What am I, chopped liver?
“I lost my phone during the fight,” my twin explains as I try to rein in my frustration.
I haven’t forgotten we need to cleanse ourfamigliaof every scumbag traitor and rebuild loyalty. By the time we’re through with them, no one will ever dare to disrespect us again.
We plan to deal with McDermott first before handling the traitors we left stewing in crowded cells in the bunker. It’s timely because after my encounter with Lili in the hospital I’m itching to murder a few pricks.
“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done. We were already on-site, so we handled it.”
“I will contact the insurance company later,” Joshua says as I quietly seethe.
“I’ll call the commissioner and have him send someone to your office to take a statement. You’ll need an official police report to submit a claim,” Ben says. “He can weigh in if we need to take the heat off you. A cruise liner being bombed is not something we’ll be able to conceal.”
“It’ll be a shitshow, and we’ll have to lay low for a while,” I say.
“This complicates an already complicated situation.” Fiero looks grumpy as fuck, and I don’t blame him. The street trade is already on shaky ground, and this doesn’t help.
“Thank fuck we offloaded the shipment earlier.” Joshua leans back in his chair, dragging a hand through his damp hair.
“How badly will this affect the supply chain?” Cristian asks, loosening his tie and opening the top button of his shirt.
“It will undoubtedly cause major issues,” Joshua says, “but I’ll call our new airline contact and see if we can put a regular schedule in motion to cover the gap.”
“The bigger issue is production.” Fiero scrubs a hand down his face. “The authorities have temporarily shut the plant down. Juan Pablo will pay the bribes and get it reopened fast, but a few warehouses were damaged and require repairs, and a lot of the product in the storage warehouse was destroyed during the battle. It will be at least three weeks before full production restarts.”
“We need to negotiate a deal with another producer, and possibly we should keep this contact as a backup resource, given all the recent issues. We haven’t helped the situation by having no Plan B,” I say.
“I don’t think we have any choice,” Massimo agrees. “Set up a meeting with O’Hara,” he instructs Joshua. “He mentioned a possible contact in Sinaloa.”
“I don’t think we should get mixed up with the cartel.” Cristian shifts in his chair, the leather squelching with the movement.
“I don’t like the idea either,” Ben says, “but we don’t have many options. We need someone powerful with established production and distribution channels. They’ve had their sights set on New York for some time, and they won’t reject the opportunity.”
We cease talking when there’s a knock on the door. A hot brunette in a tight pencil skirt deposits a tray with coffee, doughnuts, and pastries on the table, asking if we need anything else. She flashes me a flirty look as she passes, and I struggle to place her. I suspect I screwed her a couple of years ago, but I can’t be sure. After a while, all the names, faces, and bodies blend together. None are ever memorable, and it’s starting to get old.
We resume our conversation after the door is firmly closed.
“Partnering with the biggest Mexican cartel is a recipe for disaster,” Cristian says. “I really think we should consider other options.”
“I’m not a big fan of the idea either,” Fiero agrees. “Their product quality is often inconsistent, and we could be inviting bigger trouble by opening our doors to them. But we don’t have time to waste, and we know they can dig us out of this hole right now,” Fiero says, in between chewing mouthfuls of an almond croissant. “I think we have to take the risk. We have only just driven the other operators out of the city. If they discover we’re incapable of meeting demand, they’ll be back, and it’ll be harder to permanently push the various entities out.”
Joshua pours me a coffee and slides it over.
“What are we doing with Vegas?” I ask before taking a sip of the hot bitter liquid.
“We’ve sent Mantegna and Agessi to Vegas to restore order,” Massimo says.
Dominic Mantegna is the Chicago don, and Dario Agessi is the Philly boss. Both have history with some of the men in this room. They are trustworthy, loyal as fuck, and solid additions to The Commission. Volpe, from Pittsburgh, and Pagano, from Detroit, are wild cards because we haven’t had many personal dealings with them, but both seem dependable.
“When are we announcing the four new board appointments?” I ask.
Although the men were sworn in a couple of months back, they haven’t attended meetings because the decision was made to keep it all hush-hush until after we dealt with the threat. I’m assuming that will imminently change.
“We’ll do it this week,” Massimo says. “Right now, the priority is supply chain, dealing with the traitors, and reasserting control without ourfamiglie, settling Vegas, locating DiPietro, and finding out who the fuck in Sicily or the mainland was bankrolling my father and brother and orchestrating a takeover.”
“How are you dealing with all that?” Ben asks, eyeballing Massimo.
“I’m not.” Massimo sighs heavily. “It’s a complete mindfuck. How could they have been alive all this time and I didn’t know?”
