MIKO
“Based on the businesses we’ve approached so far, it would seem that the Tanakas have poached at least half our revenue in town,” Raf confirms as he settles into the office chair beside Gio as my brothers face me across my desk at the end of another trying day.
To see exactly how hard the Yakuza have hit our pocketbooks, my brothers and our men have been visiting the stores under our protection downtown to assess how far they’ve infiltrated our territory.
And with the kind of losses we’ve sustained, not to mention the severe drop in manpower after losing so many of our soldiers, it’s going to take all our determination to get back on our feet and maintain the territory we still have.
“I’ve been on the phone with several of our benefactors,” I state, adding my own update to the family meeting. “It would seem most of the families who paid tribute to Don Augusta are still willing to lend us their support—but as of right now, we don’t have enough to take back what we lost.” I glance toward Gio.“The Lombardis indicated they would be more inclined to give us the full strength of their numbers if we would agree to a more…permanentalliance.”
Gio quirks an eyebrow at me, daring me to finish the thought. “Meaning?” he presses when I don’t continue.
Sighing, I scrub my forehead with my fingers before combing the hair back from my eyes. “Meaning, their daughter will be coming of age in just over a month, and they would very much like the future Don to take her as his wife.”
Raf snorts. “They’ve been working that angle since before Leo got engaged,” he says dryly.
“Theyareone of our strongest allies right now,” I point out.
But I know Gio, and I know how reluctant he is to taking a wife.
After losing the love of his life eight years ago, he’s been less than inclined to dip his toe into the marriage pool for any reason.
“Before we jump to drastic measures like making me marry a woman for her family’s soldiers, why don’t we focus on organizing the men we already have?” Gio suggests.
“We could figure out where the lesser Irish and Russian families stand on this whole conflict as well,” Raf adds. “I imagine they won’t be too happy to see Yakuza territory spreading like wildfire, especially when it starts getting closer to their homes. Miko, your wedding would be a perfect opportunity to feel out how the families whoweren’ta part of the attack feel about the Murrays and the Tanakas right now.”
I nod. “It’s a good next step. Make a list of who should attend?—”
A sharp knock on the office door cuts me off, and our heads snap toward the interruption.
“Pronto?” I ask, inviting the knocker to enter.
My man Vito steps into the room, his shoulders tense. “A skirmish has broken out at the south entrance,Capo,” he says.
I frown, my skin tingling with a sense of foreboding. “Between the men?” Our men don’t usually fight among themselves.
“No, sir. It looks like a small force of Novikov men came to reclaim the compound. It won’t take much to subdue them. They don’t have the numbers. I just thought you would like to know. We’ve refocused our forces at the south entrance until it’s resolved.”
I give a curt nod, rising from my chair. “Make sure we keep eyes all along the perimeter, even so. It could be a diversion. I’ll come to see the disturbance myself.”
Gio and the twins rise with me, all four of us heading from the main house toward the south gate—a side entrance to the estate for the staff to come and go through from their quarters without disturbing the main house.
The sun hangs low along the tree line as we cross the wide expanse of lawn, and even from a distance, I can hear the shouts intermingled with occasional gunshots.
Whoever is trying to get onto the property doesn’t have a fraction of the force that was sent to the Chiaroscuro home, though.
And as we reach the south gate, I catch my first glimpse of the sorry excuse for a raid.
Several of their number lie bleeding near the gate, too injured to keep up with the rest of the men, who are already making a break for it as they call the retreat.
“Let them run,” I command the Chiaroscuro men who start to chase down the fleeing invaders. “They won’t be bothering us again anytime soon.”
Then I stop in front of an injured man. He’s clasping his thigh, just above where a bullet lodged itself in the thick muscle of his quad.
“Who do you work for?” I demand, crouching to reach his eye level.
“Go to hell,Mudak,” he hisses through teeth clenched in pain.
I share an amused glance with my brothers, then lean forward to grasp the Russian soldier’s wounded leg. He howls, throwing himself backward as he tries in vain to scramble away from me.
