PROLOGUE
THE RETURN OF THE BOOGIEMAN
Lucca dropped the white paper bag covered in grease stains, letting it slip through his fingers. The second it hit the cold concrete floor, you could hear the harsh clanking of chains as the dirty creature crawled from where it had been hiding in the darkened corner and into the glow of the light.
Taking the metal chair from the wall, Lucca unfolded it and placed it in front of the ravenous being before he sat down. There were two feet of cold floor separating them—the first foot was for safety, but the second was for his nose, because not even the strong scent wafting off the bag could mask the stench.
The thing before him had once been human, even though his name, Lucifer, said otherwise, and while he had lived up to his name with his once wicked ways, he was still human, nonetheless. Now Lucifer Luciano, the former mob boss of the Luciano family, was closer to being an animal than a man.
It was fitting, Lucca supposed; he always thought made men were just animals hiding beneath their expensive Italian suits. He knew it because …
He was one, too.
He was known as the Boogieman of Kansas City, and there was no one left to rival his cruel reputation as his enemy now sat in chains. He figured, in another universe, the roles could be reversed. It might have been Lucca shoving the burger and fries down his throat as if he were a dog eating his last meal while Lucifer stood above him. Thankfully, however, in this world, that wasn’t the case.
There wasn’t much that could turn Lucca’s stomach, but slowly watching the outside of Lucifer match the inside had been something else entirely. The transformation seemed to even resonate with a part of Lucca’s own sick brain because …
What lived in Lucifer lay dormant in him.
The sickness that lurked just below the surface only stayed there because he had taught himself control, letting it only seep out during opportune times, if it could bring him closer to his ultimate goal. Lucifer’s, however, didn’t ever live beneath the surface; his sickness cocooned him, only getting thicker with age. But now the hard shell had been cracked with Lucifer’s loss of power, as Lucca had forced him out, blooming the disgustingly helpless creature into its final form.
The sight of it all should turn his stomach knowing he, too, could have ended up just like Lucifer … but then he would remember why Lucifer had come to be here in the first place, and suddenly, the rotten smell of flesh became satisfying enough for him to move his chair a foot closer.
At the movement, Lucifer cowered mid-bite, only returning to his ravenous ways when his captor didn’t make another move.
Lucca didn’t have to do anything else. Having him cower before him was enough to satiate the thoughts that ran through his head.
It was the scars carved into a young girl that had brought them both here, inside this concrete room. Unluckily enough for Lucifer, the carvings he had cut into that young girl’s porcelain skin many years ago had become the scars that Lucca had fallen in love with at first sight. That scarred girl was also the reason he wouldn’t be the one on the cold, hard floor, because she alone kept the monster within.
With a last bite, Lucifer licked his fingers, sucking off any grease left behind, along with any crumbs left under his nails. Lucca could see that, like a starved animal, once his hunger was satiated, a trace of the old Lucifer returned to his black orbs.
“What’s the occasion?”
“The occasion?” Lucca asked, not knowing what Lucifer meant while carefully noting a hint of his prisoner’s old voice had returned, as well.
“The suit.” Lucifer dropped his eyes to Lucca’s all-black, custom-made garment. “I’ve only seen you wear it a handful of times … when the Boogieman has business to attend to.”
A sly smile began to touch Lucca’s lips.
“So, what’s happened to grace us with the return of the Boogieman?” Lucifer asked again with hopefulness in his voice.
Ah … Now I understand.
Lucifer was right; there was no hiding the monster underneath when he was dressed to kill. When he wore the black suit, the Boogieman came out to play.
Lucca reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He gave the bottom a hard hit before he removed a stick and placed it between his sneering lips. “Today isn’t the day you die, Lucifer.”
The old Lucifer vanished, and in its place, the creature returned. “When?” it wailed as it began begging at Lucca’s feet. “When are you going to finally fucking kill me?”
“Your body might belong to me,” Lucca said, lighting the end of the cigarette, the glow from the flame dancing over his handsome face, “but your soul isn’t mine to take.”
Lucifer hadn’t been a fearful man before he’d entered this cell, but that was all that remained of the man he’d once been. Now, fear dripped out of his every crevice, because if Lucca was saving him for someone else, then that was a person he didn’t want the misfortune of meeting.
The prisoner gave up, and his chains rattled as he flung his back to the ground and lay there, helplessly wishing for death.
That was just no fun for Lucca.
Rising from his chair, he placed it back against the far wall, in its place.
Lucifer turned his head from where he mindlessly stared up at the concrete ceiling to the leaving back of his captor. “You didn’t tell me the special occasion,” he commented curiously, glaring at the suit. Even though Lucifer Luciano was a piece that had been wiped off the board in the mafia world, he was always going to want to know if he had been a part of the winning or losing side.
Inhaling deeply on his cigarette, Lucca spun on his heel. Then, as a smoky cloud escaped with each word, he said, “That’s right. You haven’t been able to hear the good news.”
It wasn’t the creature that waited on bated breath for Lucca’s next words but the once Luciano mob boss.
“Kansas City has a new king … and you’re looking right at him.”
ONE
THE DAY I AM MADE
LUCCA, AGE 17
Lucca stared at the closed sign on the Italian restaurant then checked his watch, having to move up the sleeve of his new, all-black Italian suit that he’d had made especially for today. It was a special day, and he’d decided to dress for the occasion.
He adjusted the heavy duffle bag back on his shoulder, wishing he had time for a cigarette. However, the insistent groaning beside him reminded him he didn’t.
Taking a deep breath of air, Lucca remembered the promise he’d made himself this morning.
Today will be the day I am made.
Lucifer and his men filled the entire restaurant as he sat at the table next to his underboss, Anthony, and his oldest son, Dominic. His nineteen-year-old son was only a year into being a made man, and even though he was a quick learner who held a lot of promise, it wasn’t the kind of son I wanted. Unlike him, he felt emotions, and in this business, you were better off without them, ’cause feeling anything but powerful … made you fucking weak.
The ding from the bell above the door should have caught their attention, but it was the sound of something heavy being dragged in that had every Luciano turning their heads to find a body being heaved in. Every gun would have been drawn if it weren’t for the one who was doing the dragging. You see, it wasn’t the shock of who was being dragged in that held them all in place but because of who was dragging him in.