Chapter Twelve
Marcello
Who to Trust?
As I step through the entrance of DeLuca Luxury Cars, the bustling sound of money being made greets me. The dealership has always been more than just a front; it’s a well-oiled machine, and its heart beats in sync with our underground operations.
“Morning, boss!” Maria, our front desk manager, calls out cheerfully as I pass by. Her smile is bright, and it’s clear she’s already in full swing, managing appointments and customer inquiries.
“Morning, Maria. How’s everything today?” I ask, pausing for a moment to catch up.
“Smooth as silk. We have a few appointments with some high-profile clients later. I’ve got everything lined up and ready,” she says with a nod, her efficiency never failing to impress me.
“Great. Keep me posted if anything unusual comes up,” I reply, giving her a nod before moving on.
As I make my way deeper into the dealership, I pass by Tony, one of our top salesmen. He’s leaning against a sleek black SUV, chatting animatedly with a couple who look ready to make a big purchase.
“Hey, Mr. DeLuca,” Tony greets me with a grin, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of the deal. “Got a live one here. This beauty’s practically sold.”
“Good to hear, Tony. Keep up the good work,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. Tony’s been with us for years, and his knack for closing deals is one of the reasons the dealership thrives.
In the service bay, I spot Gabe, our head mechanic, wiping his hands on a rag as he finishes up with a customer’s car. He looks up and gives me a nod, his expression serious as always.
“Morning, Gabe. How’s the workload today?”
“Busy, but manageable,” he replies, his voice gruff but respectful. “Got a few high-end tune-ups and some custom jobs. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Excellent. If you need anything, let me know,” I say, appreciating his steady presence. Gabe’s skill under the hood is matched only by his loyalty to the family.
I peak into Altoni’s office, but he’s not inside. Momentarily, I think of Romeo, my right hand that used to occupy that office, and sadness pierces my heart as I think of his betrayal.
Finally, I reach my office at the back of the dealership. It’s a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lot. I settle into the leather chair behind the dominating oakwood desk. The familiarity of the office routine is a brief comfort.
I pick up the phone and dial Prosper’s number, reengaging with the chaos.
Prosper is Vito’s old tech guy, and now he’s mine—a wizard with computers and surveillance, and the man I trust to get solid information on the Grecozis.
The phone rings twice before he answers. “Marcello, what’s up?”
“Prosper, I texted you earlier.”
“Yeah man, sorry but I’ve been working on something for Vito that’s had me stressed. Trying to figure out if someone has been scrambling the data on his computers.”
“Really? Is someone trying to get into his business files?”
“Yeah, man. It’s always something.”
“No shit.”
“Anyway, I can pull her file up now. What was her alias again? My mind is fried right now.”
“No problem. Her alias is Lanay Sanders. And you know her full real name is Safia Kent,” I inform.
“Okay. Give me about five minutes to see what I can pull together.”
“I want an update on the black SUV she mentioned from the Destin market parking lot. You collected video surveillance ten years ago, but there were no hits back then. I want to revisit it and see if we can find something now.”
There’s a pause, the faint sound of typing in the background. “Actually, I can give you some information on that now. I used some advanced software to enhance the footage and finally got a read on the license plate.”
My heart quickens. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for. “What did you find?”
“I’m running a check on the city’s database to get a name as we speak,” he continues. “It’s going to take a bit, but I’m confident we’ll have something solid soon.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,” I say, relief flooding my system. “Keep me updated and let me know as soon as you have anything concrete. Oh, and also check into her mother and father’s background and see what their connection was to the Grecozis. Their names are Stephen and Maria Kent. I want to know more about how they came into four billion dollars and who else might be connected to it.”
“You got it, boss. I’ll call you as soon as I have the information,” Prosper promises.
I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair, staring out the window but seeing nothing.
“Safia, baby, we’re going to get answers soon. Whoever bombed your family’s car will get what’s coming to them,” I say to the empty room.
Or should I say not so empty room.
I turn back to my desk and see Altoni standing in the doorway.
How long has he been there? I didn’t even hear him come in.
“Jesus, Altoni, you scared the shit out of me,” I say, trying to mask my surprise. My heart races, not just from the sudden appearance but from the realization that he might have overheard my conversation. The last thing I need is this information leaking out.
Altoni steps into the room. His eyes glint with curiosity and something else I can’t quite place.
“Sorry about that, Marcello. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just came in to go over the inventory list for next week’s shipments.”
My mind races. I have to tread carefully. The secrets I’m chasing are dangerous, and the fewer people who know about them, the better. I wave him in, motioning for him to close the door behind him.
“Listen, Altoni,” I keep my voice steady. “Whatever you heard just now, it stays in this room. Understand? No one else needs to know about this.”
“Of course, Marcello. I wouldn’t dream of spreading anything that could cause trouble for you or Lanay. Well, Safia. I was just... surprised, that’s all.” He moves closer, sitting casually in one of the chairs across from my desk, but there’s a watchfulness in his eyes. “I mean, everyone knew about the Kent bombing from all those years ago. The names Stephen and Maria Kent will go down in American History. It was all over the news when we were in high school, but I never connected them to Lanay when she moved into town. It’s... a shock.”
I nod, studying his reaction, trying to gauge how much he actually knows and how much he’s guessing. “It’s a complicated situation. We’ve been trying to get to the bottom of it for years.”
Altoni leans back, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp. “You know, Marcello, now that I think about it, I heard something a while back. A rumor, really. The Grecozi mafia—there was talk that they had a bounty out for a woman named Safia Kent. Only, they had pictures of her as a young girl. It never clicked that Lanay and Safia were the same person because she looks so different now.”
A cold dread settles in my stomach. I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give away how much I know about the Grecozis bounty on Safia.
“That’s interesting,” I say slowly, trying to keep my voice even. “I’ll look into it.”
“Anything I can do to help, just let me know. We’ve got to look out for each other, right?”
“Right,” I reply.
I sit back in my chair, staring at the door Altoni just exited.