Beranda / Mafia / A Bed Of Roses / Bab 51 - Bab 57

Semua Bab A Bed Of Roses : Bab 51 - Bab 57

57 Bab

Pathetic Ol' Fucker

Rodah’s POVThe heavy iron barrel of the SIG Sauer stayed level, aimed directly at the center of my father’s chest. The reflected light from his flashlight cast long, ugly shadows up the walls of the dark master bedroom. For a few seconds, Cole held his head high. He had that same slight, stubborn confidence he always wore when he thought he had won a big hand at the poker tables. He looked around the luxury of Martinez’s room, his chest swelling slightly under his damp wool coat. "Lower the iron, Rodah," Cole said, his voice carrying a smooth, patronizing drawl. "You're going to break your wrist if you try to fire that piece with a grip that loose," he repeated. I stared at him through the dark, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears. "Martinez said you were gone. He said you ran from the city because he paid you to. He gave you a hundred thousand dollars to stay away from me."I needed clarification. Cole let out a short, dry chuckle, stepping further into the master suite.

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Dead Man

Martinez’s POVThe heavy steel doors of the estate’s main entrance slammed shut behind me with a loud, metallic boom that echoed through the vast marble foyer. My knuckles were split and bleeding, the raw skin throbbing beneath the fresh coat of rainwater and engine grease. My breathing was heavy, my chest expanding against my wet black shirt as the high of the victory at the rail yard still pumped through my veins.I had broken Kilian’s trap in less than forty minutes. The young prick had underestimated my shooters and completely miscalculated my speed. We had rammed through his burning barricade, slaughtered his flankers, and cornered him inside his own distribution office. I hadn't killed him. I had done something much worse for an arrogant bastard like him—I had beaten him senseless, destroyed his entire fleet of trucks, and reclaimed every single inch of my forty percent border routes before his backup could even arrive. I had drawn a hard, bloody line across his territory, pro

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Business

Martinez’s POVThe freezing rain had completely stopped by noon, replaced by a thick, heavy fog that rolled in from the harbor and swallowed the city skyline. It had been three days since the breach at my estate. Three days of absolute, sleepless lock-down. Cole and Kilian’s extraction team had vanished into the dense woods behind my property line like smoke, leaving zero electronic tracks or physical evidence behind. My shooters had combed every square inch of the valley, but the old gambler knew the blind spots too well. He was hiding out there somewhere, terrified, waiting for Kilian to give him his next order.But I couldn't spend twenty-four hours a day hunting a ghost in the trees. The Rinaldi syndicate was still bleeding from the federal raid and the broken alliance with Maldok Meyers. The forty percent border routes I had seized back from Kilian at the rail yard were secure, but they were stagnant. No product was moving because the entire northern territory was a volatile wa

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Get It Going

Martinez's POV They were the supply chain link between my border routes and the street-level cartels. When I walked into the room, all three of them straightened up instantly, their hands moving away from their pockets.I didn't take a seat at the head of the table. I walked straight to the expansive glass window, looking down at the fog-covered streets below, my back turned to them. It was a power move, and they knew it. It showed them I didn't consider any of them a threat."Martinez," Vance started, his voice shaking slightly as he cleared his throat. "We heard about the rail yard. We heard you burned Kilian's fleet. But the northern border road is still closed. Our trucks are sitting in warehouses losing fifty thousand dollars a day in rotting product. We need to know when the routes are opening.""The routes are open when I say they are open, Vance," I rumbled, my voice flat and lethal as I turned around slowly to face them. I leaned my weight against the edge of the glass table

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As Planned

Martinez’s POVThe drive back from the Grand Horizon Hotel was fast and silent. The heavy armored SUV cut through the thick gray fog that blankets the lower city roads, the V8 engine humming with a steady, deep power. I sat back against the leather seat, my split knuckles throbbing beneath my bandages. The meeting with the minor distribution heads had gone exactly as I planned. Vance, Moretti, and Ross were back in line. They knew the northern border routes belonged to the Rinaldi family, and they knew the standard forty percent tax was not up for negotiation. But as the high iron gates of my estate swung open to let my convoy through, the corporate victory tasted flat. The business was stable, but my fortress had still been breached.That had to be fixed. I climbed out of the SUV before the tires had even stopped rolling on the gravel courtyard. Gustavo was right behind me, his boots crunching on the wet stone as we strode through the main foyer and headed straight down the basemen

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Need Me

Martinez’s POV"The sedan is idling in the underground garage, boss," Gustavo said, stepping back toward the study door. "Miller and Santos have their gear. We can be at the old brewery inside of twenty minutes, grab Cole, and have him back here before the fog lifts.""Good," I growled, sliding the compact Walther PPK into my inner jacket pocket. "Keep it quiet. I want him breathing when we get him into the cellar."I turned away from the desk, my heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as I prepared to head down to the garage. The burner phone was tucked safely into my pocket, Cole's exact coordinates locked into my head. The pathetic old gambler had breached my walls, and I was going to remove his head from the chessboard once and for all."Martinez."The soft, strained voice cut through the quiet study.I froze, my hand still resting on the lapel of my charcoal suit jacket. I turned around slowly. Rodah was standing in the connecting doorway that led from the master bedroom.

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Hey, Sister

Rodah’s POVThe morning light that filtered through the high windows of the master suite was pale and gray, casting long, still shadows across the rumpled velvet blankets. Beside me, Martinez was still asleep. It was a rare, striking sight. The brutal, unyielding man who usually woke up at dawn with his hand already resting on a firearm was completely dead to the world, his heavy, scarred chest rising and falling in a slow, deep rhythm. The raw, desperate friction of the night before had driven the adrenaline out of him, leaving him completely anchored to the mattress.I slipped out from beneath the heavy covers quietly, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floorboards without making a sound. I pulled my thick black silk robe over my shoulders, tying the belt tightly around my waist as I looked down at him one last time. He looked less like a monster when he was sleeping, but the split, dried blood on his bandaged knuckles was a stark reminder of the reality I now lived in.I walk

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