Title: Mafia Virgin
Giovanni
One, two, three…and that’s all, huh? It looks like the Messinas are feeling confident these days if they’re sending such small patrols around their territories in the middle of the night.
I huff under my breath, looking away from the Italians, and tighten my hold on the gun in my inner pocket. Well, they’re gonna pay for their arrogance. The Escarras are not the weak and dirty rats that they call us- and I am going to prove it.
I glance around to check if anyone’s watching me, and as soon as I make sure that it’s clear, I follow the Messinas’ patrol down the street.
Okay, which one will be the best target? I focus on them, pushing my way through a group of teens. One of the Italians looks older and more
experienced-the leader of the patrol-while the other two are young, probably recruits. Fresh meat, huh.
I squeeze the gun in my pocket, feeling a rush of adrenaline and determination run through my veins. The feeling is close to excitement, and I can feel my heart beating faster as I cross the street to get closer to them. Every time I get a chance to get back at these pigs for everything they’ve done to my family, I feel so damn satisfied.
Someone has to put them back in their fucking place, and-Shit.
The leader slows down, and I have only a moment to look away and hide my face under my hood before he looks in my direction. Goddamnit. I hope he’s just checking his surroundings. I lower my head and pretend to
check something on my phone, stepping out of the streetlight. The last thing I want right now is for one of the Messinas to recognize me and blare about it through their inner channels.
They’ve been on my ass ever since Liss betrayed us and told them all about me a month ago. God, I still feel so stupid for trusting her. Liss was so determined to get her revenge for her brother’s death that I helped her get into Matteo Messina’s house-only for her to fall in love with him and believe his goddamn fairy tales! Messinas are the good guys, sure. Why do they kill innocent people without a reason, then?
I clench my jaw and shake my head. It’s not the time to think about it. I have to focus on the task, so I raise my head and look around. If the
patrol had noticed me, they’d already be following me here, so I turn back and walk to the main street, lingering on the corner before proceeding to follow them.
I know the patrol’s route, so it doesn’t take long for me to catch up with them-and I have only a few seconds to realize that it’s my perfect
chance to get close. The Italians are standing on the corner of the street, right by their usual observation point. I can only guess that one of them is supposed to take over the watch there, but it doesn’t matter to me.
The three of them are talking to each other, their hands in their pockets, their eyes focused more on each other than the people around them. They aren’t paying enough attention to the people passing by-and it’s the best chance I have to catch them off guard.
Keeping my gaze on them, I unzip my jacket and reach into my inner pocket, blindly grasping the gun. The heat of adrenaline runs through my body, making my heart pound and my fingers hold on to the cold metal. My mind is clear and focused on one thing: five steps left, four steps, take out the gun, three, two…
“I’ll be there after eleven.” “Okay, just make sure.”
The thunder of a gunshot cuts off his sentence, and the guy gasps through the pain-but I don’t stay to enjoy my win.
As soon as I shoot the recruit in the back, I turn away and run across the street past the screaming and panicking people. The Italians immediately open fire, yelling something behind me, but I know they don’t want to spill blood in neutral territory. It’s an unspoken law of the Mafia world of Chicago-but the Messinas aren’t the kings they think they are to dictate to us what to do.
I run into a dark alley where the screams and police sirens are only an echo, but I catch the sound of heavy steps and glance behind. Shit.
“You fucker,” the leader of the patrol growls behind me, and I have only a second to weave to the side before he opens fire. Shit! I thought I’d escaped fast enough to leave everyone behind.
I turn around and blindly fire back at him, frantically thinking about a way out. I have to get to my car-but first, I gotta get rid of the tail. The guy must be well trained, and I don’t wanna find out which one of us is faster. If I let him catch me, it’ll be over for me, so I open fire again to distract him before taking a sharp turn left and running into the nearby park.
It’s too small to give me proper cover, but the streetlights are dim and scattered here, so I can use the dark areas to catch my breath. I use my momentary advantage and hide behind the nearest tree, holding my gun to my chest and breathing as quietly as possible. Where are you, man? Come closer.
A few seconds later, I hear the same running steps and heavy breathing; the Italian follows me through the park entrance. Perfect. I hold my breath, feeling cold air on the hot skin of my neck, and peek from behind the trunk. The Italian is a dozen feet away from me, walking slower and cautiously looking around with both hands on his gun.
I can’t wait until he figures out that I’m here, so I take a quick breath, aim at him, lay my finger on the trigger-but at the last moment, the Italian jumps away from my bullet. Fuck! But I don’t have time to reprimand myself. Judging by the yelp he lets out, my gunshot at the very least caught him off guard, and I have to use it.
I run away through the bushes and over the paths with curses and gunshots ringing behind me. But I’m already too far for him to get me, and a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. I hit two out of three, huh? Not bad.
Nobody bothers me the rest of the way, and some ten minutes later I unlock my car and take one more glance around. The police sirens are still wailing in the distance, and it looks like the civilians are shaken by the gunshots. I even overhear them talking about the Mafia clans getting out of control, and it makes me huff as I climb into my car.
Sure, we are getting out of control. Out of the Messinas’ control and hunger for power-and it’s long overdue.
The Italians have been ruling over the underworld of Chicago for way too long, and now they think they’re untouchable, especially since they struck a deal with the Russian Bratva. The two biggest Mafia families had been rivals for decades, fighting and killing each other over the crown of Chicago, until a common enemy forced them to join their forces.
We are that enemy-the Escarras from Tijuana and no matter what these pigs say, they are scared of us. Yes, the Messinas keep pretending like they don’t take us seriously, but when we killed Cassio, their don, it didn’t look like they were strong enough to defeat us in one day. Or at all, for that matter.
Why else would Riccardo-Cassio’s son and the current don of the Messina Clan-use his last resort and go to Yuriy Pushkov, the boss of the Russian Bratva? Because the Italians had no chance to defeat us on their own and keep their fake crown that makes them feel so damn powerful.
So instead of admitting to his weakness, Riccardo decided to marry Elena Pushkova, Yuriy’s niece, and seal some kind of a union between the Italians and Russians. I guess it worked, because the Russians did help
Riccardo to kill Uncle Nicolas, Gerardo’s father who used to be the head of our family before him. But in return, Yuriy attempted to kill Riccardo a couple of years later, so I guess their deal wasn’t as tight as they’d expected.
After killing Yuriy, his wife Olga took over the Bratva, and the Italians and Russians have been best buddies ever since. And no matter how much it pisses me off to admit, they are too strong together, and we have no chance to stand against both families. So, following Gerardo’s orders, we’ve been avoiding open confrontations, and the most I can do is sneak up on them and kill them from behind like a damn rat!
I squeeze the wheel tighter, feeling the burn of anger in my chest, and honk at the car in front of me. Why the hell are they driving so slow on a goddamn freeway? I press on the accelerator and pass the car a moment later, driving fast to maneuver between lanes. It helps to get my mind off the thoughts about the Messinas until I hear the sound of a notification.
You have one message from Gerardo. I need to talk to you. Get here ASAP.
The boring robotic voice reads the message out loud, and I purse my lips but obediently move toward the closest exit. What, is he gonna scold me for getting in trouble?
Gerardo has a few places to meet people all over our territories- he’s the kind of guy who likes to be spontaneous, as he calls himself (or annoying, as other people call him). But at this time of the night, he’s most likely at home, lounging in his living room and drinking wine. Yes, he likes to enjoy himself in his free time, and if I didn’t see how sharp and dangerous he can be in business, I’d think Gerardo is a wimp.
I get to his house-or more like, his mansion-some twenty minutes later and, after parking my car, walk past the row of guards at the entrance. Gerardo is serious about his security, especially since the Messinas kidnapped his daughter from under his nose. In the end, it turned out that Jacinta didn’t mind being kidnapped-she’s married to Riccardo’s brother now and lives with Paolo and their daughter in the Italians’ territory-but Gerardo did learn his lesson.
“Giovanni!” Gerardo greets me from the living room, waving a glass of wine at me, and I have to swallow a scoff before walking toward him. “I started to think you were ignoring my message. That wouldn’t be very nice of you, right?”
I shake my head, not paying attention to his jests, and take a seat in the armchair across from him. Gerardo is in his casual clothes-as much as a silk shirt and white, ironed pants can be casual-leaning on the armrest of the couch and watching me with unreadable eyes. No matter what mask he’s showing to the world, Gerardo is always good at hiding his true thoughts.
“Did something happen?” I look up at him with a frown. There’s a reason he told me to come, right?
Gerardo sighs and looks at his wine glass, losing his playful attitude. “The Messinas found out about Jen.”
What?
I sit up straight with my eyes wide and my fingers digging into the armrests. Jen has been our double agent for the last few weeks, pretending to be the Italians’ dealer while working for us-for better payment, of
course. We’ve sent them poisonous batches through her, and everything seemed to be working perfectly…but well, I guess the Messinas are not that dumb.
“Goddamnit,” I murmur under my breath, looking away to gather my thoughts, and I hear Gerardo hum.
“Yes, it’s quite unpleasant.” He tries to sound calm, but I can hear the tension in his voice. He’s just as disappointed about our ruined plans as I am. “But we’re losing time thinking about it. If we want to destroy the Messinas, we have to come up with something new-and this time, it should be something extraordinary. Something fresh, smart, stunning-”
“Do you have something in mind?” I quirk an eyebrow and look up at him. He wouldn’t be so wordy for nothing.
Gerardo strokes his mustache with a proud smirk, and I know I’m right even before he says, “Yes, I do. How did you figure it out?”
Goddamnit. I can’t help but roll my eyes, leaning forward on my knees. Can you believe this guy is the leader of one of the most powerful families in Chicago?
“So what is it?” I ask, when Gerardo doesn’t say anything, sipping on his wine for too long. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he was waiting for me to ask him.
“From my sources on the Russian side,” he finally says after clearing his throat, “I know that Alina is coming back to Chicago.”
I frown. “Alina? I’ve never heard-”
“Exactly,” Gerardo interrupts me, but I see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He must be proud of himself for catching me off guard. “Everyone has already forgotten about her-but not Raisa.”
“Elena’s mother?”
He hums in agreement. “Yes. You know that Elena has an older sister…”
“Irina,” I say without a second thought. I know the names of every member of the Messina and Pushkov families.
“… but not everyone remembers that she has a younger sister.” Huh?
I blink, and Gerardo probably catches my surprise because he smirks and fidgets in his place to turn to face me. “Yes, it’s been a long time since the Russians sent her away, but Alina is alive-and soon, they want to bring her back.”
“Alright, that’s a nice story, but what does it matter?” I sit up and look at him with a scowl because this feels like one of Gerardo’s stories he tells just to entertain himself. How is it going to help us?
“It matters,” Gerardo says with a suddenly low tone, the look in his eyes turning into steel, and I tense up despite myself. He doesn’t like
explaining something twice. “Because that girl knows nothing about the Mafia world. She spent the last decade in a goddamn village somewhere in Britain. Don’t you understand how we can use her?”
The longer he speaks, the clearer I see what he’s talking about, and by the time he finishes, I sit up straight and nod with my hands curled into fists. “I understand. I’ll take care of it, sir.”
Gerardo keeps his gaze on me for a moment longer before breathing out his tension and leaning back on the couch with a smile. “Good. I knew I could count on you, Giovanni.”
He takes a sip of his wine, looking away, while my thoughts swirl in my head like leaves in a storm. If this girl doesn’t know anything about the Mafia, I can use that to get closer to her. I can use her to get closer to Riccardo, and if everything goes well…
God, he’ll end up right in our trap, and the Messinas will be no
more.