Chapter 30
Alessandro
My men and I are sitting around the dining room table in my penthouse. The Tampa skyline is glittering beyond the bulletproof glass wall behind us. It’s almost midnight, but after I got off the phone with my father, I had to call a meeting.
I rub at a dull, throbbing headache, then glance up in time to see Gunnar eyeing my busted knuckles with a frown. Waving off his concern, I lean forward. “All right. Here’s the deal. The Commission wants us to push the Bratva out of Tampa without starting a war.”
Rocco snorts as he holds his lighter to the label of his sparkling water bottle. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I shoot him a warning look because I know he’s only half kidding.
He would burn Tampa to the ground to flesh them out if he could.
I turn my attention to the other men around the table.
They look tired and stressed. “We need to make it impossible for them to conduct business here. Hit me with some ideas.”
Caelian clears his throat and adjusts the wire-rimmed glasses on his aquiline nose.
His thick, black hair is sticking up, and he’s dressed in basketball shorts and a grey T-shirt.
It looks like I got him out of bed. His mind is fully awake though.
“We need to interrupt their shipments. Do we have enough cops on the payroll to get a raid at the dock?”
We both glance at Fausy. As a capo, that’s his territory.
Fausy nods confidently. “We do. I’ll make contact.”
Gunnar pipes up. “We know where three of their main warehouses are. We could do a raid. Hit them in the pocketbook.”
I meet his gaze and consider his idea. “We’d need to hit them all at once, so they don’t add guards.”
“Maybe we don’t start a full-scale war,” Caelian says. “But surprise casualties can have big impacts on the psyche.”
Fausy grabs his phone off the table. “I do know a couple hangout spots for their soldiers. I’ll drop a few pins to our guys and get surveillance started.”
My phone buzzes with a message: Package home safe.
I snort out loud. These fuckers. They’re having too much fun acting like James Bond. I don’t care as long as they keep Lennon safe.
Gunnar quirks a blond eyebrow at me. “All good?”
“All good.” I get my head back in the meeting. “All right. Let’s put these plans into motion. I’ll give Zerilli a head’s up.” In person, because I want to see his reaction.
Rocco knocks his knuckles on the table. “Can we trust him not to warn the Russians?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll see.” After a few beats I add, “Once we have them on the ropes, I’ll arrange a sit down with Oleg. Let him know it’s time to leave or we’ll escalate things.”
As my men say their goodbyes and head out, I walk over to the glass wall and stare down at the city.
The buildings aren’t as tall as they are in New York, but it’s still an impressive sprawling canvas of glittering lights, with the Hillsborough River snaking through the heart of downtown, reflecting the vibrant colors like a shimmering ribbon.
My thoughts drift back to Lennon. To the threat Giada poses. If anything ever happened to her… I can’t even finish the thought.
Gunnar joins me, his gaze locked on the city below. “I heard about the auction. Anything you want to talk about?”
I scoff. “Goddamn men gossip worse than old church ladies.”
A quiet chuckle shakes Gunnar’s shoulders. “They’re not used to seeing you so bent out of shape over a woman.”
My head jerks to glare at him. “She’s not just any woman.”
He crosses his arms and sighs. “I know, brother.”
My anger deflates as fast as it sparked. “Fuck, sorry. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”
His large hand lands on my shoulder. “Yeah, you do.”
***
I’m in my private gym, finishing up my deadlifts, covered in sweat and in a piss-poor mood.
It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen Lennon.
The short updates from her guards that she’s safe are the only thing keeping me from stalking her myself.
The only thing keeping me tethered to the fucked-up path I’m required to walk.
Rocco appears in the doorway, and I can see it on his face. Something is wrong.
I grab a towel and wipe the sweat off my head and arms. “What’s up?”
He crosses the gym to stand in front of me, hands shoved in his slacks pockets. A storm is brewing in his gray eyes and his jaw is covered in three-day-old scruff. “Two things. And I’ll tell you the one you’re less likely to freak out about first.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
He shifts on his feet and runs a hand through his unruly hair. “The tail we put on Toly Romanov informed me that he had some interesting company last night.”
I throw the towel on the weight bench, rest my hands on my hips, and shoot him a “get to the point” look.
He rubs the back of his neck and winces. “Giada. He was with Giada.”
My eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Where?”
“They were at a little off-the-wall Italian restaurant. Enjoying a nice bottle of wine. Looking cozy.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, feeling my blood pressure rise.
In the last three weeks, we’ve implemented some of our plans.
The first raid at the docks went down ten days ago.
The police confiscated two million dollars’ worth of arms and arrested eight of their men.
We’ve also taken out twenty-two of their soldiers in smaller blitz attacks.
It’s like kicking an ant hill. They’re running around on guard, paranoid as fuck.
We have a plan in place to hit their warehouses tomorrow night. A coordinated hit with Zerilli’s men. That was Santino’s idea. Giada could definitely know about that. If she’s giving Toly a heads-up, then our soldiers could be walking into a trap.
But why would she do that? What would she get out of it? Revenge on me?
No, she’s not going to hurt her own future. More likely, she’s angling for revenge on Lennon somehow. She’s not going to let that shit go.
I’ll have to digest this news.
I grab my water bottle, down half of it, then bring my attention back to my brother, steeling myself. “And the second thing?”
He purses his lips and then blows out a breath. “Lucca, my guy with the day shift watching Lennon, has brought something to my attention.” He shifts uncomfortably. “He thinks someone else is following her.”
I freeze. “Why does he think that?”
“There’s been a black Mercedes he’s noticed way too often in her proximity to be a coincidence. He wants to know if he should engage?”
My skin prickles beneath the layer of sweat. The Beast roars at the thought of her in harm’s way. With a frustrated growl, I chuck the water bottle across the room and begin to pace. “No. Tell him to text me a photo of the car and license plate. I’ll take care of it.”
“All right.”
At his tempered tone, I stop and stare at him. He looks like he wants to say something else I’m not going to like. I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “Spit it out.”
He shrugs and gives me a concerned once-over. “You look like shit.”
I huff out a breath.
He moves closer, his eyes softening. “I’m serious, Sandro. You’ve got bags under your eyes bigger than Mother’s shopping sprees. Are you even fucking sleeping?”
The pressure in my chest is increasing. I rub my breastbone roughly. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
“Which will be fucking sooner than later if you don’t fix whatever’s got you fucked up in the head.
” He’s ducking his head, trying to catch my eye.
“I know you, brother. You’ve handled more than this in New York.
What’s going on?” He pauses, the sharp edge fading from his tone as he asks, “It’s Lennon, isn’t it? ”
I glance up and know that he sees my pain before I can shutter it.
With a knowing nod, he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “L'amore è la più grande stronza di tutte.”
Love is the biggest bitch of all.
***
It’s not really smart for me to participate in the warehouse raids tonight.
As head of the outfit, it’s my duty to lead, not die.
But I’ve never been able to resist the adrenalin rush of a good ambush.
Besides, I need to keep an eye on Zerilli’s men, make sure they’re loyal to us. I’m not sure who to trust yet.
There are three warehouses. Gunnar, Rocco and I are each leading the raid on one. We’ve each got a dozen heavily armed soldiers with us, a mix of our men and Zerilli’s, in case the Bratva have been tipped off by Giada and beefed up their security.
Turns out they didn’t. There were only four guards at each location. Easily dispatched. We loaded a quarter million dollars of product into U-Haul trucks, transferred it all to our own warehouses, and then drove to The Eclipse to celebrate.
Champagne is flowing and the mood is high in the VIP section. I know my men will close down the club, but I decide to leave early. I can’t deal with the memories of Lennon in my office.
Who knew a dead heart could bleed?
Back at the penthouse, I change into workout shorts and hit the gym. As I pummel the bag, my thoughts clear and questions begin to form.
If Giada wasn’t tipping off Toly about the warehouse raids… then what was she doing with him?
I could confront her. Meeting with our enemy is treason.
Of course, she would have an excuse ready.
Probably say she’s trying to get intel from them or some shit.
No, I need to know what she has up that evil little designer sleeve of hers.
Because I have a really bad feeling it has to do with getting her revenge on Lennon.
The next morning, I receive updates from my crew about the fallout of the warehouse raids. The Bratva are pissed. Toly beat the shit out of one of our soldiers he caught off guard and gave him a message for me: Stop fucking with our shipments or we’ll make this personal.
I chew on that all day. What does he mean by personal?
Later in the afternoon, I’m in my home office on a conference call with New York to update them on our activities, when my phone buzzes insistently. I glance at it.
Rocco.
When I finish the call, I check my phone. Five missed calls from him. Heart rate ticking up, I return the call.
Before I can ask what’s up, he barks, “Jesus fuck, Sandro. Answer your fucking phone.”
I grind my molars in irritation, two fucking seconds away from reminding him I’m his Don, not just his brother.
There’s some shuffling and then he continues. “Listen, one of our men keeping tabs on a group of Bratva at their club hangout overhead something last night. They were wasted, bragging about some plan Toly has that will bring you to your knees. They said they know your weakness.”
A jolt of adrenalin sends a tremor through my body. Fear coils around my heart, squeezing like a venomous snake. “Lennon.”
A car door slams. “That must be what Giada was doing with Toly. Giving her up.”
Fucking cunt. I will end her. “Where is Lennon now?”
“At work.”
I hang up, grab my Beretta and slip into the elevator.