Possessed by the Killer (Dark Possessive Mafia)

“Yes, sir,” she said, making a face.

“Sir?” I asked, touching my chin. “I think I prefer Daddy.”

“I’ll call you Daddy the day I learn how to fly,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Twenty,” I repeated, and left her alone to get changed.

* * *

I parked outside a rundown-looking bar on Passyunk street and climbed out. Mags followed, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt that showed off a hint of cleavage. I could’ve sworn the girl was trying to tease me.

The room was smoky and dark, and the chairs were still up on the tables to the left. Gian stood behind the bar wiping glasses, and a few mafia guys sat on stools. I spotted the man I was looking for, nodded at Gian, and held up a hand to get everyone’s attention.

“I need a minute with Matteo,” I said. “You all wait outside.”

Nobody hesitated. That was good. They filed out, all except Matteo, with his dark hair and dark eyes. He glared at me like I was about to dress him down for doing something stupid. Gian remained behind the bar, wiping glasses.

I looked at him, head cocked. “Don’t you got something better to do?” I asked. “You don’t strike me as the bartending type.”

He laughed and poured himself some whiskey. “Ash usually watches it during the day but she went out for lunch,” he said. “So I’m on duty.”

“I thought I paid you to run my crew.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, shrugging. “I do that too.”

I grunted and sat down. Mags took the stool next to me, and Gian slid her a gin and tonic with a wink.

“What can I do for you, boss?” Matteo asked. He had a half-full beer in front of him and a sour look on his face.

“I know you heard about Lorenzo,” I said.

He nodded and looked down at his hands. “Fucked up,” he said. “Wasn’t right. Not his time.”

“Any time could be our time in this business,” I said, glancing at Mags. She sipped her drink and said nothing. “He was a good man. Replacing him is going to be tough.”

Matteo grunted and rapped his knuckled on the bar. “Damn right it’ll be hard,” he said. “Lorenzo had respect, you know? Can’t be a leader without it.”

I leaned toward him. “Do you have respect?” I asked.

He eyed me for a moment. “I might,” he said.

“How many guys in Lorenzo’s crew do you know?”

He leaned back and studied me before answering. “This seems like it’s a job interview,” he said.

“That’s because it is.” I cocked my head. “How many do you know?”

“Close with a couple,” he said, eyes narrowed and face serious. “I know the rest well enough.”

“Would they follow you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. I liked that. If he said yes immediately, I’d think he was a liar, saying whatever he needed to say in order to get the job. If he said no, then he was too timid.

But hesitating, and thinking, that showed he wasn’t just a smoking gun and a knife in the dark. He had some brains.

“I think so,” he said. “Most of them at least. Some are broken up about Lorenzo and won’t follow anyone at all until they get over it.”

I nodded and glanced at Gian. He grinned at me and shrugged a little, like that was the best answer he could’ve heard.

“You know Lorenzo was fighting on the front lines,” I said.

Matteo shrugged. “You gave him all the best jobs.”

“Gian too,” I said, nodding toward the Capo cleaning glasses like some hourly barman. “That right, Gian? You think the Healy family’s soft?”

“Not yet,” Gian said. “But they will be.”

I snorted. “What do you think, Matteo? You want to get your hands dirty?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding sharply.

I looked back at Mags and winked. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not saying you have the job,” I said, head cocked as I studied Matteo’s reaction. His back was straight, and his face was drawn and serious. “But if you can get the support of most of Lorenzo’s crew, then I’ll make it happen. You come to me when you’ve worked it out with them.”

“I’ll talk to everyone tonight,” Matteo said. “Thank you, Don Valentino.”

“You’re a good soldier,” I said. “You deserve it. Now get the fuck outta here.”

Matteo jumped up like a shot and nodded at me. I thought he might salute, but he ran out of there and left his beer behind.

I took it and polished it off. Gian gave me an appraising look.

“You’re sure about him?” he asked.

“We need someone willing to take the fight to the Healy family,” I said, and put a hand on Mags’s thigh.

She brushed it off. “He’s so young,” she said. “How old is he? Twenty?”

“Twenty-six,” I said. “Old enough. I was doing worse at his age.”

“You were the Don’s son,” Gian said.