“She left you before she went to him.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “Don’t you Italians got some rules on shit like this. Unwritten rules that go back generations like that stupid marry an Italian woman rule? A you don’t take another man’s woman, especially when that man is family rule. Maurizio knew exactly what he was doing. He’s a fucking snake.”
“I agree he is a snake. But he did just lose his father.” Nicco said. “We don’t issue kill orders over women. Family business comes first. Always.”
I matched Nicco’s hardened gaze. I felt the weight of his position as don bearing down on me. Nicco was my half-brother, my closest friend since childhood, and now my boss. Thehierarchy was clear. I couldn’t openly defy him, no matter how much I wanted to.
“Then what?” I demanded. “I just let this go? Pretend it isn’t happening? Allow my cousin to fuck my woman while I look the other way?”
“No,” Nicco said, his tone measured. “You have a conversation with Maurizio. Man to man. Cousin to cousin.” He paused to ensure I was listening. “You make it clear how you feel, but you do it without violence.”
“And if he refuses to back off?”
“That’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it.” Nicco sat back down, his decision final. “For now, talk to him. Then talk to Labria. Clear up this misunderstanding about Lolita.”
I stared at him, struggling with the order. The desire to hurt Maurizio, to make him suffer for touching what was mine, burned hot in my veins. I knew better than to challenge Nicco. Not on this. I had other means to get Maurizio out of the picture.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll talk to him, man-to-man.”
Nicco nodded, seemingly satisfied with my acquiescence. He didn’t need to know that my version of “talking” might not align with his expectations. I would break bread with Maurizio, and I would make my position abundantly clear. How that conversation ended would depend entirely on my cousin’s response.
“Now,” Nicco said, shifting gears with practiced ease, “let’s get back to business. Have you spoken with Frankie?”
The change of topic helped me regain my focus. Family business. The reason we were all here in the first place.
“I have,” I confirmed. “He’s made contact with some of the Flip Kings’ lower-level dealers. Offering money in exchange for information about Tom.”
Cenzo moved to the desk, pulling a manila envelope from his stack of files. “We received these this morning.”
He spread several surveillance photos across Nicco’s desk. Grainy images of Filipino men outside a cultural center, more photos of the same men entering what appeared to be a restaurant called “Manila Nights.”
“These are the Flip Kings?” I asked, studying the faces.
“Yes,” Cenzo confirmed. “This one here.” He pointed to a man in his twenties. “Is Leon Marcos. Frankie is trying to recruit him.”
Nicco picked up one of the photos. “Where was this taken?”
“West Side of Chicago, near their territory,” Cenzo replied. “Frankie’s men have been watching their movements for the past week.”
“And Tom?” I asked, searching the images for the man who had killed Dom.
“No direct sighting yet,” Cenzo admitted, his jaw tight with frustration. “But we’re closing in. Frankie says there’s buzz among the lower ranks that their leadership is planning something big. A power move.”
“Against us?” Nicco asked sharply.
“No, I believe the Triads,” Cenzo replied. “But Frankie thinks Tom might surface for whatever they’re planning.”
I nodded, impressed with Frankie’s thoroughness. Our youngest brother had stepped up in recent months, proving himself more capable than any of us had given him credit for.
“We have Marie’s email to her brother and this.” Nicco said. “I hope one of them pays off soon.”
“When we find Tom,” Cenzo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register as he touched the scar on his neck, “he’ll suffer before he dies. I want him to understand exactly who he crossed when he killed our father.”
This was what united us, even when personal conflicts threatened to divide us. Dom’s murder remained unavenged. That was unacceptable to all of us. A lot of my hate for the manleft me when Nicco told me how he watched over me during the years.
“He will get what is coming to him.” Nicco vowed.
We exchanged solemn nods, our shared purpose reaffirmed. Whatever personal issues existed, we were always united. The Bregoli family came first.
