Chapter 1
one
. . .
“Man will always try to make choices, Mario. Choices he attempts to justify, for himself, for his family, for others. And for a while it might work, until it doesn’t, until he makes a choice that renders everything pointless, one he can’t justify, can’t forgive and it takes everything.
His family, his friends, his soul, leaving him with nothing, an emptiness he can’t fill again, a deep dark void that grows bigger by the second. You did that, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” a solemn whisper.
My great grandfather and his father before him built their empire on the blood of their enemies, ruling with a cruelty so brutal it was considered almost mythical, yet the code always remained the same, bestowed upon every soldier and family member alike when sworn in.
“What’s our family code?”
“Never betray your brothers,” the bastard’s voice cracked on a sob.
“And?”
“The family comes before everything else,” he rasped, shoulders haunching lower as though he could hide from me.
“And?”
“Never…” he hesitated and my brow went up. “Never cooperate with law enforcement.”
My laugh was dark, a menacing threat. “That’s why in my world, I don’t give choices because chances are, they’ll come back to fuck me in the ass.”
“Sir,” a plea.
“Put the gun in your mouth, Mario.” Crossing an ankle over the other knee, I leaned back in the seat, glaring at the fucker who’d worked for us for almost seven years until the DEA got to him, promising who the fuck knew what, for his testimony.
A day before he was to appear in court, our men ambushed the car bringing him back to the city.
The three armored vehicles escorting him were no match for our firepower.
When you’re related to Lorenzo Rossi, don of New York, head of the five families in Italy, executive member of the mafia roundtable and my brother, nothing or no one would stand in our way to protect the other.
The man glanced at his son, his tears in earnest before his gaze came back to me. “Please,” he choked, desperation thick in his voice. “I was wrong.”
“You think turning State’s witness is wrong?” I raised a brow. “If it’s against a deadly criminal like me, your words, not mine then it’s not.”
After grabbing him, we let the dust settle over the last month, giving people glimpses of Mario so the prosecutor couldn’t justify his accusation that we had something to do with the ambush.
Our attorney countered with a, ‘perhaps the State’s witness has changed his mind about testifying.
’ Without their key witness, the prosecutor had no choice but to accept the judge’s dismissal.
“Only, you got caught, Mario, you broke the code and…” I trailed off, shifting my gaze to his son.
Now, my brother allowed me to seek revenge on the fucker on one condition. I made it look like a suicide. That irked the fuck out of me. I didn’t stage deaths, I took lives. But I relented only because Lorenzo didn’t want it traced back to me.
“Come here, boy,” I called to his son.
Barely six years old, it would be years before he learned the difference between good and evil, there was still time to taint his education. I never claimed to be a gentleman by society or any other standards, yet I could turn up the charm when the need arose.
He gazed at his father for half a second then neared me. “Do you know what this is?” I held out my gun to him, ignoring his father’s sobs. The boy nodded. “Would you like to learn how to shoot?” Eyes brimming with excitement, lifted from the weapon to my face, his father forgotten. Another nod.
“Please, sir, he has no one to take care of him,” Mario cried.
I picked up his son and placed him on my lap. Aiming my gun at his father, I moved the boy’s hands around until he was holding the weapon with his finger on the trigger and mine behind it to prevent him shooting.
“Die by your hands or his?” I asked, my gaze trained on the father with his son ready to shoot him on my command.
Eyes widened, hands shaking, he brought the gun up to his lips. They matched the tremble of his fingers before he opened his mouth, placing the muzzle on his tongue.
“Shoot,” I instructed the boy, removing my finger. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Go on,” I encouraged him.
A sudden explosion echoed in the room. His head swung around sharply. Together, we stared at his father’s body slowly toppling to the side, his blood and brains rolling down the wall behind him.
“Papa,” he whispered, the first sound he’d made since my arrival.
There were no tears or jerks of fear, just an unwavering stare.
Maybe one day he’d learn his father’s death cemented the rule to never to challenge a Rossi and maybe he’d come looking for me to avenge his father’s death.
Maybe he’d be a pussy and live a life of solitude.
That was a fuck load of maybes I didn’t really care for now or ever.
Removing my gun from his hand, I lifted him off my lap, set his feet down on the floor and stood, holstering my weapon. “It’s been a while since I had a good steak.” I straightened my jacket, glancing at Gian.
Detained in prison until I received a court date, the prosecutor practically begged the judge to deny me bail.
He did and I spent a month tucked away with nothing but exercise as my source of entertainment.
Given our enemies ranked from low life scum to top notch drug lords, my brother’s connections had me stuffed in solitary confinement.
To keep the other prisoners safe, apparently.
I smiled. “This calls for a visit to Midnight Garden.” I dragged a hand through my hair, reminding myself to get a haircut and headed for the door.
“What about him?” Gian’s question stopped me. I glanced over my shoulder. He was pointing at the boy still staring at his father’s lifeless body.
The emotions normal people possessed didn’t exist for me, my brain functioned on an entirely different level. Chaos and unhinged darkness filled my thoughts all the time, even in my sleep my nightmares dared me to dance on a corpse with a smile.
Returning to the boy, I crouched in front of him, grasped his arms and turned him to face me. “Your papa is dead, but I can still teach you how to shoot, would you like that?” There was no hesitation to his nod. I stood and gestured to one of the other men. “Take him to Katarina.”
“Who’s she?” Gian asked as we headed for the car.
“A Russian beauty who runs a training school for orphans of the parents killed in mafia wars.” And the only woman who’d fuck me with a knife to my throat, instead of her pussy.
“As the orphans grow, she either ships them off to serve mafia families or police academies where they later become informants.”
“So you have a heart now?”
“Feeling brave today, are we?” Most men would’ve withered under my dark glare; he merely dropped his gaze. Shaking my head, I climbed into the SUV, fishing my ringing phone out of my jacket pocket.
Gian slipped behind the wheel. “Figo called earlier, he asked for a meeting.”
“Tell him he has ten minutes while I eat,” I muttered, answering my brother’s call. “What’s up?”
“I need you to watch your back.” Lorenzo’s harsh breathing meant only one thing. Someone’s face was getting a massive makeover. “Some fuckers tried to take me out just now.”
“The fuck?” My blood ran cold.
“Dario and I got them all. The one we kept alive sang like a fucking soprano. They’re Hector’s men.
He’s mad, thinks we double-crossed him because his shipment didn’t make it to his warehouse,” he explained, referring to one of our customers and confirming my thoughts about why he sounded out of breath.
I tensed. “Are you alright?”
Hector was a ruthless motherfucker who controlled the largest region in the Southwest, distributing a sizable five hundred kilos a week from Arizona to Houston.
While he made us a lot of money, he respected us as much as we did him and like Lorenzo and I, he never mixed business with pleasure, not even the free kind.
“Yeah. Minor scrapes but Rayden was with me.”
“Oh, fuck.” No one would survive the brunt of my brother’s power now, even if it weren’t their fault. Callous or not, Hector’s entire family was doomed. My brother saw red if someone unworthy so much as mentioned Rayden’s name.
His laugh lacked mirth before he continued. “If my sources are correct, we have a much bigger problem.”
I gripped the phone tighter, rage already a swirling tornado inside my body.
“Who?” Eyes narrowed, I listened to him for another minute then glanced at my watch.
“Fucker’s probably piss drunk in pussy right now, and I need him coherent.
” I wanted him to see me coming. “I’ll handle him tomorrow evening. ”
“Just knock some sense into him, nothing more, please Remo.” I smirked. My brother knew his attempts to caution me always failed, still he’d try. “And stay safe.”
“I’m about to grab some dinner, grant Figo his ten minutes and crash afterward.” Sleep taunted me most evenings, staying on the periphery and the times it granted me leniency, it was riddled with restlessness.
“Remember our discussion about our customers.”
“Yes, brother,” my sarcasm-filled reply earned a grunt before I cut the call, my gaze drifting to the passing scenery.
The problem with having it all, everyone wanted in on it.
After Mother’s demise and Lorenzo took her place, some coveted his title and others, they wanted our success.
Plenty fuckers out there both mafia and non-mafia, rooted for our deaths.
Some it seemed were even going the extra mile to bribe family members and that for me was a huge no.
Grinding my teeth to rein in my temper, I pocketed my phone as the SUV drew to a halt outside the restaurant.
“I need another shipment.”
Knife paused on the steak I was appreciating thirty minutes later, I looked at the fifty something man who sat opposite me, refused my dinner offer and got straight to the point.