Dangerous Stranger: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Piper Stone

  The double doors just inside opened up to a stunning atrium, the wooden floors polished to perfection. Even the bar itself was a thing of beauty, the two-hundred-year-old wood salvaged from a wrecked pirate ship. As I walked by, I brushed my fingers over the smooth surface, savoring the way the lacquered finish felt against my skin.

  “Mr. Santiago,” the bartender said as she inched closer to the edge. “Such a pleasure to see you again, sir. Your usual?”

  Her tone was sultry, suiting her voluptuous body with curves that simply wouldn’t stop. Even the crimson dress she was wearing made my mouth water, although I’d never touch the merchandise. After all, my family owned over fifty percent of the business, a fact that wasn’t well known. We never mixed business with pleasure.

  “Why not?” I drummed my fingers on the table, scanning the room as she gave me a provocative nod, moving off to prepare my cocktail of choice. The clientele who frequented the bar were mostly wealthy retired men, their hunger for gambling and the attention of stunning women more of a necessity than a latent desire.

  I also noticed the two Los Charlines guards flanking both sides of the expansive room. I was beginning to smell a setup and in my own establishment.

  When the lovely bartender slid the Bombay and tonic across the bar, I didn’t bother looking in her direction. Maria had worked with the organization long enough to know when my business could be... tedious. As she walked away, I had no doubt her next task would be to call the cleanup crew, preparing them for a disposal operation.

  I took a sip, studying the two men who’d obviously been brought as protection. I’d made it my business to learn the identities of the majority of the Los Charlines soldiers. The two assholes were unknowns, which meant the rival mafia group had been on a hiring binge. Evidently, plans had escalated, Calleja’s threats regarding a takeover attempt credible.

  Whatever message was being delivered should be interesting. I only hoped I could honor my promise.

  I scanned the perimeter as I took several sips, savoring the smoothness of the liquor. The soldiers’ participation was a clear indication that the organization had already slipped into our territory. It would seem their illustrious leader was in the mood to push the envelope.

  Either that or he’d simply made a tactical error, one that I could certainly rectify beginning today if necessary. What I loathed were childish games and Calleja had a penchant for them. It would be good to end his reign.

  I enjoyed another sip before walking toward the patio, gazing out at the impressive gardens. The beautiful sounds of birds and other wildlife mixed with the cascading water from the oversized fountain. Everything was breathtaking. Fortunately, the majority of customers had already moved on to the various high-stakes poker games, prepared to gamble away millions of dollars. Just another typical day in... paradise.

  I noticed the man in question standing by the sculpted waterfall, his posture relaxed. I had to give the man credit. He had balls. There was no sign of additional soldiers, but I remained on edge. While the restaurant was protected by a top-notch security system, there were ample opportunities for soldiers to sneak their way onto the property. As I walked closer, keeping the drink in my hand, I reached into my pocket, removing the SIG Sauer, my preferred weapon of use.

  I walked to within two feet, taking another swig of my drink. I kept my voice low. There was no need to draw attention to the scene. “Mr. Peron. I must say that I find it fascinating that you requested a meeting. To what do I owe this honor?” I wanted to choke on my words.

  After chuckling, he turned to face me, lifting his glass at the same time, although his other hand had already shifted his jacket, prepared to grab his weapon. While he was considered a crack shot, there’d be a slim chance in hell he could get off a single round before finding a bullet between his eyes. “Second born son, Rafael Santiago. I always enjoyed your company.”

  “Too bad I can’t say the same thing, Manuel. Why don’t we cut the chitchat? Why the fuck are you here? Did that animal send you?” His dig was painful, although I didn’t show it. The second born son usually meant nothing within any mafia organization. My world had been forced into a change.

  Manuel took a deep breath, his eyes still twinkling. The fucker found this entirely too amusing, as if the clan had gotten the upper hand. “Tell me, how is your father, the illustrious Don?” he countered, taking another sip of his drink.

  His words were meant as another jab, an attempt to rile my anger. “He is excellent. I’ll make certain Sanchez is aware you were asking.”

  He nodded several times. “Be sure to do that. As far as why I’m here, Mr. Calleja would like to offer your organization a deal.”

  “A deal?” I said, laughing. “We don’t make deals.” I started to turn away, knowing there was a hell of a lot more to this game.

  “Oh, I assure you, you’re going to want to hear this. I would call it vital to the continuation of your operation.”

  Exhaling, I tilted my head, finally locking eyes with his. “Vital. Be careful how you throw those words around, Peron. What is this deal?”

  “Simple. Give us fifty percent of your operation and we’ll allow your people to live.”

  I’d been involved in negotiating deals before. This time, I was honestly shocked at the man’s audacity. I couldn’t help but smile as I shook my head. “I’m sorry you made the trip. You see, we have nothing to talk about, Manuel, at least not in that regard. Now, for all your trouble in coming here, I will give you a single opportunity to tell me where Alviro is. It would seem I need to have this discussion with him.”

  He took a deep whiff as he swirled his drink, finally offering a smile. “Unfortunately, Mr. Calleja only engages in discussions with those in charge. I’m afraid you aren’t that man; however, given you refuse to accept Mr. Calleja’s generous offer, you can certainly give your father a message.”

  I remained quiet, refusing to engage with him. What no one knew was that my father longed to take a step back, allowing me to take the helm. However, the transition wouldn’t be widely accepted and even possibly considered a weakness in the Santiago family. There was enough turbulence, other organizations hoping for a larger piece of our pie, including the thug Manuel worked for.

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Rafael. I suggest you consider the opportunity you have in expanding your territory.”

  “All for fifty percent.” I laughed again. “I hope the trip was enjoyable for you, Manuel, because you’re not leaving here with anything else but fond memories.” I turned away, taking several steps. The asshole was sending a message; that much was obvious.

  “I’d be careful, Rafael. Things are changing, the Galicia mafia no longer a big fish in a little pond.”

  His snicker pissed me off.

  “Tell Don Santiago that we’re coming for him and trust me, there will nothing left of your empire or your family, including that precious niece and nephew you have. What are they now, three and four? Beautiful children. Too bad about their father’s... death. Horrible thing.” As he laughed, my rage surfaced, an ugly memory rushing to the forefront of my mind.

  Blood everywhere.

  The bodies of several soldiers gunned down in the middle of the street.

  Families torn apart.

  The need for revenge...

  The bastard had been a part of my brother’s murder, shot down in cold blood in front of his own wife. I held back my fury, even as my hand tightened around the gun. I could still see my brother’s anguished face as he’d attempted to crawl to his wife, finally collapsing in my arms. No, I refused to let the past stay in the past any longer. It was time for revenge. I slowly turned to face him, a smile plastered on my face.

  Now I would handle things my way. “Then so be it, Manuel. Enjoy your time in hell.”

  The single shot penetrated his brain with little fanfare. I watched as his body slumped, finally pitching backwards until he slid into the pool rather gracefully. There was no sound, othe
r than a slight splash. Die, you fucking pig. Die.

  I closed my eyes briefly, fighting the anguish I’d locked away. The fucker had messed with the wrong man.

  Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.

  Not this time.

  The thought of sweet revenge allowed me to shut down the anger, at least for the time being. While I knew the ramifications of the decision I’d just made, no one threatened my family.

  No one.

  I stood where I was, struggling to finish the remainder of my drink as the water turned a warm blush in color. Turning slowly, I placed the empty glass on the table, moving silently back into the atrium.

  Maria gave me a single nod before moving into the shadows for protection. I had no doubt there would be hell to pay, news of the bastard’s death likely streaming on video. As if I gave a fuck. I still had additional work to do. I wasted no time, keeping the wry smile as I walked closer to the man on my left. The moment I lifted my weapon, he finally reacted.

  But not fast enough.

  “A good day to die, yes?” The single shot had enough distance that the force pitched him several feet, his body crashing on top of one of the tables. I immediately jerked one hundred and eighty degrees, popping off two rounds at an impressive trajectory. The second soldier went down easily.

  There were no outward signs of disturbance from the few men enjoying their libations. In fact, they didn’t bother even glancing in my direction. For them, the incident had never occurred.

  I walked out, shoving my weapon into my pocket, the sun blinding. As I grabbed my sunglasses, I caught the sound of tires screeching on the pavement, my extensive training drawing immediate reaction. I jerked the weapon into both hands, dropping down and rolling for cover, my breathing ragged. As I held the SIG in both hands, peering out from around one of the stone columns, a dark-colored sports car swerved around the corner, one of the tinted windows slowly opening.

  Pop! Pop!

  One of the shooter’s bullets ricocheted off the stone, a second coming dangerously close to my head.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  I got off three rounds, all kill shots except the car had been rendered bulletproof. I shifted, moving closer, aiming for the small space of the open window. The shot missed, forcing bile into my throat.

  My soldiers raced forward, immediately getting off several rounds.

  The driver managed two more, hitting one of my soldiers.

  I bolted off the stairs, shooting directly in front of the car, both hands on the weapon with my arms extended.

  Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

  I emptied the magazine, the windshield finally cracking as two of the bullets made it through.

  “Fuck!” My hiss was drowned out by the screech of tires.

  The driver slumped forward even as he pressed down on the accelerator, heading straight for me. I stood my ground, issuing two more before being tackled by my soldiers. I heard the sound of the horn just as I went down, gasping for air.

  After the car swerved once again, the tires jumping the rounded curve of the landscaping feature, the driver managed to get control. Within seconds, it headed down the expansive driveway in the opposite direction.

  “Jesus Christ, boss. Are you all right?” Jorge demanded, racing to my side.

  I slowly rose to a standing position, glaring at the taillights, my chest heaving from the increasing rage. “I’m perfectly fine,” I growled. “Go see about Carlos.” I could tell the soldier was hurt badly, blood seeping onto the pavement.

  “Yes, boss.”

  My next task would be to hunt down Mr. Calleja and I would enjoy every minute spent capturing anything and anyone that mattered to him.

  “I don’t know if he’s going to make it, boss. This is bad.”

  Alviro Calleja had just made the worst decision of his life. His life was in my hands

  After all, big game hunting was my expertise.

  Chapter Three

  Rafael

  I’d made certain Carlos was comfortable, the local hospital one my family had given to generously, allowing us to avoid any police activity. I didn’t want this getting out before we had the opportunity to develop a plan of action.

  Other than just killing the motherfuckers outright.

  After leaving the hospital, I’d driven straight to my father’s estate, storming in through the front door, my feet thudding against the marble as I walked through to the wing housing his office. I still had difficulty believing we’d been played, especially in this manner, although there was no honor in the Los Charlines clan. None.

  “I heard about the shooting. You look like hell, brother,” Dartanian hissed as he rounded the corner.

  “I’ll live. What are you doing here?” My brother hadn’t given a shit for years.

  “I have my reasons to be in the neighborhood,” he said, grinning like the playboy I knew him to be.

  “You mean you’ve been spending times in the arms of a particular woman instead of handling aspects of business.”

  Dartanian’s glib demeanor immediately shut down, his eyes turning cold as ice.

  “Look, Father called me, barking that I needed to get my ass here quickly. Evidently there’s a mess to clean up. So, you want to tell me what the hell actually happened?”

  While I might have struck a chord, the challenge one I rarely made, he knew I was right. I was far too agitated to give a shit about whether I’d hurt his feelings or not. “A ruse involving Calleja.”

  “Interesting. The bastard isn’t wasting any time in taking over. What the fuck was it?”

  “A meeting with his second in command.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You mean one that didn’t end well.”

  I exhaled, glancing toward the closed door of my father’s office. “It was a warning and an attempt on my life.”

  “Fuck.”

  I paced the floor, still remembering the asshole’s words. “Where are Javier’s children? His wife?”

  “What? What do they have to do with this?”

  “You heard me. Where the hell are they?”

  Dartanian cocked his head. “They were threatened as well?”

  “Hell, yes. The meeting was a goddamn ambush and I was stupid enough to fall into it.”

  “Why would the Los Charlines do something like that? They have to know we’d retaliate,” he asked, his tone incredulous.

  “I think that’s exactly what they want us to do. Retaliate quickly.”

  “Then we need to cut them off at the knees,” he suggested.

  I nodded, my heart racing. “Shit, I need a fucking drink.” I could hear the sound of several male voices. “Let me guess, Father called in reinforcements to help crush Calleja.”

  He swung a gaze toward the door. “That I’m not certain of. They were already behind closed doors when I arrived. You know how this works with the Charlines scum. They have no intention of trying to take a portion of the business.”

  “No. They want it all.”

  Just then, the door opened. I certainly wasn’t surprised at the sight of the three men walking out of my father’s office, their stoic faces a clear indication that they were concerned about the decision I’d made in accepting the invitation. If so, my guess was that they’d already heard the news I’d taken out Peron, which would send a smoke signal straight to the Los Charlines.

  War was on, the battle brewing for nearly a year.

  The past several months had seen their share of turmoil for several Mafioso families. My father often consulted with heads of the other organizations from Spain, Italy, and Portugal, even considering them friends. The three Dons—Antonio Caruso, Leonardo Hugo, and Francesco Piero—were all powerful men, just as brutal as my father. Their alliance had always fascinated me, although I’d remained surprised my father would allow it given his background.

  Sanchez Santiago was known as a fair and reputable man, respected amongst the various Dons for years. They valued his leadership capabilities and the majority of his dec
isions regarding business, violence in the streets unnecessary until threats had been made. This time, he was wrong. We would have to take out a significant portion of their organization if only to make a point to any of the other lowlifes who believed we were easy pickings.

  There’d been rumors on the streets of Galicia for several weeks of a possible takeover attempt, the Los Charlines hungering to control not only the drug trade operation, but the even more lucrative cigarette industry. In my opinion, my father hadn’t taken the innuendos seriously enough. However, blood would rain in the streets before my family allowed them to usurp us.

  While the three Dons might be unhappy with our family’s decision, they knew better than to cross my father. They also had to know that given the assassination attempt, all codes of honor should be pushed aside.

  After all, Alviro Calleja was considered little more than an animal. He’d cut his mother into pieces if he believed her death would help him gain more power. Perhaps he’d meant for Peron to die.

  “What the hell does all this mean?” Dartanian asked quietly.

  “You know exactly what it means, brother.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. The last I heard, Gilly and the kids are on vacation in the United States. I think they’re visiting her mother in Georgia.”

  I inhaled, holding my breath. Our other brother’s death had left his beautiful family so alone, his wife not wanting to move back to her native country. Gilly also hadn’t wanted to do anything with our family, even though she’d been offered protection. I was thankful she was spending time with her family. For now. Although if the threat was to be taken seriously, distance wouldn’t matter. “We need to keep them there until this bullshit blows over.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see what Pops has to say. You know as well as I do, he prefers his entire family close. He may require that she return.”

  “Then I may refuse to allow that to happen,” I said under my breath, forcing another smug grin to cross my brother’s mouth.

  My father dropped his smile as soon as the others were out of sight, motioning us into his office. It would seem the meeting had been heated. Within seconds, my father moved toward the set of open French doors, grabbing his usual glass of scotch from the edge of his desk. He tipped his face as the light breeze wafted across him and into the room, lifting the crystal tumbler as if toasting to the heavens.