He’d been so forlorn until I’d stopped by. When I learned he’d once been a drug dog, used by the local police department, I’d been shocked to find him hopeful of being adopted. His handler had passed away and the goddamn police hadn’t wanted to keep him.
Who the fuck did that?
An opportunity had been born, yet I’d believed I wouldn’t be the best owner. Maybe the change was exactly what I needed. He responded to me better than anyone.
I’d taught him to bare his teeth on command, which was often enough to terrify the fuck out of people since the pup was a stocky eighty pounds of all muscle.
And sweet as could be.
I noticed Donatello was antsy. So was I.
“Any thoughts if they’re Russo’s people?”
“Then we deal with the situation as we would any other.”
Since leaving the hotel, all I’d thought about were the details surrounding our tentative friendship with the Russos. A partial reason for the success was that Catherine Prince, Alexander’s wife, was the illegitimate daughter of Vitelli Russo, the dead Cosa Nostra patriarch. Their arranged marriage had fucked with the Bratva’s plans.
Their love had and still did transcend all enemy lines.
Carmine as her half-brother had yet another interest in keeping the scenario a happy one. Alliances with opposing crime syndicates were always tenuous at best, but why they’d betray us now was the first question. Although I’d toss in a how dare they do something so fucking stupid.
“So you’re aware, I also noticed a couple of Russo’s guys at the club the other night. At least I think they were Russo’s men.”
“It’s a free country and that’s not a smoking gun. They are welcome in our establishments.”
“Yeah, but they were really paying attention to the activity in the club.”
“Were they talking to anyone?”
“Not that I could tell.”
Exhaling, I realized accusing the Russos of anything without clear proof was not in anyone’s best interest. However, the anger level had just been jacked up two hundred percent.
“We go in as if blind with no preconceived notions.”
“I thought that’s what you’d say. Boss.”
“Come on, boy. Let’s get the party started.” Zorro was already eager, trotting with us with his head held high. Donatello and I walked past the other bandits on the way to the warehouse. I couldn’t help myself, stopping to admire the captives.
Until one made the mistake of spitting in my direction.
That prompted Zorro to growl, but I put my hand out for him.
“Don’t worry, pup. I’ll handle this.” With a brutal backhand from me, the asshole landed on his back, likely staring up at a colorful set of stars.
The pup licked his chops while Donatello bit back a smile.
“I suggest you take a moment to appreciate my hospitality. If you don’t, I’ll have my men drop you off in heavily shark-infested waters with a few gallons of chum. Then we’ll take bets as to if any of you can swim back to shore.”
I was off my game this morning. That much I could tell.
All because of a stunning ballerina.
When the guy sneered, I almost yanked out a weapon but thought better of it.
For now.
Once inside the warehouse, I took my time heading to where the illustrious leader was being kept. My guys had arranged the shipment, which was by all appearances legitimate. With Zorro by my side, I headed to the forklift, pulling out a couple of bottles.
