5. Ares

5

ARES

Twelve Years Ago

P anting, Ares jumped into the back seat of his car and pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

"Drive!" Ares barked. "Hotel Charlemagne."

"Yes, boss." His driver rushed, shifting the car into drive and flooring the gas.

Flipping open his cell phone, he quickly punched the numbers into the pad. His heart was pounding, and his pulse was racing.

Hurry up. Pick up. Pick up the goddamn phone.

How did they? Fuck. This couldn't be happening.

But it was. The one thing he feared was actually happening.

What will you do now?

He had to think.

There's no time for that! They know! They're coming!

Fuck. Why had he been so stupid?

Because you're ambitious.

And a liar.

And selfish.

And a monster. You know he will never forgive you if he finds out the truth.

No, he couldn't think about that right now. Right now, he had one important task.

Answer the fucking phone!

Click.

"Pronto?" a male voice answered, calm and collected.

"Get out! Grab your wife and meet me at the plane!"

"What? Ares? What's going on?" Giovanni Sabarino asked, switching from his native Italian to English. His voice was much more alert this time.

"Massimo knows. He knows about the deal, and he's sending men to kill you and your wife. You both need to get out of that room right now! Meet me at my plane, and I'll get you both out of the country immediately." Ares still had to call the tiny airport that housed his private jet to tell them to gas up and be ready to depart the moment his guests arrived.

"Shit." Ares heard Gio gasp over the phone. "Carmela, grab your purse! We're leaving!" Gio shouted to his wife in Italian.

Ares's Italian was very basic, but he hoped Gio had told his wife that they were leaving.

"I'll get the jet ready and meet you at the airport in thirty minutes," Ares barked into the phone. His palms were sweaty, and his shirt was starting to cling to his back.

How did they find out?

Ares knew it was a risky deal, especially given the wealth and influence that the Sabarino family held. But still, Gio had insisted on moving ahead with it.

They had brokered a lucrative deal that would expand Ares's gun trafficking business further into the European market. So far, Ares had been able to conquer the United Kingdom, France, Ireland, and parts of the United States—making a name for himself in the criminal underworld.

The Sabarino family had offered to help him expand his territory for an equal partnership over the countries they were able to bring in—mostly Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Given Ares's young age and Mr. Sabarino's extensive contacts throughout Europe, it was too good a deal to pass up.

The only problem?

Gun trafficking in Europe was controlled by another Italian crime family operating out of Sicily—the Zittis. Apparently, they didn't like the idea of the Sabarinos moving in on their territory.

Glancing at his watch, Ares punched in the number for the airport.

"Drive faster," he barked at his driver, bringing the phone to his ear and listening to the annoying chime as the phone rang in his ear.

Fuck, does anybody pick up their goddamn phone on the first ring?

On the second ring, a woman answered. "Pronto?"

"Ciao, this is Ares. I need my jet fueled and ready for departure in the next twenty minutes. It's an emergency." Ares listened to the woman talk to her boss quickly. "Tell him I don't care what the cost will be. Do it now and be ready for takeoff in twenty." Ares ended the call, then dialed his pilot.

Fuck, were there always so many calls to make before every flight he took?

First-world problems.

Twenty minutes later, his driver pulled into the airfield and stopped just before the steps to his private jet.

"Thank you, Marco," Ares said, barely waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before jumping out.

Ares checked with the pilot and air traffic control to make sure that everything was set and that they were ready to depart the moment the Sabarinos arrived.

"They're here," one of Ares's security guards noted, nodding his head toward the far side of the lot.

They watched as a small compact car came speeding onto the runway. It stopped a few feet from where Ares stood, waiting impatiently for Gio and his wife to arrive.

A chill passed through the air as Ares watched the two most powerful billionaires in Europe hop out of a piece of shit car—no doubt one of Gio's incognito getaway vehicles—and rush toward the plane where he waited.

One of the cabin crew members rushed to grab their bags out of the tiny trunk before hurrying to carry them onto the plane. Ares had given everyone strict orders that the airplane was to be up in the air two minutes after the Sabarinos arrived. And no one ever disobeyed Ares's orders.

"I'll meet you on there in a minute," Gio shouted to his wife, who was being ushered onto the plane in her designer coat and Prada handbag.

Gio stopped in front of Ares.

"What happened?" Gio asked, his voice drenched in anger and annoyance.

Gio was a cautious man. While he might have power and influence, most of Gio's criminal activities were conducted through backdoor channels and silent partnerships. There were only a handful of people who knew that sixty percent of the Sabarino fortune came from criminal activity.

"I've arranged for my pilot to take you and your wife to Zurich," Ares said, ignoring the man's question. "I have a contact there who will protect you until I get this thing settled with the Zitti family. I'll see where things are, and hey, if they can't be reasoned with, I'll just have them killed." Ares shrugged his shoulders as if it were the easiest thing in the world to take out one of the most dangerous crime bosses in Italy.

Gio watched as his wife climbed the last of the steps and disappeared onto the jet.

"How did they find out?" Gio asked, still looking pissed as ever.

"I have no idea. That's something I'm going to find out. I can't have backstabbers working on my crew."

The whole ride to the airport, Ares had been scratching his head, trying to figure out who the mole could have been. Only a select few people knew of Gio's involvement in Ares's deal, so that meant that the list of potential suspects was very short.

Someone was about to die. Ares just had to figure out who.

"Now, get on that plane, and I'll call you later tonight," Ares instructed, sticking out his hand and giving Gio a firm handshake.

Seeming unsure, Gio glanced at the plane one last time before turning his attention back to Ares. The anger seemed to have left his body momentarily. All that stared back at Ares were those gentle, warm eyes that had been passed down to his son.

"I'm sorry to hear about you and Matteo. I know he was heartbroken when you ended things."

Ares lowered his head, not wanting Gio to see the hurt and heartache he, too, felt. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, but he knew it had to be done.

"I'm sorry too. I never meant to hurt him."

Gio gave Ares a gentle pat on the shoulder. "You're both young. In time, all wounds will heal. Thank you for taking care of me and my wife. You're a good man, Ares."

With those final words, Gio boarded the plane and headed to Zurich with his wife.

That was the last time that Ares would ever see the happy couple alive. An hour after takeoff, a bomb exploded on the plane.

There were no survivors.