into his throat.”

The Stidda will take bigger bets than any other gambling ring around, which makes their operation a hell of a lot riskier than ours, but it also attracts a shit ton more cash from local degenerate gamblers who have it to burn.

Cash that should be ours.

And I think it’s time they get a little reminder about who actually runs this city.

He has to know I’ll be back to avenge Joey’s death, to get retribution, and to make his gambling ring crumble.

The fish always stinks from the head, so you’ve just got to cut it off.

That’s the plan.

I take a deep breath and pull open the door. A blast of some noxious combination of cigarette, cigar, and pot smoke assaults me as we walk farther into the place, our shoes sticking to the disgusting black floor with each step we take toward the bar. I also know from my research that the bartender is the one who clears ‘patrons’ for the games. You give him the word and he makes a call.

But if you look any bit suspicious, the call won’t be to the gaming host. It’ll be to a beefy security guy who’ll pummel the shit out of you in the back parking lot before he leaves your mangled body a bloody mess in a dumpster.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender grunts at me. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretches across his massive chest. Hell, with his bald, tattooed head, angry eyes, and hulking body, looks like he might be security, too.

“I’m really in the mood for some fries. No grease.” My lips stretch into a straight line, my spine stiff. He eyes me up and down and for a second, the thought occurs to me that he might know who I am. I mean, I’m not the infamous boss that my father is, but I get around as his second-in-command. Usually, it’s for behind-the scenes shit like dismembering people who screw us over, and even though I’m not pimping my conquests all over the Dark Web, you never really know who’s got eyes on you.

Papa has always told us the importance of flying under the radar.

It’s hard to get shit done if everyone knows who you are and what you’re after.

But when the bartender gives a quick nod, I release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

He leans toward me and hisses under his breath, “Last door at the end of the hallway.”

I keep my expression as stoic as possible to show him I’m no stranger to danger.

And while I definitely am not, this ‘raid’ on Salvo probably isn’t my best idea. But it’s the only way for me to make it known that you don’t fuck with the Villani family. I mean, Christ. I work my ass off and for what? For these savages to steal money right out of my pocket?

I know Papa probably has some fancy-ass plan to scare them back to their holes in southern Italy with some scathing rhetoric and maybe a chopped off hand to really make his point.

I have a different plan for Salvo.

He called me out, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

And so here I am, fucko.

Dante and I take a left out of the bar and slowly creep down the garbage-scented hallway. I wrinkle my nose. Saying the place smells foul is a gross understatement. How the do they attract so much goddamn money? I can’t imagine waltzing down this hallway with millions burning a hole in my pocket, wondering if a giant rat is gonna pop out of a corner and sic me with some disease.

“You think they’re storing bodies buried in shit here?” Dante mumbles, gagging a little as we approach the doorway. “What the hell else would generate that kind of stink?”

“Maybe they do it to throw the cops off the scent of cash. They disguise it with this toxic cloud instead. That’ll keep anyone away from here.” I say all this while speaking through my shirt since it’s covering my nose and mouth.

I definitely need a gas mask by the time we make it to the doorway. I twist the knob and pull it open to reveal a set of stairs leading to a lower level. I quickly close the door behind me and suddenly we’re breathing in much different air.

It’s completely neutralized the thick, noxious smell that we just left behind and I no longer have to worry about holding down my dinner.

When we finally make it into the underground casino, I take a look around at the expansive space. Dark walls and minimal lighting guarantee a certain degree of anonymity. And since the people frequenting this place have a lot of money and probably more enemies, it makes sense that they want to fly under the radar. Slot machines line the walls of the space and blackjack, roulette, and craps tables sit right in the center of the action. Hot, half-naked girls snake their way around the gamblers, delivering drinks and collecting tips.

I scout the rest of the room and finally spot my mark. The poker tables, which are tucked away in a far corner of the space, partially blocked by a couple of large wooden columns.

The guys follow me down the steps and we wander over to the bar for a drink.

“Vodka,” I say nodding toward the bottle of Kors on the shelf behind the girl smiling seductively at me.

“And your friend?” she asks in a low sultry voice, glancing at my brother.

Dante and I exchange a quick look and I hold up two fingers, flash a tight smile. No time for the flirty shit.

We have a job to do.

She pours the shots and slides the glasses toward us. We stand against the mahogany bar for a few minutes, not speaking. Just observing.

“What do you notice?” I ask Dante, holing the glass to my lips so that nobody watching can see what I’m saying.

Dante is quiet for a second as he scours the room. He’s a master assassin and has eyes all over his body. He’s the guy you want watching your back in a situation like this. Nothing gets past him. “Those cocktail waitresses. Think there’s a double meaning with that job title.”

I smirk. “How do you know?”

He takes a long gulp of his drink and keeps his eyes focused on the tables in front of us. “I’ve seen at least three players so far get escorted off the floor by some of the girls.”

“Are they losing? You think they need a pity jerk?”

“Nah, these guys are winning. They’re getting victory lays.” He smirks at me. “And for just enough time to cool off the table. That sonofabitch. Salvo’s smart, that’s for sure.”

“Good eye.” I guzzle the rest of the amber-colored liquid and nod at the bartender to refill me. Salvo has quite an operation here. No wonder why it’s eating into our coffers.

He’s offering pussy to his patrons either as a parting gift or as a consolation prize.

There are girls in less than the tiniest bikinis crawling up and down poles in every corner of the place.

And the cocktail waitresses are ‘serving’ in the skimpiest scraps of fabric I’ve ever seen.

Trust me, I’ve seen plenty.

“So this is how Salvo is doing it,” I mutter.

And for some reason, my father decided to ignore it.

Well, I say it’s for some reason, but really, it’s just safer. If he doesn’t get involved, he won’t get his hands dirty.

My hands are already so stained, there is no amount of soap that can clean them.

My eyes narrow as I watch pit bosses hail over select girls to escort some of the more threatening players away from the tables to help them ‘lose’ their winnings.

Christ only know what they’re doing to the whales once they get them into those back rooms. From what I see, once the pussy party’s over, they either stumble toward the exit or they take their chances back at the table and lose everything.

Because lightning never strikes twice.

It’s actually a pretty brilliant business model.

Motherfucker.

I’m gonna bust both of Salvo’s kneecaps before I even think about his eyes.

I clench my fists, my jaw twitching. Yeah, I’m out for blood, but Papa really fucked up by letting this place operate in the first place. If we’d have stopped them sooner, Joey would still be alive. And our gambling profits have plunged into the fucking toilet over the past few months so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that someone else is doing it better.

I haven’t exactly given my father the most faith in my ability to run our family, but tonight, I’m gonna restore it.

I let these assholes take too much and their reign ends tonight.

I take another look around to see some of the girls performing their own little shows in the center of the floor – a little hand action, a little lip action, and then…

Oh, shit.

One of them slides to her knees and slips her head under the short skirt of the girl in front of her.

If that isn’t enough of a distraction to the guys with stacks of chips sitting in front of them, I don’t know what is.

Salvo is good. I’ll give him that.

“Okay, so now we know what we’re up against, yeah?” Dante asks. “What are we gonna do next? How are we gonna find Salvo?"

“Give me about ten minutes to check things out. Stay here because I don’t want anyone to spot you walking around. Have another drink and enjoy the pussy parade.”

“Well, if one of the girls comes over to offer a little rub and tug action, I’m definitely gonna take her up on it,” Dante quips.

“Just keep your dick in your pants,” I growl, grabbing my glass and finishing my drink in one gulp. “I’ll be back.”