Chapter 8
Eight
Mark Farro settled into the brown leather chair in his new home office. His scowl landed on the mahogany bookcase to his right before he trekked his gaze along the leather-bound tomes, intersecting with the occasional antique alabaster bust or brass armillary globe.
Just as he preferred, everything he’d carted over to Boston from New York screamed luxury and expense. Only his beautiful setting didn’t at all fit with the video call he was set to take.
He would have liked to visit his cousin Luciano in person. They’d lived apart for close to a decade, their branches of the Syndicate stretching opposites sides of the country, but now that Luciano resided in a Minnesota prison and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future, Mark had new priorities.
Though Luciano’s arrest struck a genuine blow, Mark would deal with his anger in the best way he knew how. Productively. With research. With a plan. Hence his move to Boston, where his presence would make a far bigger difference to Luciano’s problems than any fleeting prison visit.
A notification appeared on Mark’s open laptop browser, Luciano’s call connecting. Within seconds, the man’s joyless face appeared on the screen, his complexion gray and the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled and wary.
Mark fought an unfamiliar battle to find words, but then Luciano spoke first. “You gotta plan?”
Mark nodded through the weight of a heavy frown, his attention sliding from his cousin’s once meticulously slicked black hair, now sporting an inch of silver regrowth. Mark’s own image mirrored back to him in a smaller window on his screen—his thick, bronze waves and his tailored, navy-blue oxford shirt—a styled contrast to his cousin.
“Nice to see you too, Cousin.” He cleared his throat and told himself to get a grip.
“Now, that’s a lie.” Luciano gave a soulless laugh, the small jolt of his shoulders bringing focus to his bright orange prison suit. “What are we gonna do about this?”
He motioned to the world around him, to the fluorescent lit room behind him with sickly, mint-green painted walls. Two other men stood in the background, also busy on video calls, other men lined up on a long bench behind, presumably waiting on their turn.
Though Mark knew full well who and what he was—a professional criminal motivated by money—few people got his compassion like Luciano did.
Luciano Conti, a decade older, with a head-start in the Syndicate, had made countless sacrifices for his family. Though his money wasn’t from clean or legal dealings, what he’d done with that money was provide for Mark in ways his parents couldn’t.
Unlike Luc, Mark had a college education and abilities and vision that outstripped his cousin’s. One day, he would break from the Syndicate but not until it was safe. Not until his obligations were fulfilled. Not until he had reinforcements strong enough to keep the Syndicate away.
Despite Luciano’s assumptions over the years, Mark didn’t look down on him. He owed him. Now Luc’s skinnier face, compared to the past, came as a cold reminder of what the stress of being incarcerated had done to him. That Mark should have taken better care of his cousin. Or at least, taken Luc’s troubles in Harlow more seriously.
But Luc’s famously heavy-handed approach didn’t always work, especially not against someone stealthy like Dean Holloway, which was why Mark had no choice but to get involved.
For payback.
For his own damn freedom.
“I can’t bust you out of prison.” Mark paused to replace the hollow edge in his tone with something more substantial and stoic. “But yes, I have a plan.”
Luciano gave a tight nod. “I’m not safe in here. Not until we make things right with the boss.”
Luc couldn’t mention Rudolph Manzinni’s name from inside prison, but he didn’t need to.
“I’m keeping the boss informed.” Despite the tension drawing at his muscles, Mark plastered on an unmoved expression. “I closed a deal today that will make everyone more money than ever. Better yet, this deal will leave the entire town of Harlow suffering.”
Appease Rudolph. Avenge Luciano. Make a ton of money… Get away from this entire clusterfuck altogether.
Mark wanted to smile but wasn’t the type to get ahead of himself, even if he had stumbled upon an ingenious means to hurt Dean Holloway and make truckloads of money in the process.
This job was only just getting started, and he had a lot of lost ground to reclaim with the Syndicate. Luciano—and therefore, Mark—had already failed twice. First, there’d been the botched mission to blackmail money from Emilia Bonacci, which resulted in Anthony Stucco’s death. Then there’d been the ensuing national news coverage. Amongst it all, Dean Holloway had escaped the Syndicate, the recovery mission to stop him then leading to Luciano’s arrest.
If Mark failed again, the consequences would be lethal.
So, there was no boundary he wouldn’t break. And not just with Dean. Mark would crush them all. Emilia, Blaine, the sheriff involved in Luc’s arrest… Dean’s woman, Sarah Overton.
Mark’s move to Boston was just the beginning, and one day, only when the job was done, he would celebrate.
“So, don’t you worry, Luc.” He smiled for the first time this conversation, feeling at ease. “I’m not stopping until we hurt every person who hurt us. Not until every last resident leaves Harlow, and that entire malignant town is leveled to the ground.”