Mafia Kings: Roberto: Dark Mafia Romance Series #5

On the drive back to the Continental, Mei-ling seemed nervous.Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

I could hardly blame her. If a pistol meant 14 years in prison, I was fairly sure that a block of C4 could get you life – or a death sentence.

She pulled the Bentley into the circular drive in front of the hotel and said, “I have to go into work.”

Hidden behind her sunglasses, her eyes were inscrutable.

“I want to see you tonight,” I said.

She paused as though calculating. “How about 10 PM?”

“10 PM it is. Meet you at the Summit?”

“Sounds good.”

I took her hand in mine. “Thank you for helping me.”

She looked at me for a few seconds, then finally took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were filled with worry.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” she said quietly.

“I won’t.”

“…alright.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “Now get out of my car before you get me thrown in jail.”

I laughed, kissed her again, and exited the Bentley holding the Styrofoam container.

She waved as she drove off.

Once she was gone, I walked into the lobby.

As I headed for the elevator, my heart sped up –

But no one approached me. No one commented on how odd it was that a man in a $20,000 suit was carrying a cheap Styrofoam container secured with rubber bands.

I made it back to my room without incident and heaved a sigh of relief.

Now – what to do with my new toys?

I went to the closet by the bathroom where I stored my suitcase. It was sitting on top of an expandable luggage rack, the kind that folds up when not in use.

I opened the top of my suitcase, placed the Styrofoam container on my folded socks and underwear, and felt in the bottom corner of the suitcase’s silk lining.

Ah – there.

I found the plastic seal, similar to one on a Ziploc bag, and forced it apart with one finger.

In order to pass through x-ray machines undetected, the fastener couldn’t be Velcro, buttons, or a zipper.

Even plastic could be detected if an x-ray tech was looking for it, but plastic was far better than the other options.

The silk lining was attached to the suitcase with elastic, which was stretchy enough for me to pull the lining up and expose the lead smuggling compartments.

I pried the tightly wedged tops off of both, then placed the block of C4 in one container. I had to cram the putty in to make it fit.

I wrapped the detonator in a sock so it wouldn’t rattle and wedged it into the other compartment.

There was no room for the gun; it would have to stay out in the open.

I wrapped it in my hoodie and used the rubber bands from the Styrofoam container to keep everything in place.

Bundled up like that, the gun wouldn’t make a noise if it shifted inside my suitcase.

I put the tops back on the smuggling compartments and resealed the silk lining.

To a casual observer, no one would know there was enough plastic explosive inside my suitcase to take out the entire penthouse suite.

After securing my new ‘toys,’ I called Lau.

His secretary informed me he wasn’t available and put me through to his voicemail.

“Mr. Lau, it’s Roberto Rosolini. I’m checking on the status of the meeting. Please call me.”

Then I hung up.

I knew what I should do next… but I was dreading it.

I had only texted Niccolo terse replies over the last week. Now it was time to face the music.

I thought he would be furious with me…

But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Niccolo picked up on the first ring.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panicked voice.

“Yes – why?” I asked in alarm.

“I was worried Fausto might have gotten to you.”

“No, I’m fine – what’s going on?”

“Massimo, Adriano, and Lars are going after Aurelio and a bunch of Russian mercenaries in Venice.”

“WHAT?!”

Niccolo gave me the short version:

Massimo had been lying low in the Alps with the Widow’s granddaughter, but a bounty hunter had flushed them out of hiding.

After nearly killing Massimo, the bounty hunter kidnapped the girl and took her back to Venice.

Now Massimo, Adriano, and Lars were storming the island where Aurelio was holding her hostage.

“Jesus,” I whispered.

Guilt gnawed at my guts. I had spent the last week pursuing my own selfish obsessions; now my brothers and Lars were putting their lives on the line for the family.

“Come home,” Niccolo pleaded.

“I will,” I promised. “Money or no money, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Do I need to make arrangements?”

“No, I’ll handle it. Just – don’t worry. I’ll be home within 24 hours.”

“Alright.”

“Let me know what happens with Massimo, Adriano, and Lars. Good or bad.”

“I will. Good luck.”

Then he hung up.

Good luck.

I felt ashamed. It was my brothers who needed the luck – not me.

I forced myself to put my emotions aside and prepare to go home.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be coming back with the money.

My only consolation was that I wouldn’t be going back alone.