Chapter 11 Vin
Vin
Ifish a crumpled pack of cigarettes from my back pocket, the cellophane crackling as I tap one free and light it. Matti works over one of Aurelio’s men, blood spattered across the concrete, as I exhale smoke into the air between us and watch.
This should be satisfying, but it’s not. This war is taking a fucking toll. Usually, there’s nothing I love more than pummeling the shit out of some asshole stupid enough to pledge loyalty to my father instead of me and my brothers. Today? I can’t keep my fucking head in the game. I’m distracted.
Sophie is distracting.
Matti hits the guy with a vicious knee to the gut, and the asshole crumples groaning, his breath whistling through broken teeth.
Grabbing him by his sweat-soaked shirt, Matti hauls him up and gets in his face. “Where the fuck is your boss, bitch? Where’s Aurelio hiding?”
It’s the food. Has to be. Really good food is just as good as really good pussy, and Sophie’s food is in-fucking-credible. That Opalescent basil pesto, those sfogliatelle that practically fucking melt in your mouth—yeah, it’s just the food that’s got me fucked up.
“VIN!”
I snap back to the present. Matti is staring at me, the guy hanging from his grip like a rag doll. “Bro, do you have anything you want to ask him?”
I shake my head, taking a long drag. “You’ve got it.”
Matti squints at me, that fucking look that says he wants to run his mouth. I wave him back toward our guest, and Matti slams him against the brick wall hard.
Could be the ass too. God knows I’m an ass man, and Sophie’s ass is a fucking masterpiece, huge and round and fuckable. And those shorts—Jesus Christ. Any red blooded straight male would be distracted by that woman’s ass.
But honestly, otherwise, she’s not my type at all. So maybe it’s just that I haven’t fucked my usual type in a few days that is making Sophie’s ass live in my head rent free.
The guy’s head lolls forward, his consciousness slipping. Matti’s questions are bouncing off him unanswered, so I put my cigarette out on his cheek to wake him up.
He screams as the red embers blacken his skin and I smirk, flicking the butt off his forehead.
“That woke you up, didn’t it, fucker?” Matti laughs.
I grip his face, forcing his glassy eyes to meet mine. Snot, tears, and spit dribble onto my hand and I grimace, letting go and wiping the mess on his shirt. “Now answer the mother fucking question: where the fuck is Aurelio? Where’s he hiding?”
The guy coughs, spitting blood. His words come out garbled, slurred. “I—I don’t know where he is. Nobody’s seen him for weeks. But he’s—” he coughs and spits blood. “He’s gunning for you. All of you. Especially you, Vin.”
“No shit,” I mutter, tapping another cigarette out of my pack and lighting it. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“He’s—” The guy gasps, trying to pull air into his lungs. “He’s bringing in reinforcements. Old school guys.”
Matti and I trade a glance. What the fuck does that mean? Aurelio killed all the old school guys early on when he took over. There’s no one left, so this is either a lie or he’s talking about non-Italians that Aurelio knew back in the day.
“Who? Who is he bringing in? You mean he’s working with them or they’re working for him?”
The guy hangs his head, blood and snot dripping from his nose. “I don’t know the details except they’re people he knew way back, before you were born. Back when the Bellamortes were running things.”
Matti slaps him awake as he starts to pass out. “Are they working for him or with him?”
“He’s calling in favors. That’s all I know.”
“Bullshit,” I snort, smoke jetting from my nostrils. “Any old school guy who knows Aurelio is either dead or so far removed they wouldn’t touch this war with a 10-foot pole.”
My father is a crazy fuck, and he has almost no allies, just tentative partnerships brokered on deals that me and my brothers have to fulfill, like the work we’re doing with the Irish to gain access to the ports.
Aurelio made a bunch of deals with the Irish boss, and none of us even know what they are.
Not even the younger Irish guys that I hang out with or Patrick Donovan, the Irish politician that Tommy and Giovanna have been working with to iron out the details.
“I’m telling you what I heard!” The guy is practically screaming, hoarse and desperate. “He’s reaching out to anyone who owes him. Could be hiding with one of them. I don’t know where, couple different places, maybe. Brooklyn, maybe the Bronx. Maybe Jersey. Nobody knows for sure.”
Matti looks at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for my decision.
I stub out my cigarette. “Take him to the Edge. Get everything else he knows. Every name, every location, every fucking rumor.”
Matti gives me a quick nod and drags the guy toward our van, the asshole’s feet scraping across concrete, smearing blood behind him like a snail’s trail.
When the door slams shut and Matti pulls off, I pace in the silence and think, cigarette dangling from my lips, head spinning.
If it’s true, if Aurelio really is reaching out to the old guard, we’re looking for a needle in a fucking haystack.
Italian guys? Not likely but possible. And which ones?
The ones who worked directly under the Bellamortes before Aurelio staged his coup?
Or guys from other families he built alliances with back then? The Irish? Albanians? Russians?
My father’s been in the game for more than 40 years.
That’s a lot of handshakes, a lot of deals, a lot of bodies buried together.
And even though I’ve been working with him for over 20 of those years, I’m not going to lie: I didn’t pay more attention than necessary to how he did things and who he worked with.
I call Tommy. He picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”
“We got intel. Aurelio’s calling in old school favors. Guys from when he was coming up, before he took over.”
Tommy’s quiet for a beat. “Old school like how old?”
“Like when the Bellamortes were still in charge. Thirty-plus years ago.” I pause, and roll my eyes. We did just beat the shit out of this guy, so who knows how solid the intel even is. “Allegedly.”
Tommy groans. “That’s way before our time. Way before.”
“Exactly why I’m calling you.” I take a drag off my cigarette and exhale slowly. “Lorenzo.”
“What about him?” Tommy’s voice is tight, and I don’t need to ask why. Lorenzo Marino is Giovanna’s father and has done nothing but make Tommy’s life hell for years.
“He’s the first person who came to mind that was a former associate of Aurelio’s and is still alive.”
“Yeah, but—” Tommy pauses. I hear Giovanna’s voice in the background, soft and questioning. He murmurs something to her before coming back on the line. “Lorenzo’s been in Boston with his girlfriend since her mom left him. He’s not exactly in the loop anymore.”
“You sure about that?”
“Pretty sure. Giovanna talks to him every now and then. He’s focused on his new relationship, trying to rebuild. I don’t think Aurelio could pull him back in even if he wanted to.”
I stub out my cigarette against the wall, grinding it harder than necessary. “Then I don’t know where the fuck to start. I can’t just start reaching out to random old-timers hoping one of them knows something. One wrong move and we’re going to tip Aurelio off that we’re onto him.”
Tommy hums, thinking. “What about Catarina?”
“Giovanna’s mom? What about her?”
“She’s younger than Aurelio, but she was around when the power shift happened.
She’s from a mafia family herself and was good friends with our mother when Aurelio killed his father and grandfather and took out Siena’s dad and the other capos.
She saw the whole transition. She might remember who Aurelio was close to back then. Who he trusted.”
It’s not a bad idea. Catarina’s smart, observant. And she has no love for Aurelio, not after everything he put her family through.
“Could work,” I admit. “Think she’d talk?”
“For Giovanna? For her grandkids?” Tommy’s voice softens. “Yeah. She’d talk.”
Grandkids. Fuck, I keep forgetting that Tommy and Matti are about to be fathers. I unlock my car door with a click of my keys and slide in the driver’s seat.
“Alright. Set it up. Sooner the better.”
“Will do. Though honestly, this would all be a lot easier if we could just find Aurelio and put a bullet in his skull.”
“No shit. Where are we on that?” I start the car and let it idle as the call switches from my phone to the car audio.
“Valentina’s working her sources. My hacker too. But Aurelio’s buried deep, Vin, deeper than we thought.”
“Keep on it. And Tommy?” I pause, making sure he’s listening.
“Stay vigilant. Check in regularly, and make sure everyone’s safe.
We don’t know who Aurelio’s got working for him now, and if he’s bringing in old players, the rules might be different, especially in your camp if one of them is your future father-in-law. ”
“Copy that. Where you staying, anyway? Matti mentioned something about Siena’s cousin?”
I glance down at the empty insulated lunch bag on the passenger seat next to me, the one Sophie packed for me this morning after making me eggs. I devoured every bite before noon even though I was stuffed from breakfast. And now my stomach’s growling again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter.
“Vin—”
“I said don’t worry about it. I’m good. You just worry about keeping Giovanna safe, and I’ll worry about me, okay?”
I rip out of the parking lot and hang up before he can push further.
I should be strategizing right now, tracking down leads, making calls, coordinating with my brothers. Should be doing literally anything other than what I’m about to do.
I set course for the Arsenal, thinking about Sophie’s red cheek this morning. She didn’t say it, but I’d bet my ass that that fuck Rocco had something to do with it. I should make sure he didn’t come back to fuck with her.
She’s practically family, which makes her my responsibility. I need to at least make sure she’s safe. That’s all this is.
And I’m hungry. She could use a paying customer who’s not some 70-year-old man paying way too much attention to her.
I pull into the parking lot and get out of the car, pocketing my phone, as I click the keys to lock the car and head to the front door of the Arsenal.
It’s just lunch. Nothing more.