Chapter 14 – Enzo
ENZO
I’m sitting in the front room of Nazario’s house with Mauro and Angelo, waiting for Naz to come out of his office.
I’m still fuming over my call with Althea.
She’s killed both phones, but as soon as I’m done here, I’ll tap into Stavros’s GPS and find his last known coordinates from the car.
For now, I need to focus my attention here, and then I can decide how I’m going to punish my little devil.
Santo is coming home in a few days, and the staff are all on edge trying to get things ready for his return.
We are all on edge because we still don’t have a line on the shooter.
The son of a bitch has gone into hiding.
We tracked him through the city cameras but lost him when he got outside the city limits.
Last night, Doblanski informed us that the vehicle we had been monitoring was found torched in the middle of a field just inside the Oklahoma state border.
He’s using his connections in their state police to keep an eye out for Ephraim, but I’m not convinced he’s on the run.
I think the asshole is working with someone else, and they’re hiding him.
Using the destroyed car to throw us off.
If he really wanted to run, he would’ve crossed the Mexican border and laid low for a while.
It’s easier to hide in a foreign country, although with the Cartel as pissed off as they are, he may not be safe there either.
So far there’s been very little development outside of the torched vehicle until about an hour ago. Which is why Nazario called us all here, because one of our associates is waiting with information about the ambush on Naz and Santo.
The door to the office opens, and Nazario shouts for us to get our asses in there. Inside we find a young man sitting in the chair. He’s not restrained, and no one is holding a gun on him, so he came of his own accord.
I move to stand behind Nazario, leaning against the wall where I can keep an eye on the room. “Where’s Leo?” I ask as Nazario takes his seat behind the big mahogany desk, leaning back in his chair.
“He’s with Santo. Kid’s been a fucking mess since he found out about the shooting.
Keeps asking to do something. Wants me to let him go hunt the fucker responsible down.
” We share a look. Leo is not ready for the darker side of the family business.
Marcello always said he needed to become a lawyer.
Leo is stubborn, smart, and tenacious. His competitive streak is at least a mile wide, and he will not give up.
When he finds something he wants badly enough, he will move heaven and hell to get it.
“I told him we were short on manpower, and I needed him to make sure Santo had whatever he needed. The men would guard the door, but Santo wouldn’t want our men to see him weak. Leo is there to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Naz quirks a brow at me.
“So, you made him a glorified babysitter.” I chuckle.
Not that I would’ve done anything different.
“He’s going to throw that shit in your face when this is over.
He’s going to want to prove to you that he can do more than sit on the sidelines.
He won’t be happy until you see him as equal and useful. ”
“He needs to get his law degree and then we can talk about how he can be useful to the family,” Nazario barks.
“He’s too young to be mixed up in this shit, and I promised Pop he would finish school and follow the path Pop laid out for him.
Until then, he will do whatever I tell him, and you three—” He points around the room.
“Will keep him safe and out of the fucking mix. Got me?”
The three of us nod our heads in solidarity to the order.
I understand Nazario’s need to keep his promise to keep Leo safe, especially after Santo being shot, but I also know Leo.
He’s not going to let this slide. Leo has always felt the need to prove his worth as a Venatti to his brothers, and Naz just gave him the permission he was looking for to do something crazy and make his point.
“Now that we have that settled,” Nazario gestures to the young man who’s been silently watching our exchange. “Tell them what you told me.”
Mauro fixes himself a drink, offering one to Nazario and Angelo. They both decline. When he tips the tumbler toward me, I give a subtle shake of my head. Angelo takes a seat on the couch to the left.
This kid looks vaguely familiar. He looks younger than me.
Maybe closer in age to Giselle or Leo. He’s definitely not a college kid.
Everything about him says he’s from the streets.
The way he’s sizing us all up. I’ve caught him clocking our weapons more than once.
I know the look. He’s calculating the chances of getting out of here alive if he feels like he has to run.
The more I study him, the more familiar he looks. Dark wavy hair, strong features, and toffee-colored eyes. He’s muscular, but lean. Someone people would overlook as a threat. But the cunningness in his eyes says they would be wrong to underestimate him.
“I know who shot Santo,” he says. “I don’t know him, but I know who he is.
I heard him bragging about the job at a strip club downtown near the airport.
Last night. He was telling his friends about it while some bitch sucked him off under the table.
” He shrugs. “Guess he thought if he bragged about being someone important, she would give him a discount.”
“Cheap bastard,” Angelo grumbles.
“What did you hear him saying?” I want details. I need to know if Ephraim is working alone or if he was contracted to hit my cousins and the cartel.
He leans back in his seat. “He didn’t give all the details, but it was enough to know what he was talking about. My boss told us there had been an attempted hit …”
“ What did he say ?” Nazario’s menacing tone gives the kid pause. He narrows his eyes, glancing around the room, calculating the risks.
“He said he was asked to be a sniper on the building across from the restaurant as a backup plan for you and your brother.” He gestures to Naz.
“He mentioned the Cartel were meeting you there, and his boss told him to take you two and all your men out. Let the Mesias go free. To make it look like the Cartel took out the hit.” He pauses.
“Something must’ve gone wrong though because he was saying something about his boss was pissed about being questioned by the Cartel about his whereabouts and if he knew anything about the hit. ”
“They were asking about his whereabouts or his boss’s?” Mauro asks.
“I don’t know the answer to that.” The kid shrugs. “I was listening in, but I was there for my own assignment. I didn’t catch everything. I was focused on my task for the night. You know?”
“Who was it? What’s his name?” I already know Ephraim was the one who shot Santo and our men. What I need to know is whether he is working alone or if he was given an order.
“Ephraim something or other,” the kid says.
“I know he’s one of ours. Or he was . He works security detail sometimes, but most of the time I see him collecting downtown.
He was always bitchin’ about how he was underpaid and his skills as a sniper were underutilized.
He talks about how he should have a higher rank and be one of Enzo’s most used assets,” he says, looking me in the eye.
“He was a loose fucking cannon who had zero patience and didn’t like following instructions.
” It’s why I rarely used him for anything other than collections.
But Halloween was the exception. I knew the meeting was happening, but Nazario took the lead on his protective detail for the night.
We didn’t foresee any issues since the Cartel was already appeased with Henry’s death and their product being returned.
I should’ve handled the detail or at least double-checked Naz’s choices.
But you were more concerned with getting Althea in your bed.
“What was your name again?” Mauro asks, pulling my attention back to the conversation.
“Daemon,” he answers, turning to face Mauro. “Daemon Rossi.” He’s not afraid, meeting each of us eye to eye when he speaks.
“Where are you from?” Mauro looks from him to me with a strange look on his face. Does he think this guy looks familiar too?
He shrugs. “Italy.” That intrigues us all.
“How’d you come to find yourself in Dallas?”
“It’s a long story.”
We all stare at Daemon expectantly. When he realizes we aren’t going to budge until he talks, he sighs.
“I was an orphan. The foster care system in Italy, much like here, is shit. One night, I think I was about five. I’m not sure.
A group of men came in with a priest and took a group of us to join the Academy. It’s a boarding school.”
“We know the place.” Angelo chuckles. The family has used the Academy as a resource for soldiers for years.
They take in children who have been abandoned or abused and train them to be soldiers.
They get their education along with a few extra life-skills training courses, and anyone who stands out among the students gets put on a watch list for the family.
Our uncle Eliseo, who is in charge of the family businesses in Italy, decides who we recruit from the list. Daemon here must’ve stuck out among the crowd to make it all the way to Texas.
Eliseo doesn’t send just anyone to the States.
Working directly under the Don himself is not a privilege freely given. They must earn it.
“Anyway, I was picked up by Eliseo when I turned eighteen. He saw I was good with numbers and my fists. One of his men was sent to collect me, and I was sent to Houston. Once there, I met with Marcello, and he assigned me to Anthony Rossario’s crew. I’ve been working for him ever since.”