LUCA
Giovanni Luciano Savelli trekked across the dewy field. Lorenzo, his right hand, along with Angel Medina, walked beside him. They were headed toward the small cottage in the middle of the field.
In Luca’s opinion, Ireland was the dreary home of alcoholics and rebels. The country was cold and damp. And even though he spent most of his time in Paris, the warmth of Palermo called for him like a siren.
For the third time in less than a month, they were in Dublin. Angel Medina was in charge of the transportation and security of goods. And Luca had to admit that the arrangement was working out well. When it came to shipments by water, Angel was like Poseidon. He navigated the sea as if it was his first home. He also had the muscle needed to eliminate any threats of piracy, and he was also heavily connected with most international government agencies.
“How is my grandson?” Angel asked as they walked.
“He’s a smart-ass,” Luca responded with a chuckle. “But he’s a good boy.”
“Like his father,” Angel mumbled, more to himself. “I would like to sit down with Tamara to discuss visitation. Will you facilitate that?”
“When I’m certain he will be safe, certain of you, I will arrange a visit with my son. Until then, you’ll exercise patience.”
Angel had lost his son, Javier, to gang violence when he was just a boy, and David was the product of a teenage love affair between Tammy and his son. Understandably, Angel wanted to have a relationship with his grandson, but Tammy and David’s safety was Luca’s main concern. Angel, however, was not. He was business. And until Luca was sure that he wasn't a threat, his status would remain the same.
“He is not yet your son. I could just reach out to Tamara,” Angel noted, causing Luca’s steps to halt.
He turned toward Angel, closing in just enough to invade his personal space. Looking him directly in the eye, he told him, “Do not be confused, Signore Medina. My family does not work that way. As I said, youwillexercise patience.”
Luca noticed that Angel hadn't flinched. He knew that David’s grandfather was by no means considered a weak man. As a matter of fact, he was what one would call a kingpin in South America. But they weren't in South America. And if need be, for his family, Luca wouldn't hesitate to crush him like a bug.
“Out of respect, Senor Savelli, I will exercise patience. But make no mistake, David ismyfamily, and my patience will only extend so far. Iwillhave a relationship with mi nieto.”
Luca narrowed his eyes. Who did Alejandro Medina think he was fucking with? His hand twitched, aching to knock the arrogant, overconfident motherfucker on his ass. And just as his brain and hand had come to an agreement, Lorenzo intervened.
“Aye, boss, it’s Jimmy O'Reilly,” he said, nudging Luca to look ahead.
But Luca’s dark gaze remained on Angel. “You’ll meet him when I say. No sooner.”
“Si, Senor. Now is the time for business. We will save family issues for another time.”
With that said, Luca convinced himself not to punch the gun runner in his throat. He turned and walked toward the tall Irishman.
“Let’s get this shit done so that I can get off of this molded infestation that they call land,” Luca grunted to Lorenzo. “I’d like to get back tola mio donna e figlio.”
“Si, capo. We’ll be done soon.”
Luca nodded, putting his family issues aside. He entered the cottage to forge a union that would eliminate the Russians for good.
