Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Angelo
Maks and I enter the lounge of Hotel D’Amico, making our way to the back. My knuckles rap on Sienna’s door, and she calls, “Enter.”
Maks remains on guard as I step inside the viper’s den.
“If it isn’t the big bossman himself.” Sienna pops her hip, flashing her best bedroom eyes.
“Sienna,” I say in a bored tone, closing the door.
When she realizes her beauty has no effect on me—as it never does—she switches tactics. “What’s this nonsense I hear about shutting down our call girl operation?” Her hands fall to her hips. “Surely the rumors aren’t true.”
“They are,” I tell her flatly.
“But that’s only because you’ve yet to sample from the menu. Angelo, I have the perfect woman for you.” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Her name is?—”
“Not interested. What I am interested in is information. A few months ago, a trumpet player by the name of Ellis played in this hotel lounge’s band. He still around?”
“Ellis. Ellis.” She pats her cheek with her finger. “Doesn’t ring a horn.”
Far from amused, I pull out my wallet and fish out a wad of hundreds, waving them in front of her like a bullfighter waving the red flag.
She accepts the bills, tucking them inside her bra. If there’s one thing Sienna loves more than men falling at her feet, it’s cold, hard cash. “Now that I think about it, that name does sound familiar.”
She motions for the couch as she takes a seat behind her desk. The desk on which she fucked Remi’s boyfriend. I’ve considered killing Sienna, but in a sick and twisted way, I should be thanking her, considering she ran Ellis off for me.
“Please tell me this couch gets deep cleaned regularly,” I say, giving it a hard look before taking a seat.
“Angelo, you insult my honor and that of my husband’s, God rest his soul.” She makes the sign of the cross.
“Interesting how you married Michele after Fabien went away.” According to Al, after I left the family for the East Coast, Sienna was Fabien’s girlfriend.
“Michele and I both realized life isn’t promised, and to grab onto happiness while you can,” she says, not taking the bait. “Do you have happiness in your life, Angelo?” Her cat-like eyes take me in, scanning for any weakness.
I might have a little taste of happiness, if only I can convince Remi I’m not a piece of shit like her ex-boyfriend. But I refuse to bare my jugular to the likes of this woman. “I have hit lists, Sienna. Does that count?”
Her head tips back with laughter. “For you, it probably does.” She ducks below her desk, dramatically popping up with a ledger. “Let’s see. A few months ago.” Her blood-red nails flip through the pages. “Ah, here he is: Ellis Harrell. Ohhhh, I remember him.”
Sienna’s far too clever to admit that she cheated on one of my capos, but I’m curious as to how she’ll spin this.
“He tried setting up his own drug operation inside the lounge. Instead of killing him, Michele had Ellis’ little side hustle raided by the cops.”
Wouldn’t have predicted that particular spin.
“Anything else you need?” She bats her lashes.
“The audit Nic has repeatedly asked you for.” An odd set of circumstances: Jade, the former madam, and now Michele, my capo, are both dead, with Sienna the last woman standing. Some deference must be given to capo widows, yes, but I don’t trust this woman as far as I can throw her.
“And I have all the paperwork.” She holds up a stack triumphantly. “Jade left things in quite a mess; it took me some time to sort through everything, but all invoices and monies have been accounted for.”
“Ms. Sienna, come quick.” A custodian barges into Sienna’s office, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Well, you see…” He trails off, looking to Sienna.
“Out with it,” I order, because now I’m interested.
“Cops are in the lobby.”
“What?” Sienna gasps.
She hurries out of her office, with Maks and me trailing behind.
“ Що в?дбува?ться ?” Maks asks me in Ukrainian, in case any Italian-speaking busybodies are listening. What’s going on?
“ Я не знаю .” I don’t know.
Entering the lobby, we find two officers escorting a cuffed man in a suit, followed by a cuffed woman who has prostitute written all over her.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sienna chases after them; a reporter and cameraman just happen to be waiting on the sidewalk.
Maks shields me from view as we hustle through the lounge and out the side door.
Sliding in the backseat of the town car, I place a call to my NOPD contact to see what the hell is going on.
“Detective Pierre.”
“Care to explain why arrests were made inside Hotel D’Amico’s lobby just now?” I seethe.
“Just a sec.” The sound of movement, and then he whispers, “Order came from above my pay grade; only a select few were privy to what was about to go down. Had I tipped you off and a bust didn’t happen, I would’ve been outed. My hands were tied.”
Ending the call with a growl, I toss my phone across the seat. “A warning shot from the new mayor.”
“Sounds like it,” Maks agrees.
Sienna wanted to know the meaning of this. Here it is: I’m shutting down the call girl operation.
“Gentlemen, welcome.” I rise from my seat at the head of the table.
Capos file into the basement of my restaurant, and I wait until everyone is seated before taking mine. “As you know, I’m considering axing the skin trade. My understanding is that not everyone’s happy about the decision. If there are any grievances, let’s hear them now.”
“Not a grievance, boss, but I do have to question why.” Dom pipes up. “Michele had the plum racket, and it’s only fair one of us gets our turn.”
“By one of us, do you mean you, Dom?” I say dryly.
He puffs his chest. “I’d throw my hat in the ring.”
“There’s no ring. The new mayor has made his position crystal clear, and we need to be smart about how we operate the next four years.
I’m working through backchannels to establish a better working relationship, but right now, things do not look promising,” I admit.
“Especially considering today’s arrests at Hotel D’Amico?—”
“Vitto would’ve never cowered to a pussy politician.” Dom slams down his fist. “You’re too damn worried about your ‘Mr. New Orleans’ reputation instead of what’s best for this family.”
I push back from my seat, strolling around the table with my hands in my pockets. “The day you catch me cowering, Dom, will be the day I hand over the reins to you. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Jerking my hand out of my pocket, I fling the bag open and bring it over his head. He struggles as I pull the bag taut, futilely sucking air until his body goes limp.
“See, I told him not to hold his breath.” I mock, releasing my hold. Dom’s body crumbles in his chair, and I leave the bag over his head as a warning to the other men. “We’re shutting down the skin trade racket as of this moment, and I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it.”
“Yes, boss,” the men say in unison.
Returning to my seat, I look each and every breathing capo in the eyes. Oh, the men fear me, alright, but they don’t respect me.
Mr. Ivy League, who never earned his button.
Vitto’s boardroom nepo baby.
Our leader, but not one of us.
The whispers shouldn’t bother me, but for some damn reason, they do. “Anyone else have a grievance that needs addressing? Let’s hear it.”
“Not a grievance, boss, just more of a question. What’s going to happen when Fabien returns?” Another capo asks gingerly.
“Business as usual, that’s what’s going to happen.” A lie, as I have no fucking clue what’s going to happen. Other than if Fabien’s dumb enough to escalate things between us, then he’ll find out why they also whisper the “Bag Man” about me.
“So there’s no bad blood?” he presses.
Bad blood?
That’s all that flows through these veins.
“ La famiglia prima di tutto, ” is my vague response. “If there’s no other business, this meeting is adjourned.”
The men file out as Maks enters, eyeing the dead body with amusement. “A bad day to be on your bad side.”
“Every day’s a bad day to be on my bad side.”
And as soon as I find Ellis Harrell, he’ll learn that lesson.