Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance) by Ws Greer Read Free Book Online Page A

the big truck.
    Here we go.
    As the truck approaches, I kneel down in the road and put my hand in the air. I wave at the truck like I need help, and sure enough, it pulls over. It’s a Best Buy truck, probably on its way to drop off a bunch of electronics or something. I bet it’s loaded with stuff.
    The truck stops just a few feet from me, but I don’t get up. I wait. I hear the door click open and the driver starts to get out, and that’s when it starts. Without warning, my father and his crew climb out of the shadows of the ditch and rush the driver with their guns drawn. The guy is completely caught off guard as they run up to him and my father immediately punches him in the face. The guy falls down right in front of me. We make eye contact and I see his face turn to complete terror when I smile at him and climb to my feet. I dust my knees off and make my way over to the back of the truck where my dad’s friend, Frankie Leonetti, is cutting the lock with a big pair of bolt cutters.
    Frankie’s a big guy, and he honestly looks like he could be my father’s brother with the same slicked back hair. I don’t know much about him yet, except that he and my father are on the same level as soldiers for the Giordano Family. He chuckled when my father named me as an associate in his crew, and even said my dad was crazy for it, but in the end he was accepting and called me Boy Wonder, although I’m not sure why. Frankie gets the lock off and pushes the big door open.
    “Would ya’ fucking look at that,” he says, his voice thin and high pitched. “Look at all this shit.”
    Frankie shines a light into the back of the truck and illuminates all the DVD players, TV’s, and laptops anyone could ask for. The truck is full of Best Buy merchandise, and the guys are ecstatic.
    “Holy shit, Donnie, come look at this,” Frankie says, still staring into the truck.
    “Don’t you fucking move, asshole,” I hear my father yell at the driver who’s still on the ground with a gun to his head. “You act up and you won’t make it off this road alive. Stephano, watch him.”
    Some guy named Stephano walks up and takes my dad’s place watching the driver, while Dad comes to look into the truck with the rest of us.
    “What a beautiful fucking sight,” he says with a bright smile on his face. “We hit a big one, boys.”
    “Fucking right!” Frankie chirps.
    The whole crew starts to laugh and pat each other on the back. I laugh, too, but out of the corner of my eye, there’s movement.
    I look over and see Stephano laughing with the rest of us, but the driver he’s supposed to be watching is reaching into his pocket. I don’t think, I run over to the driver and kick him in the face, then I stomp his head three times for good measure before my father can pull me off of him.
    “Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks.
    “He was reaching for his pocket,” I explain. My father looks baffled, then he looks down at the driver who’s covering his face in pain. Dad pulls his gun from his waist band and kneels down next to him.
    “What did I tell you? Are you trying to die out here on this road? Huh? You want me to fucking kill you out here? How about I give you a closed fucking casket so your mother never sees you again, you fucking cock sucker!” Dad hits the driver in the face with the pistol and I see a couple of his teeth fall out. Then my father stands up and directs his attention to Stephano. “And you, you fucking moron. I told you watch him, and you take your eyes off him so long my thirteen year old son has to come save your ass. You stupid son of a bitch!”
    “I’m sorry, Donnie,” Stephano says.
    “Hey, we don’t have time for this shit,” Frankie interrupts. “We made the score, now it’s time to go. Wrap it up.”
    Right on cue, everybody starts moving. Frankie shuts the door in the back, Stephano climbs into the driver seat of the truck, and the rest of us run towards the cars that are hidden in