Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He lets out a sigh but turns and runs back to my car to put the bag away.
One down.
Picking up the dead body, I throw his fat ass into the back of the van and shut the doors. Not much I can do about the blood on the ground, but the cleanup crew will take care of that once I make the call.
Pulling my gun back out, I open the back door of the building and creep inside the chapel. It’s quiet, letting me know that whatever is happening is upstairs. Rossi never transformed it like the first floor.
I make my way up the stairs quietly, my gun steady in my hands. Once I hit the landing, I look both left and right. It’s cold. Doesn’t matter how long the funeral home has been out of use, the smell of dead bodies lingers. It’s in the walls. No amount of bleach or paint could ever cover it up. That’s why I’m so surprised anyone would want to get married below it.
I make my way down the long hallway, and a single light buzzes above my head. The old flowered wallpaper ripped off in spots. The brown carpet stained and chunks missing. I come up to a door on my left and crack it open. It’s empty other than the large two side-by-side metal plated crematories.
Hmm, we can make use of that.
Closing the door, I continue, opening the next one. The concrete floor is covered in dried blood, and the back wall has three metal doors. This is where they store the bodies. There are two metal slabs with sinks at the end where they wash them off before placing them inside the refrigeration system.
Entering the room, I shut the door behind me softly. Walking over to the doors, I open one up, but it’s empty. I close it and open the next one. To my surprise, it has a body. I thought it was out of commission. But we’ve always suspected the chapel to be a front. A tag on his toe tells me his name was Jacob Miller. Thirty years old and was an organ donor.
I bet he was.
This is what they did in the past. They’d steal bodies from the hospital, remove all the organs, and then pack their bodies full of drugs and or money. Then they ship them. Hard for search dogs to recognize the smell of drugs when you have a rotting corpse in front of them.
“He’s in here,” a voice calls out.
Shit!
Closing the door, I open the one that I know was empty and crawl in. I lie down and look up into total darkness. This would frighten any person, except for me. For my family. I saw my first dead body at ten years old when my father killed my uncle. At the time, I was scared of what he was capable of, but it didn’t take me long to understand. A month after my uncle’s murder, my aunt Ava was gunned down in her own home. My father didn’t make me witness that one.
The Mafia takes their code of silence very seriously. You don’t fucking talk. To anyone, about anything.
“When are they shipping out?” a familiar voice asks, and my jaw clenches. Davis Ricardo is Rossi’s most loyal follower, but he wants to be number one. He wants to be the one on top and in charge, and in order to achieve that, he’ll have to fuck him over. It’s just a matter of time. He’ll get tired of waiting. Eventually.
“Tomorrow. Don’t want them sitting still for too long. We’ll put them on the plane and fly them out. They’ll reach their destination by Friday.”
No, they won’t.
“Okay, put the woman in this one.” I hear him slap the door to the one I’m in.
Shit!
I hit the side of my Apple watch to light up what small amount of space I can see. Thankfully, it’s open. Normally, these would have individual slots for each body, but these bastards can be cheap, and they chose to purchase the kind where each level is open, so it costs less to cool.
Thank God for that.
I quickly crawl over, trying to be quiet, and hold my gun so I don’t drop it on the metal tables. The space is cramped and cold. Once I get to the next one that is available, I lie back down and close my eyes, turning off my light.
Where in the fuck is my brother?
“How long will it take?” Donatello asks.
“Shouldn’t take me longer than thirty minutes to pack the body.”
“Get it done,” he orders.
I smile to myself, ready to get this show started. I can take them all on at once, but I prefer one at a time.
I hear the door open to the room. “Sir? Gabe is dead.”
Fuck!
“What?” Donatello snaps.
“I found him in the back of the van,” a man rushes out. “Throat slashed.”