Chapter 20
MARCO
It’s time to avenge my wife.
A few days have gone by since Karina told me about the audio transmitter that her uncle put inside her ring, and about how that fucker is holding her mother’s life over her head to force compliance.
Each day my rage has been simmering hotter and hotter.
Even though Karina doesn’t have the closest relationship with her mother, my wife’s good heart would never allow her to knowingly risk someone’s life.
So all she can do is keep her head down, go through the motions, and be the good little mole that Sergio Bruno set her up to be.
If that’s not a prison sentence, I don’t know what is.
As for me? It’s now my life’s mission to make the Brunos bleed. I just need my brothers’ help. Which is why I’ve asked them to stay behind to chat with me after the breakfast dishes are cleared away and Karina and Frankie have headed to the winery.
“Well?” Armani prods, studying me with a calculated gaze.
Clearing my throat, I go to the sideboard and take out a bottle of bourbon, then set it next to the carafe of coffee on the table. Dante and Armani watch with interest as I line up three shot glasses, fill them, hand them out, and toss mine back.
Dante shakes his head from the burn of the alcohol and pushes his glass away.
“What are you warming us up for, Marco? Spit it out. It can’t be good if we’re drinking at eight in the morning.”
“It’s not.” I heave a sigh, debating the best way to broach the topic. There’s no sense in beating around the bush. “Our favorite Uncle Bruno bugged Karina’s engagement ring.”
Armani freezes in the middle of pouring himself a second shot. “Say that again.”
I know. It’s hard for me to believe, too.
The Brunos usually tend to rely on violence and brute strength in order to get things done.
I’d never pegged them as the high-tech types either; Sergio Bruno doesn’t exactly seem smart enough to implement spy tech.
Or resourceful enough. That means they must have someone on the payroll who is.
“The Brunos attached an audio transmitter to the inside of her ring when they took her hostage. I didn’t inspect it too closely, but she says it looks to be inlaid between the pavilion of the diamond and the underside of the bezel. The band is so thick, it’s virtually invisible.”
Armani makes a snort of disgust and runs a finger around the rim of his shot glass. “Clever. I might use that myself next time.”
“Does she know what kind of information they’re fishing for?” Dante asks.
“Honestly, I think they’re just hoping for anything they can use to bring us down. But as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Karina has gone so far out of her way to remove herself from our conversations—or interrupt them—that it seems unlikely they’ve picked up anything.”
“Ah. Which must have pissed them off enough to sabotage your race car,” Dante says, leaning back in his chair.
Dammit. He might be right. Karina’s mother isn’t the only person they can use against her. I didn’t think of my racing accident from that angle before, but it makes perfect sense. An ache goes through my collarbone fracture as if to confirm the suspicion.
“It’s time to end this,” Armani says, his voice eerily calm. “And I mean, end it. For good.”
My heart lurches. I know that tone. It’s the Hyde side of my brother, the side of him that comes out when he’s planning imminent violence.
“I don’t disagree,” I tell him, “but we have to be smart about it. Strategic. We—”
“Fuck that.” He waves me off like I’ve offended him. “This is the strategy: We go hard, we go fast, and we eradicate their entire clan. No survivors.”
Dante looks at the ceiling, shaking his head.
“No. No, no, no. We’re not just gonna bust in with our guns blazing like this is some kind of 1920s style gangland war!
Even if we succeed—which we won’t, because the Brunos have people all over the West Coast, not to mention abroad, which means we can’t root them all out, it’s like fucking whack-a-mole with these people—every other Mafia family out there will turn on us for going in like that. ”
For a second, I’m a little speechless. Dante’s usually not one for such lengthy, passionate declarations. I think he’s actually out of breath from saying all of that.
Armani spreads his hands. “If it gets the job done.” He assesses me, then grins. “I see it in your eyes, little brother. You want to do it my way, too.”
I don’t deny it. Because right now, that’s exactly what I want.
To get rid of the Brunos, every last one, so Karina and the rest of the world can be safe from them.
Even though I know it would mean bloodshed on a massive scale, the likes of which the Bellanti family hasn’t perpetrated since our late father was in charge.
We can ambush the Brunos, line them up execution style, and be done with it.
Just imagining it, a spark of excitement flares in my chest.
Sometimes I scare myself, realizing that I’m more like Armani than I want to admit. Dante has a dark streak too, though he’s always tempered it well. We get that bloodlust, that taste for violence from our dad. But it doesn’t mean we have to act on it like he did.
“Come on, Dante,” Armani coaxes. “It’s two against one. Majority rules.”
“You know that’s not how this works,” Dante says, smiling dangerously. “I’m the head of the family. What I say goes.”
His tone brooks no arguments, though I know he’ll listen if Armani and I want to talk this out some more. Less because Dante would actually consider Armani’s take-no-prisoners tactics and more because, as the eldest Bellanti, Dante is well practiced in diplomacy and patience.
“I’m done trying to do this your way,” Armani says, pushing back from the table.
“It’s gotten us fucking nowhere. Why don’t Marco and I take care of this ourselves, while you take a little trip out of town with the missus?
You’ll have plausible deniability, and you can issue an apology to the other families afterward.
Tell them you’re punishing us for our actions, excommunicating us, whatever.
I wouldn’t mind taking a year off in Italy. ”
“Oh, come on!” Dante slaps a hand on the table. “We’re not recreating the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre.”
“Why not?” Armani growls.
The two of them glare daggers across the table. The air feels charged. Ugly.
“Let’s just everybody calm the fuck down,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension. “Armani, please. Sit back down. Look, guys, we need to stick together. We’re not going to beat the Brunos by splitting up into warring factions.”
Dante nods. “Agreed. We need to keep cool heads. We’re not doing this like Dad.”
Bingo. The taunt gives me pause but seemingly has no effect on Armani. If anything, the determination in his expression only deepens. He’s taking it as a challenge, and Lord knows he’s never backed down from a challenge in his life.
“Maybe we should.” He leans forward and presses his palms down on the table. “I’m done dancing with the Brunos. If I have to walk in Dad’s shoes to get things done, so be it.”
“Never,” Dante spits.
“Would you say never if it meant the life of your wife and your unborn daughter?” Armani presses. “Because that’s what this is going to come down to. This war with the Brunos won’t end until we’re all dead, or they are. So you tell me. Is never good enough for you?”
A beat of silence drops between us before Armani goes on.
“They’ve already kidnapped Livvie and Karina. Killed our priest. Killed Jessica. Sabotaged Marco’s race car and nearly killed him. What’s next? They bomb the house, the winery? Attack us while we’re out to dinner? Where does it stop, Dante?”
“Enough!” Dante shoves out of his chair and paces angrily to the window.
We agreed never to stoop to the level of our late father. He was unnecessarily cruel, sadistic, even. I understand why Armani would want to follow in his footsteps. I want revenge, too. But not at the expense of emulating a man I despised.
Fully expecting my brothers to continue barking at each other, I lean back in my chair and settle in for the show. To my surprise, they both go quiet.
“I have a better idea,” Dante says finally. “We’re going to plant a fake arms shipment and lure them out to where we can cage them.”
Armani shakes his head. “Sti cazza!”
“Don’t tell me, fuck that. Just listen.” Dante walks back over to the table and stands over us.
“Our reputation with the other mob families is good right now. They respect us, they like us. They sympathize with the hardships we’ve had lately—the kidnappings and Marco’s wreck.
Rumors are going around that the Brunos are involved, of course, but nothing concrete.
And even if we had proof, it doesn’t mean we’d get a pass to genocide their whole clan. ”
“Yeah. I mean, as much as I like the idea, we can’t actually just go around blowing people’s heads off.
We’d be no better than the Brunos if we did,” I add.
“And nobody would side with us. We can’t compromise our standing with the other families.
We need them to back us a hundred percent when the shit with the Brunos hits the fan. And it’s about to. No doubt.”
Dante nods and pours everyone another round. We take our shots. Then we brood.
“Crazy love is our narrative, not crazy violence,” Dante says after a few silent beats.
“We need to stick with that. It’s worked for us this far.
And we’re a hell of a lot less likely to lose our allies if we keep on sharing information and making bargains with them, instead of acting threatening and trigger happy.
You can’t hold on to loyalty through fear. So. Here’s what I’m thinking.”
He starts spinning a plan to take out the Brunos. The more he lays out the details, the more I believe it can work. We plant false information. Set them up. Then we close in when their figurative pants are down and use our leverage to end the war.
“We won’t be going in alone either,” Dante adds. “I’m calling in all our favors with the other families.”
“You might not have to,” I say. “The Brunos aren’t exactly short on enemies in the community. When word gets out that we’re making a move, people might just line up to help so they can settle their own vendettas. They don’t have to love us to want to join in on this.”
Armani huffs out a breath. “I don’t like it. But it is the smarter play. Long term.”
The three of us part ways, and I find a quiet room so I can make a call to my crew chief, safely out of earshot of my brothers. There’s a race coming up that I’ve decided to drive in, and I know for a fact they aren’t going to like it one bit.
Dante might be the planner, and Armani the enforcer, but if their combined efforts can’t bring Sergio Bruno down…I will.
In my own way.