9. Rocco
9
ROCCO
“ I take it your little intervention with Claudio Lazzaro went well?”
Marco Chiavari fell into step at my side as I marched through the compound.
As a child, I had been quite afraid of his stern demeanor and unflinching ability to cut to the heart of any conversation.
But over the years, I’ve come to respect the older man a great deal, and not just for his iron-clad hold of the Guild’s finances and generous personal donations to the cause.
Or his fiery-haired daughter, who’d been a pain in my ass since she could speak in complete sentences.
“Transfer the money from my personal account. His debt is settled.”
I turn the corner, heading toward the meeting room at the end of the corridor, but Marco grabs my arm to pull me back.
“I had another look at Lazzaro’s loan documents,” Marco speaks so quietly that his thick mustache barely moves.
“Oh?” I keep my face as neutral as possible.
If anyone could dig up the truth about Lazzaro besides Teo, it would be Marco. But as a member of my inner circle, I couldn’t share my plan with him. Not if there was even the slightest possibility he could be the rat.
“Someone forged it. The original expired a month ago.”
“Is that so?”
Marco blinks as if suddenly seeing right through me. “You knew about this?”
“If you continue that line of thought to its natural conclusion,” I reply softly, “You’d realize I would have to have a very good reason for not telling anyone.”
“Claudio Lazzaro has made a mockery of my life's work,” he growls back.
He’s deadly serious, too. Marco doesn’t mess with money.
I take him in for a moment, considering. The thought of Marco willingly bending his rules for someone like Lazzaro is, in fairness, laughable.
So far, only Teo and I know of the plan to flush out the rat. Martino might have picked up a few things on a need-to-know basis, but aside from that, I was up against the entire Guild’s lieutenants alone.
Another set of eyes could be a valuable asset.
“I imagine there would only be a few behind that door over there,” I point to the meeting room. “With the knowledge to be able to accomplish something like that? It’s funny how information seems to be leaking out everywhere these days.”
Marco stares at the meeting room door, cogs almost visibly turning beneath that salt-and-pepper hair. “You think it’s the rat.”
I shrug before pulling away down the corridor. “Let’s circle back to this later, shall we?”
He doesn’t reply until I reach the meeting room door.
Someone wolf whistles as soon as I walk in.
“Here he is!” Alessandro croons as he balances on the back legs of his chair. “Today is the day to put in your requests, folks.”
“You sleep well last night, boss?”
“Hey, could I borrow a hundred? There was this girl I was chatting with at the bar last night…”
I roll my eyes as I approach the seat at the head of the table. “All right. Enough.”
“He’s in a good mood.”
“Glad you’re finally getting laid again, man.”
“I said, enough!” My voice carries through the room.
The twelve other people around the long, rectangular table fall into an obedient silence.
Everyone except Alessandro, who mock whispers across the table to Marco. “Is it too late for him to get a refund?”
I glance over at Martino, who’s taken his usual position standing at my back, and nod.
In one swift movement, the giant man kicks out Alessandro’s chair from under him and smashes his head into the table with a satisfying crunch.
“Anyone else?” I survey my inner circle with a bored look.
No one dares meet my eye as I give the order for Martino to let go. Alessandro curses under his breath as blood begins to trickle down his nose.
“You’re on thin ice after that little mischief at the docks,” I reply to his unasked question. “Try not to piss me off, please.”
Alessandro grumbles something about only ever seeing two bikes but thankfully shuts up.
“Since it’s already public knowledge, I can confirm the negotiations with Lazzaro were concluded yesterday. Marco is in the process of rectifying the accounts.”
Marco merely nods his confirmation.
“I’m sure the Candelabra will be very grateful to him for not sending his daughter out to make good on the repayment.”
This earns me a few good chuckles, and whatever tension was in the room fizzles out.
I quickly turn to other matters, pleased that many seem to have already moved on from the Lazzaro issue.
Having them believe I would actually do something like pay off a man for his girlfriend doesn't feel good. The fact so many of them had barely battered an eyelash when I’d brought it to them a few days ago was even more concerning.
But strangely, it wasn’t my reputation I was worried about.
Claudio’s little outburst in the negotiations had me inches away from snapping the fucker’s neck. Instead, my nice opal fountain pen had paid the price.
But glancing over at Alessandro and some of the others at this table, it was clear their opinion of Cas was barely worth remarking on.
The words they use to describe her, what they believe she’s doing to me behind closed doors, makes me want to beat them all bloody.
The only thing worse is that voice in the back of my head that wants nothing more than for me to go home right now and take her, taste her, consume her, exactly like they’re all imagining.
I focus on Marco’s financial report to try to calm the boner that is threatening to make its presence known.
“Move forty million into the off-shore,” I offer my input. “I’d like to move on the new real estate project this month.”
I note the approval in more than a few eyes. My plans to create a new club venue could very well make the Electrix obsolete within a few years. Then we can destroy those private rooms for good.
Where I had pinned Cas against a wall and allowed the reins of my restraint to slip. Where those perfect lips had gasped my name as I’d indulged myself, however briefly, between her legs.
That night, I hadn’t slept until I had gotten myself off to her lingering lemon and chamomile scent, hating myself in the aftermath.
Because I know, logically, that she is in a very vulnerable position. The way she retreated into herself after Claudio signed that fake contract was a testament to that.
The last thing she needs is a pervert like me trying to take advantage of her just because all logic seems to dive out a fifty-story window whenever I’m around her.
“I got some bad news and some more bad news.”
I refocus as Teo, sitting on my right side as usual, takes the proverbial floor.
“The Cartel intercepted our shipment yesterday before we could secure the South African package.”
Tobacco. A partial payment for the luxury goods we’d offered them last month. A useful commodity, but a bulky one in large enough quantities. And the South Africans had wanted a lot of handbags.
“All of it?”
Teo nods grimly.
“How did they even pull that off? There must have been at least four shipping containers.”
“That’s the worst news,” Teo replies. “The Cartel pulled off the heist before the ship had even docked.”
A disgruntled murmur begins around the table. “Could the South Africans have screwed us over?”
I shake my head. “No. Dante saw the shipment off personally. He’s traveling back to the US as we speak.”
“Then how the hell did they know it was coming in?”
“One of Rubio’s underlings squeaked about something interesting a few days ago,” Alessandro speaks up for the first time since he’d managed to get his nose to stop bleeding.
I brace myself for his next words.
Amos Rubio commands an admirable amount of respect from his Cartel. Which unfortunately means the most effective way to get anything out of them is through a more hands-on interrogation.
Though knowing Alessandro’s preferred methods of extraction, it might be more appropriate to call it a hands-off approach. Nails and fingers were often the first to go missing.
“Said ‘only Rome can topple Rome’.”
A silence falls across the room as the implication sets heavy upon our shoulders.
Teo, God bless him, breaks it. “Technically, I think the Germanic forces toppled Rome.”
“Save it, Teo.”
“I’m just pointing out that the Cartel might not be as clever as they think they are.”
“Yet they keep landing their blows time after time.”
“Information has to be getting out to them still.”
“How is this still happening?”
“I thought Carmine was the informant.”
“But what if he wasn’t? Or if he wasn’t acting alone?”
“Great, so there’s another rat.”
“Probably in this room.”
I stand up, slamming my hand on the table. “I will not let a dead man sow discord among us.”
“What did Carmine say to you that night at the docks?”
I turn to look at the woman sitting at the opposite end of the table. So far, she hadn’t contributed at all to the meeting, but she had a habit of making people listen when she did speak up.
“Not a lot.” I match her icy gaze.
Her silver hair ripples as she shakes her head. “Perhaps you should have prevented him from blowing his brain out.”
“I’m glad you feel confident offering this adVitale retrospectively, Esther.”
The lines on her weathered face pull into a cruel smile. “Your father would have acted with greater wisdom. Maybe Giuliano would be a valuable consultant on this issue.”
“Bold of you to undermine your don at a time like this.” I let her see the wrath boiling behind my eyes.
“Who’s sowing discord now?”
The challenge in her voice has those around her murmuring nervously.
I only have a second to make a decision.
Esther is an older player with a well-known distaste for the Cartel—rooted in a cruel combination of racism and ignorance. She doesn’t fit the profile of our rat, as much as I would like to pin this on her.
And yet, this isn’t the first time she’s called me out on this. She’d been one of the last to agree to my father’s retirement conditions and she was the oldest member of his previous guard.
She believes herself to be untouchable, and that’s a very dangerous thing.
“I’d like to thank you for your years of serVitale here.” I bow my head with the little respect I can muster. “But I believe I have become weary of your council.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I nod at Martino once more. “Please have your son briefed ahead of our next meeting; I wouldn’t want him to fall behind.”
Esther takes one look at Martino’s approach and begins to screech. “You can’t. I’m on your father’s list.”
“Giuliano Moretti holds no power in this room.” I let authority reverberate through my words. “Any suggestion otherwise is an insult to the Guild. Let this be a warning to all.”
Martino, ever a better man than I, gives Esther the option to see herself out.
It’s almost comical how everyone watches the door slam behind her, then wearily turns back to look at me.
I sigh. “Your concerns about another leak are valid. However, I will not tolerate any finger-pointing or whistleblowing in this room. I offer you all the same courtesy you gave me when I became your don. Trust.”
I make sure to look them all in the eye before continuing. “We will continue to interrogate the Cartel for more information. Until then, remain calm and vigilant.”
“You might have just solved the problem by kicking the old hag out,” Alessandro mutters.
I give the others a moment to register his words. Let them think that they’re safe again.
“If there’s nothing else, you all have places to be.”