Chapter 2
Cielo
I sit in the back of the Land Rover as it cruises along the motorway, listening to Toni and Mia talk.
Like me, they are wondering why we have been sent on this mission.
We had a full schedule of appointments set for today, all of which are now cancelled.
We never cancel, so I understand their curiosity.
It matches my own, although I doubt their curiosity has turned to burning anger, like mine.
If it weren’t for the fact I am devoted to Don Fusaro, I may have lost my cool by now. I cannot abide being kept in the dark, but murdering everyone I know is a little premature, even though my ire calls for it. Until I know exactly what I’m dealing with, I need to keep my temper under control.
For the past six years, I have led the Fusaro family. I might not be blood-related, but Don Fusaro has always treated me as a son. He personally told me I would become Don Mannucci once he was ready to officially retire.
Unlike many other families, he never batted an eye over the fact he hadn’t sired an heir.
Don Fusaro took me under his wing after my parents were killed by a rival family, and taught me everything I needed to know for my future standing, which was crystal clear until today.
He hasn’t said anything, but I can feel something is off.
My future as head of the Fusaro family is in jeopardy.
I’ve never seen the Don look so worried as he did when he called me into his home office in the early hours of this morning. His health hasn’t been the best of late, but I honestly thought I may end up calling an ambulance when I saw how ashen his complexion was.
His only directive was to travel to the middle-of-nowhere England and find Benjamin Moss.
I tried to get more out of him, but it was useless.
He clammed up, which instantly raised my hackles.
Don Fusaro has always been an open book with me.
I know all his secrets, including the one about how he can no longer effectively run the business, hence the reason I have taken up the mantle in the shadows.
To the rest of the family, Don Fusaro is still the powerful leader they all know and trust. But I know better.
But back to the task at hand: finding out who the hell this Benjamin Moss is and why Don Fusaro wants me to find him?
I’m not worried about convincing the boy.
I’ll throw him in the trunk of the car if push comes to shove.
I’m eager to know what the hell is going on, and that means he has to come with me.
“Cie, we’re here,” Toni calls, pulling me from my ruminations. I didn’t even realise we’d come off the motorway. I hate being distracted—it’s dangerous.
The Land Rover in front of us pulls to a stop outside a bookshop: Wood’s Writing Emporium. Interesting name, I suppose.
I get my head back in the game. “Toni, take Mica and Hanz to check it out. Remove any customers if necessary.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Mia, keep the car running.”
“No problem, Cie.”
Taking my time, I open the car door and step out, always keeping my eyes on my surroundings.
There is no threat here, but doing it comes as second nature to me now.
The bookshop is quite large, considering the size of the town.
We stick out like a sore thumb. Three blacked-out Land Rovers with occupants all dressed in black.
We definitely don’t blend, but that’s fine, I don’t intend to be here for long.
My guys have had a few moments to scope out the shop.
Time for me to meet Benjamin. The doorbell jingles lightly as I shove it open.
It takes me just a second to get a visual of the shop’s layout.
There is a second exit to the left of the cashier’s desk.
I presume one of the two wide-eyed men currently staring at Toni and the others is Benjamin Moss.
The taller of the two shifts his eyes to me.
He’s…short. Five-four at most. His hair is deep brown and swept back.
His beard is trimmed and neat. His clothes are…
well, wool. He’s clad head-to-toe in wool.
I don’t need to see below the counter to know that.
The man screams “bookworm cat-nerd.” I’d bet my place as head of the Fusaro family he’s wearing woollen trousers.
“Can I help you?” he stammers. His nerves are plain to see. Good, I want him on the back foot. Sliding my sunglasses off, I take a few more seconds to stare. Cat-nerd aesthetic aside, he’s a good-looking man.
“Benjamin Moss?” I ask. My eyes roam his chest because, despite the wool, I can see he has a lean, trim build beneath all those layers.
“That’s me,” he answers.
“I’ve been looking for you.” He swallows deeply but keeps his composure. It’s impressive. I know how intimidated he must be.
“W-what can I do for you?”
I’d like to smile at his effort. His friend, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to piss himself. “You need to close the shop, pack a bag, and come with me.”
There is a beat of silence before he scoffs, “Not likely. Now, if you’re not here to buy a book, I need you to leave.”
He has guts. Licking my lips slowly, I continue my penetrating stare. His eyes drop to the tip of my tongue as it travels the length of my bottom lip.
“It wasn’t a request,” I finally say.
Looking at Toni, I give a curt nod. He walks to the door and locks it, turning the Open sign to Closed and flicking the deadlock. Stalking forward, I take my time. I want him sweating.
“We’re going to leave now,” I say in a low, smooth tone, “go to your home where you can pack some clothes, and then you will come with me.”
“Now, hang on a minute,” he argues.
His efforts are noted. Most grown men who have spent time in prison don’t make me ask twice.
“If I have to repeat myself, I will take you by the hair and drag you to the boot of my car,” I say calmly.
His eyes grow even larger with fear. The friend who has been cowering behind Mr Moss lets out a whimper. I want to laugh. This is turning out to be quite entertaining.
He turns his head slightly and looks over his shoulder, then returns his deep brown eyes to me. “Let Kevin go home, and I’ll do as you say.”
I place my sunglasses on the countertop. My focus is now on Kevin. “Hmm, how can I be sure Kevin won’t call the police?”
“I-I won’t, I swear it.” He’s practically vibrating with anxiety.
Crooking my finger, I beckon him forward. He takes a small step forward. “No. You won’t. Because the second you pick up the phone, Kevin, Benjamin is dead.” Their collective gasps make me grin. “Is that clear?” He doesn’t answer, just nods. “Off you go, then.”
I can see the indecision in his eyes. He wants nothing more than to run far, far away, but he also doesn’t want to leave his friend. Mr Moss pleads with his eyes for Kevin to go.
“Unless you want to come along,” I say, withdrawing the Glock 20 that’s been resting in the waistband holster attached to my trousers.
It makes a satisfying thud as I place it on the counter.
The size is intimidating, which is the intent.
There’s no point wielding a pea shooter.
My Glock is weighty, just like the threat I pose when holding it.
I want people to be afraid. I want to see the fear in their eyes as I rest my finger close to the trigger.
“In fact, I think that’s a much better solution,” I finish, revelling in their anxiety.
It wasn’t in my plan, but then again, I enjoy a bit of spontaneity. I’ll have no qualms dispatching either of them when the time comes.
The two men sit silently in the car. According to his instructions, Mr Moss’s apartment is only a few minutes away. I hope he is correct because I am ready to leave. I want to be back at the house before midnight.
I smile internally when I catch a glimpse of Mr Moss’s woollen trousers from the corner of my eye. I’m always right about these things.
Mia pulls over once again. “We’re here,” she says.
Turning my head to Mr Moss, who is next to me, I smile. “You have ten minutes. Toni will accompany you. I’ll stay here with Kevin and get acquainted.”
He wants to argue, but doesn’t. Smart man.
Ten minutes and not a second later, Toni escorts Mr Moss out of his place and back towards the car. I didn’t speak with Kevin. His crying became too irritating, so I had him moved to the lead car. Now I have time alone with Mr Moss to find out who the hell he is to Don Fusaro.
“Where’s Kevin?” Mr Moss practically screeches.
“In that car,” I say, pointing to the other Land Rover. “Now get in!”
I’m over this. I want to return to work—the work that keeps the family at the top of the food chain. My days of doing this sort of menial shit should be long gone. I feel my anger rising again.
Toni throws his suitcase in the boot and then we’re finally on our way home—well, the house we use in the UK. Home is in Sicily, where I long to be. We are safer, not to mention stronger, when we are there.
It takes longer than I expected for him to finally speak. “Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been sent to collect you.”
I want to tell him exactly who I am, to judge his response, but it’s better to play it cool for now.
Another few minutes pass before he suddenly starts laughing. He slaps his legs with his hands. “Oh my God, of course,” he cackles. “I can’t believe I fell for it!”
I have absolutely no clue what is happening, so I stay silent and wait.
His chocolate eyes turn to me. He playfully punches my arm.
“Penny outdid herself this time,” he continues, tears of laughter welling up in his eyes.
“Where the hell did she find you lot? It was the drama club, right? Of course. Wow, I know she thinks I need some excitement in my life, but this is a bit much.”
“I—”
“Kudos for going the mafia route, though. Quite inspired. Although I didn’t realise she paid so much attention to the books I read.”
“Mr Moss—”
“God, you are really good as a baddie. Are you a professional actor?”
“Who the fuck is Penny?” I say, my patience waning.
He snorts. “Good one. But you can drop the act. Tell her I’ll try to go out more. I won’t even take my Kindle.”
Grinding my teeth, I breathe out through my nose in an effort to calm myself. “I assure you this is no act.”
“Sure.” He grins, rolling his eyes.
And then my patience snaps like an overextended rubber band. “Mia, pull over.”
She does as I say, instantly. Toni signals the other cars. I haven’t got the time nor the inclination to get him to listen to me, so I might as well alleviate some stress and prove a point at the same time. And nothing helps me relax like shedding blood.
We are alone on a country road, which is ideal. I slip out of the car and hold the door open for him to follow. He does, with a twinkle of humour still in his eyes. I signal for Kevin to be let out of the car.
The second Kevin is out and looking my way, I whip the Glock from my trousers and shoot him in the shoulder. It’s only a flesh wound, but it makes the point. Mr Moss is no longer laughing.
He screams, which I expected.
“I am no actor,” I say in a level tone, “and the situation you find yourself in is no joke. Have I made that clear?”
I click my fingers to summon Mia, who picks the now-shaking Mr Moss up off the ground. Toni collects Kevin, who has passed out. The bullet was a through-and-through, so he’ll only need stitches.
I slide back into my seat and watch as Mr Moss recoils from me.
Don Fusaro only told me to collect the man.
He didn’t specify what state he had to be in.
Anyway, it’s not like he’s the one with a hole in his body.
The Don and Mr Moss should be grateful. If I let my true feelings out, there would be a lot more carnage.