Chapter 57
DIANGELO
Present
Gabriele Fiore is the underboss of the Lucciano Family, who deals primarily in construction, while the ports are our territory.
Business can overlap, but for the most part, we aren’t direct rivals.
The old Italians set it up that way years ago to stop infighting.
The five Italian operations in New York and a couple of Chicago outfits even joined up to form a commission to keep things civil.
All that to say, today’s meeting should be amicable. Should being the keyword.
I never take anything for granted. We make a show of leaving weapons at the door, but I’m still armed. I don’t care who I’m meeting with, I’m not going in naked.
Fiore has three guys with him. My guess is, they’re carrying, too, along with Tommy and Sante, who met up with us before the meeting. Four of us from each family, all eyeing one another warily.
“Renzo, I appreciate your willingness to meet on such short notice,” Fiore says after we’ve all gathered around a rustic wooden table in the basement of an old Italian restaurant in Lucciano territory. Their meeting, their pick of locations.
“We appreciate your cooperation on this and look forward to being able to return the favor.”
Fiore nods once, acknowledging the debt. “I’d like to introduce you to Nico Conti. He has an old family connection to Michael Savin. He’s done a little digging for us.”
All eyes turn to Nico.
“My wife, Sofia, is friends with Michael—the two had a bit of a business arrangement for a number of years. As time passed, we haven’t been in contact with him quite as much.
He became more involved in Biba’s operations, and that was a challenge.
Sofia reached out to him this week after you raised concerns.
He never responded, which is unlike him.
His wife is a therapist. We went by her office and found it locked up with a note to patients taped to the door. ”
“Sounds like their disappearance was intentional on their part,” I note.
Nico nods. “My guess is he’s in hiding. I don’t know why else they’d vanish voluntarily. But even so, it surprises me he wouldn’t reach out to Sofia, especially if he was in trouble. They were close at one time.”
Renzo leans back, frowning. “Are you aware that Biba’s old garage was fire-bombed recently?”
“We are,” says Fiore. “Heard it was Reaper, but I’m wondering if Pasha put that out there to keep the heat off him.”
“Attacking his brother would make sense after being cut off from the business.”
We’re all silent as we consider the implications of Renzo’s comment, which makes the basement door opening that much more noticeable. Everyone stills, hands poised to reach for concealed weapons as a young soldier jogs down the wooden stairs.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m sorry to interrupt.” The poor kid’s eyes dart around the room, and I can practically smell the sweat pouring off him. He leans in and whispers to Fiore, who nods. The kid takes off up the stairs before another booted pair of feet begins to descend.
This new man joining us is no child. His steps are confident and controlled.
Fiore and his men, who had their backs to the stairs, stand and face the newcomer.
He’s younger than me but not at all wet behind the ears.
His jet-black hair is only rivaled in darkness by his calculating stare.
The skin of his neck is covered in tattoos, as are the backs of his hands and fingers, which is all that can be seen beneath his black shirt and pants. The man knows how to make a statement.
“If it isn’t Michael Savin,” Fiore says dryly. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“That’s not Michael,” Tommy blurts. “That’s a fucking assassin working for the Reaper.” He draws a throwing knife, which instigates the appearance of an arsenal of weapons and shouts for everyone to calm down.
Nico crosses the room and stands in front of Michael. “Drop your fucking guns. This is Michael Savin.”
The man in all black steps out from behind Nico, looking completely unaffected.
“I am Michael, but we don’t have time for introductions beyond that.
I’m here to let you know Pasha got word of your meeting.
He’s rigged the place with C-4.” He turns his piercing gaze to Tommy.
“The Reaper would like you to know, his debt is paid.”
We all stand with our thumbs up our asses, stunned as he calmly walks back up the stairs. I have so many questions. So much confusion.
“Shit, we need to get outta here,” says one of the Luccianos.
All eight of us bolt for the stairs, shoving our way up as fast as we can.
“Everyone get the fuck out!” Fiore yells inside the small restaurant on our way to the front entrance. “The place is rigged to blow.”
We stumble into the street. I note a black SUV turning a corner down the block, which must have been Michael’s ride, since the man is nowhere to be seen.
All of us look around, huffing for air and wondering if we’ve just been pranked when the entire restaurant erupts in flames. The windows explode onto the street while the shock wave sends us tumbling backward. I can feel the goddamn heat on my face from twenty feet away.
“Fucking Russian scum,” Fiore bellows, wiping dirt and sweat from his face. “They’ll fucking pay for this.” He turns to Renzo and extends a steady hand. “I believe we now have a common enemy.”
The two shake hands, signaling the start of a new alliance.
“I hope you know we didn’t mean to drag you into this,” Renzo says solemnly.
“Those fuckers had a choice. They knew this was our territory. They chose war. That has nothing to do with you.”
Renzo nods. “It might be good for the Russians and this Reaper to have a reminder that the Italians still stick together.”
“Agreed.” His eyes narrow in thought. “In fact, I propose we go back to old traditions and set a precedent with a wedding uniting our two families. A signal that can’t be ignored. I’ll need to make sure the boss is on board, but I think he will be if you are.”
I watch Renzo carefully, curious how he’ll answer. Eventually, he nods. “I’ll also discuss it with the family and see if we have anyone willing to fill that role.”
The two shake again as sirens grow closer.
“Time for us to go,” I prod, relieved when Renzo leads us away from the burning building to our cars. Tommy and Sante abandon their car and pile in with us so we can discuss the situation.
“Does that mean Michael is working with the Reaper?” I ask no one in particular.
“Sounds like it,” Renzo says. “Considering he claimed to be The Reaper’s messenger. His debt is paid. Only The Reaper would know we killed Biba and left him and his shooter alive.”
“Think he could be The Reaper?” That would be something—the man the Russians were at war with for months hiding in plain sight.
“Not unless the rumors were false about his scars,” Tommy cuts in.
“True,” Renzo responds. “And we’ve heard word about the scars on his neck from multiple sources.”
“Still, how did one of the Russians end up with Reaper?” The revelation floors me. I thought the two groups hated one another.
“I’d like to know how everyone knew our goddamn business—Pasha learning about the meeting and Reaper knowing Pasha knew.
We putting up fucking billboards I don’t know about?
” Renzo is pissed, and he has every right to be.
I expect the Luccianos and Morettis are both going to do some major in-house clean-up.
Out of nowhere, Renzo pulls the car into a parking lot and turns around. I meet Sante’s eyes in the rearview mirror, both of us wondering what’s going on.
“They think they’ve got us on the run, but they can’t know our plans if we move without warning. We’re going to go find that fucking Russian piece of shit and rip his fucking heart out. I’m done playing safe.”