14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan
I sense trouble and a bit of something else when Joe Geller walks into my office. The usual confident I’m-out-to-get-you gait is gone, replaced by a more somber yet determined aura.
It’s probably because he and his team couldn’t get anything other than that one club. I’ve taken care of it like I said I would, and Anthony has been laying low lately.
“What do you want, Joe Geller?” I ask without preamble, folding my arms. “And you have three minutes, or I’ll have you thrown out of my office. Not escorted,” I clarify, “thrown out.”
He smiles at me, but I see the shaky end to it. “You might’ve pulled some strings, Mr. Cross, but I hope you know that a case that’s postponed isn’t necessarily buried.”
And ?
“But,” he smacks his lips as he sits, “I’m here to offer you a deal on behalf of my superior.”
Joe Geller smacks his lips as he settles into the chair, exuding an air of false confidence. He wants to believe he’s in control, but he isn’t. Not even close. Still, I let him play his little game—for now.
“I’m here to offer you a deal on behalf of my superior,” he begins, leaning back like he has all the time in the world.
I glance at my watch.
He has exactly three minutes.
“You have quite a bit under your belt,” he continues, reaching into his briefcase. A file lands on my desk with a soft thud. “This is just a fraction of what your company controls. We’re prepared to let go of the case if you make a… significant contribution to—”
“A bribe?” I cut in sharply, my voice laced with disbelief. “You’re asking for a bribe?”
He clears his throat, his face tinged with an embarrassing shade of red. “Not at—”
“You want me to give up control so one of your superiors can sink their slimy hands into it,” I say, my tone dripping with disgust. “And you expect me to believe it’s not a bribe?”
He clears his throat again and reaches for his tie, pulling it loose. “I’m not against bribes, Joe,” I say, matter-of-factly, tilting my head. “I think giving people what they want makes the world go round. I’m not saying I do it,” I add with a raised finger, erasing any chance of a recorded confession. “Yet, there’s something I don’t understand.”
Something that disgusts me.
My face is hardened, and my voice is cold. I imagine reaching across the desk and strangling him with his tie. “How is it that you threaten me and then turn around to convince me that giving up what I own is best for me? ”
“How?” My fingers drum on the desk, each one laced with a lazy threat. “How is it that you’re not here on your knees, begging me? Do you think my forgiveness is that easy to win?”
“I didn’t.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I was going to offer something else. Something you’d like.”
Oh? I click my tongue, and my anger dials down a notch. “You could’ve started with that. You have a minute.”
“Insider information,” he says rapidly. “We know people that want to take you down. We can give you what you need to get ahead of them in exchange for what I’ve requested. The information will be legitimate—” he nods quickly when I frown. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Luckily for me, I know when a person is telling the truth.
The eyes.
The ears.
The desperation. The same desperation that drove me to kiss Natalie yesterday. I told myself I’d stay away, but when I walked into that aisle and saw her talking to herself, I couldn’t stay away.
It didn’t matter if her obliviousness was real or a well-placed tactic—I had to have her. And I did.
Then came the regret. No. I shake my head, momentarily forgetting Joe Geller’s presence. It wasn’t about regret.
Feelings. That was the problem. The way she made me feel. It was too much—too intense, too consuming, too foreign. I couldn’t handle it. So, I did what any real gentleman would do.
I left her there.
“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing my chin.
Joe clears his throat, reminding me he still exists. “Uh… are we on board with the deal?”
I roll my eyes. The pest .
“Go,” I wave him off dismissively. “I’ll reach out when I’ve made a decision.”
He hesitates for a second, probably wondering if he should push his luck, but ultimately turns to leave. Before he reaches the door, I call out.
“Take that with you,” I point at the file he left on my desk. “I know every inch of what I control. I don’t need the prosecution’s office pretending they have the upper hand.”
When the door clicks shut behind him, I finally lean back, running a hand through my hair.
Natalie .
What have I gotten myself into?
My phone begins to vibrate at that moment, giving me a reprieve from my burden. It turns out to be my other burden, Anthony.
“What do you want, Anthony?”
“I’m close by. And no,” he adds before I can comment, “I did not go to a party or hang out with misfits. I came for legit business, and I thought I’d see my cousin.”
Perfect timing. I could do with Anthony’s help regarding the deal—although I’m not sure how sound his advice will be.
“Come,” I say. “I need to talk to you.”
He shows up minutes later wearing distressed jeans and a black shirt. “Hey, cousin,” he grins as he sits, crossing his legs. “What’s up?”
“Joe Geller came by.”
“The bastard?” he scoffs. “I told you I should’ve paid him a visit. Two broken kneecaps and a threat to take his daughter far away would’ve done the trick. What did he want this time?”
“A deal,” I say casually, careful not to put any persuasive inflection in my tone. I don’t want Anthony to think I’m considering it, so it doesn’t affect his response. “Intel on other mafia groups and gangs. In return, we give them one of our clubs. Or restaurants,” I shrug. “They weren’t specific.”
He’s going to say yes.
Anthony pushes the chair back in an explosion of anger. “The bastards,” he spits as he paces my office. “The fucking bastard. They’re trying to take it away from us bit by bit. Before you know it, they’ve taken everything.”
I click my tongue quietly.
Well, that makes sense. I don’t support the steps he took before arriving at his conclusion, but I respect it.
He turns to me, eyes filled with rage. “Let me send them a message. It’ll be subtle but firm. Nobody messes with the Cross family.”
“There’s nothing subtle about you, Anthony,” I say. “I don’t want to start a war with the law either.”
Anthony throws his hands in the air, and I know he’s about to start an argument. “This—” he huffs, “is what gets me angry. You know how you’re supposed to handle this—how the Cross family has always handled people like this.”
He drags my chair across the floor as he pushes it back, and the sound grates on my nerves, but I don’t say anything. Anthony is a short fuse, and he’ll never do anything to disrespect me, but he’ll find some other way to express his rage.
I don’t want that other way to be somebody’s head. My father never had to cover up for me when he was alive because I always kept in line.
As much as he pulled wild strings to protect the Cross family, he always told me, “You do some stupid shit, you dig yourself out. You’re supposed to hold yourself in the highest regard.”
I took that from him, which means Anthony will be digging himself out if he ends up in jail for assault and battery charges.
All I can do is try and keep him from getting there .
“Your father,” he points at me. “He was ruthless. He would beat up a motherfucker before they had a word to say. People feared him in every room he walked into. My father—” he swallows heavily, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as it hardens, “wouldn’t have tolerated this bullshit. He taught me how to throw a punch to keep them from thinking about standing up.”
Them.
Commoners.
Any other debasing name to describe people not in the mafia. It’s no secret what Anthony thinks of them, and they’re only useful as one-night stands, flings, or meat bags.
“I’ll handle it,” I say firmly as he paces my office, his fist cocked and ready to punch something. My voice is controlled, but it carries a reminder of who is in control. “I wanted to give you a heads-up so you’re not caught unawares by changes I intend to implement.”
He scoffs and thrusts his hands on his hips. “Like what? You’ll stop moving and selling because of them pigs? You know we have enough in our pockets. I know you’re soft—” he says with enough bite to send a jab, “but I can do it. I’ll pull the strings and have them clear things out.”
“It’s either that,” Anthony shrugs as he returns to the chair, falling carelessly on it, “or I do it myself. Tell me which you’d prefer because I know you’re worried about the fallback.”
I should’ve had someone shadow Anthony while I figured things out on my own.
“I’ll let you know.”
He shakes his head. “This is why he shouldn’t have died. The Cross name is becoming a joke. We need to remind them that we once ran the streets. We ran Philadelphia!” He bangs his fist on the desk .
It’s enough to get a rise out of me, and I lean in suddenly, my eyes blazing with a warning. “I understand that you’re angry, but I won’t have you question my authority, Anthony. Everything I’ve done until now has worked out for the benefit of the family.”
“You either trust me, or you don’t,” I continue, exhaling from my nostrils and trying to rein in my temper. “I’m tempted to think that you don’t, and that’s not something I’m willing to overlook.”
Anthony’s jaw tightens, his frustration barely restrained as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed. His gaze locks onto mine, sharp and unyielding, but he knows better than to push further.
“I trust you,” he finally says, though there’s a begrudging edge to his tone. “I just don’t trust the people around us to respect that trust. They smell weakness, Ethan. They see hesitation, and they think they can take what’s ours.”
I tilt my head slightly, measuring his words. “And you think storming in without a plan is the answer? That reminding them we ‘ran the streets’ will be enough to set things right?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes locked onto mine. “I think they need a reminder of who we are. Right now, they don’t fear us. They don’t respect us.” His voice drops lower. “And if they don’t respect us, they’ll replace us.”
A slow breath escapes me as I fight the fire creeping up my spine. “I know what’s at stake. And I’m not letting it happen.”
Anthony watches me for a beat, his jaw tight. Then he nods once. “Then prove it.”
I already am. He doesn’t see it yet.
But I need to move faster. Anthony’s patience is running thin, and I don’t trust him to sit back and let me handle things. If I wait too long, he’ll take matters into his own hands.
And that’s a risk I can’t afford.