ARELLA (A Mafia Story)

Twenty

Damon

I hate coming to this side of town. Everything's run down, needles line the streets, and prostitutes sit on corners waiting for their next quick buck. It's dreary being on this side.

"It stinks in here." Andrea wrinkles his nose, thumping his back against his car seat.

All he's done is bitch about having to sit in this rundown car. Bringing one of our black SUV's for a stakeout would've been a big red flag. I had to pull out one of our old beater cars.

The four door piece of shit has red chipped paint, is rusted in some places, and the check engine light never goes off. It serves it's purpose to be discreet.

On the lower east side of New York, a car like this is nothing out of the ordinary.

My men are waiting in their own vehicles blocks away, waiting on my call. They'll transfer Dimitri's man for me. This car wasn't made for kidnapping. The trunk practically pops open when I hit a speed bump too hard.

"Deal with it. It's almost time. Be ready. Stop slouching. Not everything is action, Andrea. Sometimes, it's just sitting for hours and doing nothing. Learn the value of patience. It'll keep you alive."

Alessandro sighs in the backseat, his finger tapping against the tablet he's messing around on. He's only here because I need him to hack into the phone Dimitri's guy could be bringing.

"He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Do you think our cover has been blown?" Andrea voices his concern.

"I've had men staking out this spot since last night. They didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was practically abandoned." I gesture with my hand towards the abandoned building in front of me.

Graffiti paints the sides of the crumbling brick. Windows are broken, the glass in tiny fragments on the ground. A rat skitters out of the building with something I would rather not think about dangling out of it's mouth.

Disgusting.

Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I check the time on my phone once again. It's nearly two-thirty. At this rate, I'm not going to be home for Freya's stuffed peppers.

They just don't taste the same reheated.

My phone vibrates in my hand. The caller ID shows my soldiers name, Rocco. I quickly answer, only for him to say in a hushed, rushed voice, "He's here."

The line goes dead. Slapping Andrea's shoulder, I pull his attention towards the building. He knows what I'm saying without words. Nodding, we quietly exit the car, not bothering to shut the doors behind us.

Alessandro will stay back unless he needs to jump in. This should go smoothly.

My nice shoes crunch on broken glass as I step up to the window to see what's going on inside the building. Rocco is facing a man that looks to be middle aged.

He's slightly rounded in the middle and is balding on top. He's going to be too easy to break. Men like him don't last long under my knife. They start screaming right about the time I threaten their junk.

Scummy man holds out his hand expectantly towards Rocco. My solider produces a small envelope, handing it to him. The scum checks that the cash is all there before handing over another envelope.