5. Giovanni
FIVE
GIOVANNI
A few weeks had gone by since I visited Louisa in Portugal.
After handling the business for the Omertà, I returned to Boston, which I considered home more than any other place.
“How was the trip?” Mateo Agosti, whose advice I always heeded, asked as he sank down in the armchair across from mine, a glass of scotch in hand. He might not be my biological relations, but we were still close.
I gave him a tight smile. “Which one?”
Taking a sip from his drink, he shot me a look. “The one for the Omertà and the visit to Venezuela for the cartel. Unless you handled something else?”
I finished half of my scotch in one gulp. “I went to Italy beforehand, then to Portugal.”
“Why Portugal?”
“Trust me, I’m asking myself that same question,” I muttered.
“Why?”
I shook my head. “I met with Louisa Volkov.”
“A good ally to have on your side.”
I sighed.
“It might not be if she’s wrong.” He shot me a look that demanded an explanation. “She’s convinced that Santiago’s wife—her twin—is alive.”
“And you don’t think so?” he asked quietly. “Or are you worried she’s alive and will demand the reins of the Tijuana Cartel?”
I grimaced. A woman controlling the cartel wouldn’t be perceived well and might lure too many power-hungry men to seize power for themselves. Santiago succeeded in remaining in power because he was ruthless and didn’t hesitate to kill the wives and children of his enemies. Of course, his alliance with Perez Cortes aided him too.
“No,” I said harshly. “But I find it hard to believe her twin would have survived Santiago and Perez.”
He gave me a look. “Unless someone helped her.”
“But who?”
Mateo raised his glass, pensive expression on his face. “Maybe his brother, Kian?”
“I didn’t think the two were in contact back then,” I remarked. “Kian surely wasn’t part of the cartel business during his brother’s reign. It’s a known fact that Kian didn’t agree with Perez’s methods and involvement in flesh trade.”
It was only after Perez’s death that Kian took over.
“From what I gather, Kian wasn’t involved, but he always had a hand in the criminal organizations. With Perez dead, Kian took over the cartel. It made him quite the powerhouse.”
“Maybe he’ll be willing to give me answers,” I pondered. “Or at least point me in the right direction.”
“I met Kian once. He’s my age, you know. Old,” Mateo said quietly. Much like him, Kian kept to himself, although I wouldn’t call either of them old. Just because they had silver hair didn’t mean their minds were any less sharp or they were any less lethal. “The rumor was that he and Gio DiLustro’s wife had a thing.”
“A thing?”
He inclined his head. “An affair.”
“That must have gone over well,” I remarked dryly, knowing full well the implications of extramarital affairs among the ruthless families of the underworld. Put an illegitimate child in the mix and shit always turned ugly.
He shrugged. “As well as you can imagine. Although I always wondered.”
I frowned. “About what?”
“Not long after Emory DiLustro was born, Gio’s wife tried to run. It always puzzled me why she took the baby girl but left her son behind. Unless…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The meaning was clear as day.
“Unless?” I encouraged him to finish the sentence. “You think Emory isn’t a DiLustro?”
He nodded. “Possibly.”
I frowned, alarms blaring in my head. “What does any of it have to do with Liana?”
“Gio handed over his granddaughter to Santiago to settle a debt five years ago.” Shock vibrated through me, preventing me from finding the right words as realization sunk in. “That child was then handed over to Perez. It wouldn’t be unfathomable for Kian to save that child along with the only mother she’d ever known. Especially if he knew she was his grandchild.”
I gave a terse nod, my mind reeling with all these theories. Maybe Louisa was right and her twin was alive and well, hiding somewhere in this world thanks to the one man who’d always flown under the radar.
“It’s time I pay Kian a visit.”
Mateo nodded. “That would be a good place to start.”
That night I found myself at the Stanford Club that belonged to my brother-in-law, who happened to be the head of the Boston Irish mafia. The highly controversial club that he’d purchased for my sister was situated in the industrial part of Boston and it attracted all sorts: the kind that came for a dance, good times, and an occasional voyeur show. And then there were the kind of men that came to get handsy.
Like this little fucker that stood in front of me.
Grateful that my brother-in-law kept an office and spare room especially for this kind of shit, I didn’t bother holding back. Power rippled through my arm as I slammed my fist into the moron’s nose, his bones shattering under my knuckles. Served him right for thinking it was a good idea to grab my sister’s ass.
My youngest brother, Cristiano, was no less gentle as he punched the lanky guy in the gut.
“I hear someone touched my woman’s ass,” Declan, my brother-in-law, said, appearing out of thin air.
“About time you showed up,” I drawled, my lips curving. Cristiano and I took a step back, making way for our brother-in-law. “He’s all yours.”
Declan’s club was the most exclusive club in Boston. Obtaining a membership was difficult and strictly by referral. Needless to say, this man would be losing his permanently.
I reached for the glass Romeo handed me and swirled the ice in it, and like the overprotective brother I was, I refocused my attention on my sister who hung out at the mini-bar in the corner of Declan’s office. I couldn’t stop worrying about her, despite the fact that she was married. Despite the fact that she just turned thirty.
I took a seat on the sofa and cracked my knuckles as I watched Declan work over the punk, a soundproof, one-way privacy glass separating us from the rest of the club where people were casually dancing. My brother-in-law charged forward, pressing his knee so far into his gut I could see the guy’s eyes bulge out. His agile fists heaved punch after punch to his already inflamed face.
My sister, Marissa, on the other hand, sat at the bar, sipping on a pink drink while watching the whole ordeal with a bored expression. She was eager to get out of this office and get back to where people were. That was who my sister was, a little social butterfly who got into trouble. Often.
Even after learning I didn’t share the same father as my siblings, we had remained extremely close. It had a lot to do with our mother’s sadomasochistic activities and constant affairs. Julia—our mother—could be a real-life she-devil when she wanted to, but that made my siblings and I even closer. I’d always ensured to keep them shielded as much as I could from Julia and to be there for them.
“Come on, babe,” Marissa finally interrupted his husband’s punching session. “Kick him out so we can get back to having fun.”
“Why should he let up?” Romeo questioned. “The idiot was stupid enough to touch what wasn’t his, and now he’s gotta pay.”
Truthfully, my sister could have handled the perv herself, but she asked me to handle it on account of her six-inch heels that were apparently both brand-new and ridiculously expensive. After all, what were brothers for?
“I’m leaving for Brazil tomorrow,” I told Romeo, my gaze never wavering from the scene in front of us.
“I’m coming along.”
I shot him a look. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
I let out a sardonic breath. Romeo could be a stubborn fucker when he got an idea stuck in his head.
“You should stay and help Mateo.”
He scoffed.
“Cristiano can help him. I’m outta here.” He flashed me a grin. “Someone has to watch your back.”
“And you think your reckless ass will do any good?” Sometimes I wasn’t sure if my brother was delusional or just downright crazy. “More like get me killed.”
He started blabbering about what-the-fuck-ever while I tuned him out, returning my attention to Declan, who was still beating up on the ass-grabber.
Romeo, who’d found himself sitting beside me on the sofa, nudged me. “Giovanni, are you listening?”
I turned my head and glared at him. “No.”
“You need me.”
“Like a hole in my head.” I motioned ahead at our brother-in-law. “But if you want to be useful, put an end to that fight.”
Romeo grabbed his drink, downed it in one go, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before getting to his feet. “I’ll do that, but then I’m coming back here and we’re continuing this conversation.”
Romeo yanked the guy, spitting and choking, out of Declan’s reach, his face bloodied. Declan reached for him again, but Romeo pushed the bleary man toward two of Declan's younger brothers.
“Get him out of here before Declan kills him.”
Marissa exhaled with a groan as the perv was escorted from the private room and the premises. She then turned to glare at her husband.
“This was supposed to be a fun night out, not a boxing match.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Declan grimaced, snatching a glass of whiskey from the nearby table and making his way to Marissa. Truthfully, despite our families’ rocky beginnings, their union was the best thing to happen to Boston in decades. Prior to her marriage to Declan, the Irish and Italians in Boston were always at each other’s throats. Not anymore. “I’ll make it up to you,” he vowed.
She arched a brow as he stopped in front of her. “Oh yeah? How?”
He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he said turned my sister crimson, and I groaned inwardly.
“Yeah, we don’t want to know what they’re talking about.” Romeo appeared beside me, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Should we beat him up too?”
I arched an eyebrow. “And you want to come with me and have my back?”
His grin widened. “You won’t be sorry.”
“I already am.”
He grabbed another drink and took a swig of it just as our sister joined us with her husband, our brother Cristiano right behind them.
“What are you grinning like an idiot about?” Marissa asked as she took a seat opposite me.
“I want to know too,” Cristiano deadpanned, side-eying me.
“I’m going with Giovanni to South America.”
I snorted out a chuckle. “No, you’re not.”
“Listen, Giovanni,” Romeo pressed. “I’m coming along, and you’re going to thank me later. The cartel is nothing to fuck around with.”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “He’s in charge of one of those cartels, you know.”
“But not the one in Brazil.” Romeo slammed his glass of alcohol down. “We cannot have the head of the Omertà for the Agosti family crossing borders without protection.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time to name someone else leader of the Agosti family in the Omertà.”
Romeo’s eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I could count on my brother for everything except that responsibility. Although we were arguably closest in personality and age, the main difference was that Romeo was the psycho with dubious tastes. He hid his dark emotions behind a cheerful mask, but even that mask occasionally slipped, and I was just waiting for the day when it came off completely. That would be the day Romeo would wreak havoc on this world.
But that was a problem for another day.
I turned to look at Cristiano, who smirked at me and raised his palms. “I’m the baby of the family. You can’t put that shit on me.”
“Excuse me,” Marissa chimed in, her eyes sparkling. “ I am the baby of the family.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do any of you want to take on responsibilities at all?”
Marissa made a puke face and wrinkled her nose. “Do I look like the responsible one?”
I pinned them all with the sternest look I could muster. “You could be.”
Romeo shrugged, grinning. “You’re the only overachiever here.”
Declan’s bodyguard opened the door and all of our heads shifted in his direction. Through the one-way glass, I could see Declan’s brothers straightening their cufflinks and strutting like they were on a catwalk as individuals parted like the Red Sea for them as they made their way toward us.
Once they entered the office, the door firmly shut behind them. “What are we discussing?”
Marissa shrugged. “Overachievers.”
They both sneered, and I took it to mean they were more interested in a life of leisure.
Declan spread his hands. “It seems to be a common thread here.”
“Must be this younger generation,” I muttered.
“They scurry away like rodents when it comes to taking responsibility. But start a fight and they’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
That got our siblings into a heated discussion as the two of us leaned back into a chair, watching it all with amusement.
“So you’re seriously going after Liana Volkov?” Declan questioned while our siblings argued.
I lifted a shoulder. “Got nothing better to do.”
He snorted. “I bet. But a word of caution?”
I titled my head in his direction. “Yeah?”
“No child of Sofia Volkov is to be underestimated.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
He shrugged. “We’re Irish. Liana Volkov’s father was Irish. What can I say? We drink Guinness, and we talk.”
I let out a laugh. “I didn’t take you for a Guinness kind of guy.”
“I’m not,” Declan muttered under his breath. “But I do like the talking part. It’s the best way to get the latest on operations and, in a lot of cases, blackmail fodder.”
“And what’ve you got?”
He shot me a grim look. “Liana might be crazier and more cruel than her mother ever was.”
My jaw ticked.
Yeah, he might not be far off.
It wasn’t a mystery—to those of us who liked to keep tabs on members of other criminal organizations, at least—that Liana Volkov had been subjected to intense training under her mother’s thumb. She grew up surrounded by killers and man-made psychos, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Maybe the woman had simply done what it took to survive. If she survived.
I could never describe the mix of innocence and darkness in her eyes that’d captivated my attention from the moment I laid eyes on her. Or maybe I was just a blind motherfucker who had an unhealthy fascination with the woman.
My lips curled slightly as I remembered the woman who knocked her groomsman unconscious. I hadn’t seen Liana since, but a part of me was excited by the prospect of seeing her again.
Assuming she was indeed alive.