Chapter 6
Patrick is staring at the city from one of the two floor-to-ceiling windows in my corner office when I walk in. He’s a big man, slightly taller than my six feet four inches, but bulkier. Yet he still manages to pull off a tailored suit better than me. Perhaps because he grew up in this world, surrounded by ruthless business tycoons. I once asked him if he was born wearing a suit. He very dryly replied, “Yes.”
“I hate this fucking city. Everything’s manmade,” he complains.
Guess the business part is just on the outside today.
“When did you start feeling this way?” I give him a side-glance and sit behind my desk.
“I’ve always felt it.”
“Leave,” I tell him. “I’m sure I can manage.”
“Since you joined the Sinacore Alliance, you’ve been flighty.” Finally, he moves away from the window, and drops into the chair across from me. “Someone has to make sure this place is running smoothly in your absence.”
I focus my attention on him. “You’re awfully sour this morning. Who shit in your coffee?”
He sighs and wipes a heavily tattooed hand down his face. “Sheila and I had a fight last night. Says I spend so much goddamned time here, it’s like I’m married to the casinos instead of her.”
“You are the VP, Pat. The casinos are your life.”
As if I didn’t just speak, he continues, “So I promise her I’ll take next week off. Then I get here and the first thing I have to deal with is some asshole from the alliance demanding a meeting with you. Which means you’ll be absent again and you know we can’t both be off.”
No, we can’t both be off. Not with the threat of the Ferryman looming over me. All Gideon Black has to do to destroy me is destroy my lifework. The Red.
Frowning, I ask, “What alliance asshole?”
“Marco Tadesco.”
“He isn’t part of the alliance,” I say thoughtfully, wondering what the son of Giuseppe Tadesco wants from me.
Several months ago, Giuseppe Tadesco, Chicago’s Don, was found in a dirty hotel room in New Jersey, splayed out naked, his gut sliced from groin to sternum. A 2009 penny was placed over each of his eyes. Not long after, Bryan McKenzie, boss of the McKenzie gang in Boston, was found in the same manner.
Though the pennies were a mystery at first, Tony Sinacore, then godfather of the ruling family in New York, made the connection between the murders and a man named Stephen Black. He tried to call in the families he believed were in danger. But it wasn’t until after his death, when his younger brother, Luca, took over, that the families answered that call.
The men poised to take over some of the largest criminal organizations on the East Coast, Marco, along with Noah Esposito, Rowan Kane, Arran Maxton, Jorge Ruiz and myself came together at Briar House, Luca’s home in Todt Hill in New York.
We sat around the dining room table, with Luca at the head. “Have you heard of the Ferryman? He worked under Tadesco in Chicago for years, growing his power right under his nose. They called him the Ferryman because he was a smuggler. The mark he left on anyone he killed was?—”
“Pennies,” Noah Esposito finished for him.
Documents containing all of Luca’s research were set before us. They showed how Stephen eventually grew too powerful, infiltrating territories and incurring the wrath of the players he affected.
Francesco Gianni, Giuseppe Tadesco, Sergio Ramos, Clive Maxton, Bryan McKenzie and my brother, Sean. In 2009, those six ruthless men came together to take him out.
Recently, the killings began anew. Everyone involved in Stephen’s murder became a target. The ones that died at the hand of the Ferryman were found with 2009 pennies over their eyes, a clue as to why it was happening and who was responsible. Anyone who dared to replace them became the new target.
“If Stephen Black is dead, who’s killing Dons?” Noah, who has recently taken over the Gianni family in New Jersey, asked.
“His son,” Gunn Sinclair, Luca’s right-hand man, replied. “Gideon Black.”
Everyone watched Luca with narrowed gazes full of distrust.
Rowan Kane was to first to speak. “How do we know this isn’t all some made-up bullshit? I never heard of a Ferryman.”
“Exacly,” Jorge Ruiz, Ramos’s cousin, piped in with his heavy accent. “How do I know jou aren’t the guan behin oll thees. I never heard of a Ferymen.”
Luca glanced between the two. “I’m not behind anything. My own brother was killed by this asshole. His bitch attacked Ray’s place and nearly took out Gunn,” he said, referring to Gideon’s own assassin, Scarlet.
Gunn’s head snapped up. “She didn’t come out smelling like roses, dick.”
Arran, owner of the Maxton Pierce Auction House in Philadelphia that serves as a front to their actual business— selling stolen artifacts, among other things, on the black market— sat forward thoughtfully. “Which, coincidentally, made you king of New York.”
Luca smiled at him. “My brother didn’t have to die for me to control this city. It was mine long before that, and everyone in this fucking room knows it.”
“I heard about the Ferryman,” Noah said. “Tony came to me after he attempted to reach Joaquin. He believed I’d be more reasonable than him or Renzo.”
“Were you?” Luca gritted his teeth. It was understandable he was upset that his brother was seen as paranoid, when in fact, we should have all listened. I should have listened.
“My father had just been killed,” Noah replied. “The timing wasn’t right. But I did listen.”
“Did he tell you anything that isn’t in these documents?” Luca’s uncle, Ray, asked.
“He was trying to determine why Stephen Black was taken out,” Noah told him. “I agreed to speak to Joaquin after I buried my father. Didn’t get the chance. I ended up having to bury him too.”
“The better question is, why the fuck did it take so many of them to kill one man?” Marco, who has refrained from any activity that could mark him as anything in Chicago, scratched the scruff on his chin.
I stared at him for a moment, and though I didn’t realize it then, it was the first time his weakness became evident to me. There was just an air of cowardliness that surrounded him and made him distasteful to me.
In the end, only Luca, Gunn, Noah, Rowan and I committed ourselves to the Sinacore alliance. We committed our resources and our lives to ending Gideon’s terror.
Marco wanted nothing to do with it.
“He said he was part of it,” Patrick assures me, bringing my attention back to him.
“And what did you tell him?”
“That I’d pass the message along. So now that I did, should I plan on cancelling my plans with Sheila?”
“Can’t you buy her something nice to make her happy? Bring her to the club, champagne’s on us. Women like that sort of shit.”
He narrows his green eyes on me. “How can you be so fucking smart and know nothing at the same time? Not all women are like that.”
“My experiences have been different. They all need two things two keep them happy.” I lift two fingers. “A good fuck and expensive gifts.”
“Then you need a different type of woman. It’s possible you might lose all your money someday. Damn guarantee your dick won’t work at some point. Then what?”
It takes me a moment to respond, my thoughts going instantly to Andie. Though I don’t know why. My dick is definitely involved when it comes to her and it was my money that got her into the position she’s in.
“I’ll call Marco,” I say, my mind still on the sexy blonde in my house. “But you don’t need to change your plans. I’m not going anywhere for the next few weeks.”
“Good.” He slaps a folder onto my desk. “Now, we need to discuss the proposed new security protocols.”
* * *
After Patrick addresses every detail of our business to his satisfaction, he goes to visit our other locations that fall under the Red Trust umbrella. Although he urges me to tag along, I have an important call to make.
“Any idea what Marco Tadesco wants with me?” I ask Luca.
He sighs, his breath hitting the receiver loud and clear. “He came to Briar House yesterday. Pissed Carina off that he showed up unannounced. I thought she was going to have him shot on the spot.”
“What did he want?”
“To join the alliance. Says he’s ready take Chicago back.”
I huff. “Now that we’ve done the hard work he wants in. What did you say?”
“Carina is opposed to it. Not once has he provided aid when we needed it.”
“I agree.”
“Well, it’s not just up to her and you. It must be put to vote. I assume that’s why he wants to talk to you. He wants you on his side.” There’s a pause, as if he’s giving me time to take that in. “What are your thoughts on that?”
Even though he can’t see me, I shrug. “That’s not likely to happen. Especially since I don’t have time for him.”
“Who the fuck does? I’ve got my hands full here and Carina is dedicating her time to getting Arran to officially join the alliance.”
“Good luck with that,” I smirk. “I’ve heard he’s as stubborn as his old man.”
“She insists he’ll cave. Gideon is searching for his father, and Arran is keeping him well hidden for now. But eventually, he’ll run out of secret locations. The safest bet is with the alliance.”
I think about that for a moment. He’s right. Between all of us, we can keep Clive Maxton hidden. That is, as long as Gideon doesn’t figure out which one of us has him.
“Keep me informed,” I say, and in spite of what I’ve just told Patrick, I add, “If you need me, I’ll be there.”
As if on cue, the moment I hang up, my assistant, Mason, calls on the landline. “Sir, a Mr. Tadesco is insisting he speak with you.”
“You have him on the phone now?”
“Yes, sir,” he says. “He’s already called twice this morning.”
“Get his number and tell him I’ll message him later. I have a meeting to—” I glance at my watch and stop midsentence when I notice the pink hair tie peeking out from under my wristband. Instantly, my mind goes to the top floor, to the guestroom and the woman lying in bed.
I told her I’d be back around seven, and it’s just past noon. Seven fucking hours to go.
“Sir?” Mason urges. “Mr. Tadesco. What would you like me to tell him?”
Still staring at Andie’s hair tie, I say, “Tell him it’s going to be a very busy week for me.”