Luca rubbed his nose in a gesture that showed his vulnerability. “That’s not true, though. Idorely on you, and on Finch, for that matter. I need my advisors around me—any leader needs the same.”
“Naturally. Buthavingadvisors andrelyingon them are two different things. The world must see you as all-powerful. It’s the only way a Family like ours can survive. Even if—” I went on as he tried to break in. “Even ifyou are no dictator and have no desire to be, thatmustbe how it seems from the outside, and from the inside as well. To your administration, to your Capos, to your soldiers. To the Commission most of all. You’re in a good position, Luca,” I added gently. “You are both feared and loved. It’s time for me to bow out gracefully.”
He leaned forward, his face in his hands. When he dropped them, his expression was almost afraid. “It’s no easy job, Angelo. I don’t know if Tino understood justhow difficultit really would be for someone like me to rule the Morelli Family.”
I reached over to pat his knee, feeling avuncular. “Tino could be a cruel bastard. But I don’t think that was his intention here. He knew you were the right choice, and when I think of all you’ve accomplished, it makes me proud to call you Don Morelli.”
Luca was silent for a few moments before and nodding. “As long as I can still call on you if I need to—”
“Of course you can,” I told him warmly, and stood. He stood with me, almost bewildered, until I embraced him and kissed him three times. When I pulled back he stood straight, shoulders back, and his eyes flashed. “Cent’anni, Don Morelli,” I said.May you live a hundred years. I bent to kiss his ring.
And then I hurried out of the study and went to find Bax.
Chapter Forty-One
Angelo
Bax was in the kitchen with Finch D’Amato, Aidan O’Leary, and Teo Vitali—they were playing poker, of all things. “Fancy yourself a card shark, do you?” I asked, and for some reason, everyone stared at me.
“What areyouso happy about?” Bax asked suspiciously.
“Come with me.” I held out my hand.
Bax threw his cards down at once. “I fold,” he said, ignoring the groans and protests from the remaining players. He took my hand and I pulled him all the way back upstairs into what Finch had taken to calling ourlove-nest—though not when he thought I was in hearing range.
“What’s going on?” Bax asked, when I sat on the bed, pulled him to stand between my legs, and looked up into his face.
“Donnie Greco.”
“Donnie Greco?”
“He’s not dead.”
Bax looked blank, then frowned. “What?”
And so I told him. I told him all about how Captain Matthew Walsh was notquitethe complete fool Villiers had believed him to be. That he had suspected something was off, a malignant influence coming from either Villiers or his protégé, and he’d dug around for information, followed up a hundred little things that just didn’t seem right, and had come across Donnie Greco. And Greco, it turned out, might have been a respected Clemenza Enforcer, but he was also a rat.
“An informer,” Bax corrected me, but he smiled as I shrugged.
“Either way, he offered to spill information. Greco was old enough to remember Giorgio Benetti—and Benetti’s lover, a college student who was doing his master’s thesis on figures in organized crime.”
“Shit, that’s right,” Bax said. “Villiers looked at statistical representations of personality disorders in criminal organizations. He did a statistical survey and interviews—no names, but he told me once that every Family except the Morellis had at least one participant. He almost didn’t get clearance from the departmental ethics committee for that study. These days, he never would.”
“Well, sounds like Benetti was one of those subjects. That’s where they met. Donnie Greco was another. When Walsh came sniffing around asking questions, he said he’d spill what he knew about Benetti and Villiers, but only if Walsh got him out for good—out of the Clemenzas, out of New York.”
“But what exactly did he know?” Bax asked.
“Hard to say. But it must have been damning stuff if Walsh was able to get witness protection clearance for him. And Villiers, as we know now, wanted Walsh dead to stop any further investigation. Unfortunately, when Greco got word of Walsh’s death, he…well. He went to see Dylan.”
Bax, who had been getting excited, deflated at once. “He’s ghosted?”
I reached up to unbutton his shirt as I went on. “He has.”
“But—that doesn’t help atall—”
“Shh,” I said, pulling his shirt completely off. I traced the lines of his body, and then kissed after my fingers. “That’s what I’m getting to,” I said, looking back up at him as I started to unbuckle the belt of his jeans. “Greco flew the coop, but Luca received a tip-off that he’s gone out West. That he’s somewhere in California, living in hiding—but still living it up.”
Bax kicked off his shoes, and I slid his jeans down, then helped him out of them. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Still not entirely sure why that makesyouso happy.”
