Chapter Seven
LUCA
Imade my bed, and now Arturo Enzino will bleed on it.
Cazzo! Why didn’t I cuff him? Why did I think that having Santo and Carlo outside the door and Jeff in the lobby would be enough to prevent him from getting out?
I’ve been too fucking lenient, and why? Because he pulled…my chest hair during a shooting? He wasn’t trying to save me. He is a fucking Enzino, a conniving, sneaky, lying fucker. Give him an inch, and he takes a mile and a hundred more.
“He probably staged that shooting to gain my trust.” I take a puff from my cigar and hold the smoke inside my mouth before slowly letting it out.
“That would mean he had a way to contact someone while in the safe house,” Seb states, giving me one of those unperturbed stares of his. I get why people feel drawn to him; he has that leader trait—decisive, strong, unapologetically himself.
Marco tsks. “The rifle Vince found in the abandoned building in front of the safe house was used in another shooting from six months ago where some of Enzino’s men were involved. Curtesy of one of our detectives.”
Seb nods. “Then why didn’t Jack Enzino come to me? Why didn’t he retaliate for kidnapping his son?”
“He did. He shot at them,” Marco reminds him, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth.
“You think he’d risk killing his golden goose? The wedding is in sixteen days. He’d lose more than he’d gain from Arturo’s death right now.”
I give Seb another scenario. “How about Coretti? Maybe he found out about the kidnapping. Your informant said he hasn’t been happy with how the negotiations with Enzino are going, so maybe he used the information and tried to force the other don’s hand.”
“Your theory feels a little too shaky. Coretti likes to plan things thoroughly. He doesn’t act on impulse.” Seb taps his index finger on his lower lip in thought. “Whoever knows about Arturo being with us hasn’t shared the information…yet.”
“Did you talk with Coretti?” I ask him.
“He’s worried that Enzino is doing this on purpose, keeping his son away, pretending he has second thoughts just a few weeks before the wedding.”
“Wouldn’t that be counterproductive for Enzino?”
“Yeah, but that’s called a strategic play, bluffing to get what he wants. It’s just not the case here. Coretti let me know that his proposal of a wedding between his daughter and me is on the table again if Arturo stays AWOL.”
“He really wants her to get hitched.” Marco flicks the butt of his cigarette on the cement floor of the smoking area outside the club.
Only nine days ago, I was here thinking my revenge was finally beginning with Arturo Enzino’s kidnapping.
But now it feels as far away as it always has been.
Especially after the swing and miss with Mario’s damn phone.
“Coretti wants his family legacy to keep going. He’ll vote for me to become il capo dei capi if I marry her and give him a nice slice of the cake.”
I spit on the ground. Selfish prick! “Wasn’t he pissed at you because you refused the deal just a few weeks ago?”
“He wants to save face. Him and his fucking pride. A wedding has to happen in his book,” Marco explains what we already know.
“What kind of book is that? The old greedy bastard’s tale?”
“Did you give Mario’s phone to Jeff?” Seb asks.
I nod. “I can’t fucking believe I’m back to square one.”
As soon as Mario answered his brother’s message, we were able to follow the signal to a place in Hunts Point. I was armed to the hilt, the Enzino killer ready in my hand. But all we found was his fucking phone in a dumpster.
“This is not square one,” Marco states firmly.
“We now know that Mario is back in New York and that he thinks something is wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t have ditched his cell. Do you reckon Arturo gave him the heads up with that message somehow?”
I shake my head without even thinking about it.
Marco snorts. “That was quick. Did you fuck him yet?”
I growl, grinding my teeth.
Marco turns to Seb. “Did he fuck the Enzino twink yet?”
Seb is the boss of the Leone family for many reasons. Always knowing what is going on around him is one of them.
“No,” he simply replies, looking unfazed by the whole conversation.
“And I never will!” I bark.
“Little lies usually cover bigger ones,” he throws at me cryptically before changing the topic. “Do we know where Arturo and Fly are?”
Both Jeff and Carlo sent me a message as soon as they left the building. “Jeff is tailing their car, unbeknownst to them. They went to Enzino’s apartment to get his dog, and now they are actually heading our way,” I reply.
Coming to check Enzino and Aurora Coretti’s club was Seb’s idea, and as usual, things worked out for him.
Marco wanted to go after them as soon as we got news about their little trip, but Seb insisted we join him here after his meeting with Akira Hebikawa, the boss of the most powerful Yakuza gang in New York.
We are Seb’s right and left hands. We never let him go alone to meet other bosses; it’s too dangerous.
It doesn’t matter that Akira’s husband is River, Fly’s brother.
I neglected my job today and my family to follow Mario’s phone—a wild goose chase.
I’m so fucking angry at myself, at Mario, at Art.
Even at Marco for choosing me over Seb—even though Seb ordered him to go with me.
Now, we are here to consolidate our new partnership with the Yakuza.
Thanks to Fly’s relationship to River, Seb was able to strike a deal with the Japanese Mafia.
Family is very important to them just as much as it is to us.
And I need to remember that. I believe we just started a very profitable affiliation that will help us crush Enzino once and for all. Maybe this is the right path to follow.
“I have two trackers on Fly and one on Santo, even if they change destination, we will know.” Marco is barely containing his anger. “My naughty butterfly will answer to me as soon as he gets here.”
“No. Give me ten minutes,” Seb calmly tells him.
“Why?”
“I want to see what they do.”
“You want to examine them like bugs,” I translate for him.
He nods unabashedly. “I want to study them. Arturo’s audacious behavior and willingness to give us information puzzle me. Something doesn’t add up.”
I’ve been feeling the same since I met him. He’s wearing a mask most of the time, and when it comes off, he doesn’t act like a Mafia heir. He’s too vulnerable and lost. And…hurt. Is that an act too?
“That’s why I want to see him in action. Unless you have a problem with that?” Seb looks at me knowingly.
“Why would I? My only problem is I’ll have to wait ten more minutes before I get him.”
“And what will you do then?” Marco’s tone is taunting. “Burn a hole right through him. You didn’t even blink when you stared at him back at your apartment.”
“The fuck I didn’t,” I growl at him.
“So defensive,” Marco continues with the teasing.
“I’ve learned that what seems abhorrent at first can gradually become palatable as the world shifts around.” Seb is looking straight at Marco.
Yeah, I remember when Marco couldn’t stand Fly.
And look at him now—hook, line, and sinker.
Wait, is Seb hinting at me being in the same situation?
Because that would be way fucking off. I dump the cigar into the tall ashtray and cross my arms in front of my chest, rejecting the inane thought first with my body, then with my words.
“I hate Enzino, all of them. That will never change.”
I’ve always been looking backward more than forward.
My memories force me to relive the past. And it’s that past that shaped my present.
I can’t move forward without closure, and the only way to have it is to kill all the people responsible for my parents’ deaths.
But after seeing how Fly is attached to that Enzino, I can’t just off him.
So what else can I do? To vent my fury, to make him suffer, to destroy him?
“Hate,” Seb repeats. “Interesting feeling.” He doesn’t add anything else. As cryptic as always.
“Art is certainly more annoying than most people,” Marco says. “He has Fly’s interest at heart, at least he did until tonight. Have fun with him.”
Like I’d need his fucking blessing to fuck someone up.
“I still want him alive. You should, too. The bait idea you suggested the other day sounds concrete to me. Mario is back in New York, is he not? If Jack Enzino is hiding him, he has to answer for that. Two birds for you.” Seb gives me a knowing gaze before he walks to the club’s door.
Akira and River are waiting for us at the table.
“Ten minutes after they arrive,” he reminds us before slipping inside.
Marco nods, checking the tracker app on his phone for the umpteenth time. “You could off both Jack and Mario at the same fucking time if the fucker is hiding him.”
I feel a rush of excitement at the thought.
“Unless you change your mind after dicking Art’s ass.” He smirks. I feel a wave of red anger coming down on me. His arrogant face needs some work done.
I take a menacing step toward him. My patience has run out, and now I want to see blood. A dustup will do—Marco is always good for it. I’m about to take off my jacket when he lets me know that Fly and Enzino are in the club.
Ten minutes starting now.
Spending them hearing Marco mutter sex-related punishments is out of the question—Fly has his hands full with this one. So I deliver a surprise right hook to his stomach—wham—enjoying the way he bends over and grunts, and then make my way inside the club—ignoring Marco’s coughing laugh. Asshole.