All Chapters of MAFIA BRIDE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The cold storage room under the Moretti docks had no windows, and it smelled of salt, rust, and old fish.Ferris sat in a metal chair in the middle of the floor, his wrists tied behind him and his gray suit torn open at the collar. A single bulb hung over his head, swinging slightly in the draft. His lip had swollen to twice its size, but he held his chin high, and he kept smiling the same thin smile he had worn in the chop shop.Isabella stood against the far wall in the shadows, her coat buttoned to her chin, her hands folded over her belly. She had been standing there for an hour. Her back ached, and her ears still rang from the gunshots in Queens. She did not leave."You have a very good memory for names, Mr. Ferris," Luca said, rolling up his sleeves as he walked a slow circle around the chair. "Let us see how good it is tonight.""I have nothing to say to you, Moretti," Ferris answered, tilting his head to follow Luca's steps, his smile never moving."You will." Luca stopped beh

The first wave hit the front gate before Luca could finish giving his orders.He had dragged Isabella behind the heavy oak table in the war room, and now he lifted his head just enough to see through the tall windows. A black van had smashed through the iron gates and slid sideways across the gravel, with its doors already open. Men in dark jackets poured out of it, firing as they ran. Caruso's body lay where he had fallen, face down beside the stone lions, and nobody could reach him."Sergio!" Luca roared, rolling onto one knee with his gun raised. "Bring your men to the front stairs, now!""Already here, Don Luca," Sergio answered, bursting through the door with three guards behind him, his broad shoulders heaving. He was gray-haired and thick-necked, with a scar through one eyebrow, and he had stood at Luca's back for twenty years. He dropped beside him and snapped a rifle to his shoulder. "How many, do you think?""Too many for daylight," Luca said through his teeth, firing twice

For one long second, Luca could not make himself breathe.He stared through the binoculars at his cousin, standing in the firelight with his hands in his coat pockets, while Marco Gentile knelt in the dirt at his feet. The twelve men of the tunnel team stood behind them with their hands on their heads, and a ring of cartel rifles held them in place."Luca, talk to me," Isabella said in his ear, her voice tight, and he could hear her keys clicking faster. "What do you see?""Riccardo," Luca said, his voice cracking, his fingers whitening around the glasses. "He sold them the tunnel, Bella. He is standing next to Vazquez with a gun on Marco's head."The line went silent for a heartbeat. Then Isabella spoke again, low and cold. "Then do not let him finish it."Luca slapped his earpiece. "Paulo, hit the east gate now!" he roared, rolling onto his knees. "Everyone, go in now!"The east side of the pier exploded.Paulo Ricci drove a stolen forklift straight through the chain-link fence with

Luca held the phone to his ear for three full seconds and said nothing."Sobrino?" the warm voice came again, slower now, with a note of puzzlement under the honey. "Douglas, are you there, my boy? I heard shooting."Luca looked at Isabella, who stood white-faced against the wall with both hands over her belly, and then at Paulo, who had gone perfectly still. He pressed the button and ended the call, and the screen went dark in his palm."Trace it," he said, pushing the phone into Isabella's hand, his voice rough. "Every number and every tower. I want to know where that man sleeps.""Luca, where are you going?" Isabella asked, gripping the phone as her eyes followed him to the door."To finish what I started." He checked his gun, and his jaw was hard. "Paulo, stay with her."Sergio came sprinting around the side of the truck as Luca jumped down, a rifle in his hands and his chest heaving. "Don Luca, I heard shots, I was checking the alley," he panted, glancing past him into the smoke.

The mansion had not heard laughter in weeks, and it sounded strange, like a song played on an instrument that had been left in the cold. Isabella stood at the top of the grand staircase in a soft blue dress that Sofia had pressed three times, one hand on the banister and the other on her belly, listening to it rise from the hall below. She had not wanted a party. After the docks and the vault, after Savio and Caruso and the smell of cologne on a dead man's envelope, the idea had seemed obscene. But Luca had stood in front of her that morning, awkward as a boy, and said, "Let them see something good happen in this house, Bella. Just once." So she had said yes. The envelope was folded small inside her sleeve. She had told herself she would show it to him tonight, after the guests left. She had told herself that three times already. "Madam!" The squeak rose over the crowd, high and shaking, and she knew it before she saw him. A small round man in a cream linen suit was pushing through