Chapter 42 #2
I peer over at my brothers, their expressions deadly at the news. They knew Bryce. Maybe not as well as I did. But we find this kind of thing reprehensible.
“You may speak freely here,” Patrick advises. “You’re amongst friends. So tell us everything you know.”
“That gold card we found on him, with a number on the back that wasn’t traceable. I tra—”
“Did you say a gold card?” Michael advances forward. “Do you have a photo of it?”
“Aye.” He reaches for his phone and swipes before he shows the screen to Michael.
“Fuck… I know that card.”
When I stare over at the screen, the color drains from my face.
“It’s not possible,” I say. “They’re dead.”
“Who are you referrin’ to?” Devlin asks, giving us a curious look.
The room has grown quiet, all eyes on us.
“The Palermo crime family,” I explain.
“What?” Elsie’s words fall below a whisper. Fear slams into her horrified gaze.
“Don’t worry, little dove. No one will touch you.” Michael clasps her cheek as she shudders. “No one, Elsie. I swear it.”
She nods, but tears line her eyes.
“How do you know it’s them?” Devlin asks.
“That’s their card. The one they used to run their sex club. Members would call the number on the back, and someone with a mask would pick them up, blindfold them, and bring them to a secret location.”
“Bloody hell,” Devlin mutters. “If you’re saying they’re dead, how the hell was Bryce working for them?”
“I don’t know,” Michael retorts. “But we’ll find out. Is there anything else? What were you saying about tracing the number?”
“I did trace it, but it was disconnected. Bryce was calling someone named P right before he drugged Eriu’s friend that night. Now we know who P is.”
“Wait…” I raise a palm in the air. “What do you mean, he drugged Eriu’s friend?” I turn my sharp gaze at Iseult and she lets go of my hand. “I thought it was you there that night saving a woman from Bryce. You told me you killed him.”
“What?” Eriu interrupts, and my attention jumps to her. “She didn’t…” She stares intensely at her sister.
“Eriu! No!” Iseult scolds, rushing for her.
But Eriu shakes her head. “You’re done protecting me.” Her gaze darts between Devlin and Iseult. “You both have done enough. I don’t need anyone protecting me anymore.”
She turns her attention my way.
“I shot him. I killed Bryce.”
Shock punches me in the gut.
“You? Really?” I press my fingers into my eyes. “Why?”
“He tried to take my friend, and when he wouldn’t let her go, I shot him.”
Jesus Christ.
But Bryce deserved it.
“After he was lying there, I called Devlin and my sister. Iseult took us away, but Devlin got caught by the cops when someone reported the gunshot. So instead of letting me take the blame, he did. He kept me out of prison.” Her eyes grow soft as she looks at him.
His features strain, jaw clenching as he stares at her. “I’d do it all over again, lass.”
“You shouldn’t have.” She shakes her head, and her expression pulls with anguish. “It was on me. You shouldn’t have had to endure that because I messed up and left without you and went to that club.”
“You mean you shouldn’t have drugged him and snuck out?
” Patrick offers. “Aye, you’re right about that.
But that’s all forgotten now. Devlin is out.
We can celebrate that. But we must also find out who has taken over for the four dead Bianchi brothers.
Because if they’re not in charge, someone else is. ”
“I think it’s time to call Dom Cavaleri,” Michael declares, getting his phone out of his pocket. “They need to know that their war may not be over just yet.”
He dials Dom’s number and puts him on speaker, the cell ringing until he answers.
“Michael,” Dom greets. “What the hell do you want?”
“This is not a social call,” my brother explains. “I have some news on the Palermos, and you’re not going to like it.”
Thick, heavy silence greets us, followed by a muttered curse. “What do you know?”
“Found someone who has resurrected their trafficking business.”
“Not possible. We would’ve heard something.”
“Except they may have started it outside of New York,” Michael adds. “The man who was working for them was doing it in Boston.”
Something shatters, and Dom’s breaths come loud through the line. “Send me all the information. We’ll do some digging, get the feelers out.”
“Alright.”
“Can’t fucking believe this is happening again.” He shuffles around.
I can imagine the kind of shit he’s going through at the moment. To hate a family as much as they hated the Bianchis, and to find out someone may be trying to start that again, it must be killing him.
The Cavaleris were the ones who not only brought down that family, but got all those involved in the club arrested. At least that’s the rumor. It made national news. The images of the many celebrities and politicians were plastered on TV screens.
“I will call for a meeting with the Azienda tomorrow,” Michael says. “To find out what each of the families have heard.”
The Azienda is the alliance between the now four families of the Cosa Nostra. The Palermo crime family, of which the Bianchis were in charge, was once a part of the alliance. So the only ones standing other than us are the Rosolinos, the Cambrias, and the Grazias.
“Make sure you let me know what they say,” Dom says curtly, his tone accusatory, like he doesn’t believe Michael would.
“I will,” my brother replies. “Same goes for you. I want open channels between us about this.”
“Fine.” Dom doesn’t sound like he likes it.
But he doesn’t have to like us to carry out a mutual goal, and that is to extinguish whoever Bryce was working for.