Chapter 23
STEFANO
Edgardo Lordi patted my arm, not coincidentally bumping my right hand as he pulled away to pick up the signed documents and tuck them into his leather portfolio.
Pain shot all the way up to my shoulder.
“We’ll start making plans to invade Chicago right away,” he said. “It’ll take a few weeks to get everything in order.”
My heart raced, panic growing until it overtook the pain.
“What? I can’t wait that long.”
“Well, son, it takes time to strategize and set up a good plan. Rome wasn’t built in a day. I’m sure you understand, after all the scheming you’ve done over the years to build your impressive and might I add now more secure empire.”
“Your timeline doesn’t work. Valentina will be in Moscow by then—or dead.”
“If that’s the case, your heroic tale becomes a tragedy, and the effect will be even stronger.
Of course, if you can’t wait, you can go in on your own.
You won’t have the Commission behind you if you fail, and Chicago will have the right to kill you.
If you succeed, well, that’s another story entirely, isn’t it? ”
This motherfucker.
Suddenly, even through the haze of pain and panic, his plan became crystal clear. Lordi never intended to send men to Chicago. Oh, he wanted Chicago, but he wasn’t man enough to take it himself. He wanted me to run a little errand first, to see how well I fared before making a move.
If my mission failed, he would have plausible deniability. More than that, by giving him my finger, I’d made it easy for him to claim he hadn’t sanctioned my barbaric act while pointing out he’d punished me for going in the first time.
Then, as a member of the Commission, all my business interests, my assets, my allegiances, everything I had, became property of the Commission, including Benedetta and the empire that came with her.
There wouldn’t be a damn thing anyone could do to save my legacy and my son’s inheritance.
Ah, but if I succeeded, the son of a bitch would probably march right into Chicago the next day.
Every scenario provided Edgardo Lordi with a win. The whole scheme would cost him nothing. Depending on the choice I made and how well it went, it could cost me everything.
He grinned. “Let me know what you decide to do.”
“You know what I’ll do,” I growled.
He nodded, taking his shit-eating grin with him into the restaurant, and the remaining council members filed out of the room behind him. All but one.
Angelo Medico stared at me.
I needed to leave, but I didn’t know if I could walk without stumbling. This guy needed to get out, so I could give it a shot.
“Something on your mind, Medico?”
Instead of heading for the fucking door, he took a seat.
“What are you going to do?”
“What’s it to you?” I asked.
“Nothing, really. None of it affects me personally. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
Angelo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His youthful, curious expression indicated he might be deciding whether he should trust me.
He shouldn’t.
If I could get the fuck out the door without falling on my face, I would walk away from this guy. But I needed a few minutes for the come down from the adrenaline and for the pain to ease enough for me to function.
“How much do you know about my father?” he asked.
“Not much.”
He nodded, looking around the room as if to make sure no one was lurking in the shadowed corners to listen in.
“You know this room is bugged,” I said.
He waved that fact away.
“When are you going to Chicago?”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” I said.
“Flying commercial?”
“Might have to if my second can’t get a charter large enough for my men on such short notice.”
I’d never bothered with my own since I rarely left the city.
“Use my plane. Nothing special, but it’ll fit ten men. It’s housed at a private airstrip about forty-five minutes outside of the city. I can arrange a flight in minutes. Just need to know what time you want to take off.”
I studied him. “What do you want from me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what the fuck do you want from me? Nothing comes without a price. So what’s yours?”
Angelo shrugged. “How about dinner.”
I couldn’t have heard that right.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, when you get back, invite me to dinner at your home, so we can talk business privately.”
“Why my home?”
“Because, like you said, the walls in these restaurants have ears. And right now I’m unsure about who I can trust even in my own home.
Give me one hour of your time, that’s all I ask.
We discuss a little business, and if we come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, great. If not, we part as friends.”
“So you’re saying you’ll lend me your plane just for sitting through your timeshare pitch?”
Angelo laughed. “That about sums it up.”
He pulled out his phone and held his QR code against my screen, putting his contact information into my phone.
“Text me with the time you’d like the pilot to be ready for takeoff, and I’ll set it up. Hell, I’ll even throw in some SUVs at the airstrip in Chicago.”
“Fuck that. It’s not safe to use rented vehicles in a city where you’re not permitted to visit,” I said.
“I use a private security service,” he said, implying it might be the simplest thing in the world to do.
Maybe so, but I didn’t trust him.
Still, I needed to get to Val before it was too late, and he only wanted a brief sit down at my home in return. If he pulled anything at that time, I would just kill him.
I checked the time. Already 7:30 p.m.
“It takes forty-five minutes to get to the airstrip?”
Angelo nodded.
“Have the plane ready for me by 9:00 p.m.”
I got on my feet for the first time since Lordi’s hack job.
Light-headed, a bit unsteady, but the haze cleared quickly.
I extended my left hand and grasped Angelo’s for a firm shake, shoved my arms into my jacket sleeves, and walked into the restaurant like nothing had ever happened.
Tony sat in a red faux-leather booth with an untouched glass of wine in front of him. When he saw me, his face twisted, and he jumped up from the bench seat. Then his expression went from concerned to murderous in less than ten seconds.
I must have looked as bad as my fucking hand felt.
“What the fuck happened in there, Stef?”
I walked past him. “Not here, Tony. In the car.”
We made a quick stop to get our weapons before exiting through the side door. Tony started the Maybach’s engine while staring at me in the rearview mirror.
“You gonna tell me what happened? Because I gotta say, boss, my trigger finger’s very fucking itchy right now.”
I leaned back against the cool leather seat, realizing my jacket had soaked through with sweat.
“We’re officially part of the Commission.”
He turned and stared in horror at my butchered hand.
“Since when is a finger the price of admission?”
“Asshole could only handle the tip,” I said.
We grinned at each other like childish idiots.
“As much practice as that fat fuck’s had, you’d think he could take more than that.”
I nodded. “Food and water, Tony… find me a burger. Do you know where the Jamaica Bay airfield is located?”
He accelerated and peeled away from the curb.
“Yeah, Brooklyn, just off the lower belt.”
“That’s where we’re headed. Call and get eight of our best men to meet us there, fully armed, with as much tactical gear as they can carry. A weapon for me as well.”
“We’re flying into Chicago tonight?”
“Not we, Tony. I’m taking the men with me, and I need you to stay behind in New York.”
“What? Boss, I should be with you.”
Of course, I knew Tony would be unhappy about staying behind. But I needed him to protect the estate in case Lordi thought about doing something stupid while I was gone. Or if something happened to me, I couldn’t trust anyone else with my son. I didn’t want the Commission raising my boy.
“You’re my second-in-command. I need you here to protect my interests while I’m gone.”
“But boss?—”
“That’s an order, Tony. I need you to take care of Enzo. You’re the only person I can trust with my son.”
His jaw flexed as he bit back his urge to argue with me.
“I don’t like it, not covering your back, goddamn it, but yes, I got it. I know how much you love the boy.”
Christ, it had become so obvious.
I swallowed back a swell of emotion.
“I need you to work on something else while I’m gone.”
“Whatever you need,” Tony said, his eyes on the street.
“Dig up everything on Angelo Medico. When I get back, he and I will have a sit-down at the house. I want to know who I’m bringing into my home.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Absolutely everything. Look into his father as well. I don’t know if Victor retired or if he’s dead. Maybe the kid killed him. Talk to the maids and anyone Angelo fucks.”
“Got it. Consider it done.”
No sooner had the words had come out of his mouth, he crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Heading south, he made his way around Prospect Park, hit the first burger joint in our path, then continued south to the airfield.
I needed the red meat, and the carbs and fat from the fries would help keep me stable, so I scarfed down my food while Tony made calls to round up the men.
It would be a long fucking night.
Finally, we pulled onto the small airstrip, where the plane already waited, and Tony checked his watch for the time.
“The men will be here in less than twenty,” Tony said.
We got out to stretch our legs and fill our lungs with the brisk evening air while waiting for the men to pull up beside us.
Eight men… and one boy climbed out of two SUVs.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“What the fuck is my child doing here?”
“He wouldn’t let us leave without him, sir,” Bruce said.
“He’s nine years old,” I shouted.
Yes, I knew exactly what he’d put them through, and why they gave in. Been there. Done that.
Enzo marched in my direction, the cold breeze lifting his curls, making them appear like a halo.
“You’re taking me.”
“No, I’m not,” I gritted out. “Get in the car with Tony. He’s staying with you.”
The kid stomped his fucking foot.
“I’m going to get my mama.”