by Piper Stone
Ruthless
By
Piper Stone
Copyright © 2019 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Ruthless
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Image by Shutterstock/LightField Studios
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
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Piper Stone Links
Chapter One
Giovanni
“Eh, Luigi, this is the best gravy you’ve made in decades.” When Montego Calduchi spoke, everyone listened, and the entire room was leaning forward, as if the ordained crime boss was about to give an important speech.
Or issue a hit.
The man was powerful, considered one of the most dangerous men in America. He was without question a brutal monster, lording his reign over everyone. There wasn’t a single syndicate in the country who wouldn’t enjoying dethroning his empire, what would be my kingdom at some point.
Chicago.
Home of the White Sox and some of the sexiest women in the Midwest.
Home of the most notorious crime family in the country.
My father had been head of the family for almost forty years, his acts of cruelty leaving a trail of blood for decades. No one defied him.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so very much,” Luigi said, his raspy voice, altered by decades of heavy smoking, no match for Montego’s deep baritone. He leaned over, obtaining the obligatory kiss on each cheek and a hug, my father slapping the frail man’s back with vigor.
The private suite door momentarily opened, and I was given a beautiful and sultry change in scenery. The long-legged brunette had no doubt made a point to stand just outside the door, hoping for an opportunity to showcase her voluptuous body. I gave her a respectful nod, envisioning her naked body draped over my lap, my well-worn leather belt in my hand. The thought made my balls tighten and my cock press in the most uncomfortable manner against my Armani pants. Sadly, the sensuous vixen was like all the rest; hungry young women longing to obtain status as a Mafia mistress. The concept bored the fuck out of me.
“Mio amico,” Montego said as he pushed Luigi away, dismissing him from the room.
Already weary, I sat back, fingering the base of my wineglass, staring absently out the picture window and allowing the smoke from my Cuban cigar to billow in my father’s direction, one of many annoyances. A light rain continued to fall, creating a slight fog hovering over the busy street. This was my father’s favorite place to have lunch, a restaurant I’d often visited as a child. I only wished the location held the same fond memories as it did for my aging father.
Chuckling to myself, I took a sip of the expensive cabernet, longing to get the hell out of Chicago, even for a little while. Recent discussions with my brother had left me with a nasty taste in my mouth even after the asshole had disappeared, ruining a decent business opportunity. There were seven of us positioned around a specially carved table, crafted from the finest and nearly extinct Brazilian woods.
All to my father’s likings and because of his demands.
The meeting had been mandatory, myself included. Seated were five top capos, the most vicious men in the syndicate. Bodyguards, the newest soldiers, remained on the outskirts of the room, keeping watch on the crowded street.
After giving me a dirty look, Montego’s eyes followed the chef, waiting until the aging man had left the room, closing the door behind him. Privacy was everything. “Prick.” He tossed his fork and yanked the napkin from the collar of his shirt. “Stupid man can’t make gravy to save his ass. He needs to get out of the business.”
My father certainly didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything.
Including his children.
Montego had already eaten the majority of his capellini, as always and we’d only been here fifteen minutes. The man truly disgusted me and the worst part? I’d ended up just like him. Hard-edged, refusing to budge, and my joy of slicing and dicing legendary. I was a man to be feared. I took another puff of my cigar, savoring the rich smoke. The box of Cubans had been a gift from one of the dozens of businesses my family protected. The expensive smokes had also been a thank you for allowing the greasy pig owner to live after being light on his payment.
There would be no more second chances.
“Then why are we still coming here, boss?” the soldier asked, his foot tapping on the floor from eagerness. “I could give you suggestions for some pretty good places.”
I held my tongue. The young soldier had just made his first blunder. He’d opened his mouth.
“Will you listen to that babbo?” Montego said, laughing as he glanced from one capo to another, expecting their agreement. His eyes landed on me last, the laughter turning sour given I was ignoring him. He called everyone in our organization an idiot, including his own sons. “The pussy boy thinks he has a brain inside that big head of his. Suggestions, my ass.”
The men laughed, as they always did. Poor Antonio looked sheepish, regretting spewing the question. The kid shifted back and forth, trying his best to shrink into the woodwork.
“Can we get on with it?” I asked casually.
Montego’s smile instantly faded and he pounded his fist on the table. Complete silence swept across the room. “Fine. Let’s get to it.” Shifting back, he tapped his finger on the lip of his glass, his expression cold. “All this talk about New York taking over has put our organization in a precarious position. We have a rat in our family and we are going to find him. I won’t tolerate cock-sucking pigeons. He needs to be put on ice.”
I blew out another puff of smoke, my lips allowing a floating ring to form. I’d heard rumblings in the organization, the same shit as months before. My concern was that the New York syndicate wasn’t the only group attempting to muscle in. There were others who saw our family as weak, especially given my brother had turned his back on the Calduchi name. However, Montego couldn’t seem to care less. He adored Jagger, the favorite son.
“Who the fuck is it?” Marco asked, his upper lip curled into a snarl.
“Yeah, boss. Any idea?” Daniel huffed, his fat face puffing out from anger.
I’d grown up with Marco, even considering him my best friend. Daniel, on the other hand, I didn’t trust for shit.
“That’s for you boys to find out and you’re going to do so within twenty-four hours or blood will rain in the streets,” Montego commanded then polished off his glass of burgundy before adjusting his tie.
Lunch was officially over.
The capos all nodded, and in my mind, three quarters of them were nothing but dancing bobble-head dolls. No brains but e
very one of them had damn good killer instincts.
“Stay, Gio. I need to discuss something with you,” Montego said without looking in my direction. Then he slowly turned his head and for a few seconds, I could see the strangest emotion in my father’s eyes.
Sadness.
I nodded, keeping my place but my gut told me things were about to change.
The second Montego pushed back from the table, the others rose out of respect. A split second before my periphery of vision was cut off, I noticed a glint and my instincts kicked in hard. I reached for my Glock, jumping over the table in an effort to yank my father away from the window. Mother fucker. “Get down!”
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
* * *
“You’re going to fuckin’ save him!”
Antonio’s voice? What the hell was going on? I tried to move or focus, but my arms and legs weren’t responding. I don’t...
“You need to back off, sir. There’s a waiting room just outside the corridor. Go there!”
Waiting room. A torrent of images flooded my mind. Blood. My father. I was so cold, so freaking cold. Help me. Where the fuck was I?
“Well, you better take care of him, Doctor!” The deep voice was one I recognized. Why couldn’t I speak? Marco, I...
“You’re going to be fine, boss!”
Light flickered then blackness and...
“We’re losing him. Get him into surgery. Stat!”
Wheels in motion. Voices. Blood. The world passing by...
“Where the hell am I?” There was no light, other than an orange glow somewhere in the distance. My mind was foggy, cobwebs filtering through every thought. I shook my head, expecting blinding pain. There was nothing. No cold. No anguish. No emotion.
Nothing.
The world was slanted, askew like my vision. Survival. The word hit me like a ton of bricks, leaving me with an urgent need to get the fuck out of this bleak place. Move. Move! My legs were sluggish, unresponsive. I slapped my hands on whatever surface was near me, struggling to move forward even a few inches. Jesus. What had happened? I would do this. What mother fucker had put me in this predicament?
With every inch of success, an overwhelming feeling of failure slithered into my system, filling me with dread and fear unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Figures and faceless shapes seemed to come from nowhere, shoving against me as they moved, more and more of them until claustrophobia strangled every breath. I clawed at my neck, confusion mixing together with the fog.
“I warned you, son. There’s still time to repent.”
The voice was so warm and loving. I turned sharply, unable to see who’d issued the words. “Who are you?” There was no immediate answer. Anger. Now, all I could feel was extreme anger. Blinding rage. “Where the fuck are you?” I pushed and shoved, trying to force my way through the crowd but the faceless group seemed to block my way.
“Redemption. Pray for redemption, my sweet and loving son.”
“Mother?” The fucking assholes wouldn’t get out of my way. I punched, catching one then two of them, knocking them to the ground. Shapeless monsters. There were more of them, hundreds if not thousands, all heading in my direction. “Mother?”
“Find a way,” she whispered.
I could see her just ahead. She was so beautiful, just like I remembered as a boy. “Mother!” I kicked and shoved, swinging right and left. She was waiting for me. “What is happening?”
“I forgive you.” She seemed to wait, but only briefly, turning and walking deeper into the wretched horde of beasts, all reaching for me, cackling noises erupting from their misshapen mouths. Their eyes were like molten pools of lava, flowing down their faces.
“No! Come back. Please. Mother, what’s happening?” I chased after her, only to be captured by a massive web. I cried out for her, begging. Sobbing.
There would be no help, no salvation for the likes of me.
She turned toward me one last time. Tears streamed down her face, dripping to the blackened floor.
And for a few seconds, I could see that they were tears of blood.
* * *
Bloodshed. Death. Destruction.
This was my family’s legacy and all of it would be required in my new position as head of the Calduchi family. But I had a new word infiltrating my system and one that would become my legacy.
Suffering.
I would make the bastards who’d murdered my father in cold blood suffer in manners that only their nightmares could imagine. The word on the street was pinpointed at the rat Montego had mentioned just minutes before he’d been gunned down. The pricks from New York had yet to lay claim, but I knew instinctively who they were, and they would be punished for their sins.
Their leader, one sick bastard by the name of Bruno Giotano thought he was larger than life. He would soon learn he was nothing.
I certainly had no real love for my father. Montego Calduchi had been a hard man, brutal in his techniques, including dealing with his family, but I’d respected both him and his position. He’d been demanding as well as connected, certainly influential with hundreds of politicians and corporate moguls alike. And now I was required to take over his regime.
A cold shiver sliced into every muscle. I was prepared, more than ready to take command, but heads would roll under my dominion. Instead of initiating new soldiers, I was stuck in the freaking middle of nowhere, ready for some bogus rehabilitation that wasn’t necessary.
And I was pissed.
Columbus, Ohio. Fucking fantastic. I’d do my stint in medical rehab, directing my capos while the streets continued to play out the bloodbath. Information had flowed freely enough, the hit meant for the entire family. The plot had been ingenious, and I still had no knowledge of my brother’s whereabouts. For all I knew, Jagger was dead. To everyone, except for three of my most trusted men, I was still in intensive care at the Chicago hospital, barely hanging on, the Consigliere considered in charge. The lie wouldn’t hold for much longer.
For all practical purposes, I’d died on the operating table, considered clinically dead for almost two minutes. The single bullet had almost been successful. Still, I couldn’t afford to be laid up like some sick dog. I had a job to do and I loathed this shit.
Anyone who knew me realized I wasn’t the kind of man to run from a problem. Rage furrowed in my gut. Losing Franco, Tony, and Cane, powerful capos in their own right in the process was an enormous hit for our family and word had spread within minutes that our organization had been cut in half. Wasn’t good for business all the way around.
We also lost three soldiers. At least Daniel and Marco had only been injured and were alive. As the newest capos, they’d be forced to take over a lion’s share of the business dealings until I could get a handle on things. By the grace of St. Francis, Antonio had reacted quickly enough, dragging me away from the carnage. I owed the boy my life. The wound was healing, but a round of TLC was definitely needed.
But I had something else in mind.
I took a swig of my scotch, grimacing at the bitter, cheap taste. One week was seven days too long. At least by then, a plan would be set in motion. Antonio sat at a small table several yards away, the soldier bumped up to a made man after the incident. He’d earned his stripes after risking his life. He was my initial protector, my driver, and my hired gun. The man I most trusted had suggested the particular hospital, and I hadn’t been in any condition to ask questions or contradict him.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” My snarl was deep, coming from the heightened rage I’d felt since the attempted massacre.
My utter disgust drew attention from the striking blonde sitting at the other end of the bar. In the rather dingy setting, I was surprised to see such a beautiful creature. She twisted her head in my direction, easing the single olive from her martini with her fingers. The only reaction was in her shimmering eyes, but all I could concentrate on was the way she pulled the oblong vegetable i
n her luscious mouth after licking off the juices. Her tongue darted back and forth, creating filthy fantasies, vile images in vivid color.
She slid the tip of her manicured fingernail around the rim of her glass, not once but three times. The beautiful woman had no idea how sensual she truly was. Inhaling, even the way her exotic perfume wafted into my nostrils was enough to create depraved thoughts in my mind. I wanted to tie her up, exposing her rosy nipples and pretty pink pussy. I wanted to spank her for being a bad girl, making certain her bottom was crisscrossed in the same vibrant hue as her dress. My mouth watered and my thoughts drifted into darkness, a passion that would not be denied but hadn’t been fulfilled in a long time.
My cock twitched, my balls tightening. My hunger was off the charts. As my chest rose and fell, I knew I had to have her. I offered a slight smile, shifting in the seat as my shaft became pinched. She seemed amused at my outburst then almost immediately glanced at her watch. Who was she waiting for? A boyfriend? Her stunning scarlet dress hugged every curve, accentuating her long legs. After a few seconds, she casually looked in my direction. She certainly wasn’t hovering at the bar for any business purposes. I snickered at the thought. Lifting my glass, I gave her a nod of approval.
Almost instantly she looked away, as if the attention was unwanted.
No one ever denied what I craved.
Certainly no one ever dared refute my command.
Not if they wanted to live.
This beauty would garner an exception to the rule. After all, she didn’t belong to me.
Yet.
At least my personality was intact as well as my desires.
She grew more restless as the minutes ticked on, finally tossing back the remainder of her drink and dragging her finger across her ruby-stained lips. Just as she yanked a small purse from the seat beside her, a hand was placed on her shoulder, the grip firm. Far too firm for a casual meeting.
I glanced sideways at the asshole who’d dared to be late, sizing him up. He was no doubt an attorney by the way he was dressed and by the looks of it, one that was paid very well.
“You’re late. As usual,” she attempted to say quietly, but she seemed far too angry.
