Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage)

by Kristen Luciani

  They may be right. I’ve certainly killed for less.

  But right now, I’m feeling generous, so I keep the banter going.

  “The jury says I can be your best friend or your worst nightmare,” I say, leaning back against the wooden chair.

  “Mm. Tempting, but no,” she replies. “I’ve got enough friends, thank you.” She forces a smile and looks at Ray and Bobby for the first time. “Why don’t you spend a few minutes looking at your menus, and I’ll be back in a bit to take your orders?”

  The guys nod their heads, still silent.

  She walks away and my eyes fall on her shapely ass as it gently swings from left to right, accentuated by her tight black pants. It isn’t until Ray clears his throat that I drag my gaze away from her bent over the bar, whispering into the bartender’s ear.

  Hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I can feel my mouth twist into a grimace.

  “Boss?” Ray asks.

  I turn my head away from her backside and look at him. “You were saying that there’s something I need to hear while I wait for Dario to show up?” I say in a curt voice. “Well, let’s fucking have it.”

  “The thing is,” Bobby starts. “Zoe caught a name when they were wrestling to get her into a van. The guys were all wearing ski masks.”

  I furrow my brow. “Did she catch a name?”

  “No,” Bobby says. “But she saw something, a tattoo of a black viper that wound around the guy’s wrist.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, balling my hands into fists under the table. “So all we have is ink. And how much blow did they escape with?”

  Ray sighs. “At least four kilos.”

  “That’s like five-hundred fucking grand.” I shake my head. “I want to talk to Salvatore,” I seethe, leaning in close. “As soon as possible, do you understand?”

  “Yeah, boss. We’ll find him and make the arrangements.” Ray looks down at his phone. His eye meet mine, his jaw tight. “And, uh, Dario is outside. Black Range Rover. Tony is driving.”

  Tony. I always liked Tony. He was hired by Matteo before he and Heaven left for Vegas and he’s reliable, respectful, and grateful for every penny he earns, for any bone thrown at him. He’s old school, which is why Matteo liked him so much and decided to take him on. He’s become a confidante by default because he has this annoying habit of seeing right through me. It’s like he can sense what I’m thinking. He’s kind of become a weird type of father-figure over the past months, and he’s the guy I trust most.

  But everyone has a price. And I’m a big bone.

  It’d be nice to not have to shoot him in the head if he’s stupid enough to make a move against me. I shove back the chair, standing up abruptly, adjusting my jacket over the gun stuffed in the waistband of my jeans. I back away from the table, thanking God I wore black ones so that the spill is camouflaged by the dark fabric. “Eat. Drink. And then get me Salvatore on a fucking spit,” I seethe. “I want him alive.” I pull five hundred-dollar bills out of my pocket and toss them onto the table. “For the waitress.” Then I stalk away from the table, not bothering to say another word.

  A chill slips down my spine as the gravity of the situation hits me. I’ve been in charge for a grand total of six months, and I’ve lost five-hundred grand worth of blow that I know about. We fired Salvatore, but who knows how long he and his guys have been stealing from us? A little here, a little there, just to see if they can get away with it, to see if anyone notices.

  Nobody did.

  Until they went after the big payout.

  And that’s one-hundred percent on me.

  I storm toward the front of the restaurant, not seeing anything but flashes of red.

  A chill settles deep in my bones, the feeling of being watched…hunted…grabbing hold.

  This could be a bigger ambush than I ever imagined. They were able to get access to the club, they snatched one of our girls, they got away with the drugs…

  And they weren’t even careful.

  Could it be because they had a bigger objective, one I wouldn’t be able to prevent?

  Like a fucking coup to take over our empire while Matty is away?

  Or like my death?

  Thoughts pop between my ears like bullets, and I almost miss Chella as she brushes past me.

  “You still look pretty hot,” she says with a teasing smile, jolting me from the mind fuck they’ve assaulted me with. “Can I get you another drink?”

  I force a tight smile. “Thanks, but I think I’m done for the night.”

  She nods her head toward the table where Ray and Bobby have their heads bent together, whispering. “Yeah, I couldn’t help but notice your quick exit. Lemme guess, it’s a case of worst enemies?”

  I let out a dry chuckle. “You have no idea. But please take good care of them anyway.”

  “Always,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips.

  Full. Glossy. Pouty.

  God, I want to take a bite out of them so badly, and she has no idea.

  “Have a good night,” she adds. “Joe.”

  I wink at her, letting my eyes drink her in for one more long minute before turning away and grasping the brass door handle. “You too, Chella.”

  For a second, I feel strange. Different. Normal.

  Sharing snarky banter with a beautiful girl who doesn’t know who I am, what I do, or for that matter, what I’m about to do. It was easy, flirty, and…fun.

  Shit. I can’t remember the last time I considered an encounter with a woman any of those things.

  And I liked it. A lot, not that I can ever have it for longer than that fleeting moment.

  Let’s face it, there’s nothing about my life that’s easy, flirty, or fun.

  I can think of a lot of adjectives to describe it, but none of those come into play. Ever.

  Much as I might want them to.

  A whoosh of air blows against my face as I push open the door of the pub, and instead of walking over to the Range Rover waiting for me at the curb, I do an about-face and head back inside. I sweep a hand through my hair as my eyes scan the restaurant, not really thinking clearly with the head sitting on my shoulders. I’m being led exclusively by the one between my legs right now. I see Ray and Bobby huddled together at the corner table I just left, but Chella is nowhere to be seen.

  I let out a defeated sigh and turn back to the door. It was stupid to come back in here when I have so much shit to deal with on the outside. Who knows? I might have my gun stuck down Salvatore’s throat in a couple of hours. My life isn’t exactly conducive to romance. Besides, what did I expect to happen between us anyway? I tell her who I am and then what? Our families are enemies. I’m sure she must hate me because it was my family who sent hers packing. Sure, I fantasized about getting her naked every chance I got, but it was a long time ago.

  A fucking lifetime ago. A lot of water under a very long bridge.

  And we just weren’t meant to be anything more than—

  “Hey, you forget something?”

  My breath hitches as I find myself staring into her twinkling, blue-green eyes. They’re smiling just as big as she is and fuck, as much as I want to convince myself otherwise, I’m hooked.

  Still, after all of these years.

  “Maybe,” I say. “Depends on how you answer.”

  She tilts her head to the side, dots of bright pink appearing in her cheeks. “Okay, so then there’s an actual question.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Well, ask away.” She nods over her shoulder toward the crowded dining room. “I’ve got a lot of tables.”

  A quick look confirms that Ray and Bobby haven’t looked up once since I strolled back in here, which is a good thing…for a lot of reasons.

  “What would happen if I came back here tonight after your shift was over?” I take a step closer to her just so I can breathe in her sweet citrusy scent as she considers her answer. “And asked if I could take you out for a drink?”

  A flicker of shock mixed w
ith excitement settles into her features, and her entire face lights up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. “So, like…a date?” A smile spreads across her face, and I swear I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life. “I’d say sure.”

  I grin at her. “Good. That’s good to know.”

  “Just so I’m clear, was that a hypothetical? Or something else?”

  “Definitely a something else.” I wink at her. “See you around…?”

  “Eleven o’clock,” Chella says.

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Me too.” She claps a hand against her forehead and rolls her eyes. “That was stupid. I mean, obviously, I’ll be here.”

  “Until eleven.”

  “Until eleven,” she repeats, backing toward the dining room with a dazed look on her face. She lets out a soft chuckle and turns her back, practically skipping toward one of her tables.

  Crazy, sexy, and fucking adorable at the same time.

  A fucking trifecta.

  I know it’s not the best timing, considering I have a bunch of people to maim in the meantime, but hey, I need to find some kind of work-life balance.

  May as well start tonight.

  I take a deep breath and head back outside, jogging over to the Range Rover. With blacked-out windows, I won’t be able to tell who’s inside until I am.

  And that should worry the fuck out of me.

  Suddenly, the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ has a fuck-ton more meaning to me.

  And I now have a date that I’d very much like to make it to alive.

  I grip the door handle, pulling it open and finding Tony behind the wheel as expected. “Where’s Dario?” I ask.

  Tony nods his head toward the backseat.

  “Okay, pop the trunk.”

  Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Paranoid much?”

  “If you had the week I did, you’d understand why I’m asking.”

  “And you really think I’d let someone hide back there?” he asks. “I could just as easily make sure they’re at the warehouse when we get there. That’d be easier and way less messy than in a vehicle,” he says with a wink.

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks for painting that picture.” Did I mention he’s a sarcastic fuck, too?

  Tony snickers and I walk around to the back of the car. I’m the behind-the-scenes guy, the one who orchestrates this kind of shit. Of course I’d ask him to pop the goddamn trunk! It opens slowly, revealing absolutely nothing. I close it quickly after catching a glimpse of Dario wiggling around in the backseat, gagged with duct tape. I jump into the front seat and close the door behind me.

  “Happy?” Tony asks.

  “Satisfied,” I say. “For the time being.”

  “It’s not easy being the boss, is it?” he asks.

  “I have a fucking permanent crick in my neck and a chip on my shoulder,” I grumble.

  That’s all we say for the rest of the short ride. There’s a deserted warehouse in the Meatpacking District we use off West Street to handle situations like Dario.

  That kind of damage control is my specialty.

  He whines and cries through the duct tape because, while he may be stupid in most situations, he knows exactly what awaits him at that warehouse.

  Well, at least, he thinks he does.

  What he doesn’t know is that I’m not going to kill him…right away.

  Tony drives down the desolate street, finding parking right behind the old, dilapidated building. There are a few in this area, close to Pier 26 and the Hudson River.

  But that won’t be his final resting place.

  I crack my knuckles before getting out of the car, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me as Tony drags Dario out of the backseat and toward the large metal door. The whole area is unlit, making it that much more ominous. I’m sure Dario is shitting bricks right now, and rightly so.

  He just contributed to one of the biggest heists in our organization’s short history here in Manhattan. Whether or not he knew he was being duped is irrelevant. He humiliated me by letting himself get lured away from his responsibilities.

  Obligation and loyalty always trumps pussy.

  Always!

  And because of that, he will pay the very steep price of his negligence.

  I get out of the truck and jog over to where Tony wrestles Dario just outside of the door. I pull it open and shove Dario inside. He stumbles, face-planting on the cold, hard cement. I kneel down next to him and yank his hair, pulling his head backward. “Get up,” I hiss into his ear.

  He staggers to his feet, his eyes red and wet with tears. They plead with me to untie him, to pull off the tape covering his mouth, to let him beg for my forgiveness.

  He’s gonna be begging for a whole lot more than that.

  I look around, my trust in Tony creeping up a few more notches. No cartel ambush, no indication of an impending coup.

  A couple of shadows appear at the end of the corridor and my spine stiffens.

  Motherfucker…

  My hand goes directly to the gun in my waistband, my palm wrapped around the handle. “Who the hell…?” I mumble.

  “You’re gonna need transport once Dario is handled,” Tony says in a low voice. “To the site in East New York. I didn’t think you’d want to be the one to take him there.”

  “Obviously,” I reply quickly. See, this is one of the reasons why I like Tony so much. He thinks of shit I don’t. I can’t be the one dragging a body to East New York.

  I need to stop thinking like an enforcer.

  I need to think like the fucking king.

  Not that I need to admit any of that to him.

  A couple of guys from the club appear once we get closer. They don’t say much, just a few grunts are exchanged. I really don’t need them to speak. Not now, anyway. I just need them to watch and take this very colorful story back to the others under my rule.

  By now, everyone already knows how splintered our organization is and how easy it was to infiltrate under my control.

  I need to grab back some of that control, making Dario a pawn in the process.

  One of the guys drags over a rotting, wooden chair and I push Dario into it. He shudders, his eyes wide as I hover over him. My fingers tug at the corners of the tape and I peel it off with one quick tug. He screams, and I slap him across the face, holding up a finger to my lips.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “You know nobody can hear you, and if you have any hope of walking out of here, you’ll listen real good and then speak when I tell you to. Not fucking before.” I close my hand around his throat. It’s not too tight that he can’t breathe, just tight enough that he knows I can choke him if he doesn’t cooperate.

  And I have other tools in my arsenal if the hand doesn’t do enough to scare him.

  “I want to know exactly what happened tonight. Who was the girl who came for you?”

  “Camille or Camilla,” he sobs. “I don’t know. She had nice tits and a great ass so, you know, I just—”

  I squeeze his throat and he sputters, floundering in the chair. His hands are still tied behind his back, so it’s not like he can do anything to stop me. “You just ignored your responsibilities and dipped your wick into a pool that was off limits, that about right?”

  He nods. “Y-yeah, boss.”

  I straighten up, releasing his neck. “Boss,” I repeat, pacing around him like a lion about to pounce on his prey. “That’s a really important word, do you know why, Dario?”

  “B-because…because…” Another sob explodes from his chest and he whimpers before finishing his thought.

  I crouch in front of him. “The answer is because I am the fucking boss! Do you understand that, Dario? I am the boss, and I gave you an order, which you ignored so you could get sucked off by some slut bitch who was working with one of our enemies!”

  He is in full-blown hysterics right now.

  Poor fucking Dario.

  It’s about to get a whole lot wo
rse for you.

  I pull out my gun and smack him on the side of the head with it. “Shut the hell up!”

  “Boss, I swear, I d-didn’t know she was working with an enemy. I just figured—”

  “You just figured that you must have won the fucking lottery because a hot piece of ass actually wanted you, right?” I shake my head. “And you thought getting off was worth the risk of exposing my drugs, yeah?”

  “It wasn’t long,” he whispers. “Maybe half an hour. I didn’t think anyone would notice—”

  “Well, because of your needy cock, we’re out a lot of cash. Do you know how much?” I seethe into his face.

  “No,” he whimpers again.

  “Five-hundred-thousand dollars, give or take,” I say, pulling away and crossing my arms over my chest. “So how do you think I should punish you for this gross negligence? Hm? Should I shoot you five-hundred-thousand times? Pound five-hundred-thousand nails into your flesh? Slice off your skin and pour five-hundred-thousand fire ants onto you?” I walk around, tapping my finger against my chin. “So many options. I could even mix shit up, you know? Do a little of each?”

  The guys waiting to haul a dead body away exchange a look.

  Good.

  I want them to know how fucking sick I can be.

  I want them to take that back to the rest of the crew so they know who they’re dealing with if anyone gets any ideas about crossing me ever again.

  Slap me once, shame on me.

  Try to slap me twice, and I’ll cut off your goddamn arm before you have the chance to swing it in my direction.

  I stop circling Dario and narrow my eyes at him. “Nah,” I say in response to my own questions. “I have a better idea.” I look at the guys standing behind him. “Take off his pants.”

  One of them holds Dario down, and the other pulls off his pants. I stick my gun back into the rear waistband of my jeans and pull out a knife from its hiding place, wrapped tight around my ankle.

  I press the button to extend the stainless steel blade, resting the tip against my cheek.

  “It’s only right that you are punished in the same way as you committed your indiscretion.”