Chapter 14
DANTE
I t’s late. My basement office is dark, lit only by a desk lamp and the glow of my computer screen. The desk in front of me is strewn with open ledgers and a half-drunk glass of whiskey.
Jimmy based his headquarters here at his nightclub, Peppermint Moon, which is part of a new purpose-built marina and leisure complex. It seemed sensible to stick with it for now while I’m finding my feet.
The dull thump of bass leaks through from the nightclub above—the cursor blinks on the screen, waiting.
Reports, numbers, and projections of profits had Jimmy not been skimming.
I’ve been living in this fucking room. And all the while trying to stay focused on the big picture, and not what Ettore is doing with my woman.
Does the distraction work?
Not really, but I don’t have any other choice.
My expectations were low on arrival, but reality has proven to be far worse. Jimmy was well-liked, probably because every asshole in his employment was lining their own pockets. News of his demise has been greeted by a full spectrum of responses from disbelief to outright hostility.
Aside from drugs, Jimmy was the king of money laundering, handling it for the broader business and other capos.
There are dozens of tiny companies: strip clubs, dry cleaning, barbers, convenience stores…
he’s even got three landscaping companies and a small construction firm, one of which is currently building Ettore’s new garage.
You can bet he won’t pay me, cash or otherwise, for the work.
I’ve been connected to this family for a long time and in many ways, and I’m familiar with all aspects of the business, including the concerns formerly run by Jimmy.
But it looks different when you’re on the ground.
I’m probably being hard on myself, but I thought I’d be further along by now, that I would see a light at the end of the corruption tunnel. Especially now Leon is here.
After reviewing what we have and where we are, Leon laid out the facts on what was possible, with a heavy margin of variability, because these are early days and we need to plan for unknowns derailing us.
The more I settle into my new position, the more I understand the magnitude of the task ahead of us.
And the amount of time. It’s going to take a lot of time.
I shut down the chain of thought before I do something stupid. There’s a gun in my office safe. I put it there because I still believe a capo shouldn’t be the one wielding a gun, and I have men better suited and more capable at that side of the business than me.
But I’ve also put it there because I’ve found myself in my car, driving, with murder on my mind. Opening the safe takes me long enough to talk myself down from the self-destruct ledge.
I sip the whiskey and put the glass back on the table. I’ve barely touched alcohol since I moved here. My sleep is abysmal. More than a few people will be wishing me dead.
In five days, Carmela will marry Ettore.
I’ve imagined shooting him, strangling him, peeling every inch of skin from his body, setting him on fire, and blowing him up. Clearly I’ve spent too much time around Christian, and his questionable, dark web diet and his personality are rubbing off.
A knock sounds on the door, and Leon enters.
It’s become a routine for him to stop by my office most evenings.
Sometimes, it’s a brief update on the nightclub or neighboring gentleman’s club, Gigi’s, which, officially, he runs.
And sometimes, it’s a much more in-depth conversation on our unofficial objective—to take Ettore down.
“Never thought I’d end up managing a nightclub,” Leon says, his hands sliding into the pockets of his dress pants.
“I never thought I’d be a capo, yet here we are… How’s business tonight?”
“Steady. A couple of minor incidents, but nothing concerning. Heard anything from Christian? What about Ettore?”
“Not Christian. Yes, Ettore.”
His lips tighten. “What did the dick want?”
“To remind me that I need to make an appearance at his wedding… as one of his groomsmen.”
I told Leon that I met Carmela at her house on her birthday: not the full details, but enough that he got the gist we did more than speak.
He told me I was ‘fucking stupid’, ‘a selfish prick’, and that I should ‘consider the consequences for her’. He also said that just because my ‘idiot brother’ put temptation in front of me, was not an excuse for ‘losing my head’.
He snorts a humorless laugh. “Asshole. Do you think she’ll give anything away seeing you so close during the wedding.”
“No.” Possibly… probably, and we’re both fucked if she does.
“Did Ettore mention anything about me being back?”
“Nothing. But he must know by now. That he didn’t bring you up probably means the news is festering away at him.
” I reach for my whiskey. “Here’s to assholes and initiations by fire.
On any given minute, hour, or day, I can feel like I’m sinking or on the verge of making some headway.
If you hadn’t come back, I would’ve been screwed. ”
“You’d have worked it out.” He shrugs and offers a tight smile. “Maybe a bit slower. Although dealing with the dancers from Gigi’s is very distracting. You’re definitely not in the right frame of mind for their bullshit.”
“Fuck off. You really don’t mind.”
He smirks. “There have to be some perks to working twenty-hour days. Lucky for you, I was getting bored with the endless party life.” His smile fades. “You know we can’t take him on yet.”
I bristle.
Leon often exudes a carefree, easy-going persona, until he doesn’t. The transition between the two states can be jarring to the uninitiated.
“Don’t give me that damn look, Dante. My mother is in my ear daily, and so is my sister, like I don’t already feel as if I’ve failed Carmela.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I say.
“Isn’t it?” His sigh is heavy. “Maybe if I’d come back sooner?—”
“You’d probably be dead, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Well, don’t sugar coat it for me,” he mutters.
I raise a brow. “Like you did for me?”
“Fair point.” His face hardens. “We’re both trapped, Dante.
We’re both going to have to bide our time.
In my gut, I know Ettore had some part in my father’s death.
I’ve spent the last three years playing a spoiled rich boy partying too hard in the wake of his father’s death.
But I’ve been quietly searching for the evidence, for something, anything, I might have brought to Cedro.
I was too fucking slow. Now the stakes have escalated through the roof, and I still don’t have any evidence.
This isn’t only about what happened to my father anymore.
Not even about Cedro and his late wife. What Ettore did with you and Carmela is a weak don seeking to legitimize his claim.
Maybe he wanted to marry her to his younger brother to strengthen his ties.
Maybe he always wanted her for himself. That this attack happened conveniently on the eve of Cedro announcing your engagement is hard to brush off as a coincidence.
A strong don would have endorsed your wedding and kept you as his consigliere.
Everything he does, every action, and every word, only deepens my convictions about his character. ”
His eyes hold mine. What has happened is not his fault, but the guilt wracks him all the same.
“The thought of her with him makes me want to go on a fucking rampage, Leon. Do you have any idea how many times I go to my safe for the gun?”
A smile ghosts his lips. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I have you watched.
We have to be smart about this, Dante. Our deaths won’t help Carmela.
” His cell buzzes, and he takes it out of his pocket, grimacing as he checks the screen.
“Trouble in the VIP section. I’d better go.
Catch you later if you’re still around.”
“I’ll still be around.”
He chuckles as he exits the office because we both know I’ll still be here.
On the surface, Leon plays the part of my subordinate. He’s not. When I called him the night Ettore made me a capo, I laid out a partnership for him to consider. While we bring different skills and contributions to the table, our ideology and end games are aligned.
The bottom line, I trust him, and in him.
There are risks ahead of us. Our collective families may be in Italy, but that still makes me twitchy. It would be better if there were no weak points for Ettore to exploit.
Ettore is marrying Carmela, and there is nothing I can do. A wedding where I’m a groomsman and must watch the man who screwed me over claim the woman he screwed me over for… among other things.
A disturbance outside the door snags my attention. My head lifts, and my brows pull together.
These underground offices are inside a secure corridor…
It’s not like trouble in the VIP section can spill back here, yet something is off.
I’m reaching for my desk phone when the door slams open and crashes against the wall.
My guard is lying face down on the floor outside the door. I can’t see blood, but he’s not moving.
Leon? Enough time has passed since he left that he should be well away from the corridor and whatever this is, but I can’t entirely dismiss the notion of him lying dead out of my sight.
“Hands on the desk where we can see them.” I don’t recognize the man pointing a gun directly at me. One of Jimmy’s buddies that I’ve pissed off by cleaning up the business? Or someone sent by Ettore?
Fuck my life.
I slide my hands onto the surface of the desk. “How can I help you?”
“You think you’re the big man, don’t you? You’re not anymore.”
I feel calm. Shouldn’t I be more concerned? A man with an unknown agenda is pointing a gun directly at me, close enough that, even if he’s a shit shot, he can’t fucking miss.
Yet it’s oddly freeing.
I don’t have any control here. But I also don’t want to die.
As a second man, and third man enter the room, one of whom slips on a pair of leather gloves, I realize I’m probably not going to die.
But I might wish for it before they’re done.