“To sit withus. Don't think I’ll take the meeting without you by my side.”
Steepling my hands, I tried to hold back the sigh threatening to make its way out. “You’re well enough to take back the reins.”
“And you’ve always been by my side, so why would today be different?”
Because I’m mad at youseemed like a childish response. “Fine. I’ll tell Gio and Vicki I’ll be later than planned.”
We went downstairs together an hour later, both in bespoke suits. My father had a fondness for gaudy jewelry, while I preferred a tie clip, cufflinks, and nothing else. Leonardo Russo was older than my father by about a decade, which showed in his snowy white hair and spotted hands. He had daughters but no sons, and was reluctant to name one of his nephews or cousins as his successor. We all expected him to announce his oldest daughter’s husband as his heir, but he hadn’t yet.
“Benito, old friend,” he greeted my father, grasping his hand and slapping him on the back.
Roman Barrett and John Brennan stood discreetly beside the door of the conference room we’d booked for privacy. Roman had checked for bugs before we came down, and John had patted down Leo as he entered the room without guards.
“What brings you here, Leonardo?” my father asked as he sat at the head of the table.
“I have a new man, a fence jumper, who was eager to tell me everything he’d learned in his time in the Lombardifamiglia. Ididn't expect anything groundbreaking, but he did have a piece of information that should be valuable to you.”
“And what will this information cost me?” Dad asked dryly.
Leo smiled. “A small percentage of yourbabaniaearnings.”
“What makes you think I sell heroin?”
Shrugging, Leo said, “Word on the street.”
Tilting his head, my father pondered that. “The word is wrong. We don’t step on toes, and other families have the drug market cornered.”
“Then you could just cut me a check.” Leo grinned. “My information is valuable.”
“Just spit it out,” I snapped. “And then the two of you can negotiate payment.”
With his brows raised, Leo looked me up and down. “I see your reputation is accurate.”
Russo probably didn't realize how volatile I felt at the moment, or he wouldn't provoke me. “Say what you came to say or leave.”
I thought Dad might intervene, but he folded his hands on the table and remained silent. Perhaps he was as impatient as me.
“Fine, take the fun out of it,” Leo grumbled. “The Lombardis have decided to go back on their promise of peace. They were the ones to bomb your location and your home.”
“That’s who we were leaning toward, but what evidence do you have?” my father asked.
“My new man was the one who planted the first bomb. He has screenshots of the orders, in code, of course. He was afraid his usefulness would soon be scrubbed and they’d clip him.”
“Which is why he’s hiding out within your organization?” I asked.
“Precisely.”
“Get me the evidence,” Dad said, “and I’ll pay you handsomely for not only the assistance, but the allegiance.”
The two men stood, shaking hands and saying their goodbyes while I sat at the table and thought about our options.
Once the door was closed again, Dad said, “Now that we have our proof, we have to find our revenge.”
I nodded. “It can't be the same thing they did to us, or the feds will look too close to home.”
“Ideas are welcome, gentlemen,” my father said, indicating the guards.
Roman replied, “We could simply ice Alex Lombardi. Quick, simple."
