Chapter 40
Dominico
It has been a week. A goddamn fucking week.
Four of those days were spent in the hospital while they flushed the poison from my body that still lingers, making me feel weak and tired.
It has been a week since my Lily, along with Holly, was taken from us.
Just thinking of what might be happening to them, to her, my little flower, makes my stomach turn.
What if they are hurting her? What if they are doing worse?
I had been tearing the city apart. My men had captured and tortured so many of our rival members who we thought might have information that I was losing count. My bloodied and split knuckles bear the proof of my rage. Rage that my wife had been taken right in front of me.
I was supposed to protect her. And I let her get taken.
My fist meets the top of my desk with such force that it sends a crack down the middle.
I almost want to smile. At least it signifies that my strength is returning.
I was fortunate to be alive. A miracle, the doctors called it.
The now-dead man who tampered with the bottle of whiskey miscalculated the dosage required to kill a man of my size and underestimated my will to live.
Especially now that I have found someone worth living for.
If it weren't for my sheer determination to find her and the person who took her, I would probably be six feet under by now.
It wasn’t hard to guess who was behind it.
Rocco and some of his men had disappeared.
Massimo Bianchi had wisely distanced himself from his brother's activities by issuing a public banishment notice, exiling Rocco and his associates from the famiglia and the Three Families.
Anyone who helps Rocco now would face the most severe consequence: death.
This meant Rocco had to rely on the other party I suspected was involved in this, Senator Johnathan Williams. Luckily, Lily had left me with some information that would resolve that situation and provide me with the leverage I needed to get her back.
The USB stick, which I assumed was still hidden—or else Johnathan would probably not be as eager to get Lily back—was minutes away from being in our possession, thanks to an unlikely ally: Basilio’s sister, Francesca.
She was friends with the cleaning crew authorized to clean all the apartments in the building—a building where she stayed, which was how she met Lily.
She offered one of the cleaners she trusted, a woman named Claire, a hundred grand and a job at North Side Gentlemen's Club. The woman urgently needed money as her mother was sick, a situation I would exploit.
“She’s got it. They are on their way over,” Nero says, walking into my office and looking as rough as I do. They had his woman. Though not official, everyone with eyes could tell that Holly was his. Perhaps this incident would prompt both of them to acknowledge their feelings .
“How are the funeral preparations going?” I ask, my mood becoming even more sour at the thought of the men we had lost on the yacht and their families.
Ten of my men are dead. No one was spared, not even the captain and his crew.
The state of the boat tells a story. Our men did not go down without a fight.
Shots were exchanged, and the yacht needs extensive repairs.
But that is nothing compared to the loss of life; some of whom had been with me since I was made Don all those years ago.
So much to avenge. For now, I would ensure their families are well looked after.
“Everything is ready. The service will take place as scheduled at seven,” Nero answers, sitting opposite me and eyeing the crack in my desk but saying nothing. I heard he had destroyed his whole room yesterday, so there was nothing he could say to me.
Dante walks in, his usually jolly demeanor absent.
He shouldered a heavy burden of guilt about what happened, as did the man beside him, Matteo.
As Lily’s bodyguard, he had formed an attachment to her, one I allowed since it made his protection of her more personal.
The fact that she was taken upset him and left him feeling he had failed, even though it was beyond his control.
I had ordered them to remain on the boat, placing us in a vulnerable situation.
It was my fault. I underestimated my foes, but it wouldn’t happen again.
Dante advises as he and Matteo sit beside Nero, “I’ve tripled security, and the cops on our payroll will be stationed near the church.”
Dante clears his throat, and I can see that he has something to say, something I won't like. “Spit it out,” I order, throwing back the last of the liquor in my glass; the burn as it travels down my throat is welcome.
“There have been some rumors, and before I go any further, I have men already out there following up on this.”
I nod and flick my hand in the air, indicating he continues .
“Rocco, or someone who looks like him, was spotted close to our South Shore docks last night.” I sit up straighter, this scenario puzzling.
Why would he dare show his face here? If he wasn’t with Lily, then where the fuck was she?
She is his leverage, so if he isn’t still with her, it could mean that she is either dead—a scenario I refuse to entertain and one which makes my stomach churn, threatening to spill the liquor I have just consumed—or he is on the outs of whatever plan is taking place.
Before I can voice any of these concerns, men shouting in the distance draw my gaze to the camera system in the corner of the room, specifically the one facing the gate.
A black, unmarked SUV sits on the other side, surrounded by our security.
With guns drawn, the occupants of the vehicle are clearly not invited.
A knock on the door, followed by one of our guards entering, is therefore not unexpected.
“Boss, sorry for the interruption. But you will want to know about this. The Mancuso brothers are at the gate. They say they have someone we are looking for. Rocco.” Looks are exchanged before we rise and head out of the office towards the front door.
“Let them in. Unarmed,” I order, the guard relaying the message on his two-way radio.
It is a risk for them to come here, and if they give up their guns, it could mean one of two things. Whatever they have makes them confident in the situation, or they are desperate. They probably want to use whatever they have to get a foot in the door of our territory.
We stand by the entrance, watching the car as it pulls up, tinted with clearly bulletproof windows obscuring my view. A full minute passes before the engine shuts off and the doors open.
The Mancuso brothers could be twins if it weren’t for one sporting black hair and the other the same black hair but speckled with grey. They are burly, covered in as much ink as I am, and carry themselves with a confidence that I admire even though they are in enemy territory, unarmed.
“Dominico Sante,” the older brother says, stepping forward before raising his hand in greeting. I take it, the handshake brief and firm.
“I am Elio Mancuso, and this is my brother, Enzo Mancuso.” He points to his brother, who steps forward to shake my hand with the same firm grasp. The thick Sicilian accent tells me they have not grown up here.
“Shall we take this indoors?” I suggest, not waiting for them to respond before I turn and head inside.
I walk towards the meeting hall beside my office, taking a seat at the head of the table, while the older brother sits opposite me, with his brother to his left.
I snip my cigar and light it while Dante and Nero sit beside me, with Matteo positioned by the door.
"You came to me," I remind them, eyeing them as I puff on my cigar.
“We understand that you have a situation. One we might be able to help you with.” The brothers look at each other before one reaches into his pocket and slides a photo across the table. Rocco, tied up.
“Rocco. You are looking for him. So were we.” Fuck. The 'were' suggests that either they have him or he is dead. A problem for me either way. He might know where Lily is being held, so having him alive is preferable. I school my features, not wanting to give anything away too soon.
"We have him." They have leverage, but what is their price?
“Why were you looking for him?” I ask, curious about what else Rocco could have gotten himself into. The flash of anger and then fear is definitely not what I expect to see on the younger brother's face. It seems Elio is much more adept at keeping his emotions to himself.
“Like you, I am looking for someone. Someone important to us, who we suspect is being kept in the same location as your wife." A brief glance is exchanged between the two. "Our sister Violet.”
Interesting. Their need was personal, like mine, which was good for me. Personal reasons made people on opposite sides more flexible in negotiations, but also more dangerous.
“We have their location, good up to a few hours ago. However, we lack the resources to take on a rescue mission of this magnitude quickly. I was hoping we could reach an arrangement. We would give you that information and assist with the rescue, and in return, we would form an alliance. Sealed by marriage,” Elio says so calmly that you would think what he is suggesting is a walk in the park.
Nero clears his throat while Dante strokes his beard, all of us surprised by this turn of events.
An alliance with a rival mafia family was unheard of.
However, an alliance with the Sicilian mafia could eliminate the issues we currently face with oversupply and excessive stockholding.
If they started shifting excess stock, we would need less storage space, which would reduce the risk that holding large quantities raises with the authorities.