Page 34 of King of War

“Silence is a cruel housemate,” I tell him, recalling how long it took me to get used to it when Rayne left. She was always filling the house with noise, but not the kind that drove me insane. No, it was the kind I cherished. Always singing, laughing, asking me how my day had been. The silence without her was crushing, and it almost killed me.

“The cops have analyzed ballistics. Confirmed Vinny was killed with Joseph Bertelli’s gun, and they have it pegged as a targeted Russian hit. So you did well.” He gives me a grateful nod.

“And did you speak to the pakhan?”

“I did. He’s not going to publicly claim the kills, of course, but he’s not going to deny them either. He is young and making his name. It makes him look good to have taken out a made family.”

Something about that definitely doesn’t feel right. Since when did pinning it on the Russians mean coming to a cozy little understanding with them? “And what about the other families? They will expect some kind of retaliation against the Russians for this, even those who hated the Bertellis.”

He rubs his jaw, his fingertips rasping against the thick dirty-white stubble there. “They will fall into line as they always do. Although, in that regard, Vinny’s death could serve us well.”

What the fuck? I don’t say that, forcing myself to remember that the don doesn’t mourn his loved ones the way that normal people do. Everything is an opportunity. Everything turned into strategy. “How so?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Hear me out. Vinny was doing a little work with the Russians, trying to negotiate some trade deals. He went to a business meeting between them and the Bertellis. Joseph and Oscar wanted to undercut the Russians and there was a disagreement. The Bertellis fired first. Vinny tried to make Joseph and Oscar see reason, and they killed him for it. Ivan’s men killed them in retribution. Therefore, we are even.”

This is fucked up, but it also puts me totally in the clear. And it buys me time to figure out what the hell the don is up to without the other families breathing down my neck. “Sounds like a perfect plan, boss.”

He nods, satisfied with himself.

“Did you give any more thought to what Vinny said to Oscar, about him running his mouth and what that could have been about?”

His eyes narrow in suspicion. “No. Like I told you, Oscar was always making up stories. He lived in his own fantasy world. Why are you asking me this when I already gave you my answer?”

“Just trying to get in front of any potential problems is all. If Oscar has been talking shit about you, and now the Bertellis are dead, and you’re not taking any steps against the Russians, some people might think there was some credence to those rumors, is all.”

He snarls, face twisted in anger now. “Do you think that?”

“I’m just pointing out the optics, Carmine. It’s my job to protect you and your interests. If we at least knew what it was Oscar claimed to have had on you, then we could come up with a response.”

His jaw works and he stares at me intently. “I heard it was some notion that your father and I had covered something up. What that was, I do not know. And now Oscar Bertelli is dead. His sons and his brother and his nephews are dead. Thus, the rumor is dead!”

Thanks to that stupid fuck Vinny, I’ll never know what Oscar was going to say after mentioning Carmine and my father. For all I know, he could have been trying to bargain for his life, about to tell me that they were all buddies. Whatever it is that Carmine is trying to keep hidden, it’s big enough that it got the Bertellis killed.

“Looks like everything is taken care of then.”

He scowls, taking a pen from his desk and scribbling a note before shoving it into my hands. “The funeral is this coming Friday. I want Angelo to take the service and not that new priest. He smiles too damn much.”

Ah, Angelo. I’ve been purposely avoiding him since Rayne got back here, knowing he’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer. I assumed she’d have asked to see him by now, but no. She was obviously as happy to cut him off as she was the rest of us. Plus, there’s the whole him being a priest thing, which tends to limit the interactions I have with him in general. Not because we don’t approve of each other’s choices. More like our worlds don’t often mix well.

“I’ll speak with him.” I glance down at the note. It’s a phone number. “What’s this for?”

“That’s Vinny’s aunt’s number. You should probably give her the details, but I refuse to speak to that whore.”

Have I only just noticed that he calls almost every woman he doesn’t like a whore? What the fuck is that about? “She does know that he’s dead though?”

“Yes. The cops told her. Give her the details and tell her not to bring her whiny bitch of a daughter with her.”

“Noted.”

He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, and I’m grateful for an excuse to leave. I notice the two men hovering nearby when I leave the don’s house and it’s no surprise to find a car following me home. I pull over and get out. Better to get this over with here than let these assholes follow me home.

The dark gray SUV comes to a stop behind me. The windows roll down. A guy with a buzzcut pokes his head out of the passenger side. “The boss would like a word with you,” he says in a thick Russian accent.

I groan inwardly. Just what I fucking need. “Then tell him to get out of the car.”

The guy shakes his head. “Boss does not do that.”

The back window rolls down now too, and I come face to face with Ivan Volkov. “Enzo Medici. It is nice to finally meet you.” The car door swings open. “Please join me. It is far too hot to talk on the side of the road.”