Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Gualtiero
Istand at the edge of the rooftop, the cool night breeze wafting across my skin as I gaze out over the sprawling panorama of the illuminated Chicago skyline.
The city below pulses with life, a sea of twinkling lights stretching into the darkness. Somewhere far beneath me sirens wail, their echoes bouncing between concrete and glass. Traffic hums like a living thing, and the air smells faintly of rain and steel.
This is nothing like Sicily, nothing like home.
The sky above is clear, yet the stars are hidden, their presence masked by the city glow. There is a void where constellations should be. It mirrors the void in my chest, the hollow ache that refuses to ease.
Since Ella ran, I’ve looked up at the stars every single night, sensing she was doing the same. It’s my way of staying connected to her, even when we are miles apart.
“Merda,” I curse.
I need that connection. But since I have been in this city, it keeps slipping through my fingers.
I rake a hand through my hair, then rub the back of my neck, cracking it from side to side. My muscles feel tight, like I’m perpetually on the verge of violence.
It’s as if Ella disappeared from the face of the earth… again.
Freemont’s communication has gone offline. Hardly a surprise after I showed up at Halifax. They know they no longer fool us. Shortly thereafter, they upgraded the security on their systems, locking us out completely.
The fear of never finding her again clamps around my heart. I shove it away immediately.
I will not lose her. It’s not an option.
My hand slides into my pocket, fingers closing around my mother’s ring. I rotate it between my fingertips, the familiar weight grounding me. My breathing steadies, my focus snapping back into place.
Pulling out my phone, I dial Uberto’s number.
“Anything?” I ask the second he picks up.
“Not yet.”
I bite back my frustration. There has to be something.
Before Freemont’s system became impenetrable, Uberto managed to download a list of their safe houses. My men have been checking the ones closest to Halifax while Uberto’s team is trying to get visuals of the others around the country. But they’ve found nothing notable so far.
So we keep working through them one by one. It is slow. Painfully slow.
But I remind myself it’s only a matter of time until my team finds a clue, or Freemont makes a mistake. Everyone does. When they do, I will be ready.
“Keep at it,” I snap, then end the call.
A sound behind me draws my attention. I turn as the glass sliding door opens and Maximo steps out onto the rooftop, two glasses of Scotch in his hands.
This is his place. I arrived yesterday and will be staying here for a few days, close to potential leads and close to family.
Maximo is a year younger than me and heir to the Marcos operations in Chicago. If my uncle’s health continues to decline, he’ll take over as Don by the new year.
“You look like shit,” he says, handing me a glass as we sit on the sofa beside the outdoor fireplace. He flicks a switch, and flames roar to life, pushing back the October chill.
Before I can respond, the door slides open again. Gabe steps outside, grabs a beer from the mini-fridge, and joins us.
“You need more sleep,” he says, his tone calm and diplomatic.
Of the five Marcos brothers, Gabe has always been the most perceptive. On top of that, he’s thoughtful and measured, a rare combination in our world. He’ll make an exceptional consigliere one day.
I wish I had another brother to give that position to. Instead, Antonio Accardi is my only option for now. He is capable, loyal, and respected. But Ella can’t stand him.
It’s a problem. Antonio would spend a significant amount of time at my estate, and I refuse to make her uncomfortable in her own home. There’s another solution, though, one I have been quietly shaping in my mind for some time now.
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “There’s too much keeping me up.”
“And sadly, it’s not your girl,” Maximo adds.
A low growl slips from my chest. It’s all I can manage.
“And that’s exactly why I keep emotions out of relationships,” he continues, unfazed. “They never lead to anything good.”
“We had a misunderstanding,” I reply tightly. “Once I have her back, we’ll sort it out.”
“And she is worth chasing halfway around the planet?” he asks, one brow lifting.
I glare at him. He raises both hands in mock surrender, smirking. He has no idea what Ella and I share, no idea how deeply she’s woven into me.
“Ignore him,” Gabe says. “He is already scouting for a suitable wife for when he becomes Don. Trust me, it won’t be a love match. He doesn’t believe in it.”
“Damn right I don’t,” Maximo says. “All I need a wife for is to look pretty on my arm and give me half a dozen heirs.”
He says it too easily. I study him for a moment, recognizing the careful armor he has built around himself. A man doesn’t speak like that unless he’s terrified of wanting more.
I almost feel sorry for him.
I chuckle instead. “How boring.”
“Uncomplicated,” he counters. “And better for my sleep.”
I shake my head. Maximo is progressive in almost every aspect of the business, except marriage. There, he clings to the old Mafia tradition like a lifeline.
Not long ago, I might have agreed with him. In the obedience department, that is. I always knew I would marry for love, but I underestimated what love would demand of me.
“And you?” I turn to Gabe. “Is your future wife going to be meek and compliant too?”
Color creeps into his cheeks. I’ve never seen him blush before.
“I’m not thinking about marriage,” he says quickly, taking a long pull from his beer.
Interesting.
“Have you already met someone?” I press.
He coughs, beer going down the wrong way. Maximo slaps his back hard, laughing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabe manages. “This one,” he gestures at his brother, “keeps me far too busy.”
“None of us is ever too busy for pussy for a night,” Maximo says. “Although I haven’t seen you with a girl in a while.”
Gabe rubs the back of his neck. “Nothing to tell. I’m just not in the mood.”
Then, turning to me, he changes the subject. “Are you seeing Father in the morning? He is expecting you.”
“Of course,” I say. “I will pay my respects.”
“Maybe you can convince him we need to modernize,” Maximo adds. “You and Mateo managed it.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Gabe says immediately to his brother. “Just play along until you take over.”
Maximo exhales sharply, clearly displeased.
That’s when I notice the blood on his clothes.
“You should have told me you were going to have some fun,” I say. “I could use an outlet.”
He grins. “It was unplanned. The Romeros ambushed us.”
“They’re still giving you trouble?”
“Always. They are the Molinaros of Chicago.”
“Molinaro is no longer a problem,” I say coolly. “His line is almost wiped out.”
“We heard. It was about time.” Max nods in acknowledgment, taking a swig of his drink.
“Did you know his oldest daughter married a Romero?” Gabe asks.
“I did. Papa told me years ago. Scum marrying scum. It fits.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment.
“Need help to get rid of them?” I offer. “I feel the need for blood, and I’ve not got many enemies left to dispose of in Italy.”
Maximo’s eyes gleam. “Il leone, word of your cleanup has traveled.”
“It was overdue.”
I take another sip of Scotch, letting the burn steady me.
“So,” I say, setting the glass down. “Until I get a lead on Ella, I have time. Let’s go hunting.”
Maximo lifts his glass, dark satisfaction curling his mouth.
We clink glasses.
“To a successful hunt,” he says. “Tomorrow. I’ve had enough blood for one night.”