The Bratva have a minor presence in this city, but they defer to us, the Italians, because we’ve had such a monopoly for so long. They want to stay on our good side, but apparently Sergei has a case of loose lips.
Her dark eyes widen again. “Do not blame Sergei. I am old woman, henpecking,da?”
I look at her sharply but eventually give her a nod. I’m not going to rough up Sergei. He’s pushing sixty and barely has a grip on the Bratva as it is.
She leaves me with a pint of beer and my pierogies, and I finish them before lying a hundred-dollar bill down on the table for the waitress, or for Natasha. Whoever gets to it first.
The next shop is a convenience store on the south side of town. We collect thirty percent of their sales to provide them with twenty-four-hour protection. It’s a steep price to pay, but in the area? It’s the best they’re going to get.
Ricky, the owner, meets me at the door with a wide smile.
“Caputo, it’s been a while! Usually you send your men, yeah?”
“Usually,” I drawl, and he slides an envelope toward me. I heft it in my hands. “Feels a little light, Rick.”
“Alfonso didn’t show up for his shift last night,” he says, almost apologetically. “I had to close, didn’t feel safe.”
Alfonso. Of course he didn’t fucking show.
I nod tightly. “I’ll send Arturo tonight. Don’t worry, Rick. I’ve got you.”
He just smiles again, looking a little nervous as his hands hover over the cash register. I know he probably has more money in there, but if Alfonso didn’t show I feel bad about collecting it.
It’s becoming clear that half my men are loyal to Nico, and that the only two I can trust are Arturo and Diego. Not to mention whoever that masked fucker was who went after Sophia.
I have to get everyone together. Make them understand that being loyal to me is the only way to be loyal to my father. Nico’s activities are wild and unsanctioned. I do my job.
They’ll understand, and Nico will fall in line.
He has to.
The third and final job is the most dangerous. I’ll be accepting a shipment from Columbia, the third shipment from these particular suppliers. I’d met with them when we first started doing business with them, but the man I know only as “Chip” doesn’t fuck around.
He’ll find it strange that I show up instead of one of my men. I’ll have to explain myself, because the only thing these guys understand is power.
I park a block from the warehouse, walking over and Chip meets me at the gate.
He raises a bold eyebrow. “The boss himself coming to collect? Something must be wrong.”
“Everything’s fine,” I lie through my teeth. “Just wanted to do a bit of quality control.”
“You want to try the product?”
I shake my head. “Just want to pay for it. I trust you, Chip.”
He spreads his hands. “A man should only trust his own men,Caputo.”
But that’s the thing. I no longer trust most of my men. But I can’t tell Chip that, not in so many words, at least.
I put the briefcase I’m holding on top of a crate and open it, showing him the hundreds stacked inside.
“There’s a little extra, for your trouble,” I say in a calm, measured voice.
He looks at the money with little interest then nods, closing the briefcase and taking it.
“My men and I will leave it to you, then,” he says. “But a word to the wise,Caputo. The only man you can trust is a dead man.”
I nod sharply and Chip and his men pile into their cars and speed away. I stand there with the shipment, my phone in my hand and texting Arturo, when a shot rings out.
