16. Nerio
16
NERIO
I lean back in my leather chair, studying the territory maps spread across my mahogany desk. Marco stands at my right, arms crossed, while Tony and Ray occupy the chairs opposite me. The afternoon sun casts long shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my downtown office.
"The Mantiones lost three distribution routes." Marco taps a red line on the map. "Their shipments are down thirty percent." He crosses his arms. “And the Cappallettis have gone otherwise silent. No one can seem to find the don’s niece or figure out why they took her, but it’s a distraction to them, at least.”
"Good." I trace my finger along the edge of our territory. "Time to move on their old clients. Tony, reach out to the suppliers on Maxwell Street. Make sure they understand we can guarantee protection."
Tony nods, jotting notes in his phone. "What about pricing?"
"Keep it competitive. We're not desperate – they are." I pull up the profit projections on my laptop. "Ray, double security at the docks. The Mantiones will try to slip through the cracks."
"Already on it." Ray's knuckles are still bruised from last week's altercation. "Got eyes on every shift."
Marco slides another document across the desk. "Speaking of security, Lorenzo wants updates on the money laundering operations."
"The nightclub's perfect for that." I scan the numbers, satisfied with the flow. "Jazz keeps the books clean, brings in legitimate cash. Makes everything look above board."
"She asking questions?" Tony raises an eyebrow.
"No. She's smart enough to mind her business." I close the laptop with a snap. "Focus on expansion. The Mantiones are wounded, but they're not stupid. We push too fast, they'll push back harder."
"Got word they're recruiting." Marco's jaw tightens. "Fresh muscle from the south side."
"Let them." I stand, adjusting my suit jacket. "New blood means sloppy mistakes." And more people for me to punish. "We'll be ready when they slip up."
Ray leans forward. "What about the warehouse on Kinzie?"
"Convert it." I pour myself a whiskey from the crystal decanter. "We need more storage now that we're taking over their old routes. Marco, get construction permits filed. Make it look legitimate."
"I'll take care of it."
"Good." I nod to them. "Leave."
Ray and Tony do, but Marco stays where he's standing. He must have something else he wants to say.
I take a slow sip of whiskey, studying Marco's tense expression as the others file out. Something's eating at him.
"Talk."
Marco waits until the door clicks shut. "Remember that shipment that got hit last week? The one where Mantione's crew knew exactly when and where?"
"Hard to forget a quarter million in losses." I set my glass down. "What'd you find?"
"Been tracking communications." Marco pulls out his phone, scrolling through messages. "Someone tipped them off about the route change. Only six people knew about that adjustment."
"Names."
"Ray, Tony, me, you, Frankie, and Carlos." Marco's voice drops. "The timing's too perfect. They hit us twenty minutes after the switch."
I lean back, mind racing through possibilities. "Pull phone records, bank statements. I want to know who's living beyond their means."
"Already did." Marco hands me a folder. "Carlos bought a new Audi last month. Cash."
"Interesting purchase for someone who claims he can barely make rent." I scan the documents. "What else?"
"His girlfriend moved into a penthouse downtown. Way above her paygrade as a waitress."
"Keep eyes on him." I stand, moving to the window. "But don't spook him. If he's our rat, I want to know who he's feeding."
"There's more." Marco shifts uncomfortably. "They've been asking about Jazz."
My hand tightens on the glass. "Explain."
"Carlos was at the club last night, watching her. Not the usual way – he was taking notes on her schedule, her routine."
"So he might have been helping the Mantiones with her, too." Ice crystals form in my veins. "Get me everything on Carlos's movements for the past month."
"Got it." Marco heads for the door. "Want me to bring him in?"
"Not yet." I down the rest of my whiskey. "Let him think he's clever. Makes it easier to catch him slipping."
The door closes behind Marco, leaving me alone with thoughts of creative ways to make Carlos regret his choices. Nobody threatens what's mine.
I settle back at my desk, pulling up the security feeds from the club on my laptop. Jazz moves through the crowd with her usual grace, unaware of the sharks circling. Carlos appears in frame, his eyes following her movements too intently for my liking.
My phone buzzes. Another message from Marco with Carlos's bank statements.
Tony walks in without knocking. "Got those supplier contracts you wanted-"
"Sit." I don't look up from the screen.
He hesitates, then drops into a chair. "Something wrong?"
"You tell me." I turn the laptop so he can see Carlos watching Jazz. "Notice anything interesting about our friend lately?"
Tony shifts, collar suddenly tight. "Can't say I have."
"Really?" I pull out the folder Marco gave me. "Because according to these records, you and Carlos met for drinks three times last week. Outside our usual spots."
"We're friends." Sweat beads on his forehead. "Known him for years."
"Friends." The word tastes like ash. I stand, circling behind his chair. "Like you were friends with Sal Mantione before he tried to muscle in on our territory?"
Tony's shoulders tense. "That was different-"
"Was it?" I grip the back of his chair. "Because right now, I've got a rat problem. And you're looking awfully nervous for someone with nothing to hide."
"Boss, I swear-"
"Don't." My voice drops to ice. "You know what happens to liars in this family."
Marco appears in the doorway, expression grim. I nod once.
"Take him to the warehouse." I straighten my cuffs. "And call Ray. I want everyone there in an hour."
Tony starts to protest but Marco's already hauling him up. The door closes on his desperate pleas.
I pour another whiskey, studying Carlos's frozen image on the screen. One rat always leads to another. By tonight, I'll know exactly how deep this betrayal goes.
The question is who breaks first - Tony or Carlos?
I wipe blood from my knuckles with a pristine white handkerchief. The warehouse echoes with Carlos's ragged breathing as he slumps in the metal chair, zip ties cutting into his wrists.
"Let's try this again." I circle him slowly. "Who were you running your mouth to at O'Malley's?"
"I was with some... some of the guys." Blood drips from his split lip. "Didn't know the Mantione's were there. Didn't know they could hear me. I swear."
"And the money?"
"Skimmed from the shipments. Ten percent here, fifteen there." His shoulders shake. "Needed to impress Maria with that car, the apartment."
Marco stands in the shadows, expression hard as stone. "Phone records check out. He's been bragging to his girlfriend, showing off. But no direct contact with the Mantiones."
I grab Carlos's jaw, forcing him to look at me. "Just a loud mouth trying to play big shot, huh?"
"Please." Tears mix with blood. "I fucked up. I know I fucked up."
Tony watches from against the wall, his earlier fear replaced with understanding. He was already cleared by Marco, and I'll take that. I wanted to trust Tony, anyway. The truth's written all over Carlos's pathetic face.
"You know what happens to thieves in this family?" I release his jaw, stepping back.
Carlos starts sobbing. "Please, I'll pay it back. Every cent-"
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse. Carlos slumps forward, a neat hole in his temple.
I turn to Tony. "Sorry about earlier. Had to be sure."
"No hard feelings." Tony straightens his jacket. "I'd have done the same. Family has to come first."
"Marco." I holster my weapon. "Clean this up. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong."
"What about his girlfriend?" Marco asks.
"Give her forty-eight hours to clear out of the apartment." I head for the door. "After that, I don't want to hear her name again."
Tony falls into step beside me. "We good?"
"We're good." I clap him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we deal with those supplier contracts."
Behind us, Marco's already making calls to handle disposal. Just another night's work keeping the family clean.
While they handle that, I go to see my girl.
I step into the private elevator of the penthouse, still wound tight from the warehouse situation. The security panel scans my fingerprint, whisking me up to her floor.
These late-night visits have become routine - a release valve for the pressure that builds during days like this. And most nights I even stay. Hell, I even have left things here like we're a real fucking couple.
Something I don't have a clue how to be.
Jazz answers the door in silk shorts and a tank top, hair wild and curly around her shoulders. Without a word, she lets me in, already reading the tension in my jaw.
An hour later, we're tangled in her sheets, both catching our breath. Jazz rolls away, reaching for the water on her nightstand. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on her bare shoulder, highlighting old scars I've never asked about.
"You're quiet tonight." I trace my fingers down her spine. She's been quiet for days, really, and I haven't been sure why. She waters her plants, goes to the club, hangs out here. I'm not sure what's wrong, but there's distance between us.
She takes a long drink. "Just tired."
"That's what you said yesterday." And the day before. I sit up, studying her profile. "Something on your mind?"
"No." Jazz slides out of bed, pulling on her robe. She moves to the window, staring out at the city lights. "Everything's fine."
I follow, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. She leans back against my chest, but there's a new stiffness to her shoulders. Gone is the easy banter, the sharp comebacks that first drew me to her. In their place is this careful distance, growing wider by the day.
"Talk to me, little dove."
"About what?" Her laugh holds no warmth. "The weather? Your day at the office?"
I turn her to face me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." She slips from my grasp, heading toward the bathroom. "I should get ready for bed." And then she pauses and looks at me. "I'm having brunch with my friends tomorrow. Marco will have someone drive me."
I nod. "That will be fun."
Without another word, she turns away, and I can't stand it. I can't stand feeling like she's just out of my goddamn reach even though I'm here every night.
"Jazz."
She pauses but doesn't turn around. "What?"
The words stick in my throat. I don't know how to bridge this gap without the physical. Don't know how to reach her when she's building walls I can't see. I don't do fucking emotions, so I don't know what to make of the ones clawing away at the inside of my chest.
"Never mind." I grab my pants from the floor. "Get some rest."
She disappears into the bathroom without another word, leaving me alone with the growing certainty that I'm losing her, one silent night at a time.
But I won’t ever let her go. And I don’t know what that will do to us.