Strapped for Cash: A Dark Mafia Romance by K.L. Hiers

Author:K.L. Hiers [Hiers, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2021-06-11T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Mickey dropped down beside the bed, his fingers shaking as he reached for Pops’ hand. He was so cold, and Mickey was overcome by a blinding despair. He kept squeezing Pops’ hand, wishing it wasn’t true and that this was a horrible nightmare.

But it was real.

His grandfather was dead.

“Fuck.” Roger stood at the doorway, staring at Pops in bewilderment. “No. It can’t be. He’s…? He’s not… is he?”

“He’s dead,” Mickey said flatly. He worked to bury the pain down deep, trying to wall it off so he could think straight. “Smothered. He’s already getting cold.”

“How the fuck did they find him?” Roger hissed. “What about the rest of our people? My fuckin’ mother? My brother?”

“Shut up! I don’t fuckin’ know!”

Someone could have followed them, or maybe the nurse decided to share her information for a price and it cost her her life.

There was a noise upstairs, and Mickey’s mind instantly refocused. They weren’t here alone now. This was a trap, he realized. Whoever had killed his grandfather knew they were going to come here to see him.

The text message.

Pops never called him Mickey.

Was that meant to be a warning? Was Pops even still alive when that was sent?

No matter.

There was only one immediate priority:

Revenge.

“Stay here,” Mickey ordered, rising up from Pops’ bedside and taking his guns in hand once more. “Call Cold. Tell him what’s happened and make sure everyone else is safe.”

“But Mickey—”

“Shut the fuck up and do what I fuckin’ tell you to.”

Roger held his furious gaze, unblinking, and he nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

With that, Mickey left the room and began to make his way back upstairs. He could hear the old floors creaking with passing footsteps, and he guessed there were around six men. He took a deep breath, the familiar flow of adrenaline washing over him and drowning out his pain.

He would take his time to mourn Pops, but not now.

First, he had six men to kill.

As he came up to the open doorway that led into the hall, he got a glimpse of a figure waiting for him on the other side. He immediately ducked down, hissing as a barrage of gunfire blasted by him. He shielded himself behind some of the old file boxes, and he waited for the shooting to stop.

He came around from the boxes, aimed, and fired twice.

The man dropped dead.

Mickey stepped over his body and then the nurse’s, heading into the sanctuary. There were three men clustered by the front doors, one sitting in a pew, and another standing next to the pulpit, lazily flipping through one of the old Bibles.

A million possibilities flashed before his eyes, his mind calculating all the different ways this could go, and every single scenario ended with all of these men dying.

“Mickey,” one of the men spoke up from the doorway. It was Salvatore Luchesi, that bastard, and he was standing right there, smiling nastily. “How’s your grandfather? Oh, right. He’s dead. Don’t worry. We’re gonna send you along to see him.”

Shit.

Mickey’s rising fury made him hesitate, and the men began to fire upon him.

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