Chapter 19 Sebastian #2
His jaw works back and forth. “Arthur insists—”
“I don’t give a single fuck. Crawl back to your master and tell him I’ll leave before coming in unarmed. I responded to his summons out of courtesy, not obligation.”
With hateful eyes, he grunts and opens the backdoor, nodding at us to get in.
Nico watches them as we climb into the back, our hands hovering over our guns.
The drive farther into the space is tense and silent before they pull into one of the large empty lots on the lower level, closer to the docks.
More men are gathered in a small crowd, waiting for the show to happen, given Arthur’s ever present theatrics.
“Evening, gentlemen,” I say after exiting the vehicle and tucking my hand in my pockets while glancing around, humored by this gathering.
Arthur raises his eyebrows from where he’s standing on a stage of stacked wooden pallets. He looks like a wannabe villain if I’ve ever seen one. Dirty jeans, tight navy t-shirt with slicked-back brown hair. “Just you two?”
I tilt my head to the side, pouting out my bottom lip. “I assumed there was no need. I didn’t think the head of Chicago would be purposely leading me into a trap, would he?”
He stares at me, his eyes dull and void of emotion.
I would say he has a great poker face, but I know better.
Arthur is a deep pit of nothing. He holds no affection for anything or anyone.
He craves power and strikes enough fear in men to gain a following.
It’s what gained Christian’s respect to begin with, but the patience quickly waned when Arthur’s unpredictable nature made him a liability.
One that we had to clean up after more than we wanted.
“Of course not,” he rumbles, the sarcasm cutting through the tension.
Nico shifts closer to me.
Arthur watches, amused, before he throws his head back and laughs. It’s not a humorous laugh; the cruel mock of it makes a few surrounding men shudder.
“Speak your business then. Unlike yours, my time is valuable.”
Arthur’s toothy grin is a sinister sight as he pulls out a knife, licking the blade before tapping his tongue against the tip. “I heard you’ve been a very naughty boy.”
I chuckle, painting on my own fake smile. “Our definitions of naughty are not the same, but I’m flattered my adventures turn your ear.”
His eyes flash with fury before it’s gone.
“Funny guy,” he says, pointing his knife at me and then turning to look at the man standing next to him, who flinches from the eye contact. “Funny guy, right?”
In the next moment, he charges me, and I stagger back just as his knife swings toward my chest. I block his arm with mine, pushing him away as I move closer to Nico, who has pulled out his gun and has it pointed at Arthur. Unfortunately, it causes everyone around us to draw their guns.
Arthur laughs again, cracking his neck side to side. “You’re sharp for a pencil pusher.”
“I can’t remember the last time I touched a pencil. Gold-plated pen though? I have a few of those,” I say with a mocking grin.
Arthur snorts. “You think you’re better than us because you sit in that office in Manhattan? You’re nothing but the same pawn on a different side.”
Confusion twists my face. “It seems someone doesn’t quite understand chess. It’s okay, maybe we can find picture books so there aren’t so many words with the instructions.”
Fury ripples across his face, and I know I’ve pushed his last button. His arm stretches out, pointing the tip of the blade at me. “You’re fucking dead.”
“You don’t have the authority to kill my son,” my father says. The crowd he’s standing behind flees away from him as if they’ve been set on fire and he moves closer to my side.
I raise an eyebrow, watching his unhurried steps with amusement. “Took you long enough.”
His cold eyes meet mine. “Be quiet.”
With a sigh, I hold up my hands as he faces Arthur, who watches him with deference I didn’t know he possessed. “Christian sent me to observe this little gathering. I think he would find your inability to control your temper unsuitable to run one of his cities.”
“Unsuitable?” Arthur spits on the ground. “When’s the last time Christian even set foot on US soil? I’d say he doesn’t give a fuck about us.”
A few muttered agreements ring out and my father’s eyes track around the crowd. “Is that so? You want to challenge me right now for the city?”
Arthur’s lips thin. “I’m not challenging anyone. Just voicing a grievance that could only be heard once the issue was forced.”
I laugh. “A grievance? What possibly for? I don’t interfere with your business here.”
Arthur scowls, pointing his knife back at me. “That’s the fucking problem, mate. You just come and go as you please. In my city, in Manhattan with the fucking Italians, and in Jersey with the fucking Irish. And we all sit here wondering what the fuck you’re doing.”
My father glances at me, displeased to hear this information for the first time.
I grit my teeth. “I’m loyal to the Outfit.”
“Prove it. Take the crest,” Arthur demands.
Nico sighs. “It’s better if we don’t—”
“How convenient.” Arthur laughs, shaking his head.
It’s anything but convenient, it’s strategic. A failsafe if we were ever raided by the government. But someone who is more into grunt labor like Arthur wouldn’t understand that. He deals with the exporting of physical materials, and getting caught wouldn’t matter with or without the crest.
“Just because you don’t understand how the world above you works, doesn’t make it suspicious,” I say, the stinging sweetness singing in my voice.
He lunges at me, his knuckles brushing my jaw just as my father pulls me back. I move to get around him, beyond annoyed my father moved me out of the way. Like a disobedient child.
“Hiding behind Daddy? How pathetic,” Arthur says.
Nico punches him for me, and I snicker as Arthur staggers a step. My father curses, grabbing Nico’s shirt and yanking him to stand next to me.
“You two are going to be the fucking death of me.” He growls under his breath.
When Arthur’s furious eyes focus back on us, my father moves to block his view.
“If I let them go, they’ll tear you apart,” my father says.
The deadly intent hushes the crowd as he looks over it.
“He’s my son after all.” A taunting grin ghosts his lips, and some of the surrounding men take a step back.
But not enough, and I realize how the situation looks—like Arthur is getting exactly what he wants.
He’s planting doubt and questioning the loyalty of the men.
I shrug off my father’s hold and he does, standing taller next to me as Nico moves to my other side. A united front.
“We’ll both take it and you can never summon or question me again. I don’t think I’m better than you Arthur, I know I am. You’re a fucking pissant that follows orders. I make my own and bow to no one other than Christian,” I say.
When he goes to speak, my father grabs him by his shirt, pulling him until their noses are touching. Arthur pales as my father stares at him.
“Bite your tongue before I cut it out. You questioned my son and he’s willing to prove his loyalty. That’s the end of it. Now grab the inker so we can all fucking go home.”
He shoves Arthur away, who stumbles a few steps before catching himself.
My father’s jaw is set tight as he stands next to me.
His fingers flex at his sides when Nico winces at the heavy hand of the tattoo artist. My chest throbs from my freshly torn skin and the ink settling underneath.
I know my father is pissed that we’d been pressured into this, wishing he’d gotten us to join on our own eventually.
Arthur claps my shoulder, grinning as he glances between Nico and me.
“It’s how it’s meant to be, boys. Never should have just run around—aghh.
” He gargles as my father’s hand tightens around his throat and then Arthur is thrown against the wall, slumping down into a crumpled mess.
We all turn to watch in shock as my father squats down so they are face to face.
“My son does not answer to you. He’s been under Christian’s orders a lot longer than you’ve even been wetting your dick.
He took the tattoo out of loyalty to me.
We entertained your foolishness because” —my father taps the side of Arthur’s temple hard enough for the man to flinch— “something is fucking broken up here. And it’s easier to let you pretend to be the ringleader of the circus than make you a part of the show.
But if you ever threaten my sons again, I’ll carve you into so many pieces that not even the devil will recognize your soul. ”
He lets go and Arthur stumbles away with a snarl, wiping at his mouth.
My father ensures Nico’s tattoo is complete, then nods at us to follow him out to the car. He slips into the driver seat as Nico follows me into the back and pulls out a first aid kit from under the seat.
“Let me clean it. We can’t afford to get infections and I don’t trust these stupid fucks,” Nico says, and I hiss when he pours cleaning solution over my bare skin.
My father starts the car, the tires screeching as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You should have told me you met with the Daghda! Then we wouldn’t have been blindsided like this. You’re fucking lucky there are some men more loyal to Christian than Arthur.”
I grit down on my teeth as Nico slathers some ointment on the tattoo before wrapping it up. “We had it under control until Luca fucking Genovese barged his way into my office.”
“Our office.” My father seethes with a glare through the rearview mirror. “Don’t forget you’re granted a spot in Manhattan because Christian permits it.”
Nico hands me the supplies and I shift over him, cleaning and wrapping his tattoo up before relaxing back into the seat.
My father sighs. “What did Genovese want? No one on the Cosa Nostra commission has been able to contact his father in months. There are rumors circling Italy.”