Mafia Kings: Roberto: Dark Mafia Romance Series #5

Twenty minutes later, Mei-ling was dressed to leave the penthouse. Her hair was wet and in disarray, and her makeup was completely gone.

She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

I put on a hotel robe and walked her out to the main room.

The two gangsters smirked like, We heard what you two were doing in there.

Mei-ling told the thugs in Cantonese that I wanted breakfast from room service…

Then she gave me one last kiss and walked out.

The gangsters watched her go, their gazes fixed on her ass.

When they turned back to look at me, there was a new level of respect in their faces.

I extended my thumb and pinky, making the shape of a phone with my hand, and held it up to my ear.

“Room service,” I said impatiently.

“Yes, boss,” the lead gangster said with a smirk as he walked over to the phone.

I put on my clothes while I waited.

After I was fully dressed, I opened my safe and put my passport in my back pocket. I guess Han hadn’t bothered to take it because he didn’t think I could get past his men.

The food came in 20 minutes. The hotel employee had just enough time to wheel in the cart before the two gangsters chased him away.

Not only was there a continental breakfast, but the gangster had ordered two more cheeseburgers for him and his friend.

While they wolfed their food down, I ate my breakfast leisurely, as though I didn’t have a care in the world.

By the time I was finished, forty minutes had passed since Mei-ling had left.

I was just pouring a last cup of coffee when the fire alarm started, piercing the air with an ear-shattering shriek.

The leader of the two gangsters cursed but didn’t move.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

The other thug said something, and they began arguing.

I assumed the leader didn’t want to take the chance of letting me out of the penthouse.

That was when I pointed out the window and shouted, “Look!”

Both men glanced over at the plume of smoke drifting past our window.

The leader cursed again, then pointed at me and motioned towards the door. “We go.”

“Hold on,” I said as I ran for the bedroom.

The leader yelled at me angrily and followed.

I grabbed my suitcase – already prepped and ready to go – and turned around.

The gangster gesticulated angrily as he shouted in Cantonese.

I was pretty sure the gist of it was, Leave it here!

I shouted back just as angrily, “This is $30,000 worth of clothes! $30,000 US! I’m not fucking leaving it here to burn up!”

He gave up arguing and motioned for me to go.

I raced past him with my suitcase –

Including the block of C4 hidden inside.

The two men put their hands on their gun holsters as we rode down in the elevator.

The message was clear: Don’t fuck around, or we’ll kill you.

When the elevator stopped at the ground floor, the doors opened.

The lobby was bedlam.

Dozens of people were pouring out of the elevators; a hundred more were shoving their way toward the front doors.

Hotel employees yelled at everyone to remain calm.

Some people were fully clothed, while others wore pajamas or plush hotel bathrobes.

The lead thug clamped his hand on the back of my neck and guided me out through the crowd. The second thug followed close behind.

In the distance, fire truck sirens blared. They were getting closer but were still far away.

Once outside, the three of us stood with hundreds of other people on the street corner beside the hotel. Everyone was looking up at the top of the building.

Just a few floors below the penthouse, a window was broken. Black smoke poured out of the crack, and orange flames flickered behind the glass.

I scanned the crowd.

No cops.

Good. That would make it easier.

I didn’t want to do what I was about to do –

But I knew my captors would kill me if the situation were reversed.

As the Golden Rule of the Cosa Nostra said:

Do unto others before they can do unto you.

Though the lead thug’s hand was still on my neck, he was staring up at the fire along with the rest of the crowd.

He didn’t see the woman headed towards us in a bathrobe…

With a towel covering her hair and a Covid mask over her face.

Mei-ling.

She passed right in front of me, pausing just long enough to hand me her .22 Smith & Wesson revolver.

Then she kept walking.

I glanced at the thug with his hand on my neck.

He was still staring up at the fire and saying something to his buddy.

I took a deep breath –

Jammed the Smith & Wesson up under his jaw –

And pulled the trigger.

BANG!

A .22 is a small caliber bullet without a lot of power behind it. At least, not compared to a 9mm or a .357 round.

A .22 bullet has more than enough energy to enter a person’s body but often not enough to exit –

Especially when you fire directly into their head.

What usually happens is the bullet ricochets around inside their skull, turning the victim’s brain to oatmeal.

Lars told us that in training.

He was 100% correct.

The thug collapsed to the ground without the bullet blowing its way through the top of his head.

In fact, the only blood was a fine mist from the entry wound that sprayed across my hand.

However, the gunshot was loud.

Everyone around us screamed in terror and ran –

Except for the second gangster.

He looked at his fallen comrade first, then over at me.

The expression on his face was like a confused Golden Retriever.

When he saw the Smith & Wesson, he finally realized what was happening.

He reached for his shoulder harness –

But by then it was too late.

BANG!

I shot him in the right eye.

He went down screaming.

Once he hit the ground, he started flailing around –

So I fired again into the side of his head just to make sure.

BANG!

His body went limp.

Now I was alone on an empty street corner. Everyone else had fled.

I looked for cops –

None to be seen.

But a silver Bentley was parked in front of the Continental. The car’s convertible top was down, exposing the interior.

Mei-ling had already stripped off her head towel, face mask, and robe, and was sitting behind the wheel waiting for me.

I raced over, threw my luggage in the back seat, and jumped in the passenger side.

She immediately roared off into traffic.

My job had been easy:

Get outside with my suitcase and shoot the thugs.

Mei-ling’s job had been much more elaborate:

Get into a room on one of the floors just below the penthouse, either by renting it at the front desk or lying to a housekeeper doing their rounds.

Break the glass window with a heavy object, just enough to let smoke pour out.

Start a fire – preferably the drapes and bedspread.

Steal a bathrobe and towel, plus a mask – which all the rooms offered free to guests.

Get out of the hotel, park the Bentley someplace close by for a quick escape, and walk into the crowd dressed in her disguise, ready to hand off the gun when she saw me.

There had only been one thing I thought might be a problem.

“How did you start the fire?” I asked.

“A guy was sneaking a smoke in the stairwell. I offered him $500 for his lighter.”

“Nice.”

I wiped my hand off on my pants. No one would see the blood on the black material.

“Are you okay?” Mei-ling asked nervously as she zipped through traffic.

I looked around for any cop cars that might be following us.

There were none I could see –

Although fire trucks roared past us on the way to the hotel, their sirens deafening.

“I’ll be a lot better once we get there,” I said as I reached in the back seat for my suitcase.

I ripped apart the silk lining and popped open the two smuggling compartments.

In one was the C4…

And in the other was the hand-held detonator.

I pulled the C4 out of the compartment and stuck both wires into the putty.

“For god’s sake, don’t arm it yet,” Mei-ling cried out.

I smiled grimly as I dropped the putty in the suitcase, zipped it up, and pocketed the detonator. “Don’t worry. Just get me inside the building – I’ll handle the rest. By the way, I need your phone.”

She handed it over, and I called Niccolo.

When he first came to work for my family, Lars had set up a protocol for contacting each other from unknown numbers.

I was supposed to text Niccolo a code first, but since it was about 3 AM his time, I didn’t think he would care.

It took six rings, but my twin finally answered.

He didn’t say anything, though.

That was part of Lars’s protocol.

I said in Italian, “It’s me, and I’m outstanding.”

‘Outstanding’ was code to let him know I wasn’t phoning under duress from an enemy.

“Thank God,” Niccolo said, and I could hear the relief in his voice. “I’ve been trying to call you, but you don’t pick up – what the fuck is going on over there?!”

“Lau took my phone. I need you to wipe it with that remote software program we installed.”

“Was I right? Were they working with Fausto?”

Rather than the usual self-satisfaction I might have expected, all I could hear in my brother’s voice was fear.

“You were right. But I have a shot to turn it around.”

“What are you going to – ”

“I don’t have much time and I need you to write something down. Have you got a piece of paper?”

Niccolo grabbed one and told me to go ahead.

I recited a long string of letters and numbers – one of my many Bitcoin accounts – and a 15-word recovery password, along with instructions on how to use them.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“If negotiations go well, you’ll need it to access any money I recover.”

“Why can’t YOU access it yourself?”

“In case negotiations don’t go well enough.”

“…are you fucking with me right now?”

“No.”

“Are you saying you could DIE?!”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“ROBERTO – ”

“There’s no time. How’s Massimo?”

“He came out of surgery okay, the doctors think he’ll live – Roberto, what the FUCK is going on?!”

Mei-ling pointed ahead of us, and I looked up.

We were only a few hundred feet from Lau’s office building.

Once we drove underground, I would probably lose reception –

And there wouldn’t be another opportunity to call him until this was all over.

If I was still alive.

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m safe,” I said, “but check that account every 15 minutes. If you don’t hear from me within three hours, sell any crypto you get and transfer it to a bank immediately. Do you understand?”

“Roberto – ”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” I yelled at the top of my voice.

“…yes.”

“I have to go,” I said. “Tell everyone I love them. I love you, too, Nic.”

“ROBERTO – ”

I hung up the phone as the Bentley pulled into the underground garage.