Chapter Thirty-three
Vida
T he low hum of the engine fills the car as Carmela parks a safe distance away from the office. She stares at me with her steady and intense gaze, waiting for some sort of explanation. The air inside the car feels thick, filled with my anxiety and the thought of what she would think when I tell her my grand plan, if it could be called that.
“So? Should I force it out if you?” she asks, obviously as tired of the silence as I am.
I take in a steadying breath, feeling my pulse quicken just at the thought of saying it out loud.
“The casino is a front for arms dealing?” I ask, my tone coming out more like a statement than a question.
“It is. And?” she replies, not fazed that I found out, or even curious to know how I found out. I’m sure, to her, Raymond would be the obvious answer, considering he’s the only person who knows that I’ve talked to.
“Raymond wants me to find out where the shipment of weapons is coming from,” I say, trying to keep my tone as calm as possible. “Ciro’s kept that information locked down, and it’s driving him crazy.”
Carmela’s brows furrow, her hands gripping the steering wheel just a bit tighter. She’s thinking and I don’t think she likes where this is going.
“And you’re really going to do that? Just hand over information about the shipments?” she asks, turning to me, brows raised in utter disbelief.
“I’ll do exactly what he wants,” I say with a nod, my eyes fixed forward, afraid if I say it to her face it’ll make me chicken out and rethink everything.
“But first . . .” I pause, unsure if I’ve thought this part through enough.
“What?” she asks curiously.
“Vladimir Trofimov,” I say, letting the weird name slip out my mouth. I watch as her brows relax as she stares at me like I’ve spoken a different language. Well, I have.
“What about him?” she asks when I don’t continue right away.
“I need to get in touch with him.” The words feel heavy on my tongue, weighed with the gravity of what I’m saying. If this man is as Dad had described, what I’m asking for may be the most stupid and impossible thing I’ve ever done.
I hear Carmela laugh, shaking her head like I’ve gone mad, and maybe I have, but that doesn’t stop me, so I continue. “My dad mentioned he has an informant who knows how to get to him, but if I’m going to pull this off, I’ll need more than just a middleman.”
Carmela goes silent, probably digesting everything, then finally lets out a low whistle. “Vee, first, I need you to know that I’m stuck with you and on board. Second, this is getting way bigger than us. You know that, right?”
“I know, Cam.” I nod. “But if this works out, we won’t just be putting Raymond in his place, but we’ll be doing something even bigger.”
She studies my face for a long moment, the lines of doubt plastered across her face beginning to ease up slightly. “Okay, what’s the endgame here? What exactly are you planning?”
“The mafia has allies all around the world, right? People who would die for your family?” I ask, watching her expression closely.
“OUR family!” she corrects, making my lips arch into a real smile, then she nods slowly. “And yes, we do. Why?”
“What if one of those allies is Vladimir Trofimov?” I raise a brow, letting my idea sink in.
My hope has already begun to bubble up inside of me, but as I watch her shake her head, it begins to fade slowly.
“That’s not going to happen, Vee. They’ve kept to themselves for years, never making allies or enemies. They’re almost untouchable.”
Her words sink in, pressing down on my chest. The thought of giving up isn’t an option. I’m not even thinking about backing down now.
“Let’s say this, your . . . our family runs Italy and many countries around it, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Vladimir Trofimov and his mob runs Russia? So they’re basically us, just in a different world.”
“Yes . . .”
“Ciro likes a good deal . . . Vladimir Trofimov should too,” I smirk.
“What deal could you possibly have to offer that would make him listen to you?” she asks me, looking at me like she is wondering who I’ve become. I am even beginning to wonder the same thing. I guess I’m just a wife. Ciro’s wife.
“The head of the man who dared double cross him,” I smile, watching Carmela put the pieces together. She lets out a slow sigh, crossing her arms and leaning back.
“I can’t say I don’t think this is crazy, but fuck me for liking crazy,” she laughs, turning to me. “So, what do you need me to do?”
I turn in my seat to face her fully, finally feeling like the pieces of this insane plan are falling into place. “I’ll get in touch with Dad and when I get what I need from him, I’ll need you to keep Ciro and the others occupied. Just long enough for me to talk to both Vladimir and the mole again. We need to be careful so we don’t raise suspicions, but strategic enough that I can get what I need from both of them.”
“How will you put the mole on Vladimir’s radar?” she asks.
“From what I’ve gathered, he’s selling Ciro’s arms to the Marino’s and replacing them with cheap stuff. And he’s selling drugs in the streets using Ciro’s name.”
“So how does Vladimir come into the picture?”
“Vladimir is the one pushing the drugs, unaware that most of the profit will vanish before he gets it.”
“That motherfucker really is biting off more than he can chew!” she says. “How did you get all of this from him by the way?”
Her question has me looking away, never wanting to think about it.
“Some boobs, my dashing smile, my hand on his trousers, and a promise to celebrate your brother’s downfall over wine,” I narrate, irritated by the memory.
Carmela’s lips twist into a half-smile, her eyes glinting with reluctant admiration.
“You’re more alike than you realize . . . you and Ciro,” she says, making something inside me swell with pride.