Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Caleb
“ F uck, at last! I’ve been calling you nonstop for the past ten minutes,” Joshua says when I answer his call after stepping out of the meeting.
Urgency threads through his tone, and I’m instantly on high alert. “I had that meeting with the brand management company this morning.” I did tell him, but he’s walking around with his head in the clouds this past week since he put a ring on Gia’s finger.
“Where are you?” he asks as I exit the building and nod at the two soldati who accompanied me to Midtown. Even though the mysterious Italian boss has reached out and a truce is in place until the big meeting next week, Massimo warned everyone not to drop our security detail.
“I’m on Fifth Avenue. Why?”
“Get to Twenty-eighth Street. We’ve had a sighting of Cruz at a physical therapy clinic.”
I instantly take off running with my men hot on my heels. It would take too long to drive the five blocks, and it sounds like time is of the essence. “You should have fucking led with that!” I shout into my cell. “I’ll call you when I get there,” I say before hanging up.
Thanks to daily workouts at my home gym and regular jogs through Central Park, I make it to the clinic in six minutes without breaking a sweat even in suit pants and dress shoes. Police tape wraps around the front of the building, and several cops stand guard, holding the inquisitive crowd back. Reporters aren’t on the scene yet, but it won’t take long before someone shows up.
Spotting a familiar face, I jog over to Captain Hayes, glancing all around me for any sign of Cruz. It’s a busy Saturday, and the city is crowded. I’m guessing if Cruz was here he has since slipped away.
“Hey,” I greet Captain Hayes. “What happened here?”
He scrubs a hand over his smooth-shaven chin. “Nothing good.” He pulls up the tape. “Come on, I’ll show you.” We duck under the tape, walking toward the covered body lying on the sidewalk just beside the door of the physical therapy clinic. A stroller is pitched on its side, baby toys spilling onto the asphalt. A sense of dread washes over me as the dots quickly connect in my head.
“She had no ID,” the captain says, ensuring no one is looking as we hunch over the body, shielding it from prying eyes. He pulls back the top of the covering to reveal the dead woman underneath.
“Shit.” It’s as I feared. “Her name is Bettina Da Rosa. I’m guessing her baby was taken?”
Captain Hayes re-covers the body, and we stand off to one side, away from the crowd, to talk in hushed tones. “Yes. Tell me what you know.”
“Cruz DiPietro is the father. He did this. We had reports of a sighting. Don’t suppose any of your guys got a look at him or saw the direction he went in?”
He shakes his head. “The perp was long gone by the time we got to the scene. The receptionist at the clinic called it in. Miss Da Rosa was a client, and she’d just left after an appointment when a car pulled up to the curb and fired at her. She was shot where she was standing. A man jumped out of the car and grabbed the baby.”
“Did the receptionist give a description?”
“Yes, but she was in too much shock to give us much. All she could say was he had dark hair, looked to be late thirties or early forties, and he had a limp.”
If the situation wasn’t so grave, I’d laugh and fist pump the air. Gia got the bastard good. “Definitely Cruz.” I look around, scowling when I spot a couple of news vans pulling up. “I’ve got to get out of here. Keep this contained. We’ll handle telling next of kin, and we’ll find the bastard. If you get any leads on his whereabouts, call it in.”
“You can count on it, Don Accardi.”
“Good man.” I clamp a hand on his shoulder and disappear through the front door of the clinic. I approach the front desk where a traumatized older woman is talking to a lady policewoman. “You got a back door?” I ask, removing my cell to call my brother with an update.
“Did we get any leads from surveillance cameras?” I ask a few hours later when we are all congregated around the conference table at Commission Central. Volpe and Mantegna are dialed in from Florida and Vegas respectively.
“We were able to track him leaving the city, but there are a few camera black spots, and we lost him after that,” Ben says, pressing a button to pull up a report on the large screen.
“Motherfucker,” Cristian growls when his brother’s image loads on the screen. There are cameras all over Fifth Avenue, so we have a perfect view as he hops out of a blacked-out SUV and hobbles across the sidewalk. Bettina is bleeding out on the ground, blood bubbling from her mouth, but he doesn’t even look at his baby mama, making a beeline for the stroller. We watch in tense silence as he snatches his five-month-old son and cradles him to his chest, limping back to the car with a smug grin. Before he climbs inside, he thrusts his middle finger into the air.
“His arrogance is astounding,” Agessi says. “To pull this off in broad daylight in one of the busiest areas on a Saturday is either ballsy or reckless.”
“Where were her bodyguards?” Joshua asks, claiming the attention of every man around the table. “Don’t look at me like that! She was my past. I wouldn’t have wished her to die like this, but that’s as far as my concern extends. I want to know where her protection was?”
Although Cruz had shown little initial interest in his newborn son—before he took off after the battle in February—we still suspected he’d come for him. It’s why Massimo personally spoke to Bettina’s father and demanded she move to one of the high-security mafioso apartments and accept protection. She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without her assigned soldati .
“Captain Hayes called an hour ago. They found the four men’s bodies in a dumpster a block away,” Ben explains. “I’m not sure how Cruz lured them away from their posts outside the clinic, but they all received a call at the same time and then took off.”
“Fucking imbeciles,” Fiero says.
“Someone got to them.” I tap my fingers on the table.
“And Cruz took them out before they could talk,” Pagano adds.
“We didn’t weed out all the traitors,” Cristian says over a sigh. He has taken this hard. None of us had any love for Bettina, but killing a young mother in cold blood, in broad daylight, in front of her baby, is evil personified.
“Keep the surveillance going within your famiglie ,” Massimo instructs. “And continue to build loyalty on the ground. We will weed out the last few rats.”
“This seems very coincidental the same week Puccinelli identifies himself and requests a meeting,” I say.
“He told me he has broken ties with Cruz, and I’m inclined to believe him,” Massimo says. “But we can’t rule anything out. It’s possible he’s lying.”
“Are we sure it’s wise to meet him next week?” Cristian asks. “What if it’s a trap?”
“We’re meeting on neutral territory, and O’ Hara has reached out to his contacts in Ireland,” our president says. “We’ll have additional resources at our disposal when we land in Dublin. Something the Italians won’t be aware of and won’t have. Should they try anything, they’ll be outnumbered.”
“It sounds like they’re most concerned with ensuring we don’t tarnish the name of the mafioso in the city,” Ben adds. He was involved in the call too. “Maximo and Primo fed them a ton of bullshit to get their support.”
“Maybe we should lay a trap for them in Ireland and take them all out,” I suggest. “Reduces the risk.”
“They’re part of the Camorra , Caleb,” Fiero says, grinning. “As much as I love your lust for bloodshed, the last thing we want is to bring the entire Camorra down upon us. They’d wipe us out.”
“Maltese is right,” Agessi says. “Brokering a peace deal is our best option.”
“You’re all no fun.” I smirk as I swivel in my chair.
“No one wants another bloody battle so soon after the last one,” Ben says.
“Speak for yourself. I’m always down to gut a few motherfuckers.”
“Maybe I’m getting old,” Ben continues. “But I’m voting for peace. I want my kids to be able to return to school. I want to watch Rowan walk across the stage at his graduation ceremony.”
“I want that too. Leif and Rosa are going stir crazy being home schooled. Just watch your backs. I don’t trust these fuckers.”
“None of us trust them,” Joshua says. “It’s why we’re not all going to Ireland for the meeting. If they try to double-cross us by making a play for The Big Apple while you’re gone, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Pagano says.
“Where are we at with Gino’s files?” Massimo asks, looking between Ben and Joshua.
“Ben, Gia, and I have thoroughly reviewed the files, and we didn’t find anything,” my twin explains.
“Gia suggested we scan all the paperwork and ask Philip to devise an IT program to look for patterns or anomalies,” Ben says. “I think it’s worth a shot, so we’re putting that in place now.”
“Let me know if it delivers any results,” Massimo says. “For now, ensure the files are secure.”
J nods.
“What about Anais?” Massimo asks, eyeballing me.
“She’s still under full surveillance. Apart from trips to the salon and the odd shopping trip, she’s holed up in her new apartment. She calls or texts multiple times a day to irritate the fuck out of me. So far, Cruz hasn’t attempted to reach out to her. They haven’t been in contact.”
“She showed up at my office this afternoon,” Joshua says, and it’s the first I’m hearing it. “Her bodyguards were with her, and they gave me a heads-up,” he adds. “She saw reports on TV and figured it out.”
“Why did she go to you?”
“You weren’t home or answering your cell, and apparently I’m a good substitute,” he drawls. “Man, you deserve a medal for putting up with her shit for years. Five minutes in her company and I had a pounding headache and an almost overriding urge to toss her off the roof.”
“I’ll drop by her place on my way home,” I reluctantly concede. I’ve been avoiding her like the plague, but I get why she’s furious today. Her husband risked everything to grab his baby when he hasn’t made any effort to contact her. At least she didn’t end up with a bullet in her skull like Bettina. Can’t find it in me to feel too sorry for Ina though. She made her bed and paid the price.
“Has Sinaloa backed down?” Massimo asks Fiero.
“Yes, but it was touch and go for a while.”
“Told you it was a bad idea,” Cristian says. “Thank fuck, we didn’t actually go ahead with the deal. If they’re this pissy over a failed opportunity, imagine how bad it would’ve been if we’d reneged on an actual deal.”
“We were under pressure, but it was a bad call,” Massimo agrees.
“O’Hara came through for us again,” Joshua says. “He’s a solid ally.”
O’Hara had initially suggested a Sinaloa contact, but after thinking about it, he expressed concerns, and then he pulled out all the stops to find an alternative option in Europe. Our new ally covered the gap in our supplies for the couple months it took to get the Cali operation back on track, the Rinascita building repaired on Staten Island, and our product back on the streets in the quantities needed. To avoid a future issue, we are now sourcing twenty-five percent of our needs through this European partner. They’re happy to have a new supply chain in the city, and we have a backup in case of future production or shipping issues.
Our new commercial liner arrives next month, and we have another one ordered. By year-end, the cruise liners will have nothing to do with narcotics shipments. We are alternating shipments by sea and air now, using the contact Joshua sourced last year.
Things are finally getting back to normal after a stressful few months, and everyone is relieved.