Tesoro: Mayhem Makers

Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

DANTE

Frankie slides the photograph across the table toward me. “The reason you didn’t see her with that voyeur camera of yours, she was in Italy.”

“Italy?” I echo, spinning the photograph of Kate walking out of the airport in what looked to be Rome.

“You mentioned she had a Nona. It took some digging,” Frankie slides another photo across the table. “Sophia Romano, wife of Constantine Romano. According to court documents, they fostered, and then adopted Kate when the state removed her from her mother. Angela Sorontanio, aka Candy, was essentially sold by her father into prostitution at the age of twelve.”

“Maron,” I swear, my heart shattering for a young Kate. “She told me her mother was an alcoholic who chose the bottle over her.”

Frankie nods, “Her death certificate lists cirrhosis of the liver as the cause of death. Seems she chose the bottle over life.”

“Do we know where in Italy she is?” Mentally calculating how many ways I can cut this afternoon's meeting short in order to get on a plane before sunset.

“She left Italy a week ago, landed in Houston and checked into The Walnut Hotel where she stayed for four days.”

“Houston?” Angelo questions, a perplexed look on his face.

Reaching for his laptop, Frankie turns the screen around, pointing to a line in the center. “Kate Romano is now Dr. Kate Romano.” His voice reflects the pride which was growing inside my chest,

“She passed her boards,” I smile, my heart swelling with more love than I thought possible..

“Of course she passed her fucking boards, our girl is brilliant.” Angelo reaches over, slapping me on my shoulder. His smile is contagious, as I find my own.

“Where is she now? In Houston still?”

I don’t care for the way Frankie’s smile fades or the deep crease between his brows. “I’m working on that part.”

“What do you mean? Did she check out of the hotel?” Angelo prods his concern for a woman he knew for all of ten seconds enduring. Kate was important to me, therefore, him as well.

“Security footage shows a woman coming to her hotel door.” Frankie uses the mouse, clicking several times until he brings what looks like a hotel hallway into view. I watch as a slender woman exits the elevator, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, wiping her eyes with the other.

“I’m still working on identifying the woman, but as you can see?—”

“What the fuck just happened?” Jumping from my chair, I pull the computer closer as I rewind the footage. My attention is locked on the screen as Kate’s eyes grow wide in recognition, then she immediately covers her nose and mouth before turning and running into the room.

“There are no cameras inside the room, but as you can see, a few minutes later the woman places them in the hall and closes the door.”

Returning to my chair, I try to think of a reason why a woman would want to get rid of a bouquet of flowers? “Maybe she’s allergic.”

“I thought that at first as well, but it's clear the woman in the hallway is a friend.”

My mind shifts to the conversation about the best friend who she claimed now hated her.

“Check the woman’s face against hospital employees, this may be a friend she spoke about.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Andi, if I remember correctly.” God I hope it is, I add inside my head. Kate deserves to be surrounded by people who make her happy. If I have anything to do with it, I’ll be one of them soon.

“There is one more thing I need to show you before your meeting.”

Angelo made the decision to focus on his healing and pass the ring to me. I resisted, just as I had when he went into surgery. He reminded me this was for the good of the Family, and something Joseph would have wanted.

“You’ll need to show us in the car, Frankie. It takes me longer to get in the car these days.” Angelo backs his wheelchair away from the table. We’d found a doctor who’d given us a bit of hope, making certain we understood it would be a long and, at times, painful road.

Everyone stands as we enter the room. Twenty-five chairs surround a table which dates back a hundred years to when the first Cavaletti came to America. The room is ostentatious, with gold filigree adorning almost every surface. It smells of age and cigar smoke.

“Angelo,” Marcus calls, separating himself from the others as he makes his way toward us. Hand outstretched and the fakest smile on his face I’ve ever had the displeasure to see. “Glad to see you up and about.”

“My legs may not work, but the rest of me is perfectly fine.” Extending his hand forward, I have to hold back a laugh when Marcus places a kiss to the ring on his middle finger.

“Let’s get on with this, shall we.” Angelo rolls himself to the spot at the table reserved for the Family’s current leader. Moving the heavy chair to the side, Angelo steers his chair into its place.

“It’s no secret I have found myself no longer in a position to lead this Family.”

The rules governing the Family were created long before the table was constructed. Those rules had never been challenged, archived or revised. Our Family was unique in its lineage, holding these rules as unchangeable vows.

“According to our laws, it’s within my right to pass my title to a blood relative.”

It was a clever caveat. Joseph had to die to pass the torch, so to speak, but because Angelo was alive and trying to be kicking, he could pass to a blood relative.

“My brother?—”

“Point of objection,” Marcus interrupts, rising to his feet, his chair scraping against the wood in protest.

“Of course you do,” Angelo scoffs. “Let’s hear it.” Waving his hand in a circle.

Marcus rises to his feet, fastening the button of his jack as he adjusts his stance. “While you are within the law to allow Dante to lead us, I am invoking mobocracy.”

“You can’t.” Remaining in my seat, not bothering to show an ounce of respect for him.

“I certainly can, Dante. Do not get ahead of yourself and think you already wear the ring.”

Murmurs sound around the room, as I lock gazes with Marcus. “You know, I believe my father encouraged my memorization of the laws for this very reason.” Waving my hand, Frankie rises to his feet before handing each member a copy of a photograph he’d shared with us in the car.

“Syndicate law, specifically our laws, require each man sitting at this table to be able to prove their Italian heritage.”

Marcus points at his dark hand and olive skin as several snickers float around the room.

“You, above anyone, should know this considering you used it as a point of contention when my father began grooming Angelo to lead this Family.”

I watch as Frankie tries to hand Marcus a copy, but he brushes it off.

“You might want to look at that, it’s about you.”

“Do as Dante says, Marcus.” Angelo orders, his voice deep with the same anger he had when we learned the news.

I wait until Marcus complies before continuing.

“Earlier this week, I asked Frankie to investigate something important to me, and during that investigation, he discovered something we should all know about you.”

I watched with great delight as the color washes from Marcus’s face. It was clear he already knew the truth written on the page.

“Your father was a strong earner, and according to Joseph, loved to fight. There wasn’t a man he couldn’t best, until there was. A year before he was introduced to your mother, he was chasing after this girl, but her brother wasn’t a fan of his. They fought, your father got in a few punches, but in the end was left in the street holding his junk after receiving two kicks which shredded his balls. Those strikes left him sterile as a cotton ball.”

The murmurs from earlier soften until they’re a memory

“A year later he met your mother, the arrangement details were kept secret, however the truth has a nasty way of coming out. Your mother, like many mafia princesses, was told she needed to marry in order to strengthen the Family. She was paid handsomely to turn her head and keep her mouth shut, even complying when she had to pretend to be pregnant with you.”

“So what?” Marcus tosses the photo to the table. “I'm adopted, so are the two of you.”

“We’re also Italian,” I remind him, flatly. “ According to the information on your birth certificate, your mother wasn’t.”

“Which means you can leave now,” Angelo motions to the door.

Marcus searches the room, looking for what I imagine is someone to stand in his favor. When face after face turns away, he walks with purpose from the room.

“Anyone else with an objection to Dante taking the reins?”

Heads shake and no arguments are made.

“I have information about Kate and her whereabouts,” Frankie whispers in my ear as Angelo begins removing the ring.

Sliding his phone across the table, he points to the email from the management company who ran my building. Retrieving my phone, I log into the security camera of the building, scanning the recordings until I find the one from two hours ago when she enters the building.

“Dante?” Angelo calls my name, lifting my attention to the room with every eye on me. My brother held the ring between his thumb and index finger, waiting for me to take it.

Rising from my seat, I walk around to where Angelo is seated, taking the ring before sliding it on my finger. No one is certain how old the ring is, only that it’s a wedding gift from one of the original Commissioners.

“This calls for a celebration.” Someone, I think Johnny, sang as others cheered in agreement.

“Yes,” I agree. “Today is a day for celebration.” Dropping my gaze to the ring. “At least it will be,” I speak with confidence. “However, you must excuse me, gentleman, as I have just been handed vital information I must act on.”

Frankie is beside me in an instant, his phone to his ear readying the plane for departure.

“Come on, Boss. Let’s go get your girl.”