The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 13: Opponents

MATTEO

Matteo didn't recognize the voice behind him, but he knew well-enough to recognize a threat.

He also knew that he wouldn't win a fight– not in this shithole. Not when the entire damn warehouse was filled with drunken, trigger-happy mafiosi from every corner of the Cosa Nostra, friend and foe alike.

With slow, controlled movements, he set his glass on the bar top and turned in his barstool to face the newcomer. As he turned, he caught Val's eye. Her mischief had warped into concern, but she read the situation and casually turned her attention elsewhere, an attempt to remove herself from any incoming exchange.

Good girl, Matteo thought before lifting his eyes toward the owner of the meaty hand on his shoulder.

A middle-aged man with a patchy beard and ugly sneer stared back at him, flanked by two other, glossy-eyed men. Thank fuck, their attention seemed to be centered on Matteo alone, but he still sat a bit taller in his seat in an effort to block Val from view.

"Do I know you?" he rumbled, eyeing the main offender's hand on his shoulder and somehow resisting the urge to break it.

"Do I know you– ha!" The man in the center barked a laugh, clearly too drunk to recognize the impending danger for his wrist. "N-no. You wouldn't know us. B'we know you! Ev'ryone in this room'll know you."

Matteo sighed, his worry quickly morphing into annoyance. He didn't have the time nor the patience for the drunken antics of a man who wanted to foolishly challenge Leonardo Romano's infamous hitman.

One of the man's friends shook his head, as if reminiscing on the good old days. "I remember watching you fight in these cages, Costa," he drawled, slightly more lucid than the other man. "You broke a challenger's neck once. Snapped it right at the base."

The three men laughed at the memory, and unease skittered down Matteo's spine. He'd killed more men than he could count on behalf of Leonardo, but none of their deaths haunted him as much as the young fighter that he ended with a swift twist of his neck. That was the first time he'd lost control.

His lips pinched into a tight line. "That was a long time ago."

The man in the center dropped his hand from Matteo's shoulder, and his face contorted with a wicked smirk. "Before you became the Hollowman's cagna."

Matteo stiffened. Not at the insult– he'd been called worse– but at the 'X' tattoo inked on the man's wrist, accented by four little stars in each opening. The Mazza emblem. And four stars denoted a capo.

Fuck. He didn't think capos and other members of Cosa Nostra leadership stooped to attend these fights. The likelihood that Val would be recognized increased ten-fold.

He needed to get Val out of the damn warehouse. Before someone recognized her and decided to target Leonardo Romano by attacking his daughter and heir.

Matteo rolled his shoulders, feigning relaxed indifference, and shifted toward the bar again. He picked up his glass again, took a long sip of whisky, and glanced behind him toward Valentina.

Only, she no longer sat in the stool beside him.

Panic surged in his chest, his heart lurching into his throat even as he slowly turned back to the Mazza men. The bastards were still talking.

"Before the Hollowman tightened his leash," the third man joked, rubbing at his thick black beard. "Now he knows better and hides you away."

The man in the center shook his head. "The Romano knows nothing. He's too dense to realize that the vultures're circling."