Chapter 16
DEMON
You’re the reason every day is a struggle.
“Kids aren’t something you take on then throw away when it suits you.” Tore thumped up the stairs after me.
“You have quarterly reports to review and hand in. Worry about those instead of my personal life. And get some sleep. I know I would.” I muttered the last part.
“You can’t be serious about this.”
My cousin was giving me a headache with his constant barrage of arguments, especially at one in the morning after a long dinner with the mayor and his guests, including the police chief and the district attorney.
If he continued, I was going to pummel Vinny’s head in for not keeping this information under wraps until we had something concrete.
The paperwork had only been submitted a week and a half ago.
“There are other ways to get the Giambrones off our backs.”
“Off my back.” I shoved my way into my office. “None would be quite as effective, don’t you agree?”
“Pfff.” He nudged the corner of a painting on my wall, pushing the darn thing off-center, so I had to fix it. The irritating cafone—boor—leaned against my doorway and watched, arms crossed. “His daughter’s not bad to look at, you know. I’d tap that ass.”
“You’d fuck anything with three holes. Not the resounding praise you make it out to be.”
“I resent that.”
“Go right ahead.” I rounded my desk and unlocked the top drawer. My mother’s flower of life pendant on my thick gold chain remained exactly where I’d left it. The lights overhead shone off its gold luster. “Shouldn’t you be with one of those conquests right now?”
“This was more important.” I stared at him, deadpan. “Well, this and the meeting with the Greeks. You didn’t think I’d let you do that alone, did you?”
The metal of the necklace settled heavily around my throat, the pendant chilling my skin.
I always wore it when dealing with mafia business as a reminder of what happened to my mother, and I was headed out.
Dimakos had finally called for a meeting, one I’d agreed to on neutral ground near Pier 33, touristy enough to contain any murderous urges, but empty enough at this hour to offer some privacy.
“As my sottocapo, you should stay on the sidelines in case I’m clipped.” I pulled the slide of my gun back, the click and scrape comforting.
Tore flicked his lighter open and closed, the metallic click resounding in the stillness of the night, broken only by the clack of car doors outside from my soldiers preparing for the night ahead.
“As if. Cousins in life and death. Let Vinny take over if the devil takes us.”
I scoffed, strapping a sheathed knife to the back of my pants. “He’d sooner travel the seven levels of purgatory just to drag our souls back than willingly take over. Well, come on then. You can help organize.”
“Sure thing, but…” He pointed at me, clicking his tongue. “This conversation’s not over, daddio.”
Passing him, I slapped his finger aside. “Never. Call. Me. That again.”
“Hey, it’s only fitting if you’re going to have a kid.”
I looked to the ceiling and the heavens it hid for patience. “Sei un caga cazzo.” You’re a pain in the ass. “It’s a wonder you’re so good in business.”
“What can I say? Brains, looks, personality. I’ve got it all. The complete package.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sounds to me like you’re compensating.”
Shaded from moonlight by the overhead canopy, Ilias Dimakos leaned against the railing along the dock for the Alcatraz cruise ships, two goons at his side. The occasional flare of light from the end of his cigar dug deep shadows into his facial lines and highlighted the slight sag of his chin.
“You’re early,” I said, joining him. Soft waves lapped at the dock and boat.
“This is business.” His heavily accented voice dragged, hitting the consonants hard. His gaze never turned away from the small cruise ship in port. “You killed my cousin, young Iannelli.”
“He tried to kill me.”
He snorted. “Is that how you will tell it?”
“Not my problem the truth doesn’t fit the picture you’ve created in your head.”
“The truth. We all make our own. You know, I thought your father too ruthless, too callous, too meticulous, too deceptive. All the reasons I despised him. Also the reasons I worked with him.”
“My father was not an example to follow.”
“We all follow in the footsteps of our elders. One way or another.”
“Respectfully, I disagree.”
The dock rocked gently as the end of his cigar blazed.
“Yes,” Dimakos drew out. “You prefer to chase your tail until you trip. All for someone else to find your beloved sister. Tell me. How does it feel to be so emasculated?”
I squeezed the railing. “I would have thought tossing insults was below you.”
“A simple question, that was all.” Finally, he faced me and tapped his cigar against the railing, ash tumbling into the ocean. “Much less than you did for my cousin.”
“Yes, your cousin.” I pulled myself upright.
My mouth tugged to the side at the way his neck craned for him to meet my eyes.
“Should we discuss the murder of his brother? His attempt on my life? Or the fact that my father, a man you despised, kept detailed records of your numerous dealings?” His mouth parted, and a vein pulsed in his neck.
“Things are never as black and white as expected, especially in this business.”
“You expect me to drop this?” His voice rose.
“Yes.”
“Stathis was like a brother to me.”
I closed the space between us, close enough to taste the tobacco and woodsy reek of his cigar breath.
“Refuse to accept, and this’ll mean war between the Greeks and Italians, and we all know who has more men and connections. A good bloody fight is all it will be for me. But to you,” I whispered, “hidden dealings will also come to light.”
He stepped back. “You’re a real piece of work, Iannelli. Just like your father.”
My teeth gritted. The comparison burned. “I am what I need to be. No better. No worse.”
“I cannot ignore Stathis’ death. Not for me. Not for the family. Appeasing them after Alastor’s death was hard. This will be impossible.”
“Not my problem.”
“There must be recompense.”
I chuckled, amused that he thought I’d give him anything for my own assassination attempt. “I’ve heard you follow a forty-day mourning tradition. For the sake of our past relationship, I’ll give you that. Forty days, that’s how much longer I’ll keep Stathis’ body on ice so you can decide.”
“That is not a negotiation.”
“We both know this never was. This time, no wayward bullets, and we part amicably. Next time? Well, that depends on you.”
My footsteps thumped down the dock.
“Iannelli. This is not how you forge alliances.”
“You and I both know this is exactly where things were headed between our families the moment you arranged Alastor’s death with my father,” I volleyed over my shoulder. “Forty days, Ilias. Think it over.”
“Renzo, forty days is insane,” Tore said as we watched Ilias Dimakos’ car pull away until the taillights blurred. “Do you realize how much they could plan in that time?”
He opened and snapped his lighter.
“As we will. We have the numbers, the firepower. Exactly what we need to keep him firmly in line. Dimakos isn’t an idiot. He’s cornered. He knows it. He’ll retreat.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’ll lose everything. I almost hope he doesn’t.”
“Why?”
“You know what brings people together easier than a good meal?”
“A sports bar with free beer and topless women dancing?”
I prayed for patience. “Scemo coglioncello.” You stupid prick.
“Hey.” He smiled, wide and laid-back, like only he knew how, despite the demands of our jobs. “I resent that, boss.”
“’Course you do.” I rolled my eyes. “We give them a common enemy. No easier and faster way to bring all the capos together than that.”
He nodded, his smile slowly fading. “Good way to keep them distracted too.”
“What the hell should we be distracting them from?”
“The adoption.”
I frowned. If I really was to take on the responsibility of caring for Ms. Burch, it couldn’t or wouldn’t remain a secret. As a woman, there was no risk she would ever be considered my heir either.
“It’ll keep them too occupied to worry what it’ll mean for business with the Giambrones,” Tore added, and it made sense. The Nevada Italian outfit was wealthy and one of our best buyers for drugs, which was one reason my father made a marriage pact.
“You worried?” I asked.
Tore clicked his lighter on and swept his palm through the flame before snapping it shut.
“Nah. Never liked Giambrone, and I’ve heard his daughter’s a pill. Beautiful but hard to swallow. Know what I mean? But…your first year as don hasn’t been easy, and profits are down. It might cause unnecessary friction with the capos if word gets out too soon about the Giambrones.”
“Unless they’re busy with a war.”
Tore nodded. “Precisely.”
“Plan contingencies with Vinny. I’ve got a feeling Dimakos will wait until the last second to give us any news.”
“You got it.”
“Oh, and send Alfie to the Hayes house as a reminder. I want to make sure the Mr. and Mrs. clearly understood my message last week.”
“And that is?”
“They touch those kids again, they’re walking the bridge.”