With Carmine as the trophy Don, my guess was their clout was low on the totem pole. The question driving me insane was whether Carmine knew about the drugs or had even condoned them.
With new generations, alliances were no longer used with frequency. I rubbed my jaw, trying my best to put everything into perspective.
From what I remembered, Sergio was a mere babe in the woods. I hadn’t realized he’d even hit eighteen yet. Although time did flywhen you were bored to death. Was it possible Sergio had acted on his own, a kid hoping to prove his worth? I knew the stupid choices I’d made at his age. All my brothers had done so, the less than endearing streaks of petulance obviously inherited.
“You did good,” I told him and pulled my hand free.
The delivery driver was completely relieved.
“I’ll never bother you again,” he said, as if the offer meant anything to me.
I stood, taking my time to do so. “No, you won’t.”
He blinked as if trying to figure out what the hell I was saying. Like a deer in the headlights. “You’re in the wrong place, buddy. This is the Prince territory and no one from the Russo organization is welcome under any circumstances.”
“I’ll never come back. I swear to God.”
The poor guy was obviously new to the business. That didn’t mean I’d go lenient on him. Quite the contrary. When something as egregious as this happened, we needed to hit it hard and fast so those who’d dared cross us knew what would happen.
“You’re right. You won’t.” I didn’t waste any additional time, raking the edge of the blade across his neck. I preferred using knives. They were much more personal in the moment, allowing all the feels that a gun didn’t provide.
The only thing I didn’t like was the mess. If I calculated the slicing and dicing wrong, I wore the gushing blood. It was obvious my skills were a little rusty but not too bad. Only a string on my hand and the cuff of my white shirt.
My fault. I should have selected another color to wear to the interrogation.
“What about the others?” Donatello asked.
A message and lesson were needed, no matter why Sergio had made such an egregious mistake. What I’d been taught by my father was that no matter the situation, you never appeared weak. Letting this go without some sense of retribution would send a message to every other crime syndicate that we were ripe for the picking. Alexander would agree with me on this.
“Leave one or two to head back to the Russos alive and well with stories to tell. Make sure they know the drugs now belong to us.” I started to head toward the sink to wash off, turning after a few steps. “And send a message that if they dare try this shit again, they’ll lose more than just a few men.”
Either Sergio would be disciplined, or the Italians would strike again, ignoring the verbal alliance. Given my reaction, Carmine would believe they had a score to settle.
“You got it, boss.”
“We need to find the person at the club.” And fast.
“I’ll put out some feelers. Once the person hears about what happened, they’ll be a nervous wreck.” When he cracked his knuckles, wearing a sly grin, I shook my head.
I rolled my eyes from hearing him call me boss. “And you said I was the nutcase.”
“You’re more than a little crazy but that’s what makes you so damn good to work with.” He walked beside me as I headed to the small kitchenette. “I’m curious. What are you going to tell the family?”
Alexander as Don wouldn’t be enthused about my early morning decision, but there’d been no choice. If the Italians wanted a piece of the action, they’d need to come through me first. But God help them. With four Prince brothers on the loose, you could never know what to expect.
Except for a flow of dead bodies.
“That we could have a war on our hands. What the hell. It’s been a few months.”
Donatello glanced over my shoulder. “I’ll hit the streets and see what I can discover about Sergio.”
“Yeah, do that. Alexander will want every scrap of information we can discover.” I continued to stroke Zorro while studying the men on the ground. At least a couple of them were very nervous, constantly glancing at my soldiers. “Take your time learning information from our guests and strip the delivery truck.”
“Will do.”
Zorro suddenly growled and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. When he took off running toward the street, both Donatello and I ripped out our weapons. By instinct, we turned and raced toward the street, crouching low. Another asset I’d quickly discovered in Zorro’s bag of tricks was his ability to sniff out danger.
Days like today were when mistakes were made, lives lost during senseless attacks. Zorro could run like a bat out of hell, his long fur flying in the light breeze masking whatever had drawn his attention.
