Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“You’re right. Bad joke. Why the sudden meet, though?”
I gesture to Enzo. “There have been whispers.”
Enzo nods. “The other night, when we made certain moves…” Everybody knows he’s talking about the fire and the massacre of the Gallos. “It seems we missed a task on our to-do list.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” Luca asks.
“Orlando Gallo,” Enzo says. “Cousin to the Don. He meant little when the Gallos had all their men. He was a low-flier, a bottom-feeder, but now, the few remaining Gallo men are rallying around him.”
“What’s the evidence?” I say.
“Three TNT overdoses last night,” Enzo goes on. “One of my homeless fellas saw three Italians cruising the neighborhood.”
“That’s weak,” Elio mutters.
The Whisper glances at my brother sharply. “That’s not all. Check this out.” He reaches into his pocket, unfolds a piece of paper, and drops it on the table. Luca wanders over from the wall, and the rest of us lean in.
“Fucking scumbags,” I growl.
None of us flinch away from it. Our world is darkness. It’s our job to face it, but that doesn’t stop a sick feeling from twisting through me.
The photo shows a pale stomach in the camera’s flash. The shade of the skin tells me the person is already dead. Dried blood clings to their skin, spelling three words.
Gallo Was Here.
“How do we know this was Orlando and not another Gallo?” Salvatore says in his usual slow drawl.
“It’s the only logical person it could be,” The Whisper says. “All the others are … indisposed.”
Burned to a crisp or with bullets buried in their skulls, he means.
“Could be a copycat,” Elio murmurs.
The Whisper nods. “We need to gather more information. But if I had to bet on it, I’d say this is Orlando.”
“Do we have any information about what Orlando was doing until last night?” I ask.
“I’m gathering that now,” The Whisper says.
“I can visit whatever little hole he was staying in,” Vito says sternly, the big man ready for violence. “I will get answers.”
I nod. “In the meantime, we need to send a message. Any dealer found slinging that TNT shit loses an arm.”
Elio narrows his eyes at me.
“What?” I growl.
All the men turn to him. We’re all savages. Elio is, too. He did what he had to do on the night of the fire. He shot, and he stabbed, and he poured gasoline all over the place, but that doesn’t mean he’s as comfortable with it as the rest of us. Maybe it’s his more artistic nature. He’s always been more in tune with his emotions.
“Well?” I go on when he just looks at me.
“What if they’re coercing the dealers?” Elio says. “Maybe some idiot kid is trying to keep his mom afloat. Mayb—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap. “We have to shut this down early. Do you have any idea how many drugs were spiked with that shit? How many people OD’d? How many orphans were made? All in our fucking city.”
“I don’t disagree that we need to do something,” Elio says, “but hell, this just seems drastic. That’s all.”
“Drastic,” I repeat, shaking my head. “This is what’s happening. Put the word out. All of you. I want information on Orlando ASAP.”
“I’ll get to work then,” my four main lieutenants say, standing up. Elio lingers behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a pout on his face.
“You’re not smiling anymore,” Elio points out.
“Not much to smile about,” I grunt. “The last thing we need is round two with this shit. People will die, E. Countless people.”
“So you’ll amputate some low-level dealers.”
“I’d beat them to death with my bare hands if it meant keeping the Gallos gone. If you ever become Don, you’ll understand. Our old man didn’t work half his life and sacrifice so much for us to get soft and let this city fall into ruin.”
Elio sighs. “The threat could be enough, anyway. Our name means something.”
“No,” I say because he needs to understand how brutal this life really is. “Somebody will slip. We’ll catch them, and we’ll have to make good on our promise so that nobody else tries this ever again.” I stand up. “You’re welcome to resign as my consigliere if you’re uncomfortable with this.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he growls, turning away.
Wait, I’m sorry, I almost say, but I can’t make myself say the words. I should, though. Elio has done nothing except support me and the Family. He hates violence even more than I do, and yet he always does what he needs to. He’s the best man I know, and he deserves respect.
My head’s a mess between Bella playing on my mind and this slice of misery.
Soon, it’s time to return to legitimate work at DeLuca Investments. It’s our biggest legitimate business—a money-management firm allowing us to launder and earn legal funds simultaneously.
I spend the afternoon liaising with various teams, strategically planning a large transfer for one of our biggest clients. Sometimes, sitting at this desk, I can almost imagine I’m not the Don. I haven’t killed people. I can pretend that regular people like Bella wouldn’t go running if they knew who and what I actually was.