Chapter 2
GIO
The world is filled with people you can’t trust. They’re out there right now, waiting to screw you over.
And being who we are—the kings of the underworld, the ones they warn you about—those people are all around us. But the flip side is, if we catch wind of their disloyalty, they pay the price.
With their life.
“I know where he’s going to be tonight,” my brother Michael informs me, taking the glass of whiskey to his mouth and downing the contents.
He slams it back down with a heavy clank, his elbows hitting his desk. As he leans in, his dark eyes fill with contempt for the one man we haven’t been able to locate for the past three years.
“Where?” I settle back comfortably into the leather chair, staring right back with the same indignation.
Carl Nelson was one of our bankers. He was good at laundering for us overseas. Except little old Carl decided to play with our money…a little too much. Hookers, drugs, yachts. That’s what he did with the ten million he stole from us.
I don’t know if most people are fucking stupid or just the ones we encounter, but did he not think we’d eventually find him?
Maybe he thought we’d high-five him for eluding us for this long.
Yeah, Carl, thanks for stealing that money from us. Can’t wait to take a ride on that yacht we bought.
May as well have bought it. It’s our fucking money.
Maybe he even thought we’d eventually forget about the dough. I mean, we have plenty of it, but that’s not the point. He took what’s ours, and that equals death. It’s that simple.
Michael has been working hard to grow our legitimate enterprise.
The money from our underground casino businesses from around the globe, on top of the online gambling we run, has allowed us to grow our legal businesses tenfold.
That, of course, allows us to hide the dirty money so the feds can’t find it. And believe me they’ve tried.
To the outside world, we’re just your average billionaires in suits, working from a desk most of the time. But they don’t see our real side—and if they do, it’s because we’re probably about to end their life.
“He’s going to be at the Titans’ fundraiser tonight,” Michael explains. “It’ll be at their hotel on the Upper East Side. Invite only.” My brother’s face turns with a cold, calculating grin, the scar on his right cheek jerking. “And it so happens, you’re on the list.”
“Lucky me.”
I can’t wait to get my hands on him. I won’t need weapons—not that I’ll go empty-handed. But I’ll enjoy choking him to death a lot more. It’s a good thing Carl never met me, or his untimely end would be a lot harder to accomplish.
The Titans are friends of ours. They’re philanthropic as fuck on the outside and as dirty as us on the inside.
It’s funny; the rich think they’re better than us, but in actuality, they’re their own version of organized crime.
Corruption, greed, murder. They know it all well, even though they hire others to do their dirty work.
I’d imagine it’s easier to pretend. To fool themselves into believing they’re clean.
As though their soul gets an automatic pass in hell just because they think they’re superior.
“Some of our guys will be working the event.” Michael’s arms fold across his chest. “They’ll let you pass without checking if you’re strapped. But don’t make a scene,” he warns through a narrowed gaze. “We can’t afford to rock the boat with the law. Don’t want to push our luck so soon.”
“Is Captain Jared still pissed about the dead guys in that office building?” I chuckle under my breath.
“Oh yeah.” He nods with a bemused twist of his mouth.
“Guess he didn’t appreciate the evidence of wiretapping I left him either?”
“He did thank us for that. But he had a lot of cleanup to do.” He laughs dryly, probably recalling the phone call he got because of it.
Last week, when I took some of our foot soldiers to gather intel on where Carl might be, we met some of his friends…and let’s just say it didn’t go well. Lots of blood. And limbs. It wasn’t pretty. Can’t really blame the captain for being pissy. He may be in our pocket, but he’s still a damn cop.
But nothing will stop us from finding and killing Carl.
He’s done well hiding from coast to coast around the globe, and every time we got close, he’d vanish again.
Must’ve gotten cocky to return to the States.
But more than three years have passed since we discovered what he’d been doing, so he probably thinks we got tired of searching.
“I’ll be ready tonight. He won’t leave that hotel alive.”
Michael pours more amber gold into his glass, lowering the decanter back down beside him. “I know you’ll get the job done. Not worried about that.”
“What’s the fundraiser for?” I wonder curiously.
I don’t like those damn events. Too many people to shake hands with. But I do my fair share of donating to various causes, especially if they’re related to kids or animals.
“Children’s cancer hospital,” Michael replies. “It’s going to be an auction.”
“Ah, fuck. It’s ugly fucking art again, isn’t it?”
The last time I was forced to attend one of these types of events, I ended up with three paintings that looked like something a kid made in art class. I donated them to a museum. But I couldn’t resist when they were raising money for domestic violence shelters.
“They’re not auctioning off art.” My brother snickers when he registers my unsavory expression.
“What, then?”
“Women,” he remarks pointedly.
I jerk my head back. “Say that again?”
His chuckling rumbles through the room. “You heard right. Rich women auctioning themselves as dates for rich, old fucks.”
Great…
If I win, I have to take some uptight princess on a date? Not happening. I don’t date. I fuck. But I guess we can do that too…
Well, now this evening is looking a tad more interesting.
“I know that face.” Michael’s stern voice is hard to miss.
I swear sometimes he thinks he’s my damn father, even though I’m twenty-eight and he’s only six years older than me.
He’s not even the oldest. I’ve got another brother, Raph, who’s thirty-seven and not exactly around anymore. Had a lot to do with him starting a war with the Irish Mob over the recent death of his wife, Bianca.
He blamed them. They denied it. So, of course, he went in guns blazing and ended up killing the nephew of the head of the Mob. Patrick obviously isn’t that impressed that his nephew is dead, and now he wants to kill Raph. So Michael forced Raph into hiding until he can resolve the conflict.
Michael’s the next in line to lead the Messina crime family, which our father is currently the head of.
He’s planning on retiring, though, and is pressuring Michael to find a wife so he can do just that.
It’s just how it’s done in our circle. The men want a family man to lead them, someone who has stakes in the game.
Someone who can show them he can keep his own family well protected.
Except a wife is the last thing Michael wants. But he knows it’s what he must do if he wants to take my father’s place.
It should’ve been Raph taking over, but our father would never let that happen.
He and Raph have always despised one another.
As the years have passed, it has only gotten uglier between the two of them.
I don’t know what my father’s problem is.
Raph has never done a damn thing except try to make that man proud.
He’s never succeeded, though, and he never will. We all know that.
I’m just glad I was born the youngest. The last thing I’d ever want is to get married. What the fuck for? Do people end up happier when they’re stuck with one person? And if they claim they’re happy, I’d like a sit-down. I bet by the end of it, I’d have them divorced.
Look at my parents, for example. My father fucks anything under thirty, and Ma just stays there and takes it. I’d probably end up just like him. Why would having a wife stop me from fucking around?
Never met a woman I wanted to marry anyway.
“Alright, I’ve gotta go,” I tell Michael and rise to my feet.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He cocks his head with a curious gaze. “And what’s her name?”
I do admit I have a bit of a reputation. Usually in the form of a long-legged brunette. Or a blonde. I’m not picky.
I roll up the cuffs of my baby-blue dress shirt and smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He shakes his head. “Better not be someone who works for us.”
“You worry too much.” I start for the door. “Have a little fun.”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” he scoffs. “Don’t get anyone pregnant this time.” He reminds me of the time I got a bartender from one of our bars knocked up.
Or so I thought. Ended up being someone else’s baby.
“And end up with a kid like you?” I joke. “Never.”
“You shut your mouth.” He cants his chin up with a hard stare. “Sophia is the best thing that ever happened to me.” He inhales, emotions overtaking him.
“She’s the best thing that ever happened to all of us,” I confidently reply.
We’re all crazy about my five-year-old niece. When Michael brought her home, none of us had any idea how we’d be able to live the life we did with a kid around. But leave it to my brother to make it work. Protecting her is our number one priority. She will always come first.
It’s another reason I don’t want to get married. My wife is definitely going to want kids, and I don’t need to worry about keeping her and the kids alive. Too many people to be responsible for. It’s better not to have anyone’s death on your conscience. Bianca’s death taught us all that.
“Alright, I’m out of here.” My mouth turns up. “For real this time.”
Michael gives me a tense look before he says, “Keep me informed about tonight.”
“Of course.” Tugging the door open, I make it out of his office and head toward the garage.