Mafia Kings: Dario: Dark Mafia Romance Series
Mafia Kings: Dario: Chapter 47

Lars took me back home in one of the Mercedes. It was a 30-minute drive down mostly deserted two-lane roads, and he was quiet most of the way.

I just stared out the window and wondered if I would ever stop hurting.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s poetic in a way, isn’t it?”

I turned to him, confused. “What is?”

“Our little journey started the moment we saw each other in the café… and now it ends with the two of us, as well.”

“I guess that’s true,” I murmured.

“Is there anything I could say to change your mind? Anything I could do so you’d let me take you back to the house?”

“No. But thank you for asking.”

He nodded and continued driving in silence.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me –

And a cold chill went through my body.

Lars was the killer of the group…

The assassin.

He had been the one tasked with shooting the man in the café.

What if he was tasked with doing something else tonight?

“…Lars?” I asked, trying to control the fear in my voice.

“Yes?”

“Why were you the one to take me back home?”

“I volunteered.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Somebody’s out there trying to kill Dario and his brothers. They’re a target. I’m not.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

He smiled. “Well… it’s true they think of me like family… but the fact of the matter is, I’m not as tactically important as any of them. I’m just the muscle. The enforcer, if you will. Plus, I’m better in a firefight than any of them. Dario, Adriano, and Massimo are good, but I’m the best.”

“You wouldn’t… be taking me out into the country at night… to tie up loose ends, would you?”

He looked over at me in shock –

Then looked back at the road –

And burst out laughing.

“You thought I was driving you somewhere to KILL YOU?!” he said through his laughter.

“Well, I mean, that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“No!” he said, sounding offended. “I mean, I kill when I have to, but I do it to protect the family! Plus I would never kill women or children – you know that!”

I wanted to say I know you TOLD me that, but I didn’t think it was wise at the moment.

“What about the man in the café?” I asked.

“Umberto Fumagalli was an enforcer for the Oldanis – a rival family that wants to kill Dario and his brothers so they can take over their territory!”

“So… he basically had the same job as you?”

“Yes – except I do it out of necessity. From what I’ve heard, Fumagalli enjoyed his work a little too much, if you get my meaning.”

My stomach twisted. “…oh.”

Lars shook his head ruefully. “I can’t believe you thought I was going to kill you.”

“Well, I mean, you are in the mafia.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between those who inflict pain and suffering with no regard for innocents, and those who are in a business that happens to be outside the law. That’s why Dario insisted they get out of drugs and sex trafficking – because he doesn’t want to be part of that anymore. The things he’s keeping – gambling and political influence – they’re not like taking women out of Eastern Europe and forcing them to be prostitutes. He wants no part of that shit.”

“But his father was involved in it,” I said.

“And Dario’s stopping it. In fact, you probably got shot at in Florence because Dario refused to let the Turk do anything in his territory.” Lars paused for a second, then shrugged. “Well… I think that’s what happened, anyway.”

“The Turk… Fausto and Dario talked about him a lot.”

“I forgot, you were there. Yeah, he was the bastard we had a meeting with while you were in Florence.”

We had finally reached a stretch of road that I recognized even in the dark: the street leading up to the village of Mensano.

“My father’s place is up here on the right,” I said.

“I know,” Lars said with a half-smile. “I’ve been here before, remember?”

“…right…”

He pulled up next to the café. All the lights were out – which made sense, as it was nearly midnight.

Lars pulled out my phone, which I hadn’t seen since Dario took it from me the night he’d taken me prisoner.

“Here,” he said as he handed it to me. “Do you have a key to get in?”

“I know where the spare is hidden.”

“Do you want me to go in with you?”

“No… I’ll be fine.”

Lars looked into my eyes as though searching for something. “You sure I can’t convince you to come back with me? I think you can probably patch things up with Dario.”

I smiled sadly and shook my head no.

He sighed. “Alright… well, it was worth a shot.”

He paused for a second, then continued. “I programmed my personal number into your phone. I know Roberto gave you his card, and he can help you with money – that’s his specialty – but I can help you if you’re ever in danger. If you need anything – anything at all – give me a call, day or night.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He held out a hand as though wanting to shake.

Though a little surprised at how impersonal it seemed, I reached out to take his hand –

But he pulled it back, turned his finger and thumb into a gun, and said “Pew pew” like he was shooting the world’s quietest pistol.

I gave him a look like REALLY?!

Lars laughed out loud. “Sorry – I couldn’t resist.”

Then he leaned forward and gave me a hug. “Good luck, Alessandra. Call if you need me.”

“I will,” I promised.

When the hug was over, I got out of the car.

Lars waited until I reached the café and found the spare key hidden in the flower bed.

I unlocked the door and waved.

The Mercedes flashed its lights, pulled out into the road, and drove back the way we had come.

My heart felt heavy as I watched the red taillights disappear into the night…

…and then I went inside and shut the door.

I flicked on the nearest light switch –

And shrieked when I saw a man sitting in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows.

He was unshaven with several days’ worth of stubble. A half-empty whiskey bottle sat next to him on the table.

It was my father.

“Papa?!” I cried out, happy and yet bewildered. “What are you doing down here so late?”

He looked up at me with a spark of happiness –

But it was swallowed up by the misery in his eyes.

“My darling,” he whispered with a sad smile. “I wish you hadn’t come back.”

Four men dressed in black stepped out of the shadows.

I shrieked and stumbled backwards –

Just as the door opened behind me and rough hands grabbed my shoulders.

One of the men walked forward into the light.

He was around 45, tall, and dressed in a suit.

He would have been handsome if not for the jagged scar that stretched from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth.

“Alessandra,” the man said in a Turkish accent. “So glad you could join us.”