EVIL WAYS.

THREE

"What the fuck just happened?" Vittoria stormed in, slamming the door behind her.

She left Jake's house when Matteo called her and got a taxi straight to the temporary house they were staying in New Orleans. Something happened in Italy and she knew Rocco was behind it.

Matteo was talking on the phone, wandering around while two other men were sitting in the black leather chairs that surrounded a big dark wooden table.

"Rocco." The bearded man with long hair replied, confirming her suspicions. It was Dimitri, her personal security. She always said she didn't need one but Giuseppe was very strict about her safety. With time Vittoria grew fond of Dimitri and tolerated being followed around. "His men broke into your father's manner in Sicily. They took down half of our men there."

"Son of a bitch!" Vittoria cursed, walking to the liquor desk in the corner of the room. She poured herself a glass of whiskey, neat. "Where's my father?"

"He left Sicily, he was relocated into the Milan manner." The other man answered. She couldn't remember his name, but he was always around Dimitri, therefore, always around her. "Sir Mantovani wants you there as soon as possible."

"Fuck." She cursed under her breath, downing the hard liquor with a straight face. "What about Lorenzo?"

"Felix and Milos are escorting your brother to Milan as well, they left UCLA's campus this morning." Dimitri said, getting up. "Your father wants both of you safe now." He grabbed a duffle bag from one of the chairs, handing to her along with a passport. "We're leaving. Matteo is just working out the details."

Vittoria was used to being relocated, it happened her entire life. Even though she was into her father's businesses and somehow worked for him, Giuseppe never let her be in the frontline of a crisis.

Her older brother, on the other hand, dreaded any relationship with their father. Lorenzo never wanted anything to do with the mafia and made sure to stay out of it. When he turned 18, he left Italy and moved all the way to the US and tried living a normal life under a fake name. Work, school, social life. He only contacted Giuseppe once a month to let him know he was alive. But things were different with Vittoria, he loved his little sister to death and they got together every time she happened to be in Los Angeles.

However, when faced with a treat this big, Giuseppe ignored his son's rejection and moved him somewhere safe against his will. This was the second time he had to do this. Meaning, the second time Giuseppe would see his firstborn after he stormed out of his life six years ago.

"We're good to go." Matteo said, ending the phone call.

...

Jake killed the engine and jumped off his motorcycle, running a hand through his messy hair trying to tame the long locks. He looked around, making sure no one was watching him before he could walk to the entrance of the abandoned warehouse.

As soon as Vittoria left his studio earlier this morning he got a phone call, too. A new job. This time for one of the big bosses, which meant big bucks. Jake liked the big bucks.

A heavy smell of gasoline hit Jake's nostrils as soon as he entered the warehouse. A few old fuel barrels were heaped in a far corner. The dirt on the walls and the wet floor were not at all welcoming, the only light was coming from the outside, through the dusty stained-glass windows.

"Over here, boy." A deep raspy voice cut off the absolute silence of the warehouse, it came from a small room, away from the large iron gate of the entrance.

Jake followed the voice, entering the room and finding who was waiting for him.

"Jacob Kiszka! Exactly who I was looking for!" The man cheered, getting up from an old chair and heading toward him.

He was dressed in a fancy grey suit and he was tall, way taller than Jake. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, slicked back. His piercing bright blue eyes, penetrated Jake's brown ones. Almost in admiration. The well-shaved face had a large scar that started right above his left eyebrow, traveling his cheek all the way to the chin.

He held out a hand, which Jake picked up promptly, in a somewhat amicable handshake. "I've heard wonders about you!" He said.

"That's good, I guess." Jake said, watching the other three men in the room. Three giants, to put it best. Security guards. "I came as soon as I got your message. What do you need me for?" He asked.

"Objective. I like you." He pointed and smiled at Jake. "I need a long-term service, see. A few months, maybe more." The man began to explain. "I need you to infiltrate Giuseppe Mantovani's business." He signaled to one of the security guards, who pulled a box out of his coat pocket, handing a cigar to his boss while another security guard held up a lighter. He took a drag before continuing. "And after you give me the information I need, you're going to kill him."

"Who is this guy?" Jake asked and the man laughed.

"This guy?" He repeated, still laughing. "He's a motherfucking Italian mafia leader." He scoffed. "But I'm a much bigger shark. And that's a good enough reason for you not to screw me over, boy."

Jake watched the man sit back on the old chair. He never worked for the mafia before, never wanted to. He knew it was never a one job type of thing, once you were in that was it. You were in. Getting out was the tricky part.

"I don't work with the mafia. I'm sorry." He said, knowing his answer wouldn't please the old man.

"Well, that's funny. Because I never get a no for an answer." The old man said, blowing the thick smoke in the air. One of his security guards, a tall man with a buzzcut, pulled back one side of his black trench coat, showing a gun. "You see, Jacob. I really need this job done, and I've been told you're my guy."

"You can't intimidate me." Jake said to the old man, raising an eyebrow to Mr Buzzcut. "I've dealt with moneyed assholes like you, I know the drill." He spat.

The security man pulled the gun off his waist, starting to walk towards Jake, who didn't move muscle but smirked at him, completely amused by his reaction. But before he could reach Jake, the old man intervened.

"It's okay, Delone." He said to his security, laughing once again. "They warned me about your attitude, kid." He got up, making his way to Jake. "But I've also been told you love the big bucks. Shall we talk numbers? I'm sure it'll make you change your mind." He said, putting an arm around Jake's shoulders.

"How much are we talking about?" Jake asked.

"I will pay so much money that even your great grandchildren will live like royalty." He shoved his hand in his pocket, pulling out a small card with a number written on it. Jake really tried not to express any emotions when he read it but he could feel himself getting dizzy seeing all those zeros.

Jake started to consider the offer, then. He knew it was a terrible idea but he needed to get some stuff worked out and the money would come in handy. Besides, it's not everyday people get offered money enough to buy a fucking island if they wanted to.

"One job." Jake said, with a stern face. He wanted to make it clear he was not going to be caught up in the mafia's bullshit afterwards.

"One job. No strings attached." The old man reassured. "I'll have your plane ticket and some instructions delivered to your house by night." He pulled out another card and handed over to Jake. "Call this number when you get there. I have a guy in Italy, he'll explain everything and get you in. You leave in the morning."

"Consider it done." Jake replied, turning his back to the men and making his way out of the warehouse.