Chapter One
Luca
When I ascended to the leadership of the Morelli Family—when I became the Boss—I assumed a number of things.
I assumed I would be in more danger than ever.
I assumed I would have to make difficult decisions.
I assumed I would be given the respect my position deserves.
What I didnotassume was that I’d have to referee a bunch of men squabbling like kids over toys.
The warehouse is cold, and my breath is a fog of welcome heat on my nose as I wait with increasing impatience for the arguing to stop. It’s the same warehouse, in fact, where my crew deposited Howard Fincher Donovan the Third, in readiness for me to kill him.
Life has changed a lot for me since that day. The day fate caught up with me. Thinking of Finch usually improves my mood, but the loud, grating whines of Al Vollero, Capo of my Brooklyn Crew, have the power to break into that happy place.
“I told this dipshit twice already: that Vitali kid is mine. He’s Brooklyn-based, and I already set up a job with him as point.”
Snapper Marino, whose baptismal name has been lost to time as far as I know, draws his lips back from his teeth in disgust. “The kid ismy cousin. So he runs withmy crew. Has done from the start. Always will. So unless you two are…” He glances at me, then, and I know what he was about to say.
Something homophobic.
Snapper makes out like he was looking to me in appeal rather than guilt. “Come on, Boss, we already talked about this, and you said—”
“Vitali’s smarter than the rest of your crew put together and that’s the only reason you want him,” Al says stubbornly.
“Fuck Vitali,” Nick Fontana snaps. Since I’m running low on capable men, Nick is overseeing both the Long Island and Staten Island arms of the business, and in my opinion he’s also the best at his job. He was one of Tino Morelli’s go-to men, when Tino Morelli was still alive, and I’m considering him for Underboss. Nick continues, “We need to sort out what’s going on with the shipments coming in from—”
With that, all three of them start talking over each other. I know they’re scared, and they have good reason to be. Each of them want the strongest crews they can get if only to protect their own asses.
After the decimation of our Family—the desertions, the betrayals, and most grievously, the all-out assault that killed our previous Don, Augustino Morelli—after all that, we can’t afford petty infighting.
“Enough,” I say tiredly.
But they’re not listening, and even Frank has moved into the discussion now. Frank, who’s still smarting because I wouldn’t make him Underboss just because he’s my brother.
I would have been a fool to do it. He’s great in a fight and he’s loyal to the death, but my brother, although I love him, is not a clever man. And as I came up through the ranks of the Morelli family, I swore I’d surround myself with men as clever as I could find,andthat I’d listen to them. I wanted to take the approach of the old Roman emperors and generals, the way Tino always wanted me to do.
Now, the cleverest men have mostly deserted the Morelli Family, precisely because theyaresmart. Two of my three Capos are leftovers from the old days, when they were two among many, and they could get away with half-assing their jobs as long as they turned in the money on time. The third, Nick, is my own appointment, but he’s still finding his feet as a leader. Rounding out my upper-tier crew I have Frank as my Enforcer, and Angelo Messina, ostensibly my bodyguard, but much more than that.
I couldn’t have done anything without Angelo by my side. In his forties, with a face and body that seemingly defy age, Angelo has lived up to his name, appointing himself my guardian angel after Tino’s death. At first I thought it was just to honor Tino’s memory, but over the last few months, I’ve begun to suspect Angelo might actuallylikeme. He’s become my mentor since Tino’s death, and I’d be lost without him.
The nice thing about Angelo is that he never makes me feel like I still have the training wheels on. In his eyes, I’m the Boss. But to the rest of these prattling Capos, I seem to be a nonentity.
Even Frank is joining in on their bullshit now, throwing his weight around exactly the way I don’t want him to, acting like he’ll sort them out with his fists. Still, that attitude will do much less damage as an Enforcer than it would if he were Underboss.
“Quiet!” I snap, but they’re only getting louder.
Angelo takes a step forward out of the darker area behind me, into a spot of light on the floor from the dying sun, at my right-hand side. He’s a shadow most of the time, but a fiery pillar when it suits him.
At once the four arguing men go silent.
“Shut your mouths,” I say unnecessarily, “and listen up. I already made my decision about the Vitali kid. He works Snapper’s crew. Al, if you had him lined up for a job, I’m sure Snapper will be happy to loan him out.” Snapper’s face suggests anything but, but I ignore it. “And as for the shipments, Nick,” I add, turning to him, “I already made my decision about that as well.”
“ButBoss—” he begins, and I hear the quiet but unmistakable sound of Angelo unbuttoning his suit jacket. Nick’s eyes drop to where Angelo’s gun must be showing, still snug in its holster.
For now.
