The Kutsenkos heardTres J’sinsulted a girl, so they had to jump on their white horses and storm in like knights to the rescue. And the O’Rourkes—those asshats—egged on the rest of us until they got drawn into the fight too.
It was Maria who saved all our asses. She recognized a police officer whose father wasCosa Nostraand convinced her to have the cops leave. Everyone fled in different directions when we heard the sirens. Afterward, our respective leaders were so irate, we all thought we were safer with the knives and guns at the party. Punishment was swift and merciless for all of us.TíoEnrique hated it, but he had to make an example of all of us. He couldn’t appear soft toward us if we were one day to stand beside him as leaders of the Cartel.
Since then, there’s been an unspoken rule that if someone’s injured or killed in a mission that goes sideways, then so be it. But the Four Families don’t target each other. That’s why I can’t imagine it’s the Mancinellis, Kutsenkos, or O’Rourkes.
Even if the Kutsenkos think we’re bogarting their deal to fund theMala del BrentaandCosa Nostra, they wouldn’t do this. The O’Rourkes might be pissed that we’re tipping the scalesaway from their side, but they wouldn’t do this. The Mancinellis might hate that any outsiders have influence in Italy, but they wouldn’t do this.
“Alejandro.”
“Huh? Sorry. Spaced out. Got bored.”
Cosima snapped at me. I have no idea what she or Zorzi said when I was strolling down memory lane.
“You pissed off the Galicians.”
What the fuck?
If anyone should be pissed off, it’s me.
Those motherfuckers fucked me out of over three million dollars in imports.
Spain is a major European hub for importing Colombia’s most notorious semi-organic product. The Mafia there was supposed to run a shipment through Galicia and distribute it to Madrid and Barcelona. Instead, thecaremondas—faces of a penis—let it get seized. They took the fall since they were the ones in possession, but it cost us all the trade.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. You reneged on your end of the deal.”
“The hell I did. It wasn’t my fault they didn’t take care of the port properly. If this were true, what does it have to do with you?”
Cosima glances at Vita, and there’s a flash of regret before she smirks at me yet again.
“Your expansion into Spain won’t happen.”
“Into? We’re already there. Wedeservemore.”
Entitled much?
You better fucking believe it.
My family’s earned it, so we deserve every motherfucking thing we want. We’ve invested in communities, putting new roofs on churches and six figures into the coffers for orphanages. We’ve supported political campaigns to ensure the least corruptpeople get into office. That we remind them to say thank you—frequently—is neither here nor there.
But if Spain is the issue, then it’s the bratva that has an issue with us. We cut off their trade expansion into Spain and Portugal for not truly retaliating when this proxy war sucked in Anneliese and Jorge. They’re feeling the squeeze because the O’Rourkes have made serious inroads in Eastern Europe, which used to be a given for the bratva. Mother Russia hasn’t been anyone’s favorite since the Eastern Bloc fell, so the people there welcome the Irish American backing.
“If you weren’t such self-involved pricks, maybe no one would want to kill you.”
“I don’t believe for a single moment Maksim sanctioned me as a mark. The man’s not the smartest potato in the field, but he’s not entirely stupid. He isn’t going after someone like me to teach mytíoanything. This is your family trying to stick your noses so far up his ass that you can smell the vodka on his breath. All that’ll happen is he takes a massive shit on you.”
“That’s a lot of speculation.”
“You’re not denying it,Señora.”
“It doesn’t merit recognition.”
“Sure.”
I’m dismissive as I get the last of the rope off my wrists. I catch it, so it can’t fall to the floor. I can’t look over at Vita without giving away where my attention shifts. I don’t want Cosima or Zorzi wondering why I’m checking on her. They obviously know we’re involved, but I won’t give away just how much she means to me. I don’t think that’ll save her or me, but I don’t need to fuel our tormentors.
“Bastardo arrogante.”
