“I might be able to conjure up a tear if one of your guards gets a feather and starts tickling me, but I think that would be frowned upon.”
“Your mouth will be the death of you.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what that guy’s mom said when I screwed her last night, though I think it was the other way around. Something like my mouth will be the death of her.”
The guard I’d pointed at just glared then rolled his eyes. “Thinks he’s funny.”
“I know I’m funny.” I winked. “Thinking has nothing to do with it. I’m freaking hilarious, and the longer you listen to me talk, the shorter the time is before you die.”
“Me?” My father laughed. “Who’s going to kill me? You? Your little friends?”
“My little friends. It almost sounds like a play date, only with guns, and knives, and well… Chase does have this weird bomb fantasy, but whatever.”
“They will come for you,” my dad said coldly. “And I will end what I should have ended years go.”
“Just out of curiosity…” I leaned forward. “What would that be?”
“The list is quite long.” He scratched his face and took a step forward into the light.
He was a large man, and by large, I meant large. Over three-hundred pounds and at least six-and-a-half-feet tall. His dark hair was thinning around the crown of his head, and I could tell he hadn’t shaved for a few days.
“Been running, Pops? Or have you just let yourself go now that Mom’s finally left you.”
“Your mother is dead.” He said it so matter-of-fact that my first reaction was to laugh, and then I wanted to cry because I’d never met her, and I’d been so freaking close that it destroyed me to know I would never see her smile.
“So?” I shrugged, lying my ass off. “I didn’t know her.”
“You look like her.”
“She must have been very attractive.”
“She was a conniving bitch.”
“Ah well, I’m more of a conniving ass, so I guess I must have inherited that from your side. Can’t have it all, looks and smarts. How would that be fair?”
“Sir?” One of the guards rushed to my father’s side. “A car pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes ago. We think it’s them.”
“O-oh, them,” I mocked. “Tell me Nicolasi doesn’t make you want to shit your pants right here, right now, and I’ll let you shoot me.”
“Nicolasi?” My father’s eyes narrowed. “With an Alfero? And an Abandonato?” He chuckled. “The world is not big enough for those three to be in the same place at the same time, my son.”
“I have no father,” I said quietly. “And you have no son.”
“We’ll see.”
My response was to smile and pretend like what I’d said wasn’t something I’d recited over and over in my head since I’d been old enough to form an actual thought…
I said it in the mirror when I was four. Nixon overheard me and asked why I was so upset. I told him it was stupid that he and Chase looked so much like everyone else, while I had stormy blue eyes and weird-colored hair.
He said it was the Spanish in my Italian heritage.
I cried.
And told him I didn’t know what Spanish was, but was Spanish mean too? Did he not want me either?
Nixon hugged me like a brother.
Chase came in and did the same thing. We played Legos for a few hours afterward, and they promised that even though I didn’t look like them. I’d always be family…
So my real father?
He could rot for all I cared.
“Check it out, Marco.” Father nodded toward the door. “And keep eyes on the perimeter.”
“How many men?” I asked casually.
“Pardon?”
“How many men do you have here, protecting you? You’re a cocky son-of-a-bitch. I assume you can’t imagine a world where some of the families you helped build would turn on you.”
“It would never happen.” My father set his gun out on the metal table and took off his rings. “I am the Capo. To kill me would be like killing God.”
“Holy shit, I’m surprised you haven’t been struck by lightning yet, you blasphemous idiot.”
“He put me in this position.” My father closed his eyes and lifted his hands into the air. “He put me on this earth to create order, to make money, to make a better life for my family.”
“Question.” I winced. “Did His plan also include you buying a fourteen-year-old’s virginity so you could gain control over her family as well as buy silence for involving yourself in what’s been known as the sickest prostitution ring known to the underground?”
He slapped me so hard across the face that I fell to the ground. Blood dripped from my face onto the dirt floor causing a cementing mixture to attach to my face. I spat onto the ground and laughed. So violent, I wonder if he even realized how long I could withstand torture? He punched like a bitch and I craved to tell him that. I touched my lower lip. Great. Now I’d never be able to get a lip ring like Nixon. I’d look like a fool. Damn pipe dreams.
“Who told you that?”
“The girl you tried to kill.” I got up to my knees and made it to my metal chair. “The one you sent the De Langes to kill.”
“I helped the De Langes.” He popped his knuckles. “After all, they came to me, bitching and complaining that a mere woman had been named boss. The few that agreed to it were too terrified of Nicolasi to say no and too greedy about the money he used to buy them off. A few of the members approached one of my associates and asked if I could help.” He grinned. “After all, I am a very helpful man.”
“Oh I can see that.” I saluted him.
“I gave them the location of the girl. It was a win-win. She dies, they die, no loose ends.”
“Misjudged Chase a bit, you think?” I laughed. And got slapped. Again. Damn it.
But this time I got back into my chair I was more irritated than in pain over my throbbing cheek.
“I wasn’t informed of his skill set.”
I raised my hand. “It’s the same as mine. We kill people. We assassinate. What else is there to know?”
“So do the De Langes.” He cursed. “Clearly this Chase was better.”
“And the branding? I mean, was that totally necessary?”
“Easy.” He chuckled. “I brand any associate who works with me or for me. That way, if they ever piss me off, I put a hit on their head. The contracted men know who to kill because of that mark. As I said, I’m a fair man. It wouldn’t be right to kill those who don’t deserve it.”
“Wow, you really should be sainted.”
“The church said no.”
“Shocking.” I put my hand over my heart. “So what’s this about? You want to shut everyone up? Me included? Because it’s not going to happen. It’s—”
He gripped me by the throat and lifted me off the chair. Holy green giant.
“The American mafia is a joke!” He spat. “A pimple on the land of Sicily! I will put a stop to your fighting, your childish bickering, inability to stay out of prison, hard-headed ways for good!” His eyes flashed with something. At first I thought it was anger, then I looked again.
“You’re terrified,” I croaked. “You’re scared shitless of what the De Langes have on you.”
He dropped me to the ground and kicked me.
“The only way out is blood,” I muttered. “And it’s going to be yours.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Nixon
It looked empty. But I knew better. It was probably crawling with associates just waiting to get another kill in so they could be made men. I rolled my eyes and strapped another magazine to the holster around my chest.
“It’s a good night to die.” Chase looked up at the sky and made a cross into the air with his finger.
I handed him a magazine. “It’s also a good night to live.”
“Well said,” Luca commented, coming up from behind us. “Though, I’d rather we stop having to kill mafia
bosses. It’s really tarnishing my reputation.”
“As a hard ass?” I offered.
“Your reputation is that you’re blacker than sin and each time you get shot, your own soul is refused entrance into the afterlife.” Chase rolled his eyes.
“I’ve only been shot three times. All times flesh wounds. Truly, people exaggerate.” He waved us off and stomped out his cigar. The last thing we needed was a flicker of light to give us away.
“It was a good idea to park the car next door. They’ll investigate, leaving only a few guards near the entrance.” I pulled out my binoculars. “And there they go.”
Three men strutted outside and slowly walked toward the abandoned car.
I waited until they were close enough and hit the button.
The car exploded, throwing all three men at least thirty feet.
“Gotta love explosives,” Luca muttered under his breath. “Though by the looks of it, we’re only going to have thirty minutes to get in and out before the feds come.”
“Well, let’s hope they respond to our little invitation.” I smiled and aimed my gun at the door.
Sure enough, five more men ran out of the building.
“Shit, it’s almost too easy.” Chase picked off the first three.
“Like playing video games with guns and real people.” I hit the last two men and waited. The door opened again, and this time it was Tex’s head that poked out, followed by Campisi. He looked in our direction and gave us the bird.
“Geez, he could have at least offered us dinner or something,” Chase joked. I smirked and hit him on the back.
“That’s our cue.” I winked at Luca. “Go back to the car. Make sure the girls are safe.”
“On it. And have fun, boys. Do save a few for me.”
“Always,” I promised.
Chase and I slowly approached the building from our viewpoint on the lake. Our hands were both up, guns out of our hands. We were going in without guns blazing, and I hoped to God it would be enough to throw Vito off.
“Ah, so the cavalry has arrived,” Tex said, his lip swollen and both eyes bloody, but otherwise looking like his assy self.
“Honey, we’re home.” I blew him a kiss.
He caught it mid-air.
“Bunch of idiots!” Vito spat, throwing Tex back into a metal chair and aiming his gun in the direction of me and Chase. “This is not how business is done! We do not joke around. We do not make light of these situations. Do you not realize I will kill you? I will bring hell down to earth to destroy you.”
I nodded. “Just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, Capo?”
“At least you respect your elders.”
“Oh, sorry.” I winced. “I wasn’t saying it as a term of respect. I meant to say Crappo.”
“Shit for brains,” Vito mumbled. “And now you will die.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “You okay with that, Chase?”
“I’m good.” He stood his ground. “Should I close my eyes or something?”
“Eyes open,” Tex said from the chair. “It always goes better that way.”
“Idiots!” Vito yelled.
“Where are all your men?” I asked in a calm voice. “A Capo? In the States? And you have what? Fifteen men?” I looked around the room. “Maybe less, since we just killed seven in under two minutes.”
The men that were still standing behind Vito started looking around the room nervously.
“And by the looks of them, they’re B-team at best. Not made men. Just associates. A made man wouldn’t run out of a warehouse waving his gun all over the place. A made man wouldn’t get close enough to a car to even be touched by a bomb.”
Vito’s eyes narrowed in hatred. “A twenty-million-dollar bounty causes some to question their loyalty. And apparently good news — or news about money — travels fast. I imagine my phone was ringing before you even hit end on the call. So I chose to go into hiding until I killed you. Seemed a more intelligent choice.”
“Oh sorry.” I lifted up my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t aware of your plan, but now that I am, I have to admit to something.”
“What?” He waved his gun at me again.
I hadn’t counted on him being terrified. Then again, he was old. He was on his way out. Twenty million did that to people. And the fact that the De Langes, the very family that he’d tried to control all those years ago, had ordered the hit? That meant the De Langes, the bottom of the totem pole, had risen to the top, which basically just made our families look like the toughest shit ever to hit Chicago.
And it made Vito defenseless.
All within twenty-four hours. We had successfully brought down an empire that should have never been erected in the first place. No man should have so much power; no man should think of himself as more than that — a mere man. A mortal, given the chance to share the same air that God used to breathe when he walked the earth.
Shouts filtered from the outside.
And then the doors opened.
Mo, Mil, Frank, Luca, and Trace — damn it. Trace. They were all being escorted very nicely into the warehouse, at gunpoint.
“Shit,” I heard Chase mumble.
“A bit of a miscount?” Vito laughed.
We were outnumbered, not by a lot, but enough to sway the odds. If it turned into a gun fight, lives would be lost.
“Forty,” I offered. “I’ll give forty million dollars to the first person to hit the bull’s-eye.”
“He’s bluffing!” Vito shouted! A vein pulsated across his forehead. “He’s a lying prick! The Abandonatos stole my son!” He began pacing. “I just want him back! All I want is my son back, and I’ll leave. I’ll leave! No more killing. My old heart, it just can’t—”
“Lies,” Tex spat, pushing away from the chair and approaching his father. “Say my name.”
“No.”
“Afraid of a little curse?”
“For the last time, it is not real!”
“Vito Nicio Campisi, Junior,” a female voice said from behind me. It was too late before I realized it was Mil. I yelled as Vito raised his gun, directing it at her head. She stood firm.
The warehouse doors burst open again, and what can only be described as a miracle took place, as men I’d never seen before in my life poured in. Most of them looked like they’d seen better days. But there were sixty of them. And they were heavily armed.
“Hey, Joe.” Mil shrugged. “What took you so long?”
“Oh, you know.” He cocked his gun. “Vegas traffic.”
“No!” Vito fired.
Chase yelled and ran in Mil’s direction then fell to the ground in a heap. More gunshots rang out. I ran toward Trace, but paused when she pulled out her own gun and started firing at Vito’s men.
I hated how turned on I was at the sight.
Within seconds, it was all over with. No lives lost on our side — at least… not yet.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chase
I’d always wondered what it would be like — to sacrifice yourself so another person could live. It wasn’t like I was morbid or anything, but in my line of work it was just a daily reality. You don’t work for the mafia and not think about it. Death was at your door constantly. Shit, it practically camped there.
I just thought it would come knocking a little bit later in life, you know? Every muscle in my body tensed as the second gunshot rang out.
Funny, how at the end of your life, you think about the beginning. Even crazier? It was her smile that had first attracted me to her. The way her entire face lit up, the way her eyes said she’d eat me alive if I didn’t watch it. Damn, but so many things had changed over the course of a few weeks.
I don’t even know how it happened, how she’d maneuvered her way into my soul, how she’d made it so that I was overcome with madness for her — a type of obsession that I never wanted to be done with. She had destroyed me, and in my destruction, I’d found my salvation.
I touched my chest and examined
my fingers. My blood was wet and sticky. Slowly, I fell to my knees. I heard shouting around me but it seemed to come from far away. A foreign grunt came from my lips as my body slumped against the ground. Nixon came running, then Trace, and finally her, my tough as shit, Mil.
My wife.
And now… a widow.
“I’m s-sorry.” My breaths were coming in sharp, as if there was too much pressure on my lungs to breathe. Every gasp hurt like the fires of hell. I was getting choked by the pressure in my chest, pushing and tearing, just waiting to pull me into the fiery pit.
“Don’t talk. You’re going to be fine, Chase, you have to be fine!” Mil pressed her hand hard over mine. Tears splashed onto my chest — her tears. “Damn it, Chase! Fight!’
“It’s not cold…” I sighed happily as the pain started to dissipate leaving me in a state of shock. “It’s so warm.” And it was. Death was warm, not cold as I’d always thought.
Mil slapped me hard across the cheek. “And it’s gonna get hotter than hell if you don’t listen to me. You have to fight, Chase Winter. I refuse to live without you.”
“Okay.” I smiled. I would have probably rolled my eyes too but moving anything more seemed too much of an effort. She would be fine. She was a fighter, after all. “Love you…” And then I succumbed to the blackness of my warm death. At least I knew, in those last few seconds, that for once in my life, I would have done nothing different.
Because every damn road had led me to her.
“Chase!” Something pounded on my chest. Shit, that hurt. I blinked a few times, thinking I’d really lost my mind when my wife stood over me without a shirt on, clad only in her bra and jeans, holding something to my side. Damn, my side hurt — and my chest. It felt like someone was sitting on it.
“Move,” another voice said.
“But he’ll bleed out!” Nixon snapped.
Damn right! I wanted to shout. Listen to Nixon! It’s not a flesh wound! I felt my body weakening from blood loss.
“I’m a doctor,” Joe snapped.
I would have laughed had I had the energy.
The room fell silent, or at least it felt like it.
Joe, or whoever he was, grabbed something and wrapped it around my leg; it was so tight I winced, or I think I winced. And then he started talking in Sicilian about alcohol and something else about lifting my body and not letting me stand because then I would bleed out. Wow, thanks genius, I appreciated that.
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