Page 75 of King of War

Luca is at home with Rayne. Now that some people know she’s back, she’s a target, and I refuse to leave her alone anymore, even if she does rail against my protection. We’re shown into a meeting room, the kind small businesses use for corporate events. Nero and his brother, Marco, are already seated. Four of their men flank the room, two on the left and two on the right.

I take a seat, unfazed by the extra security. Micah and Rafael could deal with them in a heartbeat if need be, leaving me to focus on the Mancini brothers. “Are you expecting trouble, Nero?”

He smirks, tilts his head to the side. “One can never be too careful these days, Enzo. Especially after what happened with the Bertellis.”

Marco’s lip curls like he wants to snarl, but he remains silent, letting his older brother do the talking.

“Yeah, it was a real shame,” I say.

He huffs a laugh, picks at an imaginary piece of lint on the lapel of his suit jacket and mutters something under his breath. I guess I have all the answers I need. The don has clearly chosen my replacement already. I wonder how long it will be before Nero pisses him off and finds himself being thrown off the top of a building, or buried beneath the new Russian casino being built on the edge of the Strip? I suspect not long. The don doesn’t do well with change, or insubordination, and Nero Mancini has his eyes on the top. Any fool can see it. Any fool except the don, obviously. Unless he sees it, and he doesn’t care. A problem for another day.

“Do you have a reason that you requested to speak with me today? Unlike you, I’m a busy man.”

His lip curls in a sneer. His ego didn’t like that, another reason he’d never work out as Carmine’s capo bastone—a job that involves doing all of the dirty work and letting the don take all the credit. “I wanted to look you in the eye, Enzo. See if the rumors are true.”

Fuck me, I’ve already had enough of this. Carmine will know about this meeting, he’ll know Nero will challenge me and therefore that I’ll be coming for him. We don’t have time to sit around watching the Mancinis postulate like peacocks.

I push my chair back abruptly, plant my knuckles on the table. Nero flinches. Good. Micah and Rafael didn’t even bother taking a seat, both of them aware this would be a brief exchange. “And what exactly is that rumor?”

His jaw works, like he’s wrestling with whether this is a good decision or not. He’s ambitious, but he’s not stupid. He glances at the men stationed around the room and they all bristle with nervous energy. Yeah, they might get a round off, but there’s a reason my brothers and I have been Carmine’s go-to men for the past decade. There’s a reason he’s gone unchallenged for the past ten plus years. Because we are better. Faster. Stronger. That’s not ego talking. That’s fact. The don knows it. The other families know it. The pakhan knows it too. “I think you’re aware,” he finally says, much less conviction in his voice than I imagine he intended.

“You don’t even have the balls to even accuse me?” I shake my head. “So fucking disappointing, Nero. I thought you had more about you than that.”

He snarls now, jumping up so fast his chair topples to the ground. Marco stands too, growling and flexing his biceps. Rafael snorts in amusement beside me. “What the fuck did you say to me?” Nero barks.

“Are you fucking deaf or something? I said I thought you had balls.” I enunciate each word clearly. He’s practically foaming at the mouth now, incensed by the open disrespect. I wouldn’t ordinarily show such contempt for one of the family heads, even one with an ego as overinflated as his, but I’m not the don’s guy anymore. I’m just Enzo fucking Medici. Before Nero can reply, I carry on speaking. “You see these men you’ve brought with you?” I glance around the room. “Him.” I point to the one nearest to Marco. “He got into a poker game way above his pay grade and lost. When he couldn’t pay up, Micah stopped him from getting his head torn off his shoulders by Salvatore Moretti.” I point to the man next to him. “This guy. I pulled his fifteen-year-old son off a suicide job Carmine tried to send him on. All of those men came back in pieces. But little Vito, he’s in Harvard now, right?”

The soldier clears his throat. “Yale.”

I nod, impressed. The kid always was smart as hell. Probably why Carmine wanted him dead. “And these two.” I point to the opposite wall. “Who do you think helped Jimmy’s mom out when he couldn’t afford her cancer treatment? And Petey here…” I stare at him. I don’t think he wants the Mancinis or his colleagues knowing how Luca saved his life at Frenchy’s one night, or what he was doing there.

“I owe your family my life, Mr. Medici,” he says before I reveal any more.

Nero is opening and closing his mouth like a fish, probably wondering why he didn’t know any of this. The thing is, we clean up a lot of shit in this city. We protect old ladies who are sick with cancer, and kids who should get a chance to go to college instead of getting carved up into pieces. But we do it quietly. Not for the kudos or the benevolence of it, but because that’s the kind of thing that buys you loyalty in this city. Real, actual, die-for-you loyalty. Not cash. Not poker chips. And that’s what’s kept Carmine unchallenged for all these years. Not only the fact that my brothers and I are ruthless killers, but because we take care of our own.

“You’re lucky I don’t order one of these men to shoot you both where you stand, you stupid prick. But I have a use for you. Go tell Carmine I’ve heard all about his little plot to pin the Bertellis on me. And you can tell him I’m coming for him.” I wink, and I swear Nero looks like he just shat his pants.

My brothers and I walk out of the room, not speaking until we’re out of earshot. They knew this was the probable outcome of our meeting with the Mancinis, and now it’s time to step up our game.

“What now?” Micah asks, cool as a cucumber like always.

“Speak to the family heads. Let them know we’re stepping up the plan, but that they don’t need to be any part of it. In fact, if they stay away it will make this easier.”

Micah nods. “You think Carmine will make any moves today?”

“No. He’ll wait for me to bring the fight to him. He feels much more comfortable on his home turf.” Nobody would get past the motion detectors or the security I have installed around my penthouse. Another gift from my friend, Jax Decker.

“Any skulls to crack open in the meantime?” Rafael asks, eager for the real action to get started. Sometimes his love of chaos is a pain in my ass, but today… Today it helps. “Go round up some friends of yours. Nothing dramatic, maybe thirty or so. Rile them up just enough to keep the Bianchis and the Mancinis busy. I’m prepared to keep them around if they can learn to fall in line.”

“And you?” Micah asks.

“I’m going to check in on Rayne and Luca and then I think I’ll go see the pakhan.”

Micah narrows his eyes, like he’s not entirely sure that’s a good idea. “You need one of us to come with you?”

I shake my head. Ivan responds to strength and sheer front. He’ll respect me more if I show up alone. “I’ve got it.”

I find Ivan in a private room at his favorite restaurant finishing his lunch, and he’s a gracious host despite my interruption—offering me vodka and Medovik. I decline both and take a sweet tea instead. He dismisses his men from the room and I take it as a sign he trusts me, as much as men like us can trust anyone.