Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Jean-Pierre scrunched up his face. “Ugh. I hate New York. The rats are as big as cats. It always smells. Police sirens are constantly blaring. Scammers stand on every corner. And everyone is mean—”
“Yes.” A warm ache hit my heart. “New York. New York.”
The French loaded up the Maserati.
Boris and I made sure our suitcases were in the back and then hopped inside the vehicle.
It was a 5-seater.
I scanned the bright red leather interior and whistled. Luxurious and plush, the Maserati was Italian to its core, presenting eye-catching style and unique appeal.
None of Jean-Pierre’s men joined us, which told me how much the Butcher now trusted Boris and me.
We drove away and I became anxious. I tapped my fingers against my knee, did my best to shove my nervousness away, and gazed at the Calabrian region’s coastline.
The Mediterranean Sea was a deep sapphire, complementing its shoreline of golden beaches and white cobblestone streets. Bubbly foam crashed against the waves. White sand sparkled under the brightness of the sun.
We left the coastline and entered a city. I’d forgotten the name, but I recognized some of it from when I was here previously.
The lovely landscape began to fall apart. Thick, heavy clouds of smoke rose above the treetops. Helicopters whirred through the air, whipping this way and that. Sirens wailed with a high-pitched screech. Tons of cop and ambulance vehicles flew past us like hornets from a hive.
What. . .is going on?
Jean-Pierre frowned. “It appears someone has angered the Lion.”
I grinned thinking he was joking.
A serious expression covered his face.
I looked back out the window and truly took the chaos in. Far off, flames burned through treetops like a wildfire out of control. More heavy smoke turned the blue sky to black and gray. Those helicopters that I’d seen earlier, I now realized were fire-fighting ones and they were dropping water on the various flames.
The whole area looked like a war zone.
The Maserati continued forward. Tons of cars sped off in the opposite direction as if trying to flee the imminent violence.
“Yeah.” I bobbed my head. “This has Kazimir’s name written all over it.”
“Lots has occurred while we were gone.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Louis said that we’re now fighting the Italians too.”
I tensed. “Why? The Russians were cool with the Italians when we left.”
“Something about King David getting his dick sucked on the beach by one of their fiancés.”
I widened my eyes. “Say what?”
Boris shook his head.
“Naw.” I smirked. “You have the wrong information. King David has been on point since taking his position next to Kazimir. Dude is not slipping due to a chick.”
Jean-Pierre shrugged. “In his defense, I believe King David may have known the woman first—”
“But what about Black Axe? At least they’re gone.” I blinked. “Right?”
“Giorgio said that Emily killed Popobawa or maybe it was the Lion. They both fought him during what was supposed to be a peaceful meeting.”
I opened my mouth in shock.
“Regardless, Popobawa is dead along with several top Italians from the ‘Ndrangheta.”
“This area’s local Italian mafia?”
“Yes.”
“So. . .we’re now fighting Black Axe and ‘Ndrangheta?”
“And possibly the Cosa Nostra and Camorra. They’re the ‘Ndrangheta’s competing mafia groups, but the Italians stick together.”
“Which means that enemy or not, if a foreigner picks on one of them, they’ll unite together and fight?”
Jean-Pierre nodded.
What. The. Fuck?!!
We arrived at the hotel.
Two armored tanks sat in front of the hotel like they were regular vehicles waiting to zip away.
How did he get tanks?
We left the car and headed forward.
Twenty men guarded the entrance. They had their guns out and to their sides. Bullet proof vests were strapped over their suits. The ones right next to the doors carried bazookas.
Thankfully, when they spotted us, they separated and gave us a path to walk through.
Jean-Pierre studied them. “I believe the Lion is getting nervous.”
“No shit.”
Once we entered the lobby, I felt like I’d stepped into a military hospital in the center of a battle field. The building had once been a high-end hotel, now blood drops stained the marble floor. The air stank of antiseptic chemicals, tobacco, and musty leather. Tons of bruised and injured Russians littered the lobby. Where there wasn’t men groaning, there were men chuckling and pointing at their wounds.
I spotted some of the Harlem Crew limping around. When a few saw Boris and me, they smiled and waved excitedly.
I was too on edge to stop and chat with them. I had to find Em and make sure everything was okay. Next, I needed to see if the Lion had a clear plan to end this war.
Motherfucker was supposed to eliminate enemies while I was gone, not make new ones.
Scarred Russian gangsters lounged at the front desk with their heavy black boots on the polished wood counter. I had no idea where the hotel’s actual employees were at, but I was sure management was pissing themselves.