CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

“A simple job: Stalk him! Wait till he's alone and about to leave! Attack and overwhelm him! Force the fuckin bastard to take you to his home! Get the woman! Kill him and everybody else! Yet, you low-life, incompetent, Latin fuckers flopped at even that?”

Don Fabrizio was incensed.

His plan to get Di Stefano and Carlos to send a small but combined crew to carry out the job he'd just stated had failed badly. Instead of them trumping Gio, it had been the other way around; Gio had instead trumped them, leaving them bleeding and unconscious. They'd recovered and crawled back to report their failure.

“We managed to stab him, boss, but he was just too good... His fighting skills are top-notch, and he hits hard. Hard,” the leader of the crew, the one who'd been repeatedly battered by Gio, was testifying to the power that Gio's punches packed.

“You managed to stab him, well, where's the evidence? The only thing I can see is your fuckin broken nose! And, of course, he's supposed to hit hard! H