Mafia Kings: Massimo: Dark Mafia Romance Series #3

Two hours later, I was back in Treporti – the small town where my road trip with Lucia had begun.

The sun was coming up and I was exhausted from lack of sleep. I knew I should try to nap while I had the chance, but it was pointless to even try. My mind was racing a million miles an hour and there was no hope of shutting it off. All I could think of was Lucia and how scared she must be.

In the absence of sleep, I decided I should get some food in me, so I parked in front of a small café.

As I was getting out, an old shopkeeper came out of the place next door and started shouting at me.

“Hey – hey, that’s my son’s car!”

Shit.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

In my exhaustion, I’d forgotten I’d stolen it.

What are the chances? I thought wearily.

Actually, in a small town like this… pretty good, actually.

“You STOLE that car!” the old man roared. “I’m calling the cops!”

I did not need this right now.

I pulled out all the money I had left in my pocket – about 3000 euros, all in hundreds.

I peeled off a single bill to pay for breakfast, then held out the wad of cash. It was still damp from my dunk in the river.

The old man was stunned into silence.

“Take that and give it to your son,” I said. “In exchange for his inconvenience… and for you not calling the cops.”

When the old man didn’t reach for the money, I picked up his hand from his side and pressed the money into his palm.

The 2900 was more than the car was worth; it was a piece of crap. But I really couldn’t afford more complications today, so I asked, “You got a pen and paper?”

“Inside,” the old man mumbled.

“Go get it.”

He walked obediently back inside, then came out with a small pad and pen. I wrote down a phone number.

“Have your son call this number tomorrow morning – not today, tomorrow morning – and tell whoever answers that I owe another 30,000 euros for the car. If you don’t call the cops, the man at this number will immediately wire 30,000 euros to your son’s bank account. Do you understand?”

The old man hesitated, then nodded.

“You gonna call the cops?” I asked.

He shook his head no, his eyes wide.

“Grazie,” I said and patted his shoulder. Thank you.

Then I left him standing there in the street and went into the café.