CHAPTER 7 TOMMYS RECKLESS VOW #3
Something flickered in Dario’s expression—too fast to name, gone before Ez could pin it down. "And?"
Ez stepped closer, dropping his voice. "And I don’t think Vincent ordered that hit."
Silence.
Dario’s gaze didn’t waver. "You’re telling me this why?"
"Because if someone’s moving against your boss without his say-so, you’d want to know."
"Would I?"
Ez held his ground. "Yeah. You would."
Dario studied him for a long moment, then reached into his coat. Ez tensed, but all he pulled out was a cigarette. He lit it, took a slow drag, and exhaled smoke into the cold air between them.
"Frankie stole from us," he said finally.
"From you? Or from Vincent?"
The corner of Dario’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. A warning. "Careful, Ward."
Ez didn’t back down. "I’m just saying—if someone’s cleaning house without the don’s blessing, that’s a problem. For you."
Dario took another drag, watching him through the smoke. "You’re not this stupid. So what do you want?"
Ez hadn’t planned this far. He hadn’t planned at all. But the watch weighed heavy in his pocket, and the look in Tommy’s eyes before he’d run—that was the kind of thing that got people killed.
"Maybe I just don’t like watching a good crew burn," he said.
Dario flicked ash onto the pavement. "Then look away."
A car turned onto the street, headlights cutting through the dark. Dario dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his heel, and turned to leave.
Ez caught his arm. "Dominic’s name came up."
Dario went still.
not merely still—motionless. Like the air around him had frozen solid.
Ez lowered his voice to a whisper. "Tommy heard it. Before Frankie died."
Dario turned his head just enough to meet Ez’s eyes. His expression hadn’t changed, but something in it had gone sharp. Deadly.
"Walk away," he said softly. "Now."
Ez let go.
Dario didn’t look back as he disappeared into the shadows.
The watch ticked against Ez’s thigh.
He’d just made the third mistake.
Tommy watched Dario disappear into the shadows, then turned to Ez. "He didn't even ask who gave the order."
Ez flicked his lighter open and shut, the metal click loud in the alley. "He didn't need to."
Tommy's jaw tightened. Frankie had been his cousin. Blood. And Dario had crushed him under his heel like a cigarette. The Morettis had rules—you didn't touch family without permission. But Dario had never followed rules.
Ez exhaled smoke. "You gonna let that stand?"
Tommy pulled out his phone. The screen lit up his face—pale, angry. He tapped a contact, waited.
Vincent Moretti answered on the second ring. "Tommy."
"Sir." Tommy kept his voice steady. "Dario just put Frankie Malone in the ground. No warning, no clearance."
A pause. Then Vincent's voice, colder than the harbor in January: "Where?"
"Alley behind Rossi's. Ez is with me."
"Stay there. Don't touch anything." The line went dead.
Ez smirked. "That's motion."
Tommy pocketed his phone. He'd known Vincent would react like this. The old man tolerated Dario's independence because Dario got results. But this? Frankie had been Moretti muscle. A message had to be sent.
Ez nudged Frankie's body with his boot. "You think Dario knew?"
"Knew what?"
"That Frankie was skimming."
Tommy stilled. "What?"
Ez shrugged. "Heard it from Dominic's guys. Small stuff—delivery cuts, some missing product. Nothing worth dying over." He flicked his cigarette at Frankie's chest. "Unless someone wanted him gone."
Tommy's pulse kicked. If Dario had known—if this was a cleanup, not a temper tantrum—then Vincent wouldn't care. Business was business. But if Tommy had just called the boss on a justified hit...
Ez watched him think. "Too late now."
A car turned into the alley, headlights cutting through the dark. Tommy recognized the plates—Moretti fleet.
Ez stepped back. "Showtime."
The car stopped. Dominic Moretti got out first, scanning the scene. His gaze landed on Frankie, then Tommy. "You sure about what you saw?"
Tommy nodded. "Dario did it. No warning."
Dominic's mouth thinned. He turned to the car. "Pop?"
Vincent emerged slowly, his cane tapping the asphalt. He didn't look at Frankie. He looked at Tommy. "You called it in. That took spine."
Tommy swallowed. "Family comes first."
Vincent's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. It does." He turned to Dominic. "Find Dario. Bring him to me."
Dominic hesitated. "You want him alive?"
Vincent's grip tightened on the cane. "I want to ask him why."
As Dominic got back in the car, Tommy caught Ez's eye. The bastard was grinning.
Revenge, Tommy thought, tasted like smoke and blood. And it was just getting started.
The new detail: Frankie had been skimming from Moretti deliveries, a fact Dario may have known before killing him.
Vincent's cane scraped against the pavement as he circled Frankie's body. "You two," he said without looking up, "check his pockets."
Ez moved first, rolling Frankie onto his side. Tommy crouched beside him, fingers brushing the damp fabric of Frankie's jacket. A folded receipt came out of the breast pocket, the ink smeared but legible: 12k. Delivery 5.
Vincent plucked it from Tommy's hand. "Dominic's route." His voice was quiet. Too quiet.
Tommy's gut twisted. If Dominic had been covering for Frankie's skim, that meant Moretti blood was dirty. And Dario had known.
Ez whistled low. "Guess the bastard did have a reason."
Vincent crumpled the paper. "Reason's got nothing to do with it. You don't put down a thief without the table's say-so." He jabbed his cane toward the car. "Get in. We're cleaning house."
Tommy stood, but Ez caught his elbow. "Careful," he muttered. "Dominic's not gonna like this."
The engine roared to life. Through the windshield, Tommy saw Dominic's knuckles white on the wheel. Vincent settled in the passenger seat, cane between his knees like a shotgun.
Ez nudged Tommy toward the back. "You lit the fuse, kid. Now we see where it blows."
The car peeled out, tires spraying gravel. Tommy watched the alley shrink in the rearview—Frankie's body, the flickering streetlight, the wet gleam of blood on asphalt.
Vincent's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then handed it to Dominic. "Tell the boys to meet at the warehouse."
Dominic's jaw worked. "Pop—"
"Now."
Tommy pressed his palm to the window, the glass cold against his skin. He'd wanted Dario's head. But this? A reckoning for the whole family?
Ez leaned in, breath warm and sour with smoke. "Better hope Dario talks fast."
The car turned onto the waterfront, the harbor's black water swallowing the moonlight. Somewhere out there, Dario was running.
And Tommy had just pointed the hounds his way.