Shattered King Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
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Chapter 18

Luca

“You know, boss, I didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.” Stefano grumbles at me through the phone.

I linger outside of the Serrano house, leaning back in my truck’s seat. “It’s only temporary. I can’t think of another man I’d rather have watching over my wife.”

“I could come up with a few.”

“Double pay. You know that. And my undying gratitude.”

“Keep the thanks, but I’ll take the cash.” Stefano hangs up. I smile to myself and slip the phone back into my pocket.

I keep thinking about the look on Fiorella’s face when she saw her Spider in that makeshift garage. It was pure excitement. Like a kid coming down to find actual fat-ass Santa squeezing up the chimney as reindeer glitter shit falls from the ceiling and presents manifest themselves under the tree.

It’s better if I don’t tell her that the around-the-clock protection of that obscenely expensive car is going to cost me a small fortune.

For some reason, she’s worth every single penny.

I don’t even know why. I push the door open and step out. I like her. I can’t pretend that I don’t, but that should be the end of it. She’s gorgeous and tough, everything I want in a woman, with a nice creamy center I can’t wait to lick down into. Underneath all that anger is a woman who truly cares. At least for herself, her car, and her sister.

But I’m the problem here. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be in danger. I’ve spent my whole life struggling to make sure the people around me don’t end up dead or in prison. I’ve dedicated myself to the Famiglia ever since I was thirteen years old and made the biggest mistake of my life. I failed once back then. I won’t fail again.

If I were smart, I wouldn’t get attached to my pretty wife.

Instead, I feel it happening, like a worm wriggling into my ear.

I can’t stop it either.

Every time I get another taste, that worm goes deeper. Soon it’ll eat my fucking brains out and I’ll be a drooling mess.

With only my pretty wife left in my head.

I stomp my way toward the front door but don’t get the chance to knock. Raf opens up, looking grim as he nods at me. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting this either, but here we are.” He doesn’t move to let me in. “I need to talk to your father.”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Yeah, well, it’s never a good fucking time.”

Raf still won’t budge. “I mean it, he’s not up for a visit right now. Maybe tomorrow⁠—”

“If you don’t let me see him right now, your Uncle Corrado’s going to be a bloody stain on the sidewalk by tomorrow.”

His lips press together. I’ll hand it to the guy; he doesn’t seem intimidated. Finally, he moves aside with a subtle shake of his head. “You won’t like this,” he murmurs and leads me deeper into the house.

Instead of going to the office, we take the stairs. I’m starting to rethink storming in here when Raf knocks lightly on a bedroom door and a raspy weak voice calls out. “Dad, I have Luca Marino with me. He needs to talk to you.”

I hesitate. The smell of antiseptic and piss wafts into the hallway. I glimpse a hospital bed, monitoring equipment, and a scattering of pills and other medications on top of a cluttered dresser.

“Marino?” the old man rasps, sounding confused. “Luca? What?”

“You know, Dad. Fiorella’s husband.”

Don Serrano coughs, an ugly and wet noise. I suck it up and move into the room, lingering on the threshold, staring in at the wreckage of the dying gangster.

He’s sitting up in bed wearing pajamas. His face is sallow and thin, his hair lank and greasy. He looks like absolute shit, like someone squeezed the moisture from him and left him dying on the side of the road. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I recognize the clever man trapped inside his sickness.

“Luca,” he says and weakly gestures for me to enter. Raf looks over his shoulder, clearly not happy about this. “I admit you caught me on a bad day.” He coughs again, and it sounds painful.

“I’m sorry, Don Serrano, but this is important.” I close the door behind me and go sit on an extra chair at the Don’s bedside. A stack of worn paperback Westerns teeters beside an old electric alarm clock. “There was an attack on my men, and I believe your brother was involved.”

For a moment, Don Serrano looks confused. “Brother? Corrado, what does he mean?” But then he looks at his son and clears his throat and shakes his head. “I mean, Luca, how can you know?”

He’s only partially coherent. Raf gets up and fills a glass of water for him.

“His son Tommy was there. They ambushed one of my trucks, set it on fire, and waited for us to show up. Tommy would’ve killed us, but we got the drop on him instead.”


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