Chapter 2 #2
Tears trickle down his cheeks as bewilderment and pain mingle on his face. His sudden remorse doesn’t slow me down. I can’t stop recalling the fear in Valentina’s eyes before I plucked her from danger, and how different things could be if I’d hesitated for even a second.
“You don’t get a second chance with stuff like this.
” I remove my gun from its holster, and the driver scrambles back, eyes wide with fear.
“Let this be a warning.” I crane my neck to the people doing nothing to help their colleague.
“If you work for the Carusos, you represent the Carusos. I don’t give a fuck what’s going on in our personal life; never tarnish the Caruso name.
If I ever hear about anything like this happening again, you’ll answer to me.
Trust me, you don’t want that”—I return my attention to the driver sniveling at my feet—“because it will only ever end one way.”
With a direct hit to the head, I remove the light from his eyes like he almost did to Valentina. Then I divert my attention back to the onlookers. I hold their gazes for a prolonged period, letting my threat settle, before I holster my gun and return to my SUV.
Partway across the dusty lot, Elio, the youngest of the five Caruso brothers, exits the lead convoy SUV.
He could bark orders to those below him to clean up my mess, but that isn’t Elio’s way.
He believes he’s the only one qualified to fix my mistakes.
If his belief was miles off the bullseye, I’d ensure he felt differently.
Since it’s not, I give him instructions on how I want this handled.
“Make this public. I want his death to be a warning.”
A smirk lifts one side of my mouth when Elio asks, “A warning to stay away from Carlisle’s latest repatriate, or the merchandise he sampled while waiting for it to be packaged for transport?”
Given that I met Valentina only thirty minutes ago, my reply is too swift not to be reckless. “Both.”
After lifting my chin in appreciation for his support, I slide behind the wheel of my SUV and drive away.
Anger still simmers beneath the surface of my skin, but there’s an immense amount of satisfaction knowing the locals won’t forget this encounter for years to come, which, in turn, means they’ll also stay away from Valentina.
Carlisle is my hometown. My family’s town. And today, I made sure everyone who represents our name remembers that for years to come.
As I pass the area where I first spotted Valentina, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. My blood is still hot with adrenaline, but I can’t skip this meeting. The outcome of this deal is critical for Carlisle’s future.
Dante usually manages this aspect of our business, but since he’s distracted by the disappearance of his daughter’s mother, his brothers are picking up the slack.
The streets of Carlisle’s town center blur when I increase my speed. Sunlight spills over the rooftops, and the aroma of fresh bread mingles with the salty breeze wafting off the coast.
I know these streets better than I know myself.
Every shortcut, alleyway, and shadow I’ve made a deal or ended a life in.
I was born in a villa on the outskirts of town and was raised among acres of lemon orchards and marble halls.
I learned at a young age that power is fragile.
It’s easily lost and never guaranteed, which is the sole reason I need to remain on the ball.
The Caruso name carries weight in Carlisle, and it’s my job to keep it that way. Our reach stretches from the orchards to the harbor, and from the council chambers to the back rooms of the pubs where men whisper our name with both awe and dread.
We don’t advertise our power like I just did. Everyone knows who pulls the strings, and they either play by the rules or find themselves buried under six feet of dirt.
I loosen my grip on the wheel when I pull my SUV through the manned gates of a warehouse with white walls gleaming in the early-morning sunlight. With Matteo’s car already in the lot, the responsibilities I can’t escape slam back into me.
After killing the engine, I adjust my blood-splattered tie and then exit the SUV like my day is just beginning. The air is pungent with the scent of a recently fired gun and the tangy aroma of blood.
Walking up the steps and past two guards, who nod in deference, I enter a concealed office at the back of the compound.
Matteo, the very definition of a middle child, sits behind a big, bulky desk.
Excluding a handful of crimson droplets on the cuffs of his dress shirt, his suit is as immaculate as his slicked-back hair, and his expression is a mix of impatience and concern.
He’s younger than me by two years but in some ways more mature. He’s always looking for a new angle to expand our network and make more money, whereas I’m happy to keep things local.
“You’re late,” Matteo says, not looking up. “The councilor is waiting. We could lose the advantage if we keep him waiting too long.”
I shrug, unrepentant. “There was an incident in town.”
Matteo rounds the desk, props his ass on the battered wood, then folds his arms across his tattooed chest. A knowing smirk curls on his lips, and it’s now that I realize he must have witnessed the whole fiasco.
Of course he did. Matteo misses nothing.
He raises a brow as his eyes glint with amusement. “Saving her life wasn’t enough? You had to drive her where she needed to go, too, Vanni?”
I shoot him a warning look. “She was shaken up. I couldn’t leave her defenseless in the street.”
He pushes off the desk and falls into step behind me as I lead our trek to the “boardroom” where our meeting will be held.
“Most people would have walked away.” He catches up to me before backhanding my chest. “By most people, I mean you. You don’t even wait for them to finish shuddering before you skip out butt fucking naked.
” He tugs on the lapels of my suit. “Is there a knight hiding somewhere under that tailored suit?”
Grunting, I unlock the boardroom door. “Don’t start. You said it yourself. The councilor is waiting, and Dante isn’t himself. We can’t afford any distractions right now.”
“I think I could spare an hour or two for those tits—”
I silence him with my fist. My whack isn’t as hard as the one that knocked the driver on his ass, but it warns Matteo that occupying Valentina’s time is not up for discussion. Ever.
Matteo holds up his hands nondefensively. If only his words weren’t so vocal. “Elio’s warning was on the money. You don’t just want our drivers acting like Ms. Daisy. You want to keep everyone’s eyes off Valentina’s rack.”
The sting of knuckles on bone lingers on my hand, and I still have a heap of frustration to disperse, but now isn’t the time for shenanigans.
Mercifully for Matteo, Councilor Messina has been tiptoeing the rope for months now, and it’s finally time to remind him who really runs the show around here.
“Councilor…” My snake-like greeting doubles the putrid scent of fear loitering in the air.
Messina looks up. He’s gagged, his wrists are tied behind his back, and his ankles are secured to the legs of a rickety chair.
His face whitens when he stalks my entrance, and sweat beads on his cut and swelling brow.
The bravado he wore in the council chambers while striking Carlisle locals’ century-old dwellings from the ledgers is gone, replaced with fear and desperation.
He should be scared. Because he ignored Dante’s warnings, there’s only one conclusion for our meeting: It’s time for him to go.
I pause a few feet away from the councilor’s battered and bruised frame before tugging his sticky socks out of his mouth. Even though he’s no longer gagged, silence stretches until it’s uncomfortable.
Matteo’s attention would have assured Messina that we’re not here to discuss business. That chapter closed weeks ago. But there’s no harm in letting him stew. He’s mistaken the Carusos’ ethics once before, so who’s to say he won’t do it again?
You’ll never believe the secrets some men share when they think clemency is on the table.
I’m about to worsen the bruises and nicks mottled throughout Councilor Messina’s body when he tries to take the coward’s route. Bad choice. The driver’s pathetic show of cowardice proves that tactic doesn’t work for me.
“Th-this isn’t necessary, Giovanni. We can talk. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
“An arrangement?” With twisted lips and a raised brow, I feign interest in his offer. “Is that what you called it when you forced families out of their homes with falsified building defects?”
Messina swallows as his eyes dart between Matteo and me. “It was a misunderstanding. I never meant—”
I cut him off with a backhanded whack that sends two of his teeth scuttling across the concrete floor. My slap also adds depth to the split in his cheek and sends his sobs bouncing off the damp warehouse walls.
“The people you forced out of Carlisle were good, honest people. They had lived here for decades. That wasn’t a mistake. It was a deliberate act of defiance against the Caruso name.”
“No. Never—”
I hit him again. This time with a closed fist. The warehouse is eerily quiet, saved by the councilor’s muffled sobs.
The only light comes from the single overhead bulb, which casts shadows across the dirty concrete floor, but it doesn’t hide how coarse his wrists are from the rope or the sweat and blood staining his suit.
Once the councilor’s whimpers simmer to quivering breaths, I crouch down and level my gaze with his.
“You know why you’re here, so stop the crap.
You and your friends on the council think you can sell Carlisle out from under its people.
You think you can force people from their homes and hand their keys to foreigners wanting a slice of Sicilian paradise they didn’t fight blood, sweat, and tears for! ” My last five words are roars.
My family worked hard for everything we have, so it infuriates me that he believes something as pathetic as greed can take it away from us.
“You’re selling our history, our fucking blood, for a quick profit.
The government wants to run us out of town again, as they did in 1925, when the repression nearly wiped all the Cosa Nostra families from the map.
But what you don’t realize, Messina”—I spit out his name as if it arrived with a heap of vomit—“the Carusos are here to stay. My family built this town from the ground up. We protected it when the government turned its back and when the law was just another word for corruption. Not even the mafia wars in ’64 and ’81 kept us dormant for long.
Famiglia comes before anything, and the people you ran out of this town are our family. ”
My nostrils flare when I lean in close. I’ve always found the scent of fresh blood fascinating.
My reply is void of emotion and deadly calm.
“You’re going to tell me everything about this latest ploy the council is running.
” He nods, the fight in him lost before I’ve even spelled out all my terms. “Then…” I make him wait to ensure he knows who the true owners of Carlisle are. “I’ll let you choose how you go out.”
“Gio—”
“Don’t push my leniency, Councilor. You were only granted permission to pick your exit because an unusual spiritedness is coursing through my veins.
If it weren’t”—I fist his hair roughly enough to pull several strands from the roots, then yank his head back—“I’d spend the next several hours reminding you that mercy isn’t a commodity reserved solely for the rich.
” Every second I spend here delays my return to Valentina, so I display unusual impatience. “Speak. Now.”