Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Lucifer hadn’t been a fearful man before he’d entered this cell, but that was all that remained of the man he’d once been. Now, fear dripped out of his every crevice, because if Lucca was saving him for someone else, then that was a person he didn’t want the misfortune of meeting.
The prisoner gave up, and his chains rattled as he flung his back to the ground and lay there, helplessly wishing for death.
That was just no fun for Lucca.
Rising from his chair, he placed it back against the far wall, in its place.
Lucifer turned his head from where he mindlessly stared up at the concrete ceiling to the leaving back of his captor. “You didn’t tell me the special occasion,” he commented curiously, glaring at the suit. Even though Lucifer Luciano was a piece that had been wiped off the board in the mafia world, he was always going to want to know if he had been a part of the winning or losing side.
Inhaling deeply on his cigarette, Lucca spun on his heel. Then, as a smoky cloud escaped with each word, he said, “That’s right. You haven’t been able to hear the good news.”
It wasn’t the creature that waited on bated breath for Lucca’s next words but the once Luciano mob boss.
“Kansas City has a new king … and you’re looking right at him.”
ONE
THE DAY I AM MADE
LUCCA, AGE 17
Lucca stared at the closed sign on the Italian restaurant then checked his watch, having to move up the sleeve of his new, all-black Italian suit that he’d had made especially for today. It was a special day, and he’d decided to dress for the occasion.
He adjusted the heavy duffle bag back on his shoulder, wishing he had time for a cigarette. However, the insistent groaning beside him reminded him he didn’t.
Taking a deep breath of air, Lucca remembered the promise he’d made himself this morning.
Today will be the day I am made.
Lucifer and his men filled the entire restaurant as he sat at the table next to his underboss, Anthony, and his oldest son, Dominic. His nineteen-year-old son was only a year into being a made man, and even though he was a quick learner who held a lot of promise, it wasn’t the kind of son I wanted. Unlike him, he felt emotions, and in this business, you were better off without them, ’cause feeling anything but powerful … made you fucking weak.
The ding from the bell above the door should have caught their attention, but it was the sound of something heavy being dragged in that had every Luciano turning their heads to find a body being heaved in. Every gun would have been drawn if it weren’t for the one who was doing the dragging. You see, it wasn’t the shock of who was being dragged in that held them all in place but because of who was dragging him in.
“Lucca Caruso,” Lucifer drawled out his name with a sinister smile as he looked him up and down. “My, my, don’t you clean up nice.”
Usually, his adversary, Dante’s firstborn son, ran around looking like he belonged on this side of the tracks, but they were all quickly reminded just how old he had gotten and which side he stood on based on his expensive suit alone.
“I solved our little rat problem,” he said, dropping the body and duffle bag on the ground with a hard thud.
Our? Lucifer’s eyes slightly narrowed. He was only seventeen; there was no way … “Were you made, kid?”
“No.” Lucca’s strange eyes shifted from green to blue. “But I will be after this.”
They were shocked to find the man beaten to a pulp was still alive when the kid grabbed a fistful of hair to bring his face off the ground and ripped the duct tape off his lips.
The man instantaneously started running his mouth. It was like hearing a pig squeal for its life.
“I’m sorry, Lucifer. but I got pinched, and they were telling me I was facing twenty years! I didn’t want to snitch anymore, okay? So, I thought it would be mutually beneficial for all of us if I got my hands on enough cash to get the hell out of he—”
Blood spurted like a hot geyser out of the side of his neck when Lucca’s blade entered his throat to the hilt. Slowly, he dragged the knife to the other side of his neck, slicing him from ear to ear as more blood flowed out, turning from a geyser into a river.
When the last breath of life had been taken, Lucca released his grip and the lifeless head fell to the ground, causing some of the blood to splash up on his young face.
“Odd how the rat was from your family, but the stolen cash was Caruso money.”