Revere: A Legacy Novel (Cross + Catherine Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  Catherine let Cross interweave their fingers, and pull her close as they headed for the rusty, dented bay doors of the warehouse. “Why is that?”

  “A few reasons.”

  “So stop being a shit, and give me some.”

  Cross chuckled. “Well, because these places are … safe, I suppose. You never really know if there’s been a wire put in your house or car. You can’t be sure someone isn’t a rat. When you have to discuss sensitive things in a large manner, then it’s best to gather in a place that is definitely untouched by officials.”

  “Okay, but that’s like one reason, Cross. You said a few.”

  “I’m not a Marcello. I’m a Donati man. I’m not comfortable taking up space in Marcello territory to discuss my business, and Marcello men are not entirely keen on coming into Donati territory. We came up with a solution, of sorts.”

  “Which is?”

  Cross waved at the warehouse. “This shitty place is owned by a man of my father’s. So I get the meet on my territory, and the Marcello family are allowed to gather in however high of a number they wanted. The thing about Cosa Nostra is that all made men are—”

  “Honorable,” Catherine murmured.

  He gave her a look.

  She shrugged. “I’ve heard it said a lot over the years. Honor. Integrity. Follow the rules. Be a good made man.”

  Cross nodded once. “Well, yeah.”

  “So, my family won’t disrespect yours by causing a problem on your family’s territory.”

  “And we’ve given them respect by allowing them to gather in such a large number on our territory. That’s how it works, sometimes.”

  “So … enter the warehouse.”

  “The warehouse,” he agreed.

  Cross didn’t release Catherine’s hand as he bent down to grab hold of the bay door, and lift it open. He only lifted it just high enough for Catherine to bend down and slip underneath without much issue. He followed behind, and let the door drop closed with a crashing bang.

  Catherine turned with Cross to face a large opened space, high ceilings that dripped from the last rain, and a cracked, weathered cement floor.

  Plus, men.

  A whole bunch of men.

  Marcello men.

  Her father, uncles, and cousins, Andino and John. There were many faces she recognized standing around the place, too, some gathered in groups and others leaning against the walls. Men that had come and gone from their house over the years. Capos, her father always called them. A few others were simply enforcers that had looked after her, or someone else in their family when needed. That didn’t even include the faces she didn’t recognize.

  Catherine did a quick count.

  Thirty.

  Thirty men.

  Also, one single woman besides her.

  Catherine’s mother stepped to her husband’s side, but seemed entirely disinterested in the scene happening around her. Catrina toyed with a small silver knife as Dante said something to her that was too low for anyone else to hear. Her mother nodded, but her bored expression never changed.

  Cross nodded toward the east wall of the warehouse, and said, “Go stand over there, and let me talk for a bit. Okay?”

  Catherine didn’t entirely like that idea, but since she didn’t understand why she was there to begin with, she did as he told her to. It was only once she was off to the side, and not directly in the line of fire, that the conversation started between the men.

  “Sit, or stand?” Dante asked.

  “I’d prefer to stand,” Cross said.

  “This could take a while.”

  “I doubt it, but I’m fine either way.”

  “Andino, go stand with Cross,” Dante demanded.

  Andino sighed, but pushed off the wall where he stood beside John, and did as Catherine’s father told him. He stood side by side with Cross, although the two men didn’t even look at one another.

  “I’d like to know what happened, from the very start, to the moment you walked onto the tarmac,” Dante said, “and with the both of you like this, I plan on getting the same story, without blanks that need to be filled in.”

  It was interesting to Catherine how every man in the warehouse didn’t seem all that bothered that she, or her mother, were watching a meeting between made men take place. That, and how they all stayed quiet when her father spoke.

  She couldn’t remember a single time when thirty Italian men all stayed quiet at the same time, and let a single man speak.

  “Andino, start talking,” Dante said.

  “The run was already in place,” Andino said, “the guns were almost to port. Our guy got picked up two weeks prior on a trafficking charge, and wasn’t getting out. I had to make that run on time, or we were going to be out the other quarter million on the deal with Rhys.”

  Dante sucked air in through his teeth, looking entirely displeased. “So you went to Cross Donati.”

  “He is a gunrunner.”

  “Sure, but I am quite sure I explicitly forbade you and the rest of my men from working with Cross, did I not?”

  Catherine saw Cross stiffen, but he kept quiet.

  “Our gunrunner was out,” Andino replied tiredly, “and he is going to keep being out, considering he’s still not out of jail. Thirty percent of our business is arms trafficking. The longer guns sit between shipments, the more money we are losing. Hemorrhaging, actually. This deal was massive, and if we lost it, we would lose Rhys as a client anyway. So no, I didn’t really care that you had an opinion about who I decided to run those guns. All that mattered to me was that the guns got moving after they got into port, and hit the drop on time.”

  “Andino.”

  “Cross is the best gunrunner on this continent at the moment. Ask Vegas. Ask Chicago. He worked with the best, and now he’s the only one who exclusively runs their guns. He’s been doing this for almost ten years, and he makes clean runs every single time.”

  “Except this one,” Dante murmured as his gaze turned on Cross. “It was a big run to start fucking up on, let me just say.”

  Still, Cross kept quiet.

  “So what exactly did you gain here, Andino?” Dante asked sharply. “You did cost me the deal. We have most definitely lost Rhys as a client for the future, and you’ve severely pissed me off. So what did you gain?”

  Andino shrugged. “Those are details.”

  “Important details!”

  “You’re not helping,” Cross told Andino.

  “And you,” Dante said, “start talking, Cross.”

  “It’s all been said, I think,” Cross replied.

  “What happened on that boat?”

  Cross’s gaze slid to Catherine, and then quickly went back to Dante. “Rhys sent men who were not regulars, as I’ve run guns for him before. I was below deck with the ones that needed to transfer the weapons from the yacht we had to theirs, and shit happened.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s not really—”

  “One of the guys found me in a part of the boat where he wasn’t supposed to be,” Catherine interjected before Cross could refuse to tell Dante what happened. “I was out of sight, like Cross told me to be to stay safe, but the guy was where he shouldn’t have been, too. He attacked me, so I killed him.”

  Cross’s dark gaze fell on Catherine. Despite his calm demeanor, she could see he still held guilt for what happened. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t hers, either. It just happened—there was little to no morals in most criminals, and she was not surprised that a situation like that came up. There had been a reason why Cross wanted her to stay hidden out of sight, after all.

  Dante let out a harsh breath. “I take it, the others reacted when their man was found.”

  “I couldn’t come back with guns. We already had it worked out with officials at the port to have the boat searched coming back in, but not on the way out. Those guns couldn’t still be in there. The rest is history. I made a choice, and I would make it again if it meant the same
outcome.”

  “I understand that, Cross.”

  Her father looked to her, but quickly went back to the two men.

  “Yet, this is also business, and so we have to figure that bit out, too,” Dante finished quieter. “I have a man who doesn’t seem to understand that when I put restrictions on who he can and cannot work with, he is to follow those. And I have a gunrunner who now owes me a quarter of a million for a run he chose to botch. Not to mention the ruin of a client connection that could have made us millions over time.”

  “For me, though,” Catherine said, “and because of me.”

  Dante held up one hand to his daughter, and she recognized that action as him shushing her without saying a word. His attention stayed on the two men twenty feet away from him. “I do understand why, but that doesn’t negate business.”

  “Of course not,” Cross agreed.

  “Let’s talk business, then, and how you plan to correct what was done.”

  “I can’t correct it; what’s done is done, Dante.”

  “Boss or Don, Cross.”

  “Not mine,” Cross replied. Although, he said it with more respect in his tone than Catherine ever heard him speak to her father.

  “See,” Dante said to Andino, “this is why you were told not to work with him.”

  “And because of Catherine,” Andino replied. “Let’s not forget that piece of information, too.”

  “Yes, well—”

  “You have the best gunrunner in this country at your will right now,” Andino interjected dryly, “and you want to waste time repeating to me the same old, tired rhetoric that literally means nothing. So I did what you told me not to—who fucking cares? It might not have worked out one way, but I see a whole other gain to be gotten at the moment where Cross is concerned. Bind him in; he’s the best, so make sure he only works for you. Don’t you see? This isn’t a bad thing.”

  “I beg your fucking pardon?” Cross asked, staring hard at Andino.

  Catherine’s cousin didn’t even flinch.

  “You want me to take your seat when you decide it’s time for me to do that,” Andino said, uncaringly, “and so you’re going to have to deal with the way I work myself into the position. You’ll have to deal with who I choose to work with. I want the best, so make sure I have him.”

  Dante’s gaze darted back to Cross, and then to Andino. Her father didn’t seem to have an appropriate response to give. Catherine wasn’t entirely sure what just happened, except that somehow, her cousin was doing his manipulating again. She hadn’t realized how good of a manipulator Andino actually was.

  It was frightening.

  Yet, her father seemed … proud.

  “Cross, it seems the ball is currently in your court,” Dante said.

  Cross scowled. “I’ll pay you the quarter of a million. Simple.”

  “You know it’s the point of the matter, not anything else.”

  “I’m not offering anything—”

  “Try again,” Dante interrupted smoothly.

  Catherine could see exactly where this was all leading them, and Cross did not seem happy about it at all. Still, he said, “I will run your guns, then.”

  “Exclusively.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Indefinitely.”

  Cross sighed. “Until I no longer can, sure.”

  “I like that agreement,” Dante said, smiling.

  “On conditions,” Cross added.

  Dante cocked a brow. “What would those be?”

  “I don’t pay dues to you—you’re not my boss.”

  “If you’re working for me that would imply I am your boss, Cross.”

  “Yet, you won’t be. I’m doing a job for you, of which I will be compensated for, while not running guns elsewhere. That is it. Nothing more.”

  Her father’s lips pressed together in a grim line. “You’re a very difficult man.”

  “It has still done me wonders.”

  “Your other conditions?”

  “Just one.” Cross folded his arms over his chest. “Catherine no longer deals for Andino.”

  Catherine stiffened against the wall, and tried to ignore the many gazes that turned on her.

  “We talked about that,” Andino muttered to Cross.

  “And Catherine told you what she wanted.”

  “I disagreed, Cross. It’s my call to make.”

  “It won’t be after today,” he replied coolly.

  “That’s enough,” Dante murmured, taking a couple of steps forward. “What did I miss here?”

  “Catherine brings in a lot of money for me,” Andino said. “Like anything else with this business, someone does not simply come and go when they want to. I can’t help how these things work.”

  “That’s my condition—take it or leave it,” Cross said.

  “Does she want to continue dealing?” Dante asked.

  “Not for Andino.”

  “What about me?”

  The quietly posed question had everyone turning to the only other woman in the warehouse.

  Catrina.

  She looked to Dante, and then to Catherine before asking again, “What about me? Could she work for me if she chose to?”

  Dante cleared his throat. “Regina, another time, maybe?”

  Catrina lifted a single hand high. “Now is as good as ever. Should she want to continue, but not with him, why not for me, Dante? I won’t always want to do even what I do now. You get to retire, and so should I eventually. Why not her, hmm?”

  Cross glanced over at Catherine.

  She only nodded.

  Her entire life had been an effort to not be her mother. Mostly, because that was all anyone had ever assumed of Catherine. That she was Catrina’s little queen. That she was her mother’s daughter. She had fought against that, even to her own detriment. The truth was simpler.

  Catherine knew … She was far more like Catrina, with just enough of her father to color her up, than anyone could possibly know.

  Her mother was self-taught, self-made, and a goddamn queen.

  Catherine was no different.

  “Well?” Dante demanded. “What of it?”

  “As long as it’s not Andino,” Cross said, “then the rest is up to Catherine.”

  Dante smiled. “I think we have a deal, then.”

  “Why are you going to Chicago again?” Catherine asked from the edge of the bed.

  She resisted the urge to pull Cross onto the bed with her. Especially given how damn good he looked in the suit he wore. Cross tried to get away with wearing his usual dark wash jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets far more often than he bothered wearing suits, or even a blazer. She quite enjoyed the site of him in dressier attire when he did wear it.

  Like now …

  Cross shoved clothes into a small duffle bag, and then slipped his fingers under her chin to make her tip her head back. Once he seemed to be pleased how she was, he dropped a sweet kiss to her lips. “Because I owe explanations to people there, that’s all. Business is business, and it’s best to finish that all out on good terms.”

  Catherine picked at her manicure. “Are you going to miss working for them?”

  “Chicago and Vegas?” Cross shrugged. “As long as I get to run guns occasionally, I really don’t give a shit what I do in between, or who I do it for. Guns are guns, Catty. I don’t care about the man supplying, or buying. I just want to be the man running them because I’m good at it, and I like it.”

  “I just wondered because you have worked for them a long time.”

  “I mean, I don’t expect them to be real pleased about what I’m doing and what I’ve got to say, but there’s not much they can do. It’s like what I told your father. Nobody is my boss. I’m just there to do a job. With Chicago, I come and go as I please. When I say I’m done, I am done.”

  “Except yesterday you just agreed to run guns indefinitely for my father’s family. That kind of means you don’t get to just up and say no mo
re, Cross.”

  He didn’t look like he particularly cared. “It is what it is.”

  “Speaking of a boss …”

  Cross looked down at her. “What about it?”

  “Why won’t you call my father by that title?”

  “Well … for a couple of reasons.”

  “Is one of them because you don’t respect him?”

  Cross barked out a laugh. “Far from it. I respect any man in this lifestyle that has managed to put himself in the position your father is in. Never mind, stay alive for as long he has while sitting there.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I have a boss—my father. Calisto is the only man I have ever given that title to, and willingly. Because my father has been respectful enough to me that he has never seen me as his lesser. He puts me on equal footing. He expects me to sit where he does one day. I feel like using that title on another man is disrespectful to my father. I don’t mind following the orders of other men who are higher in rank. I do what needs done as a made man, but I have only one boss. For now, that’s Calisto. When he’s done, then it’s me. Okay?”

  Catherine nodded. “Okay.”

  Catherine reached up to tug on his shirt collar, and pulled him down for a longer kiss than he had given her. He smiled against her mouth, wicked and sinful. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  “A couple of days at the most. I’ve got an apartment down there I want to grab some shit out of, and a few other things to tie up. No loose ends, right?”

  “Right.”

  He kissed her mouth again, but his tongue teased at the seam of her lips. “Open up for me.”

  Catherine grinned and pulled away. “Nope, I know what time your flight is. You’ll be late.”

  Cross scowled. “Tease.”

  “Gives you something to get back for, doesn’t it?”

  He considered that.

  “True,” he murmured. “So hey, one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Dante and I talked—”

  “Nicely?”

  Cross rolled his eyes, and tugged on a strand of her hair playfully. “Hush up, Catty.”

  “Fine, but you make it easy sometimes. Like a still target.”