“I’d like to teach her to fight, too.”
He’s very invested in Gia being able to protect herself since the attack on the wedding, but I know what it stems from. “Or maybe you could simply fly to Chicago and kill her husband for her.”
“I’d do it in a heartbeat. Do I have your permission?” He’s deadly serious and all the pre-raid sense of humor leaves the room.
“You know I can’t give you that.” Clearly disappointed by my response, Armando resumes checking his own weapons. That heavy sensation in my chest intensifies. Guilt. I don’t like it.
“Ready to go, boys?”
Lifting my head, I find Armando’s father, Giovanni standing in the room with us. He’s several years older than my father and, at first glance, one might imagine him to be too gentle to be part of the mafia. Maybe that’s why he’s been passed over for promotion, remaining a soldier despite years of loyal service and intelligent handling of our street racing and small fry betting. It would be unwise to underestimate him though, and he’s one of the few men on this earth who can still get away with calling me boy.
With a nod, Armando and I follow Giovanni outside where a black van waits, crowded with the soldiers I’ll lead on this raid. Before opening the door, Giovanni takes a moment to grasp Armando’s hand, murmuring in Italian for him to be careful and stay vigilant. He loves his son dearly and he’s not afraid to let others know it. Secretly, I’ve envied Armando for having Giovanni for a father since we were little boys. When Armando struggled or acted out, Giovanni encouraged or redirected him. When I did, Father threatened to cut off a finger or gouge out an eye.
“Don’t worry, Giovanni,” I say, clapping the old man on the shoulder. “The Bratva won’t know what hit them until it’s too late.”
“I’m sure of it, Alessio, but you stay safe, too. You’ve got a beautiful, sweet girl waiting for you to return home, and that isn’t something to take for granted.”
Normally, an upcoming night of slaughter would have me in high spirits, but Giovanni’s words sour the taste of it somehow. Just as he loves his son, Giovanni loved his wife before shepassed, and she loved him. I will never have that though because my blood is tainted. Love and the last name De Luca don't mix.
"Let's just get this over with so my father will shut up about our revenge," I grumble. He wants instant payback for the wedding attack but plays the long game when it comes to revenge for his own son’s murder. He’s become impossible for me to figure out at this point. And that’s becoming worrisome.
In truth, I also want tonight to be over so I can return to her as Giovanni said. The question is, does she want me to return? I don’t know, but the thought of never once claiming her or seeing that certain smile from her again makes me determined not to die.
Sliding the van door open, I eye my men, all of them hand-picked for their skill and loyalty to me. They’ll be my new guard once our current Capo is gone and I take Vegas as my own. “Who’s ready to kill some Russian fuckers?” I ask, jumping in with a sinister smile. They all grin back at me, more than ready to get their hands bloody tonight.
19
Caterina
“What happened to Alessio’s mother?” I ask as I’m dressing for bed several hours after our tense dinner. Half the tissues and all the ice cream he left earlier are gone so I snuggle Mr. Whiskers tightly as Frankie tries on one of my sexier dresses. “I know you weren’t alive then but I thought maybe…”
“A benefit of being the disgraced family member everyone would prefer to forget exists is you hear the best gossip sometimes.”
“I’m sorry they treat you that way. It wasn’t your fault, Frankie.”
“I know. But, it wasn’t my brother’s fault either and they made him disappear.”
“Disappear?” I gulp. “You mean…”
“After my father’s disgrace was known, the three heads of the Trio got together to decide his son’s fate.”
“The Tribunal?” As a woman I’m not a part of those things, but I’ve heard of it, a so-called mafia court where the three headsof the Trio pass judgment for the most grievous crimes. “They placed your brother on trial for his father’s sins?”
“Yes. My uncles weren’t permitted to be part of it since he was their blood, but I’m sure they would’ve voted for his death regardless.”
“And, that’s what happened?”
“I don’t know. No one speaks to me of it, but he’s been missing for three years now. Where else would Ronan have gone?”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
Her eyes sparkle brightly with unshed tears before she turns away. “I feel sorry for my poor mother. The disgrace was hard enough to bear without losing her son. She’s never been the same.” She keeps facing the mirror, fighting to sound unaffected when she asks, “Could I borrow this for New York?”
“If you wish.”
“Thanks. As for Alessio’s mother… I’m not sure you want to hear this, Cat.”
“What do you mean?”
