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I clench my jaw as I imagine what the girl’s family are about to go through. A new wave of anger ravages through me. “Take me to him.” I pat my suit pocket and feel the heavy weight of my gun.

“We can’t go there unmanned.”

Nobody touches a Ferrara girl… nobody. “Then get the men,” I reply flatly.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulls to a halt in a parking lot outside a bar, and I get out of the car on autopilot.

We are in a seedy part of Sicily. The bar is loud, but the rest of the streets are quiet.

What kind of man does that to an innocent woman?

I walk across the cobblestone street to the bar. It’s been raining and the ground shimmers with the afterglow. The sound of my feet crunches on the hard surface.

I have ten men with me now, and I’m here for blood. His blood.

I open the door and walk into the bar. The musicians instantly stop playing and everyone falls quiet. They stop and stare. I walk in and my shoes creak on the wooden floorboards.

I look around at the patrons. It’s filled with men of many ages. They know who I am, and it tells me a lot.

“Where is Lucky Lombardi?” I ask loudly—calmly. Silence.

“Give him to me… or write your own death certificate.” They all stay deathly still.

I grab the closest man to me. “Where is he?” I ask as I give him a shake. “I speak the truth. Anyone who hides him from me will meet their maker today.”

One weaker man points to the back door of the bar. “He left,” he says softly, his eyes darting to the door.

“Check the bathrooms,” I tell Sergio.

I hope to fuck he’s in there so I can kill the fucker with my bare hands.

We walk back out the front door and into the parking lot.

I look around, my ten men beside me.

The parking lot is dark and eerie. I can see no movement. He’s hiding…

“Mr. Lombardi!” I call. “Show your cowardly face.” Silence.

My men and I exchange looks. “Get out here!” I yell.

I hear a phone ringing in the distance and we all glance at one another. The phone keeps ringing and we look over to see it’s coming from a pay phone on the corner of the street.

Sergio goes and answers it. “Hello.”

His eyes glance up and over to me before he holds the phone out. “It’s for you.”

My eyes scan the roads and buildings around us. Is this a setup?

I take the phone from Sergio.

“Hello, Enrico,” a husky male voice sneers. “Looking for me?”

“Show your face.”

He laughs out loud. I narrow my eyes as I look around at the buildings surrounding us. He’s here somewhere. I can feel him watching us.

“You will get out of Sicily and hand me possession of all the brothels, or you will face the consequences.”