Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Joshua
W e pile out of the back of the truck two blocks from the construction site where Caleb and I took Rizzo and his men down last year. Our meeting point with the Barone scum is just around the corner, only a mile from the warehouse where Gia was held prisoner in December. It’s a vast grassy piece of land adjacent to the ocean. Completely open and exposed with no place to hide. However, it is dark, which offers us advantages as well as our enemy.
Ben, Cristian, and I are holding the fort here while Massimo, Fiero, and Caleb are in position a mile away.
“I think this is a bad plan, Joshua,” the thorn in my side says as we join hundreds of our men heading in the same direction.
“It’s Don Accardi, and you don’t get to question the choices The Commission makes, Marino.” He’s getting on my very last nerve, and I have wanted to kill him every minute of the past two hours. Caleb and I have wanted to slaughter him in cold blood from the moment we had concrete evidence of his betrayal. Fucking backstabbing bastardo .
“It just seems ill-conceived meeting out in the open like this. They could fire on us from above.”
Already taken care of, asshole.
“And risking all members of The Commission is downright crazy,” he adds. I hope it means he isn’t aware of the four members we have added to the board or the fact they are waiting in the wings to strike should we need them.
“We’re here now, and raising objections is futile. It’s going down like this whether you like it or not.”
“At least give me a weapon. I’m a sitting duck otherwise.”
“I will when the time is right.” I turn to eyeball him, schooling my features into a neutral expression. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you defenseless.” Swallowing bile, I keep the charade up, almost choking on my words as I say, “You’ve been extremely loyal to our family for years, Benedito. I haven’t forgotten, and I’m genuinely sorry it has to be like this. But it’ll be over in a few hours, and things will return to normal.”
He ducks his face to hide a sly smile, but I see it. I have to shove my hands into my pockets to avoid killing him on the spot.
“I’m in position,” Ben says into my earpiece. All our trusted men were given them for communication.
“We’re ready and waiting,” O’Hara says. “We have counted fifty men waiting with Calabro.”
“Any sign of McDermott?” Caleb asks because he knows I can’t risk speaking in front of the traitor.
“Negative,” our stepdad says. “The drones haven’t picked up any activity, either on the ground or in the air.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck lift. This can’t be right. The Barone couldn’t be this stupid to turn up alone. Could they?
“Maybe the Barone were iced out after the failed assassination attempts,” Massimo says, vocalizing my thoughts.
“It’s shady as fuck,” Fiero says. “Be careful.”
“I really disapprove of using a child to force their hand,” Marino says as we approach the grassy piece of land where we’re meeting our enemy.
“We’re speaking their language,” I snap. “Or have you forgotten they tried to assassinate Rowan Mazzone?”
“He’s not a child.”
“He’s still in school.” I drill him with a look.
“Rizzo’s child is only ten,” he says, slipping up without realizing it. “I thought we were better than this. We shouldn’t be sinking to their levels.”
“He hasn’t been harmed, and we needed something to force them to come here tonight.”
It didn’t sit right with any of us to kidnap Rizzo’s boy, but he’s the sole remaining Barone heir, and we knew they would show up to reclaim him. We couldn’t think of any other way to draw them out that would ensure they didn’t open fire immediately. The boy was well looked after by one of the mafioso wives. He dined on McDonald’s and Chick-fil-A and spent his days watching Marvel movies and playing Xbox with our soldati. No one has harmed a hair on his head.
I walk over to Ben and Cristian and their crew while the bulk of our men hang back on the road per the instructions relayed on the journey here. Ben is bending down, whispering in Lorenzo Rizzo’s ear. Leo shares a look with me as Marino glances over his shoulder, no doubt mouthing words to his men. I nod at my stepdad.
“Let’s do this,” Cristian says as Calabro steps forward with his underboss and consigliere . Armed men trail them a few steps behind.
I jerk my head at the crew gathered directly behind me, gesturing them forward with a jerk of my head.
“I need a weapon,” Marino hisses in my ear as we advance toward the welcoming party.
I slam a handgun in his palm and level him with a warning look.
We stop in the middle of the field, facing off with our enemy.
“Lorenzo. You good?” Calabro asks, eyeballing the little boy.
“I had the best time, Uncle. I got to?—”
“Zip it,” Calabro snaps. “Hand him over, Mazzone.”
Ben glares at Calabro. “Not until you hand over the men responsible for the attempted assassination on my son. That was the deal.”
Calabro smirks, lifting a hand and snapping his fingers. Two men are pushed forward from the back and shoved to their knees in the middle of both groups.
“Check them for weapons,” Ben instructs, and a few of the Mazzone soldati move forward.
The man standing to Ben’s side, with his arm in a sling, subtly shakes his head, confirming what we already knew would happen. These goons are not the men who fired at Rowan and killed one of his bodyguards. I’m sure Ben is itching to rip into Calabro for attempting to trick us, but we need to play this scene to the bitter end. We’ll get the pricks who targeted his son one way or the other.
Weapons are raised as both sides point guns at each other. You could cut the tension with a knife. I have one eye on the prick at my side and one on the confrontation in front of me.
“They’re clean, Don Mazzone.”
“Bring them here,” Ben says through gritted teeth.
Calabro steps forward and lifts a hand. “Bring the boy to me first.”
“That’s not how negotiations go, and we’re not stupid,” Ben says. “You release the men to us, and we’ll give you the boy.”
“We’re not stupid either,” Calabro says. “We know you’ll kill him once you get what you want.”
“You know jack shit,” Cristian says. “Unlike you, we don’t kill kids.”
Calabro points his gun at Cristian’s face. “Then give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you all now.”
“Because Lorenzo will get hit in the ensuing gunfire, and we know you don’t want your only surviving heir to die, or you wouldn’t be here,” I calmly say. I don’t mention the fact they appear totally outnumbered because I’m sure that isn’t the case. I don’t know where their backup resources are hiding—which is a problem in itself—but I’m sure they’re out there someplace.
“Don’t be an ass,” Cristian says. “Hand us the men. We’ll give you the boy, and we can all go home,” he lies.
Calabro sends a fleeting look to the man on my left, and I feel Marino bristling beside me. We all pretend not to notice. My fingers curl around my gun as I quietly unlock the safety.
“Take them,” Calabro snaps, and our men drag the men over to our side.
The two poor scapegoats stare at us with fear in their eyes, knowing what’s coming next. Although they are innocent, they need to die to set things in motion.
Ben steps forward and shoots the guy in the leather jacket in the skull before turning to his buddy and shooting him too.
Lorenzo starts crying, and I hurt for the little guy. I wish we didn’t have to do that in front of him.
Ben whispers to the little guy, and he runs off toward his uncle, stumbling and crying. Calabro grabs the kid and hands him off to another man, and they take off running to the far right.
“Put the gun down, Joshua.” Marino has his gun pressed to my temple as every single man on both sides now raises their weapons.
“What the hell are you doing?” I continue to play a part, staring at my underboss with fake shock.
Marino gestures behind me to his men, calling them forward. “What you don’t have the balls to do. Drop it, Accardi.” I toss the gun away behind me so he can’t reach it. He scowls, but it’s quickly replaced with a smug grin I long to wipe off his conniving face. Racing footfalls approach and Accardi soldati line up beside our underboss, pointing their weapons at us.
Our other men, the ones visible from this vantage point, back on the road, race toward us with weapons out and primed, no doubt thoroughly confused because we couldn’t let them know about this part of the plan.
“Stop or I’ll shoot him,” Marino hollers, turning us around to face the advancing men.
“McDermott is approaching from oceanside,” Caleb says in my ear. “I have a clean shot.”
I subtly shake my head. That kill belongs to Gia, and we can’t give away the ace up our sleeve. Not yet. We need to draw the remaining men out first.
“Your leadership is weak,” Marino shouts to the men as they slow down in front of us. “The Accardi twins don’t run their famiglia , I do.” He puffs out his chest as he presses the muzzle deeper. “I am the one who calls the shots, not them.”
“Fucking delusional prick,” Caleb hisses in my ear.
“These men know where their loyalties lie,” he says, gesturing to the group at his side.
“Yeah, they do, jackass.” Caleb chuckles, and I work hard to smother a smirk.
“Join us. Join the winning side before it’s too late. By morning, we will have a brand-new Commission, a new president, and competent new leaders will restore order to our great city. Don’t find yourself on the losing side because that is guaranteed death.”
Calabro laughs, lowering his weapon as he saunters toward us like he hasn’t got a care in the world. “You’re outmaneuvered,” he says as McDermott arrives with a few hundred men.
“Hand the prick to me,” Liam says, stalking toward me.
“Your brother is out there somewhere,” Marino warns, keeping a grip on my arm as he turns us around, keeping me tucked to his front like a shield, with his men at the rear.
“Get ready, brother,” Caleb whispers in my ear.
I subtly slide the knife out from my sleeve, maneuvering it into position.
“Three, two, one. Go!”
I lunge at Liam just as he reaches me, slashing at his hand, and he drops his weapon automatically, yelping with pain. I slam the knife down into his thigh, careful to avoid the artery because Gia deserves torture time with the raping bastard. He crumples to the ground as Marino pulls the trigger. Men swarm past me, forming a shield around us as fighting breaks out and gunshots are traded.
O’Hara charges forward from the left with a team of one hundred, and they quickly join the melee. I grin as I turn around and shove Marino back at his men . “The chamber’s empty, and you’re a lying, cheating piece of shit who deserves to die with no honor.”
“Shoot him!” Marino yells at his men, and I nod at Capo DiNardo.
The men grab his arms and restrain Marino as shots whizz over our heads and the sounds of battle surround us.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marino roars, panic splayed across his weathered face.
“We had a better offer,” DiNardo says as I walk up and slowly drive my knife straight through my underboss’s heart.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he garbles. Blood pours down his chest and bubbles in his mouth.
“Burn in hell where you belong, Benedito,” I say, slashing his throat repeatedly. Blood sprays over my face and my clothes as I loom over the man who betrayed our famiglia , our soldati , and The Commission. His body jerks for a couple of seconds before he dies. “Toss him and join the fight,” I tell the men who have returned to the fold.
We built dossiers on all of them, and we’re holding their loved ones over their heads to force them to toe the line. What they don’t know is when this is all over, they’ll be slaughtered for breaking omerta .
No one betrays my family and lives to see another day.
Men stream onto the grass from all sides, and we’ve got the upper numbers. Grabbing two handguns from my hips, I enter the battle, popping off shots as we decimate the enemy, but something doesn’t feel right. It’s too easy, and this mysterious Italian hasn’t shown his face.
“Incoming!” Caleb yells. “Fuck, they’re coming from the sewers.”
I shoot a guy in the face before I whip around, spotting men literally pouring out of holes in the road behind us.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Fiero yells. “Look oceanside. More men are coming.”
“It’s a fucking submarine!” Massimo shouts. “They have a fucking submarine.”
Hordes of men charge at us from the ocean and the road, and we’re going to be submerged if we don’t call in our reserve forces now. Don Greco is on the verge of giving that order when a voice booms out over a loudspeaker and blaring lights bear down on all of us, blinding everyone. The gunfire stops as everyone struggles to see over the blinding light thrust at us from the ocean.
“Tell your men to put their weapons down, Massimo. I know you’re out there calling the shots. Give the order, or they’ll all be slaughtered.”
“What the actual fuck?” Leo says, and I follow his line of sight to where a man is being carried toward us on a high-backed chair by four tall, strong men, like he’s a fucking king.
Someone stumbles into me from behind, and I whip around with my gun raised. Our men are being pushed back by the swarms of men who have emerged from the sewers. Noxious smells waft in the air as I spot a familiar face walking toward me. We didn’t have proof of his betrayal, but I’m not surprised to see him. I wondered when he’d surface.
“Accardi.” Cruz DiPietro smirks as he points a gun at my face while I point mine at his chest.
We’re surrounded on two sides, and even though there’s a current ceasefire, everyone is tense and on alert. Weapons are poised in every direction.
“Don’t,” I say in warning to Caleb. If he shoots Cruz, his men will retaliate, and we’re currently outnumbered.
“Don’t what? Shoot you?” Cruz laughs.
“What the fuck are you doing, Cruz?” Cristian calls out.
He glowers at his younger brother. “Taking back what’s mine.”
“Tell your men now, Massimo,” a man with a loudspeaker says as he approaches us. “They must lower their weapons, or we’ll slaughter them all.”
The lights shining from the submarine are lowered enough to see without being blinded.
“No fucking way.” Shock is splayed across Leo’s face as he clearly recognizes the man with the loudspeaker.
The man being carried on the chair is set down in front of us, and he’s old as dirt. The few strands of hair left on his head are flimsy and gray. Dark beady eyes radiate with smug supremacy as he stares at Ben and Leo, his deeply lined face moving as his narrow lips pull into a smile.
“This can’t be happening,” Fiero says in my ear.
“You died,” Ben says, looking every bit as shocked as Leo. “Both of you died at the warehouse bombing years ago.”
“Come now, Bennett,” the old dude says, his voice stronger than his frail appearance. “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts?” A wheezy chuckle rips from his lips.
“Who are you?” I ask because I’m struggling to place these men.
“Show respect for Don Maximo Greco,” the man with the loudspeaker says.
“What?” Cristian looks as confused as me.
That creep died years ago, didn’t he?
“Are you deaf, boy?” loudspeaker guy says. He’s older too though not as old as the prick on the chair who looks like he could kick the bucket at any moment. I wouldn’t shed any tears if he did. This guy looks like he’s late forties or maybe early fifties, and he looks familiar.
Suddenly it clicks.
I wrack my brain to remember his name. We were fourteen when the warehouse bombing happened, killing most of the dons in the US along with some of their men and a few heirs.
“You’re Primo Greco,” I say as his name comes to me. “You’re Massimo’s older brother.”
He nods. “I’m the rightful heir and your new president. All men will swear an oath to me or die.”