“Smoke them out,” Catarina says, wrenching from my arms and turning around. “Then take them down as they emerge.”
Mysoldatolooks to me, and it enrages me.
When Gabe and I spoke to our men after I got married—about our plans for the official handover from him to me—I informed them my wife was to be addressed as Donna Greco and given the same respect as any don. Clearly, that went in one ear and out the other for some.
I won’t have it.
My wife will not be disrespected within ourfamiglia.
“You heard Donna Greco! Her word is as good as mine, and if you disrespect her again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your head.”
He gulps, looking suitably chastised as his gaze bounces between us. “My apologies, Donna Greco. It won’t happen again.”
She nods. “Apology accepted. Keep your wits about you. Go.”
“Keep Chang alive,” I call after him as he runs off. I open the door and enter the restaurant first, stepping aside to let Catarina enter.
It’s a veritable bloodbath. Bodies litter the floor, and others are slumped over tables. Spicy aromas mix with the scent of gunpowder and blood as we pick our way across the room, heading in the direction of the stairs. “We had the element of surprise,” Rina says, eyeing the remnants of lunch spilling across multiple tables. Several men are facedown in bowls of rice and noodles.
“O’Hara came through for us.” I check each motherfucker as we pass. It’s not unheard of for someone to play dead and wait for an opportunity to take a potshot.
“He did. I think he’ll make a formidable ally.”
“I agree.”
“In time, we should look to expand his role,” she says, shooting a guy who lifts his head from the table as we pass. The bullet lands cleanly in the center of his brow, and he slumps to the side, dead upon impact. “We should probably make that known now,” she continues, like she didn’t just kill a man. “It will foster loyalty and give him a goal to work toward.”
“Good idea.”
Panicked shouting filters up the stairs, as we make our descent, quickly followed by more gunfire. My cell pings in my pocket, and I remove it.
Catarina looks over her shoulder at me.
“It’s from Don Mazzone. The police are fielding several reports from residents in the area. He says the police commissioner can’t hold the cops off for long without it looking suspicious. We have ten minutes max.”
“Let’s end this.” She walks down the steps like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
A pile of bodies rests at the bottom of the stairs, and the only man alive is the man we seek.
Lee Chang.
Leader of the now defunct Triad.
All across the city, men belonging to the five families, with support from our Irish allies, have taken down every man associated with the Mexicans and the Chinese. The organizations are wiped out. In time, others will try to move into the territory, but we’ll be ready for them.
Lee is on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, surrounded by armedsoldati, their weapons trained on his body should he try anything.
“Fucking Italian scum!”
He spits at my wife’s feet, and I grab hold of his hair, yanking his head back at a painful angle. “Apologize to my wife, you piece of shit.”
“Fuck you!” His eyes glint with malice and something else. “You’re nothing but her bitch, and she’s playing you!”
Catarina acts fast, removing a sharp knife and shoving it into his stomach. “Have you no honor?” she asks, circling him. “I can gut you like the traitorous pig you are or give you a quick noble death. Which is it to be?”
“I know it was you.” He narrows his beady eyes at her. “You did this. You s—”
My wife rains bullets on his body, and he slouches forward, face-planting on the pile of dead bodies, blood oozing out of copious wounds. Deathly silence surrounds us as I stare at my wife.
