The Medici Crime Family: Luca

Chapter 1

LUCA

"Look man, I don't know what you're talking about. My car got stolen a few days ago," the younger man says.

Brad. That's how his friend called him. The little shit thinks I can't see straight past his lies. I take a hold of his hair and pull back, flexing his neck in a painful angle as he lets out a scream. His nose is bloody, cheeks are turning a violent shade of red, and yet, it does nothing to satisfy me. Not. Even. Close.

"Listen carefully, Brad," I say, pushing the tip of my gun under his chin. " You too," I throw a look to the man sitting on the couch, watching the show with horror.

Matteo, one of my best men is behind him, aiming his own gun at the guy's head. I don't think he would be as stupid as to try and run with his hands tied, but I've seen all kinds of idiots so far. He wouldn't be the first to try and fail.

"This is your last chance to tell me where that fucking coward is hiding. Next lie that comes out of your mouth is going to be your death pass," I growl out my threat, staring into Brian's pathetic face for emphasis. He's shaking so fucking hard that even the chair I forced him on is moving.

"Look man, it wasn't us. We didn't try to kill anybody. We don't know the guy-"

Sick of wasting my time and being in this shithole, I pull him out of his seat and he falls on all fours on the floor. In the blink of an eye he's kneeling at my feet with my gun pressed to his forehead and as the excitement accelerates my heart rate, my finger eagerly pulls the trigger. The bullet shatters the back of his skull, painting the wall with his brains.

And then silence. It's deep and rich after the sound of a gun going off. It's so fucking soothing. I close my eyes basking in the feel of it. Knowing that my face was the last thing he saw makes me a little warmer inside. It should make the deep dark blood-thirsty part of me calm down, but it only demands more. I can feel it boil my blood, rushing it. More blood. More suffering. More death. Well... maybe it isn't that deep below the surface anymore. Lately it's been hard to satisfy it.

"Oh my god. Oh god. Brad..." a voice shatters the silence, the terror in his voice calling to me.

I turn to the other man to see him cry. Disappointing. It's not for his dear friend. It's out of fear. I can smell it on him. It gets me excited. He knows what's coming and he's crying like a little bitch. Fucking wimp! How the fuck did they think they can attempt to fucking kill me and get away with it is beyond my imagination. And I have a pretty rich and graphic imagination.

"Let's try again. What's your name?" I say dragging Brian's chair and sitting on it, right in front of him, making a show out of waving my gun at his knees.

He whispers something but I don't catch it. I turn my ear to him.

"Dylan," he tries again, shifting his eyes from his friend to my face and then quickly to my gun, avoiding my eyes.

"Who tried to pull that little stunt at my casino earlier?"

"I don't know." he chokes the words out, bending his head further into his chest and shaking it. I know he is trying to prevent me from seeing the lie on his face.

"I'm here for a reason, Dylan. It means something led me here and by denying it you're just wasting more of my time and it will make me angrier which is not good for you. You follow me?"

He looks up at me with fearful eyes.

"Did you see what happened to Brad?"

He nods.

"Good. So, who was the man who planted a bomb on my fucking car?"

He starts crying again. Fucking pathetic!