Tales of Elio’s days as an enforcer before taking over the Fratellanza rattled the underworld. “The Butcher” was notorious across Southern Italy for mailing pieces of his victims to their families.
A finger.
A spleen.
A big toe, just because.
The instinct to kill still lingers behind eyes mirroring the color of the iced coffee he holds between his fingers. Elio no longer touches day-to-day operations, but he keeps his ear to the ground and his finger on the trigger.
He reaches for his cigar and extends his arm over the back of his oversized chair. “Michele informed me about it but left out the details,” he says about his nephew, his right hand.
“Does he still do business with the Preda?” Andrea’s elbows rest on top of his cream chinos. “Cocaine is a hell of a drug.”
“No,” Elio says, his tone clipped. “We’ve been out of the drug business. Michele knows no drugs under any circumstances.”
The Fratellanza is one of the big four mafias. It controls most of the European gun market and utilizes alliances across the Americas, a business Tino has been clawing to break into since his aging father threw him more territories.
“Tino is an incompetent fool, just like his father. Do what you gotta do, but avoid war at all costs.” Elio’s eyes meet mine. “Not unless you’re willing to pay the price.”
His gaze grows distant, stretching over the crystals dancing across the bay’s waves. The Fratellanza lost hundreds of members after one of the biggest mafia trials since I was a child.Elio had already left the drug business after losing his two sons during a time when status and reputation couldn’t afford safety. They still can’t, but I have no one to lose except Nonna, whom I keep protected.
I never cared about legacy or heirs. Only revenge.
I get to the point. “Do we have your support if it comes to war?”
The sun streaks over Elio’s wrinkled hands. “You’re a good leader who’s reshaped the Scilari. I appreciate the business we do, but I am a man who values family and unions.”
Elena.
Elio has been pushing me to marry his daughter by his mistress since she turned eighteen, four years ago. Unifying families through marriage is a tradition I have zero fucking interest in fulfilling. Ziu is adamant that it’s good business, but what business do I have being with someone half my age?
I change the subject. “You once came out of retirement.”
He nods. “Different circumstances, Salvatore. I’ll do anything for family.”
“You should marry Elena and get it over with.”
“No.”
“Does this unnecessary trip to Naples have anything to do with your hesitation?” I don’t bother looking at Andrea’s toothy grin. He’s been flashing his teeth since we arrived.
“Is her background check ready?” I insert the key into the lock.
“With what computer?” He gestures toward the empty corridor. “There wasn’t time between last night’s interrogation and this trip to Elio that could’ve been a conference call on a secure line.”
“If you stopped fucking around, you’d have it done. I want to be sure it’s her.”
The front door opens into a tiny entrance hall of art and stone. Traces of freshly cut flowers tug at my nostrils. I follow the scent of blended citrus up a concrete staircase drenched in bright rays from the skylight.
“I think she’s telling the truth,” Andrea says. The coincidence is crazy, but maybe she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” He laughs. “She’s got balls. Talking shit in the kill container in a bonnet.”
I’ve stared into the eyes of a hundred lives I’ve ended. All have a moment of regret, that fraction of a second they wished they’d chosen differently than the path leading to a closed casket. Bianca’s reaction wasn’t one of last rites for crimes committed. Panic widened her stare and the flush that inched up her neck.
It’s been fucking with me all morning.
“You care for this one.” Sarcasm laces Andrea’s tone aimed at my back. “I don’t blame you.”
“I care about protecting what’s ours from a threat,” I say.
