by L. K. Shaw
“You said that he only wants power and money. What about territories? Would that not give him both if he were to take over more areas of Brooklyn?” I ask.
“Maybe. It depends on the area,” Jacob says.
“Polish territory is comprised of two sections of Brooklyn—Greenpoint and Greenwood Heights—right?” I don’t wait for their response. “Where is all the money at in Greenpoint?”
The idea has slowly been coming to me since the meeting at Empire, but it seems a little farfetched. Which is why I haven’t brought it to anyone’s attention.
Both men are silent. Jacob’s expression changes from thoughtful to interested. “They’ve recently finished a revitalization project of the entire East River waterfront and completed the construction of high rise apartment buildings. Real estate in that area is booming right now.”
“Exactly. If he’s going to rescue the women they’re holding, that means going to war and taking over Greenpoint. Once they’re defeated, Donnelly could easily step into the realty business and increase his profit by millions of dollars,” I point out. “The only territory they’d have left is Greenwood Heights, and three-fourths of that is made up of the cemetery. Which the Irish could easily keep in business.”
“Greenpoint is also bordered on both side by Williamsburg and East Williamsburg. It gives us the added benefit of essentially squeezing them in,” Pierce adds.
“It also means that finding where the women are being held would be that much easier. Wójcik may be more willing to negotiate an exchange knowing that he’s fighting a losing battle,” I add.
Jacob nods slowly. “I’m impressed. You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
“I guess,” I say with nonchalance. No sense getting too cocky.
“Let me talk to Cormac and get his take on it. I’ll let him present it to Colm, since it will be better coming from his own family instead of us. I’m sure Donnelly would dismiss the idea just out of spite if he knew one of those Italians had come up with the idea,” Jacob says with sarcasm.
From what I understand, the leader of the Irish still hasn’t forgiven him for threatening his life on Brenna’s wedding day after her grandfather had slapped her. That is one thing the Italians don’t tolerate: abusive spouses. I can respect that position.
“Why were you discussing Francesca before I walked in?” I ask, trying to catch them off guard.
Both men jerk at the question and their expressions close.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Pierce growls.
“I’m making it my business,” I tell him. “Anything related to her is, in fact.”
Jacob scowls. “I’d be careful with your tone.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your subordinates,” I warn. “Not when it comes to Francesca.”
“Finally manning up and making a claim, huh?” Pierce’s sarcasm cuts through the air like a razor.
“I’ve made my intentions towards her known.”
Her brother smirks. “What are your intentions?”
“That’s between her and me,” I say.
Pierce moves from his position until he’s directly in front of me. He leans down, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair on either side of me, and gets right in my face. “If you hurt her in any way, I don’t care whose blood flows through your veins, I will personally see that you suffer. Right before I put you in the ground. Do you understand?”
I don’t move my gaze from his. I won’t be intimidated by him, regardless of his threats. “Understood.”
He starts to rise, but my next words stop him cold. “As long as you understand that your petty aggressiveness when it comes to Francesca and me is getting old. I have no problem meeting you at Gallo’s and knocking you on your ass if you don’t accept the fact that your sister is mine now.”
Pierce’s jaw clenches and the sound of his teeth grinding is almost audible. I don’t flinch or shift in my seat. He needs to understand I’m not joking. Our stare down continues until finally, he jerks upright and storms out of the office.
“You must have a death wish,” Jacob says after a few tense seconds.
I turn back to meet his gaze with a questioning glance.
“You’re half lame and threatening Pierce for a round at Gallo’s? One of those bullets the Russians put in you must have lodged in your brain somewhere and caused stupidity. “ He shakes his head.
“Men will do a lot for the women they care about,” I say.
A speculative gleam reaches his eyes, but he doesn’t say more than, “Yes, they will.”
It’s none of my business, and I’m sure I’ll catch flak about it, but I can’t stop myself. “Did you tell Brenna about us being brothers?”
“I told her Sal was your father. That’s not something I would keep from my wife.”
But not that we’re brothers. Apparently, Jacob isn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. Not to his own men. Not to his wife. Probably not even to himself. It’s dumb of me to think that he’ll just accept me with open arms. I brush off the hurt.
“Was there a reason you asked me to stop by today? I’m sure it wasn’t to try and unnerve me,” I say drily.
“I invited you because you said you wanted a chance to prove yourself. I’m giving you that chance.”
“By having me attend private meetings with you and Pierce? Because while I appreciate the opportunity, this doesn’t do jack shit to show the rest of the captains and soldiers that I’m an asset to the family.”
Jacob leans forward in his seat and despite the fact he’s sitting, there’s power in his move. “I’d be more concerned with proving to Pierce that you can be an asset. He’s the one you’re going to have the hardest time convincing.”
“Why? Because he’s threatened I might take over his position as second-in-command?” I snap.
He laughs. “Pierce is my best friend. We’ve been inseparable for as long as you’ve been alive. Despite that, he doesn’t give a shit about his position within this family or our entire organization.” Jacob sits back in his chair. “We care about each other as brothers do, but the one person that he loves more than anyone in this world, next to Mila, is Francesca. Don’t take his threat idly. If you hurt her in any way, he will destroy you. Make no mistake.”
“I have no intention of hurting her,” I say.
“See that you don’t. I’d hate to gain a brother only to see him get killed.”
Chapter 13
Francesca
* * *
Excitement thrums through me. I need to call Gio and tell him the news. First, though, I have to work up the nerve. I can’t believe how anxious I am. There isn’t any alcohol in my system to provide some liquid courage, either. I glance at the clock, biting my thumbnail and pacing the living room in indecision. It’s way too early to drink anyway.
“Breathe,” I say out loud, then feel ridiculous talking to myself.
It’s just a phone call. One I’ve made plenty of times before. Just pick up your cell and tap the screen. That’s it. Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the stupid device off the end table and hit Gio’s name.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I stutter just slightly at his husky greeting.
“How’s it going?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m good.” There’s a smile in his answer. “You sound weird. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just calling to say hi. See how you’re doing,” I babble, nibbling the ends of my hair in a nervous gesture.
“I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re both fine.” Gio chuckles. “Now, tell me what’s got you acting weird.”
I smack myself on the forehead. Stop being such a dingbat. “I found a photography class.”
“That’s fantastic,” he says with sincere excitement that comes across the line.
“Yeah, it’s through NYU. The instructor is a visiting professor from Ecuador on some type of education exchange program.
She seems to be everything I’ve been looking for.”
“I’m really happy for you. I know you’re going to do well. I can’t wait to see what kind of pictures you take. You still haven’t shown me any of your photographs, you know,” he huffs.
That’s because they’re not nearly good enough. I want them to be perfect before I show anybody. “They’re not high quality,” I say.
“Do you think I care about that?” Gio scoffs. “You took them, so they’re going to be beautiful.”
“You’re only saying that.” I’m secretly pleased at the compliment, even if it’s not necessarily true.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
I wave off his words, even though he can’t see me. “Anyway, the class starts Monday.” This is the part that makes me shake. “I thought maybe I could cook us dinner and celebrate. You know, if you wanted to come over.”
When I was younger, I never had any issues with asking a guy out. He either said yes or he didn’t. It wasn’t that big a deal. But asking Giovanni over for a home-cooked meal feels huge. Momentous even.
“I would love to,” he says.
My heart skips a giddy beat. “How about Friday at seven?”
“It’s a date.”
I love the way he says that, his voice deep and rumbling. It skitters over my skin leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Thank god that’s out of the way.
“So, how are things going with you and Jacob?” I ask.
Brenna had called to tell me that he’d met with him and Pierce yesterday at the townhouse. She’d forced herself not to eavesdrop, which I guess has become a habit of hers. She says it’s the only way she can find out about things half the time.
“I guess they’re all right. We’re still figuring everything out, so there’s some awkwardness between us. More than there has ever been.”
“I’m sorry. It certainly has to be a shock for both of you.” It came as a shock to all of us.
“He’s invited me to a few meetings. As a way for me to have a chance at earning the men’s respect.”
“That’s good. I’m sure you’ll win them over before no time,” I tell him.
Gio chuckles. “I’m glad one of us has faith in my abilities.”
“If you can say my pictures are beautiful without even seeing them, then I can say that the men will look up to you before you know it.”
“I appreciate that,” he says.
There’s a lull in the conversation, which gets me thinking. “Anything interesting happen at those meetings?” I ask.
Giovanni’s silent for several more seconds. “Not really anything I should probably talk about,” he says with some hesitance.
There’s a twinge of guilt for putting him on the spot like that. Pierce would kill me if he found out. I take a mental step back. As much as I want to push, it’s not fair of me to try and use any influence I might have. Not when his relationship with Jacob is so tenuous.
“I understand.”
Giovanni’s relief is almost tangible over the phone. “I did have an interesting conversation with your brother, though.”
That peaks my interest and makes me just the slightest bit nervous. “Oh? What about?”
“You. Me,” he says.
“I’m sure Pierce had some overprotective big brother stuff to threaten you about.” He was bad enough in high school scaring off anyone who came to pick me for a date. I can’t imagine what he’s said to Gio.
“I think we both know where the other stands.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“He threatened to kill me if I hurt you, and I threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t back off with his passive-aggressive comments about the two of us.”
Mortification nearly swallows me whole. I’ll have a few choice words for Pierce the next time I see him, that’s for sure. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Giovanni asks, seeming to be genuinely confused.
“My brother,” I say with exasperation. “He has no right to threaten you like that.”
“Francesca, it’s fine. He loves you. I’d be more concerned if he hadn’t said he’d kill me. Besides, you’re worthing dying for,” he adds quietly.
My heart lurches, because he already almost died once. I couldn’t take it if Gio was gone from my life forever. “I don’t want you dying for me. I’d rather you live.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “At least for as long as you’ll have me.”
Chapter 14
Giovanni
* * *
I almost regret asking to be included in meetings with the captains of the families. Christ, is this really what being the head of the entire syndicate is about? Fucking paperwork? Moderating petty arguments between this associate and that associate regarding a couple hundred bucks? Attending meeting after meeting to discuss profit margins and payroll?
“You look bored,” Jacob notes, shuffling papers on his desk inside the conference room at Empire.
The last few people left only moments ago, including Pierce, who’d needed to run home for something, making it just the two of us.
“I guess I didn’t realize how, well, boring your job is,” I admit. “If I had any aspirations to take over the syndicate, I’m pretty sure I’ve been cured me of them. I didn’t join the organization for this.”
He throws his head back in laughter. “What did you expect? No matter how much we toe the line between legal and illegal endeavors, we are still a business. Well, perhaps more like a corporation with a lot of smaller businesses within its corporate umbrella. That means a lot of fucking paperwork.”
I recline in my chair. “I guess I’m not sure what I expected. More drug exchanges and weapons purchases.”
There’s no way I’ll admit that I dropped out of high school and the thought of running a business this large terrifies me.
“Oh, those happen, and depending on who the seller is, that’s what the captains and soldiers do. I only attend deals if I have a particular relationship with the dealer. At least when it comes to our arms sales,” Jacob explains. “I tend to leave our other recreational purchases to those who have already built a rapport. Dealers tend to get a bit twitchy when too many players enter the equation.”
It makes sense. “Still, I thought there would be a lot more action and a lot less red tape.”
“Sorry to disappoint. And regardless of whatever else my father was, he knew how to run his businesses. Which, in turn, makes my life easier. At least when it comes to paperwork,” Jacob says.
The intercom on his desk phone buzzes. “Mr. Ricci, an Officer Davenport is downstairs.”
“Send him up.”
I glance at him in surprise, although I’m not sure why. Of course he has law enforcement on his payroll. At least I assume—hope—the cop joining us is an off-record employee and not someone here to give us a hard time. Moments later there’s a knock on the door.
“Enter,” Jacob calls out and rises from his seat to circle the desk.
In steps a dark-haired man wearing jeans and a polo. And much younger than I expected him to be. I imagined a paunchy, aging cop working on padding his retirement with the funds he earns by Jacob lining his pockets. Instead, striding across the room is a young, fit guy probably only a few years younger than the man whose hand he shakes. They turn to me.
“Davenport, this is Giovanni Saccone,” he pauses a beat before continuing, “my half-brother.”
I cast him a sideways glance before standing to also shake the officer’s hand. “A pleasure.”
“You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he says.
At my confusion he continues. “I was at the accident site that night and watched you get loaded onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Glad to see you pulled through.”
That explains things. “Thanks, me too.”
“Have a seat, and tell me why you’re here,” Jacob directs and returns to his
chair, as do I and Davenport.
“I just got wind that a couple of your associates are in lockup. An anonymous tip came in regarding a deal going down and undercover was on scene to make the arrests.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jacob tosses his pen on the desk. “Did they call our attorney?”
The officer nods. “From what I gather. They’re posting bail and should be out in the next few hours.”
“Do you have any idea who this anonymous person is?” I ask. “Or any way to find out?”
“Not really. That’s the whole point of the hotline. People can call in about anything and not have to give their name. The only way they’re not so hidden is if there’s a reward attached to the info. Then we do have a record of the caller,” he explains. “But this wasn’t anything like that. Just a random person giving us enough information for it to appear credible. I can check to see if there was a recording, try and determine if it was a male or female, although it’s doubtful.”
“If the tip was that credible, then it had to have been someone with inside information. Which might mean we have a leak within the organization.” Jacob growls.
“Let’s hope that’s not the case.” Davenport rises from his seat. “I shouldn’t stay too long. Just figured you’d want to know about your men. If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.”
The two men shake hands and the cop heads out, pausing for a moment and glancing over his shoulder.
“Thanks for my gift, by the way. I’m enjoying her immensely,” Davenport says with a smirk before walking out the door and closing it behind him.
My questioning gaze darts to Jacob who catches my eye.
“Gift?” I ask.
“Gianna Romano,” he answers.
I should know that name.
“She was Pierce’s former…acquaintance, and the sister of one of the organization’s associates,” Jacob clarifies. “I don’t take kindly to disrespect. It comes with consequences, which she recently discovered by disrespecting both my cousin and Mila at my wedding reception. I couldn’t let that stand. Davenport is known in certain circles as possessing a specific skill set. He gets a reward for his services to the organization, and she is kept in check.”