Wolfe
It was a beautiful day in Palermo, the sunlight dancing on the surface of the turquoise water.
Spring had now turned into the beginning of summer, and flowers bloomed in terra-cotta pots and up the side of white trellises.
Tourism had ramped up, so there were lots of families and couples in the streets and on the beach.
When I arrived, I went by my place first just to check on things since I hadn’t been there in a while. Didn’t bother bringing a gun to meet with Don Russo, just brought my knife, which was tucked into the back pocket of my jeans.
I approached the gates to the large villa that was sealed off from the public by the enormous stone walls that wrapped completely around it.
It was one of the few properties in the heart of Palermo with that feature, so it made it an impregnable fortress.
The property belonged to the government because it was a historic building, but Don Russo had been able to broker a deal under the table.
The gates opened the instant I approached, like they all expected me. I pulled around the fountain onto the cobblestones, seeing the guys armed with their rifles at all their posts. Their postures were relaxed, and the barrels of their guns were pointed to the street instead of me.
I left my Range Rover and approached the steps that led to the large entryway.
Santino stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a collared linen shirt and dark jeans, giving me a hard expression as I walked up like we hadn’t just had dinner together a couple days ago.
I walked up the steps and faced him. “I’ve got a busy day, so let’s get this over with.”
He nodded then turned to the guys who guarded the doors.
They opened one of them, a fifteen-foot door that was on strong hinges bearing the thousands of pounds to make it easy to open and close. Santino headed inside first and I followed him, my eyes adjusting to the darkness after standing in the brilliant sunlight.
He continued to lead the way down the hallway.
I made eye contact with the men on the way.
They looked at me like I was a fucking stranger.
I’d been one of them since I was a child. Had been part of Cosa Nostra longer than almost all of them.
Santino escorted me to Don Russo’s office, where I would meet him and his trusted cronies in a room with a gold mantel and artwork both from local artists and from the Renaissance on the walls bought off the black market.
I stepped inside the office where I used to speak with Don Russo in private all the time as his top lieutenant. The place looked and smelled identical to how it’d been before, but it felt like a place I’d never been.
Don Russo leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.
Uncle Marco wasn’t there.
Albert wasn’t there either.
It was just the two of us—alone.
Santino closed the door behind him.
Don Russo continued to stare at me across the large room, far too big for an office, more like a small ballroom. “Thank you for coming.”
I took a few steps forward, approaching the seating area with the couches and tables on the enormous hearth rug. “That’s quite the change in attitude.” I smirked. “What was the last thing you said to me, Don?” I asked as I cocked my head. “Do you remember?”
He remained still, his dark eyes not reacting to the provocation.
“No?” I cocked my head the other way as my grin widened. “Then let me enlighten you.” I took more steps forward until I was in the center of the room, still a great distance from him. “You said if we crossed paths again, you would carve me into strips of meat for a charcuterie board…”
His face remained blank as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
I moved farther forward, passing through the seating area until we were twelve feet apart. “And feed me to the hounds.”
His espresso-colored eyes didn’t blink. He didn’t draw a breath. A man I’d known my whole life looked at me like I was a stranger.
“You asked me to come all the way out here to gaslight me with your silence?” I raised my voice slightly, my impatience starting to bleed through. “At least offer me a drink, asshole.”
He finally pushed off the desk and straightened, two decades older than me but still fit and strong. He didn’t participate in drops or deals or combat, but he maintained his physical superiority in the gym. “What would you like?”
“The usual,” I said coldly. “Unless you’ve already forgotten…”
He walked to his private wet bar and turned his back to me—a gesture of trust—and made two drinks.
I stared at the back of his head and listened to the ice cubes clink against the glasses and then the twist of the bottle cap when he opened the whiskey. He made two old-fashioneds, added slices of orange and bitters, and then turned around to face me.
He stepped toward me, coming the closest he’d been since before I left, close enough for me to slip my blade between his ribs.
The guys hadn’t patted me down, so he knew I was armed.
He was definitely trying to kiss my ass.
He held the drink out to me, and it hung there for a second.
With my eyes locked on his, I took it. Raised it in a gesture of gratitude before I took a sip.
He took a drink of his as he stared at me. Then he nodded to the couch before he moved to take a seat.
I sat across from him, elbows on my thighs, holding the glass by the rim against the inside of my knee.
He took another drink before he set it on the black marble coaster on the table.
I stared him down like an enemy, because as far as I was concerned, we still were.
“I appreciate your coming today—”
“Say your piece, Don. I’m a busy man.”
He gave a slight nod as he swallowed his pride. If anyone else spoke to him like that, they’d have a bullet between the eyes. “We halted the trafficking operation that you objected to.”
I waited for more, and when nothing was forthcoming, I took a drink. “Okay.”
“I should have honored your wishes. I acted rashly—”
“Business not doing too good?” I asked with a smirk. “No surprise there. Who wants to fuck a drugged-up prisoner? Actually, fuck isn’t the right verb. Rape. Who wants to rape a high prisoner?”
He held my stare without a hint of remorse.
“I like to pay my women for a good time and watch them work for a fat tip.” I shook the ice in my glass before I brought it to my lips to take a drink. “But call me old-fashioned, I guess.” I took a drink then returned the glass to the side of my knee.
“I should have listened to you, Wolfe.”
“Well, you didn’t, so…”
“I apologize.”
I took a drink then set it on the table—sans coaster.
“I’d really like to have you back with us.”
“Yeah, I bet you would. Especially after you heard how I handled the Lombardi brothers.” My hands came together, my fingers interlocking.
“You knew better than anyone how I felt about forced prostitution, but you did it anyway. You knew I watched my mother get her brains blown out right in front of me, but you fucking did it anyway.” I’d told myself before I came here that I wouldn’t get angry, but all that went out the window when I had to look at Don Russo’s face.
“You can sit there and say it’s just business, but you’ve always said this is a family, and you turned your back on family—on a man you called a son.
And then threatened to slice him into chunks of meat on his way out the door.
” I shook my head. “Disloyalty can’t be fixed with a fucking apology. ”
He slowly rubbed his palms together as he stared at his knuckles, a harrowing silence that lasted nearly a minute. “If I can’t change your mind, then why did you come here today, Wolfe?” His hands went still, and he raised his chin to look at me again.
I always came at everything head on, and this instance was no different. “Because you need me for something. And I want to know what it is.”
He had a great poker face, one of the best I’d ever seen, and he held my stare without an ounce of recognition or emotion.
“You wouldn’t reach out just because your newest side hustle failed.
You wouldn’t reach out to me because of a guilty conscience, not after the way you threatened me.
There’s only one reason you would issue an apology to anyone—and that’s for self-preservation.
You forget how well I know you, not as a friend or a mentor, but as someone who’s watched and observed you my entire life.
You need me for something, and you’re going to tell me what it is. ”
The poker face continued, and he stared at me with a cold stillness, like a lake frozen over in the midst of winter. He rubbed his palms together once again before he released a sigh. “You know the Skull King is expanding his drug empire.”
“Old news.” I’d suggested that Don Mancini focus his business exclusively on arms and monopolizing that market since the Skull King only seemed interested in powder.
Anyone stupid enough to continue a drug empire would get a violent visit from the Skull King.
And anyone who wanted to encroach on our territory would get a visit from me.
“He’s deployed one of his minions to Sicily.”
Now, this was brand-new information.
“Icarus.”
I didn’t know the name, but I had a feeling I would never forget it.
“From what I hear, he’s worse than the Skull King. A lot worse.”
“What’s he want?”
“To make sure everyone complies with the Skull King’s demands. The drug empire belongs to him exclusively, and anyone who tries to do business without his authorization and partnership is buried alive in his private cemetery.”
I had a damn good poker face too, but I felt it slip.
“He hit Victor in Naples really hard. Buried his entire family and made him watch. His son…his daughter. They were only five and eight.”
I wasn’t afraid to cross any line necessary to get shit done, but that was too far. “Why didn’t Victor step away when they warned him?”
“Because they didn’t warn him,” Don Russo said.
“Just came in and took over. Perhaps he had an issue with Victor I didn’t know about.
I’m not sure. A few days ago, Icarus hit Catanzaro.
Did the same thing to them. We’ve been protected by the island’s natural separation from the mainland… but looks like our luck has run out.”
Now I would make sure that Don Mancini left the drug business for good. He’d absorbed the Lombardis canned tomato business because of the ease of using it to move drugs across borders, but that would have to be shut down immediately.
“We’ve got a lot of players in Sicily. We don’t always get along, but other than natural conflicts and transgressions, we operate in relative peace. But if Icarus and his men come here and take us down one by one…we’re all fucked.”
“I don’t see how he stands a chance against Cosa Nostra.”
“You’re probably right. We have the numbers and the allies. But something tells me not to underestimate this guy. If we want to maintain our independence from the mainland, we all need to stand together. Otherwise, Icarus might pick us off one by one—and put us in the ground.”
I knew he’d needed me for something, but I hadn’t expected this.
“From everything that I’ve heard, he reminds me of you.”
My eyes had focused past his face, looking at a painting on the wall behind him. But my stare shifted back to him when I heard what he said.
“They say he’s fucking crazy—and you’re fucking crazy.”
I used to take that as a compliment, but in this context, it was an insult. “I don’t kill kids.”
“Well, that might be your one difference,” he said. “So for the preservation of us all, I think it’s best if you return to Cosa Nostra.”
My eyes flicked back to the painting as I rubbed my palms together.
“We need you, Wolfe. I know we parted on bad terms, but there’s still love and respect between us—”
“That’s your interpretation.” I continued to look elsewhere, swallowed by unease and an all-consuming grudge.
Then my eyes flicked back to his. “The only reason I sit here is because you need something from me. If Icarus weren’t a threat, I wouldn’t have heard from you ever again.
You wouldn’t be invited to my wedding, and I wouldn’t go to your funeral.
This family meant everything to me, but now I realize I was just a soldier and nothing more.
Perhaps your memory has dulled with age, but you’ve forgotten how long I hold a grudge.
And I will hold this grudge until you’re dead in the ground, Russo.
” I stared him down with the flames of hatred burning rampant in my heart.
“The dog you threw into the street has a new home now—and it’s where I belong.
Don Mancini will stop Lombardi’s powder business imminently and focus on his arms exclusively. The rest of you are fucked.”
For the first time, there was a flash of rage in his eyes—pissed he didn’t get what he wanted. “It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you. Only a matter of time before the other gangs try to take your business because they fear Icarus more than you.”
“And they’ll quickly realize their mistake,” I snapped. “A hell of a lot quicker than you realized yours.”