Beware the Devil (Mafia Soldiers Book 3)

by Samantha Cade

  Bruno sweeps his arm out. “This way,” he says.

  He doesn’t put his hands on me, but he doesn’t have to. I’m too scared to go against him. He walks closely behind me as we make our way to the car. When we get there, he opens the door to the backseat, politely inviting me to get inside. I slide over the black leather. My mind’s in a state of numb panic. Is he escorting me to my death?

  There’s someone in the driver’s seat, a darkened figure emitting a cool aura. He turns around and smiles at me. I know this man too. He’s the one they call Snake. The man, according to Sal, who killed Sal’s father. Snake tilts his forehead towards me.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  I nod frantically, though his assurances don’t comfort me. While we drive, I watch the brilliant brightness of LA at night bend and smear through the window. I had no business coming here, of thinking I could make a difference. And now, I’m going to die here. I press my lips together to quiet the sobs. Closing my eyes, I think of Sal. My only consolation is that maybe I’ll get to see him again. I only hope he isn’t the one who pulls the trigger.

  We arrive at an apartment building with an Italian grocer on the bottom floor. The mobsters flank me on both sides as we walk inside. There’s a man behind the counter rolling out sticky bread dough with floured, gloved hands. He wears an apron and a name tag that reads Rick. He and the mobsters exchange curt greetings. I try to alert him to my danger with my eyes, but Rick barely looks at me, his attention absorbed in the dough he’s working.

  We traverse aisles stocked with jars of olives, pickled peppers, and sauces before coming to a stairwell at the back of the shop. Our steps echo as we climb up to the top floor. Before Bruno opens the door to the apartment, I can sense Sal’s presence. It’s a cold wind that moves up my spine, chilling my skin, and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I hold my breath, bracing myself as the door swings open.

  There he is, tall and lean in his black suit. His handsome face is distorted by swollen bruises, and open wounds caked with dried blood. From the way he holds his side, I guess that the rest of him isn’t much better off. I stare at him in shocked confusion, my feet frozen in place. I find his eyes in the mangled flesh. His gaze cuts straight through my pain and fear, shining a light in the dark, unexplored places that reside inside of me. He steps forward quickly, grasping my arm and pulling me inside the apartment.

  “Molly.” My name escapes his mouth in a low growl as he wraps me in his arms, pressing my head against his chest. For a moment, I close my eyes, comforted by his body heat and familiar smell. He strokes my hair, tilting my head back, and leans in to kiss me. Before our lips can touch, my anxiety comes roaring back in full force. I stumble backwards, shaking my head.

  “What is this?” I ask. “What do you want from me? You have to let me go.”

  “It’s not safe,” Sal says. His arms tense like he wants to reach for me. With closed fists, he restrains himself. “You blocked the donation. Franco knows you know the truth. He’s issued orders for you to be killed.”

  Sudden, intense fear grips my body. I glance warily at Snake and Bruno. Isn’t it their job to carry out orders? How can I trust them? Am I being tricked into my own assassination? Bruno, as if sensing my apprehension, moves his large frame in front of the doorway. It’s clear that I’m not leaving anytime soon. The air around me shifts as Sal approaches me from behind. He lays his hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes, resisting the flood of emotions.

  “We’re going to take care of this, Molly. You’re going to be okay.” He tightens his grip on my shoulder, turning me around to face him. “I love you.”

  The words come out harsh and strained, and they sound like the truth. But I know Sal is a skilled liar. I don’t say anything. I keep my face still, not betraying any emotion. Sal’s eyes narrow angrily. His arm shoots out, wrapping around my waist. The force he admits is so magnetic, that when he leans forward to kiss me, I don’t stop him. His lips crash against mine. Despite my better judgement, I give in. Endorphins rush through my system. After the torment I’ve experienced, it’s a sweet relief. When Sal pulls back, I don’t want him to go.

  “You still think this is fake?” he hisses. “You’re not that stupid, Molly.”

  It certainly doesn’t feel fake. My knees are still quivering from that kiss. My skin crawls with a need to be touched by him. But after everything, I still can’t trust him. I remain silent, avoiding his gaze.

  Sal snaps his finger towards Snake. The two of them make for the door. Sal turns to me.

  “You’ll see,” he says with finality, before he and Snake leave me in the care of the beast.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Salvatore

  Snake taps his knuckles against the car window, slightly off beat to the rain that’s just beginning to fall. The disjointed rhythm echoes in my skull while my thoughts dwell on Molly and her tightened, emotionless expression. I don’t know what I expected, for her to recognize me as her savior before jumping into my arms? For her to cradle my face, smile softly, and say that all is forgiven?

  What I got was her continued distrust. No matter what I say, she doesn’t believe it. I’m trying to save her life here, but she had the crazed eyes of someone marching to their death. It’s like she thinks I’m going to kill her.

  “Could you stop that?” I snap at Snake.

  He stops tapping his knuckles. “Sorry,” he says, begrudgingly. “So, what’s the game plan here?”

  “We get Anthony on our side,” I say with a shrug.

  Snake folds his hands in front of his face, nodding. “We need to ease into it with Anthony. He’s still pretty jumpy after his kidnapping and all.”

  I harden my jaw. I don’t have time to handle Anthony’s nerves with kid gloves. This isn’t a long con any more. What Snake doesn’t know, is that I have enough on Anthony to demand a lifetime of favors from him. Anthony was my main contact, and source of information on the Mariano family during my extended hiatus. He’s given me documents so secret that Snake, a capo, doesn’t even know they exist. I plan to use that leverage if I have to.

  We arrive at Anthony’s house. Snake texted him that we were coming, so Anthony opens the front door as soon as we pull up, and invites us to sit at his kitchen table. He keeps his maimed hand in his pocket, while the other one shakes nervously on the table in front of him.

  “What’s this about?” he asks, trying, and failing, to act casually.

  Snake straightens his back, preparing to speak, but I beat him to it.

  “I need to see the books,” I say bluntly.

  Anthony’s face turns increasingly brighter shades of red. He laughs nervously. “You come to my house at this hour because of an accounting matter?”

  I can feel Snake’s confused stare boring into me. He has no idea about my secret dealings with Anthony. I’d worry that this new information could harm our newly healed friendship if protecting Molly wasn’t infinitely more important.

  I give Anthony a sideways look. “You know what I mean.”

  “Sorry, I don’t,” Anthony says with a dumb look.

  “Sal, what the fuck are you talking about?” Snake asks. “If you’re joking, it’s not landing.”

  I keep my stare aimed at Anthony. He squirms under the intensity.

  “I’m not joking,” I say. “I need to see the books, the real books. I need to know who else in the family Franco is screwing over.”

  Anthony’s mouth flattens as he drops the act. “Why?”

  A bright fire burns in my chest, causing me to smile. What I say next fills me with such sweet satisfaction. “We’re going to kill Franco.”

  Anthony takes his maimed hand out of his pocket, and slams it on the table. “You’re crazy. You can’t.” He turns to Snake with pleading eyes. “Franco will go after you and Jess. Just follow orders. Stay loyal. Everything will be fine.”

  My smile turns into a grimace. “Listen to you, giving lectures
about loyalty.”

  “Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Snake demands. “What’s this about real books?”

  Anthony goes quiet and still. Luckily, I thought to bring receipts. I reach into my jacket, removing a copy of the last financial documents Anthony gave me. I throw them on the table in front of Snake.

  “Exhibit A,” I say, as Snake picks them up. “Bet you never saw those before. You see, Franco has two sets of books, one real, one fake.” I tap my finger on the table next to the documents. “These are real. You’re making a real fortune off of your cyber racket, Snake. Congratulations.”

  Snake’s eyes dart from side to side as he scans the documents. “These numbers are off.”

  “They’re right on,” I say. “Franco’s stealing from you. And I’d bet money you’re not the only one. We could get more Mariano’s on our side if they know the truth.”

  Snake drops the documents on the table, turning to Anthony. “You gave him these?”

  “Yes,” Anthony hisses, lowering his voice. “He offered money I didn’t have. Franco barely pays me anything now that I’m stuck behind a desk. Jaimie and I were behind on our mortgage. I couldn’t say no.”

  I lean back in my seat, stroking my chin. “Anthony’s nearly homeless, Snake’s being robbed blind, all while Franco has garden parties at his Beverly Hills mansion, and we’re arguing about who the bad guy is?”

  Anthony leans towards Snake urgently. “He’s had a scheme from the beginning. Don’t trust him.”

  Snake glances at me, then quickly looks away. He picks up the documents and rifles through them silently. “This is what you wanted,” he says, idly. “To weasel your way back into the family, then turn us against each other.”

  “And you’re playing into his hand,” Anthony says.

  Snake raises an eyebrow, looking at me directly. “Molly’s a pawn, isn’t she? You used her, and her charity, to gain Franco’s trust. You don’t care about her-“

  He suddenly stops talking. Only then do I realize that I’ve lurched across the table, and am now gripping Snake’s shirt collar.

  “You don’t have a fucking clue,” I say, gruffly.

  Snake grabs my hands, prying my fingers away from him. After straightening his tie, he stares solemnly into the distance, the muscles in his jaw flexed. “You were going to kill me earlier, weren’t you? I thought you were just trying to scare me. But that’s been your plan all along. To get your pathetic revenge.”

  I have to clench my hands into fists, because I’m seriously considering wrapping them around Snake’s neck. “You think avenging my father’s murder is pathetic?”

  Snake stands slowly. He places his hand over the gun on his hip. He stares down at me coldly. “Maybe you should disappear again.”

  I look down at my hands folded in front of me. “You’re right, Snake. I was going to kill you. I’ve wanted your blood on my hands for so long now.”

  “What stopped you?” Snake asks.

  I turn to look at my old friend. “Do you really need to ask?”

  We stare at each other, a loaded gaze that feels like it lasts for hours. I break the silence.

  “I don’t blame you any more, Snake. I know who the real enemy is. That’s Franco. You can help me get rid of him, or you can take that gun and shoot me.”

  Snake’s hand tightens around the handle of the gun, but in his eyes, I can see he doesn’t have it in him. While we’re measuring our dicks, Anthony escapes my focus. That all changes when I hear a whoosh sound. I turn to see Anthony clutching his phone. I reach forward, snatching the phone from him, and read the text he just sent to Franco.

  Sal’s a traitor.

  I throw the phone with my full strength into Anthony’s chest. “You fucking shit head,” I bark at him. The old Sal would’ve shot him in cold blood in his own kitchen, but there’s no time for that. I have to get to Molly. Before Snake or Anthony can react, I’m out the front door, and starting the engine of my car.

  *

  Molly

  Bruno places a styrofoam plate on the table in front of me. When I open it, the steam of freshly baked lasagna rises up to my nostrils. My kind captor had left me alone here, but not without locking three gigantic locks on the door, to get me dinner from the grocer below. The hunger that pangs in my belly is soon pushed aside by anxious nausea. I smile at him, shaking my head.

  “Not hungry?” Bruno says, understandingly. “This must be a stressful situation.”

  That’s an understatement, I think. I’m still not clear on what’s going on here. Sal said he was going to take care of Franco. Has he gone to kill him now? Is Sal walking into his own bloody end? Of course, these questions are irrelevant, since Sal was probably lying. But this doesn’t stop me from constantly glancing at the door, hoping he comes back unscathed, and hoping that everything he said about his feelings being real is the truth. My heart flutters at the prospect. I fiddle with the plastic fork, reminding myself not to get swept away in Sal’s lies.

  I watch Bruno closely, waiting for him to drop the nice guy act and attack me. There’s so much I don’t know, so I concentrate on what I do know. Franco wants me dead. That, I believe. I was an idiot for canceling his pending donation. I should’ve waited until I was out of LA, but by then, the payment would’ve gone through. Still, it was an impulsive action done at a time of emotional upheaval. But I’m not dead yet. My flight to Kansas leaves tomorrow. I still have time.

  “What about you?” I ask Bruno, gesturing to the lasagna. “Are you hungry?”

  Bruno shakes his head. “Shockingly, no.”

  “I guess this is a stressful situation for you too.”

  He sits in a chair nearby, resting his elbows are his knees. “I live in a constant state of stress. Look-“ He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, swipes it open, and passes it to me. It’s a photo of his wife, Olivia, who I met at Franco’s barbecue, and a baby wearing a hat shaped like bear ears. “My wife and kid,” Bruno continues. “I never know if I’ll live to see them at the end of the day. That’s what it’s like when your boss is a mad man. Nothing’s ever enough for him. Franco’s always pushing us further and further into dangerous situations. For what? Money? I think it’s more than that. It’s for control. For the power of playing with a another man’s life.”

  “With all due respect,” I say, carefully. “You’re a member of the mafia. Doesn’t being a mad man qualify you for the job?”

  Bruno gives me a sideways smile. “You’ve got a point there. But believe me, Franco’s different, even by mob standards. Every problem is solved with a bullet to the head. Like with you, he could’ve bought you a bus ticket and sent you on your way. But no, you have to die. I think he wants to stick it to Sal too.”

  A shock shoots up my spine when I realize how close I am to death. I wipe my sweating palms on my black jeans.

  “You’re planning a mutiny?” I ask.

  Bruno nods. “And long overdue.”

  Heat rises to my face as my blood pressure drops. Has this been Sal’s plan all along, to overthrow Franco, and gain control of the mob family? Is that why he wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend, to gain Franco’s trust? I withdraw into myself, stewing with renewed anger. I can never forget who Sal really is.

  “Sal told you to watch me, right?” I ask. “To keep me safe? I have a flight leaving for Kansas in the morning. Let me get on that plane, and your job will be done.”

  Bruno shrugs. “I’ll give you a ride to the airport if that’s what you want. But Sal wouldn’t want that.”

  I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m tired of doing what Sal wants. I’m tired of being used.”

  He leans forward, squinting at me in confusion. “Sal doesn’t have a use for you any more.”

  I close my eyes, absorbing the blow. “Ouch,” I say, sarcastically.

  Bruno swings out his arms, palms facing the ceiling, as he shrugs his huge shoulders. “So why does he want me to protect you? He doesn’t need you. Once F
ranco’s dead, this will all be over. It seems to me that he wants you.”

  I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, refusing to believe Bruno’s bullshit. “I want to get on that plane, and I’m going to.”

  “Then go. Nothing’s stopping you. But it won’t do any good. I know Sal. If he wants you, he’ll find you.”

  Bruno rests his head back, closing his eyes in respite. I consider his points. It’s true. If Sal was using me, then my part in his plan is over. Maybe he just doesn’t want to see me get killed. But that would mean that a tiny fraction of him is an actual human.

  Before I can dwell on these thoughts for too long, there’s a loud banging at the door. Bruno jumps up and tells me to get into the bedroom. I do as he says, but leave the door open, watching as the beast unlocks the door. Sal bursts in, scanning the apartment frantically.

  “Where is she?” Sal asks.

  “She’s in the bedroom,” Bruno says. “She’s fine. What’s going on?”

  “Shit’s gone sideways,” Sal says while rushing to me. He swings the bedroom door open, and without hesitation, wraps me in his arm. I exhale for the first time since he knocked on the door, my body relaxing against him. I can’t deny I’m relieved to see him, and not someone else.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” Bruno asks.

  Sal turns to him. “Anthony ratted us out.”

  My body trembles violently. Everything I’ve feared is crashing up against me. The pain of losing the center is nothing compared to the possibility of being murdered. I grab Sal’s face, making him look at me.

  “Take me to the airport,” I plead. “My flight’s in a few hours. Franco won’t be able to get past security.”

  It takes Sal a fraction of a second to agree. “Let’s go.”

  He grabs my arm, pulling me towards the door. Bruno stands in our way.

  “You said we’d take Franco down,” Bruno says. “You can’t leave. It’s happening now.”

  “Get out of the way, Beast,” Sal says through gritted teeth. He moves his jacket to the side, showing Bruno the gun on his hip.