by Bella J.
Mafia
Princess
Royal Mafia Series
Book One
By Bella J
Mafia Princess
Copyright © 2018 by Bella J.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2018
Crave Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
http://www.cravepublishing.net/
Formatting: Crave Publishing, LLC
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-357-3
ISBN-10: 1-64034-357-1
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 1
LORIK
Once again, I was running down the streets of Boston, chasing a guy who thought it was okay to snatch and grab an old lady’s purse. And, of course, I just had to walk around the corner at the exact moment all this was going down. So, in other words, I had no choice but to run after this fucker’s ass. It was my job.
See, this shit was why I joined the police force. This was why I became a detective, so I could chase after pathetic little cocksuckers who thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted on these streets. Not.
I should have been investigating big cases—cases that involved the Valentis and the Mancusos, the two families who had been ruling these streets for fuck knew how long. Not chasing dumbass criminals who had shit for brains.
Sweat pooled underneath my arms. “Goddammit. You made me sweat, so now I’m going to have to kick your ass.”
He made a sharp turn and ran into a grocery store. Rookie mistake. Everyone knew you should never run into a shop unless you knew for sure there was a back exit. Obviously, this little fuckface didn’t, since I knew there was no back exit to this particular shop.
I stormed into the store behind him and launched myself forward, grabbing him by the back of his jacket collar, pulling him down and slamming his face into the floor before I pressed my knee into his spine.
I pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. “No one makes me sweat and gets away with it.” Unless you were a six-foot-tall brunette with a decent-sized pair of tits and a mouth like a Hoover vacuum.
“Fuck you,” the little asshole spat from the side of his mouth, since his face was almost engraved into the cement floor.
“Jesus Christ. Gio? I should have known it was you.” I pulled him up by his arms, turned him to face me, and shoved his back into the counter. “You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you? How many times do I have to drag your ass down to the precinct before you realize you’re too dumb for this shit?”
“Suck my cock, officer.” He smiled, showing me a gold filling between his front teeth.
I raised a brow. “Oh, you got new jewelry. Whose corpse did you steal that from?”
“And suck my balls while you’re down there too.”
I noticed Mrs. Rossi staring at us from behind the cash register. “Sorry about this one’s dirty mouth, Mrs. Rossi.”
“It’s okay, dear. I hear more cursing than prayer these days, anyway. What did this one do today?” She glowered at Gio.
“Disrespecting the elderly again, I’m afraid.” I turned him around and started frisking him when I felt a little bump in his jacket pocket. “Gio, is that what I think it is?”
“No,” he replied over his shoulder.
“How do you know what I think it is?”
“Uh…I don’t.”
I reached into his pocket. “Then how can you answer that question?”
“Because you’re an asshole.”
I snorted before pulling out a little plastic bag with white powder in it. Bingo. “Gio, is this cocaine?”
“No.”
“God, you’re a terrible liar.” I jerked him back around and held the little bag in front of him. “Are you moving up in the world?”
He smiled that disgusting gold filling smile of his. “I have no idea what that is.”
“Really? Well, let me enlighten you, then.” I brought the bag closer to his face. “This is what you call a real-fucking-stupid move.”
Gio continued to grin like an idiot.
“Where did you get it?”
He turned his head and looked to the right, but I jerked at his collar, forcing him to look back at me. “Who are you dealing for, Gio?”
“The Valentis.” His answer was clipped, and I immediately felt that familiar tingle at the back of my neck. It happened whenever I heard the name “Valenti.”
I frowned. “You answered that pretty quickly. You sure about your answer?”
“What the fuck, man? You asked me, and I answered.”
I studied his ugly face for a few seconds, wondering why the hell he answered so damn fast. Around here, people didn’t go telling everyone who they worked for on the streets—especially a cop. So, either Gio was incredibly stupid, or he was lying.
I pulled him away from the counter. “I’m sorry for the mess, Mrs. Rossi. I’ll come back around later and help you clean up, okay?”
Mrs. Rossi smiled. “You are such a gentleman, Lorik. I’ll make sure I have some of my mushroom risotto packed for you.”
“Ah, Mrs. Rossi,” I winked at her, “you know exactly the way to my heart.” I pulled Gio away from the counter and smiled warmly at the old lady I’d come to know during the last two years. A good old soul.
“So, Gio, did I ever tell you about this girl I knew a few years ago?” I dragged him toward the door. “She also had the whole gap thing going with her front teeth, only she didn’t patch it with a gold filling. But let me tell you, that girl sucked my cock like a champ.”
“That’s because your dick was small enough to fill her gap,” Gio shot back. And then his face just happened to collide with the wall right next to the door. “Motherfucker!”
Again, his face hit the wall. “Gio, you need to go through the door, not the wall, my man.” I smiled wickedly, like I was trying to shove the fact that I had perfectly spaced teeth in his face.
“You’re the one slamming me into the damn wall, you psycho.”
“Me?” I feigned a look of innocence. “I would never do such a thing.” And then Gio’s face slammed against the wall for the third time, right before I finally led him through the door to the sidewalk.
The precinct was about a block away. Unfortunately, all this went down while I was on my way back from my lunch break, which meant we were going to have to walk. Where’s a fucking squad car when you need one?
People stared at us while we made our way down the sidewalk. I didn’t care. If I had to care about what other people thought, I’d be bat-shit crazy by now. The fact that I was half Albanian made for so
me serious gossip, and some piss-poor jokes back at the station. Especially since I was the best damn detective, and those donut-eating, useless, lazy asses I was forced to work with on a daily basis were jealous as fuck. And not only was I the best detective Boston had seen in a long time, I was also the prettiest. I got more pussy in one week than those fuckers got in a year—combined.
I glanced at Gio walking with his head hanging down.
“Oh, come on, you and I both know getting arrested makes you even more bad-ass on these streets. And let’s face it, snatch-and-grabbing an old lady’s purse is real bad-ass.”
“Go fuck yourself, Stone.”
I noticed a pole about six feet in front of us. “Mind the pole.” Too late.
The sound of Gio’s face hitting the pole vibrated next to me, and Gio cursed the longest f-bomb sentence I’d heard in a while.
“You should really watch where you’re going, Gio.”
He opened his mouth, but then I glanced down the street at the ten-odd poles all lined up. Gio shut his mouth. Good boy.
We finally walked through the revolving doors of the local district station, and I smelled the fat-induced, sugar and spice scent of a fuck-load of donuts. Really? No wonder all cops get stereotyped as donut eating slobs—because it’s true.
“It was real nice seeing you again, Gio.” I shoved his ass into a chair. “Monroe, book him for snatch and grab. I found this on him too.” I tossed the bag of cocaine to the uniformed cop standing around like he had nothing better to do. It wasn’t like there were drugs, child kidnappings, or mafia fuckers soiling our streets, so we could just stand around and look pretty in our cop uniforms.
“And it was a real pleasure doing your job for you, Monroe. Again.”
“Fuck you, Stone.”
“Funny enough, you’re not the first one to say those exact words to me today.”
“That’s ’cause you’re a Greek cocksucker.”
“I’m Albanian, you fucking dildo. Get a fucking map.” I showed him the finger and turned around.
On my way to my desk, I spotted Anderson sitting at his desk across from mine. Motherfucker. My day just keeps on getting better.
“Anderson.” I took my seat. “So nice of you to finally join us on the job. How long has it been? Two, three weeks?” I leaned back.
“Lay off it, Stone.” Anderson glowered at me with his blue-green eyes while strands of his light brown hair fell across his forehead. There was a yellowish tint on his cheeks which wasn’t there the last time I saw him.
“You should really lay off the scotch that’s burning that hole in your liver. Maybe then you’d be able to put in a decent day’s work every once in a while.”
“I would say ‘fuck you,’ but something tells me you’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”
I shrugged. “You’ve got that right. Those words don’t have quite the same effect anymore. It’s like fucking a prostitute. The first time is exhilarating since you know it’s so wrong and dirty. But after a while, it just gets boring and bland—unmemorable.”
Anderson’s expression remained stoic. Nothing fazed the old bastard. He was like a rock, granite that had been around long enough to prove it would never crack. And unfortunately, I’d been stuck with him as my partner for the last few months. What these assholes didn’t seem to realize was I only needed one partner—Lucy. She was sleek, powerful, and gave me an instant hard-on whenever I touched her. She was also my Glock 22, safely tucked away at my side.
“Are you still investigating the Valentis?”
Not only was Anderson an asshole, but apparently a straight shooter too.
I crossed my arms and placed my feet on my desk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m telling you, Stone, leave that shit for the feds, okay? Let it go.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Elsa. Just don’t go around erecting any ice castles, would you? This place is fucking cold enough during winter as it is.”
Anderson continued to stare at me, unblinking. One day I would make this man crack, even if it was the last thing I did.
“Stone.”
Oh, God. The sound of that voice gave me an instant headache. I groaned as I pulled my palm down my face, thinking I’d rather be having a conversation with Satan right about now.
I turned in my seat and stared up at a tall, middle-aged man with a serious widow’s peak going on. “Commander Peephole.”
“It’s Pipole. As in Pi-po-lee.”
“Damn, I just can’t get it right.”
Commander Pipole placed his hands on his waist. “It’s been three years, Stone. You should get it right by now.”
“It’s a mental block, I swear.”
“Cut the crap, Stone. Now, please enlighten me as to why there’s a certain Gio Boroni bleeding all over my goddamn floor.”
“Not my fault he’s dumb enough to walk into a wall.”
Grooves formed on his forehead. “Three times?”
“Yup. The dumb bastard walked into a pole as well. He should get his eyes checked. I think his sight might be out of whack.”
“You’re hanging on your last damn thread around here, Stone. Right now, I want your badge so much I can taste it.” He leaned down, putting his face closer to mine. “So keep on fucking up. I dare you. I don’t care if you solve more cases than anyone else around here. Give me just half a reason, and your ass is out that goddamn door so fast vertigo will be your friend for a month. Do I make myself clear?”
The urge to punch this man in the face was so overwhelming, it was like finally feeling that welcome pressure after being constipated for a week.
“Crystal clear, Commander,” I replied, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d never been the kind who did well with commands and orders. Fuck knew why I decided to become a detective.
“Good.” Commander Pipole turned and walked off, his expensive navy-blue suit making it easy for anyone to see exactly who was in charge around here.
I turned back to Anderson and noticed him staring at me. True as fuck, a grin started up at the corners of his mouth, almost reaching his eyes. Seriously? That was all it took to crack any kind of expression onto this guy’s face? Un-fucking-believable.
I leaned over my desk. “You know, we’re supposed to be partners, and among other things, that also entails you having my back.”
Anderson’s dark brows slanted down. “If I remember correctly, you said you didn’t need a partner. Your exact words, I believe, were, ‘I don’t need no motherfucking middle-aged bastard being my partner.’ Ring a bell?”
“None whatsoever.”
Anderson snorted and got up from his seat. “Whatever, man. Just make sure you keep your nose out of the feds’ business with the Valentis. Believe me, you don’t need to get caught in the middle of shit like that.”
“Thanks for the warning, partner.”
“Anytime.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and sauntered out of the building. I couldn’t believe they teamed me up with his weird ass. There was something seriously wrong with that dude. It was like he just didn’t run right. Like the silver Porsche 550 Spyder that James Dean crashed to his death in. No matter how much time and money you put into renovating and fixing it, there would always be something about it that wasn’t quite right.
“Stone. There’s a woman here to see you.”
I glanced at my watch. She was right on time. Of course she was. Women like her had punctuality drilled into their pretty little heads from the age of three.
“Thanks, Monroe. Put her in the interrogation room.”
I got up from my chair and noticed Monroe hadn’t moved.
“I said put her in the interrogation room.”
Monroe lifted a brow. “Why the interrogation room?”
“She’s a criminal.” I narrowed my eyes.
“What did she do?”
“Failed to pay her parking tickets?” It was meant to be a statement, not a question.
Monroe shook his head. But thank God he didn’t press the matter, otherwise I would have been forced to use the juicy info I had on him and the married Mrs. Talecki from accounting, and I didn’t like to waste my little blackmail cards on shit like this.
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and dialed my mother’s number. It had been a week since I last called her, and she was probably going to spend the first three minutes of our conversation yelling at me for making her worry.
Now was probably not the ideal time to make this kind of personal call, but I wanted the woman currently waiting for me in the interrogation room to sweat a little. I wanted her mind to run in three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circles wondering why I asked her here and then placed her in the interrogation room, of all places.
My mom answered on the second ring. “Lorik, is that you?”
“Yes, nënë, it’s me.”
And then the three-minute scolding started. I sat there listening to her go on and on about how she worried, and how it was my duty as her firstborn to check in at least every second day, and that I’d be the cause of her having a heart attack one day.
“Mom, relax. If you don’t calm down, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”
I heard her take a breath, and then exhale—just like my sister had taught her. My sister and I both knew how stressed out she could get, especially when it came to the two of us.
“I know I shouldn’t worry, Lorik. But you can at least answer when I call or have the decency to text me back.”
I closed my eyes, mentally cursing the day my sister decided it would be a good idea to give mom a cell phone for Christmas. Worst fucking idea ever.
“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just real busy at work.” Before giving her the opportunity to once again tell me what a bad decision it was for me to become a cop, I continued quickly, “How’s Dad doing?”
“Other than worrying about you and your sister the whole time, he’s doing fine.”
“Is Dad’s sugar still under control?”
“Yes, thank the Lord. But I constantly have to go through his drawers and check for hidden chocolate bars.”