Chapter 24
Dario
It went against the omertá to kill the capo dei capi. If I chose to take my father’s life, I would never be capo. I wouldn’t be the first son to murder his father. Recently, there was a situation in the Chicago outfit. While no one can prove the son was responsible for the boss’s death—he had an alibi—that didn’t stop the rumors. I’d met the father more than once. With the son in control, Chicago was now a better outfit.
Dante was seated shotgun while Giovanni drove the bulletproof SUV.
“He’s in the city,” Dante said after a series of text messages with some of our top soldiers—the ones we knew we could trust, or at least we thought we could. My brother was speaking of our father.
“Take us to his apartment building,” I said.
Giovanni took the next turn and headed toward our father’s penthouse.
“Fuck, I’d rather not see Alesia,” Dante complained.
“I don’t want to see our father either.” The fucker broke his word again about stepping down, claiming the famiglia needed him. Last night, we had two shootings and the bratva robbed a liquor store under our protection. Father took that as a sign he shouldn’t retire. I took it as a sign that he should.
“Tell me more about what happened last night,” I said. “Did you have a talk with Hoss?” Hoss was the owner of the store that was robbed.
“You could call it that,” Dante said. “I talked and he listened.”
I met my brother’s gaze. He could be a sick fuck when necessary. We both could. Dante had a knack for interrogation. “Was there a problem?”
Dante nodded. “Too coincidental. The timing. It doesn’t make sense. When I checked out the security camera footage, Hoss tried to backtrack.”
“You should have told me.”
“Your plate has been fucking full today. I handled it.”
“Does Father know?”
Dante inhaled. “I told him I was looking into it. Fucker screamed at me and told me not to doubt his word.”
Gritting my teeth, I had a fleeting thought that they might crack from the pressure. “You don’t think it was bratva?”
“The shootings, yeah. One was down by the shipyard. They tried to take some of our new product from the cartel. We have one of their soldiers soaking in acid. The other one was a drive-by outside Trattoria. The location was too precise. There was a meeting there last night of regional underbosses. Someone must have tipped off the Russians. We lost two soldiers.” Dante shook his head. “One was only twenty.”
“Name?”
“Elio Rossi.”
This was a part of our life I hated. “Fuck. Isn’t he the brother of Leandro?” Our father wouldn’t be able to pick these men out of a lineup. They sacrificed their lives for him, and he couldn’t bother to learn their names. I knew each one. Elio was the younger brother. His older brother, Leandro, had been killed about a year ago.
“He was.” Dante nodded. “I paid a visit to their mother.”
“That should have been me.”
“It should have been the capo, but he’s too busy fucking his mistress to give a damn.”
“Thank you.” Notifying family was a responsibility I assumed years ago. Being the grim reaper wasn’t on my list of favorite duties. However, I believed that if a man or a woman perished while doing the famiglia’s business, their family deserved the respect of the famiglia of being told personally of their loss. “How did the Russians know about the meeting? It’s like they fucking have inside information. Tell me more about Hoss’s place.”
“Security footage was too clean. It wasn’t the damn bratva. It was an inside job. Hoss tried to say the cameras malfunctioned.”
“Do you think he was trying to scam us?”
“He denied that—at first.” There was a glint in my brother’s eyes. “After some persuasion, he said a man paid him to make it seem like the Russians were responsible. The man said Hoss would get paid twice. Once from him and once from us when we recouped his loss.”
“Who the fuck?”
“Yeah, he didn’t get a name.”
“Who would benefit from a robbery looking like the bratva?” I asked aloud, knowing the answer was the man we were about to see. The more chaos, the more reason for him to hold onto power.
Giovanni pulled the SUV into the garage below the building holding our father’s penthouse. A scan and another gate and we were in Father’s private garage. The number of vehicles disgusted me. Yes, Dante and I had our share, but other than the Lamborghini, our vehicles were practical. Our father loved the flash of expensive things. Whether it was his mansion, penthouse, or vehicles, money was no object.
Of course, if our soldiers died in the pursuit of his ill-gotten gains, too the fuck bad. Total allegiance to the capo meant that casualties were a small price.
Access to Father’s penthouse was similar to ours. While our men didn’t have access to his elevator, as the good and faithful sons we were, Dante and I did. Giovanni stayed with the SUV while we rode up the elevator in silence. Dante’s news and my theories ran through my mind as my fingers mindlessly caressed the handle of my most accessible knife.
It was smooth and made out of bone. It was the knife I used for my first kill. I’d told Catalina that each knife had a life of its own. This one had saved my life more times than I could count.
My thoughts ran on rewind. Last night alone, Jasmine was attacked, and her bodyguard was poisoned. We lost two soldiers. A secret meeting was ambushed. And there was a fake robbery. It was time for our father to step down.
The elevator doors opened.
The sound of a woman’s screams and pleading filled the air. Dante and I both pulled our guns and headed toward the yelling. We came to a stop as Father turned toward us, glaring. His beady eyes were black with emotion. His belt was unbuckled, fly open, and cock at half-mast. Alesia was on her knees, pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing nothing more than transparent lingerie. Even with night prevailing, we were too high in the sky for anyone on the outside to see what had been happening.
Dante and I had our own clues. Alesia’s cheek was red, beginning to darken, her hair a mess, and her makeup smeared. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked away.
We holstered our guns.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Father asked. His face too was red, but not from abuse. Maybe he’d have a heart attack and save us all.
“We need to talk,” I said.
Alesia used our interruption to stand and slip away, trying to hide her face and bloody lip as she wrapped a short robe with lace around herself. As much as I hated the abuse of women, I’d long ago stopped giving a shit about Alesia’s welfare. Dante and I had offered her an out. She wasn’t sentenced to our father’s presence by marriage. If she wanted to spend her life with the sadistic son of a bitch, that was her choice.
My gaze went to our father who was more upset that we spoiled his fun than that we saw it. Cruelty was his pastime. Dante and I had taken the brunt of many of his slaps and punches. The sting of his belt was something neither of us would forget. Physical abuse wasn’t his only source of satisfaction. Emotional, sexual, psychological, and financial abuse were all in his repertoire. The only violence he tried to hide from us was that against our mother. While it wasn’t as blatant, we’d have had to be blind and deaf to not know it happened.
That’s why Mom wanted a bigger, grander house. In that mansion, no one could hear her pleading to not be raped, no one but the man who got off on that kind of thing.
The window behind him was smudged with tales better left untold. He pushed his cock back into his boxer shorts, zipped his pants, and fastened his belt. His shirt was still hanging loose. As he situated himself, I noticed the absence of his holster. If only we could take advantage of that.
“You don’t fucking walk into a man’s house,” he ranted as he looked around the room, probably wondering about that gun.
“Seems like your guards aren’t on the job,” Dante said. “Fuck, we could have been the Russians, like with Hoss last night.”
Our father went over to a sidebar and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. After running his hand over his gray hair, he emptied the glass, and slammed it on the counter. “I told you to forget about Hoss.”
Dante continued, “It wasn’t the Russians. Hoss was trying to con us.”
“What?” Father asked, feigning surprise. “Then I hope you fucking killed him.”
“You want us to kill him for following your orders?” I asked.
“What the fuck are you saying?” He sat his ass in one of the chairs and leaned back. “I didn’t order him to lie.”
“You didn’t do it personally,” I said. “Just like you didn’t personally try to kill Jasmine Renner.”
The phone in my pocket vibrated, but I wasn’t going to interrupt this conversation.
Father released an exasperated gust of air. “No one was trying to kill her.” He jutted his chin. “You have a wife now. You think she’ll put up with your collection of strays?”
“It’s none of your fucking business what happens in my home.”
“This is why I’m not stepping down. You’re weak.” He sneered. “You let those whores lead you around by your dick. First, Josie and now the brown girl.”
My blood pressure was building to a dangerously high level. “My wife’s name is Catalina. The only one being led by his dick is you.”
He lifted his chin. “Are you going to fuck the stray now that she’s older?” He laughed. “Don’t know why you don’t want the young ones. They’re so tight you think your dick may fall off, and the way they scream…” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you could all share a bed.”
“You’re fucking disgusting,” I said honestly. “I came here because I know you were behind the attack on Jasmine, and I’m telling you to stop.”
Our father stood. “You’re telling me.” Spittle flew from his lips. “You can’t tell me shit. I’m still capo. I’m just pissed off my man got injured. That fucking guard should have been out cold. He fucked up.”
“You’re not denying your involvement.” His last sentence registered. “Why are you trying to hurt Jasmine?”
“No. I’m not denying it. For you to be capo, you need to wipe the remains of the stray off your fucking shoes. Instead, you send her to a private college.” His volume rose. “That shows your weakness. It’s on open display, Dario. No one is going to follow a weak man.” He looked to Dante. “Maybe you should be capo when I’m ready to step down.”
My phone vibrated again.
Dante stood statuesque; his lips pressed together.
Ignoring my phone a second time, I took a step toward my father. “Capo is my birthright. I’m going to tell you again: Jasmine is off-limits. When I find your man, I’ll kill him myself. No one fucking touches her.”
Sitting back down, our father laughed. “Things haven’t worked out the way you thought they would.” He was looking at me. “You thought this alliance would give you power. It’s done the opposite. I spoke to Roríguez.”
“About what?”
“I told him you weren’t taking over. I was staying in charge of the famiglia, and I decided to go another direction.”
“What direction?”
“I want more product for less money.” He shrugged. “We accepted one of their whores in exchange for the first part of the deal. I offered one of ours for the new deal. Roríguez’s son showed an interest in her—thinks he’s getting her, but I promised her to Herrera. He has a soldier who is interested.”
Herrera. No fucking way are we doing business with him. “Who did you offer?”
“Aren’t you fucking listening?” Father screamed. “Your stray.”
Jasmine.
“We’re not doing business with Herrera. No one can have Jasmine.”
“Fuck, she’s inconsequential—a small price to pay for the new alliance. You haven’t fucking learned anything that I’ve shown you.” His volume rose. “The way to keep control is to show power. Herrera has the real power. Roríguez doesn’t know it yet, but we’ve changed our alliance. His men are coming to get the stray, and your uncles are meeting the plane.” Father laughed. “Roríguez will get the message.”
“His men?” I asked. “Herrera’s?”
“Your wife’s family. It’ll be their last trip.”
He”s double-crossing Roríguez.
Ending our alliance.
“What will that mean for my marriage and my wife?” I asked.
“Fucking keep her or let her go. You could put her to work at Emerald Club. She’s nice on the eyes if you like that kind.”
The handle of my knife found its way to my grasp.
What I’d told Catalina came back to me. “Every knife has a life of its own. It’s important to feel secure with the handle in your hand.”
It felt fucking secure.