“What is he taking?” Ben asks, crouching down in front of his nephews.
“Cocaine mostly,” Joshua readily admits. “But I know he’s taken ketamine on occasion too.”
“Who are these fuckheads?” I ask, kicking at the two guys passed out on the mattress at my feet.
“Losers he met at a party. They are the ones supplying him. I told him not to do this. I said I was going to tell Uncle Ben if he came here, but he ignored me.” Joshua hugs his brother tighter. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone. This is getting out of hand.”
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.Natalia is going to lose it when she finds out. Joshua clearly intends to keep his father in the dark, and I can guess why.
Ben has strict rules when it comes to drug use. Oursoldatiand company employees are strictly forbidden from taking drugs or dipping into our supplies, and they must succumb to periodic random drug tests. Ben saw a lot of shit with his mom growing up, and he wants to avoid running into problems withinla famiglia. I know Accardi shares similar views, but most of the other families are way more lenient.
We’re not naïve. We know the kids do shit. It’s part of growing up, but Gino would have drilled the message into his sons, and there will be hell to pay when he finds out what’s been going on. No heir should be visiting a shithole like this or associating with low-level drug dealers.
“Who are they getting their stuff from?” Ben asks, straightening up and glancing around the room. All five families no longer deal on the streets. We trade high-quality drugs and supply VIP clients, mainly through our clubs and casinos. This shit here is the reason we moved out of the mass market. We don’t sell to kids anymore. The high-end VIP market is just as lucrative and more aligned with our business model these days.
“The Colombians,” Joshua says, and the blood freezes in my veins.
Ben looks at me, sharing my concern. The families ran those assholes out of New York many years ago. It’s mainly the Irish, the Mexicans, and the Triad who supply the drugs on the streets now.
Or so we believed.
My cell pings in my pocket as Ben tells Alesso to carry Caleb to his car. I frown when I see the name flashing across the screen. I step outside to answer the call. “Jerry, what’s up?”
“I’m dealing with that problem we discussed the other day,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “There is something you and the boss need to hear before I resolve the issue.”
“Are you at the site?”
“Affirmative.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a half hour.” Provided Ciro uses his Formula 1 skills and traffic hasn’t built up yet.
“What is it?” Ben asks, stepping out onto the sidewalk alongside me.
“We need to head to the site in Brooklyn. The foreman is dealing with that prick who was stealing supplies. Apparently, there is something we need to hear.”
“This is the day that just keeps on giving,” Ben drawls, sarcasm thick in his tone, as he turns around to face Alesso. “Change of plans. Take the twins home. Tell Natalia we’ll be by later to talk to them.” He looks over at Brando. “I want you and Nario watching the apartment today. Caleb might try to skip out instead of answering questions. Stop him if you see him leaving.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Brando says.
I send a quick text to Nat letting her know we have her sons and they are on their way home. We climb in the back of our car, both of us exhausted from little sleep.
Ciro pulls into a diner and grabs us some breakfast rolls and coffee, which we eat and drink as he drives us to Brooklyn.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, finishing my roll and scrunching the wrapper in my hand. I drop it into the bag. “First the Russians and now the Colombians.”
“I don’t fucking like it. How the hell are they distributing product on the streets and we didn’t know about it?”
That’s a good question. One I have no answer for.
“Who is this thief?” Ben asks, finishing the shit coffee and dumping the empty cup in the bag.
I shrug. “One of the newer laborers. Jerry came to me when supplies started going missing, and I installed a few cameras. Caught the guy red-handed. I was letting him deal with it.” Some asshole stealing building supplies is small fry, in the grand scheme of things. Jerry is more than equipped to deal with it, so I’m curious why we are needed.
That curiosity is sated twenty minutes later when we arrive at the oceanside site in Brooklyn. It will be twenty stories high once completed, constructed of stone and glass, and ultramodern with amazing views. It’s being fitted out with high-quality fixtures and fittings with the young professional in mind. Ben has a number of these in construction in various parts of the state, and the profits add significantly to the bottom line.
Jerry leads us down to the basement. It’s only a shell, but it will house a parking lot in time. A bulky guy with a bloody face sits tied to a chair in the middle of the space. A plastic sheet is laid out underneath the chair for easy cleanup.
All the top guys on our sites are trusted men who have worked with us for years. While they are notsoldati,they know who we are and what we expect, and they are well rewarded for their hard work and their loyalty. Most of the tradesmen who work on the developments are hired locally and carefully vetted. For the most part, we keep things clean and aboveboard.
