We’d had him nearly twenty-four hours and things seemed calm for a minute. The restaurant was already under construction and would reopen in a few weeks. There wasn’t much damage, windows and drywall. Franco took it as an opportunity to remodel though. He wanted to make a statement that things were fine, better than fine.

Dante had been behaving himself, well for the prick that he was. He turned out to be a lot different than I’d expected. He wasn’t the pretty boy whiner that I’d expected. He hadn’t asked for anything for the pain in his shoulder and other than trying to break free, which anyone would have done, he’d been easy to care for.

Franco had promised him a good death, something which I hoped wouldn’t have to happen. He’d also promised him that if he had to kill him, he’d make sure he received a proper burial, saying he owed it to Camilla, Dante’s mother. It had been an odd thing to say. I could understand if he felt he owed it to Sal, who’d been his friend and partner for over a decade, but to mention Camilla? There had to be something to it. Maybe he assumed Dante knew what it was. I sure as hell didn’t, and I wasn’t about to ask. I’d learned long ago, people who asked too many questions weren’t usually around long enough to hear the answers.

Franco seemed in a good mood all afternoon after talking to Dante. We enjoyed dinner. As usual, it was delicious, but the dessert made the meal. I wasn’t surprised that Franco had Teresa make up a plate for “our guest” but I was surprised when Annalisa put a piece of tiramisu on his tray. Dante seemed to like it though. I considered asking him what he knew about Franco and his mother, but thought better of it. I wouldn’t want word to get back to either side that I was asking questions.

After I’d taken the plate down to Dante, I met Franco in his office. We were going to reach out to Sal. The news today had reported that Dante Ranetti was dead. It had been reported that he’d been killed in a gun fight at the docks, his body yet to be recovered from the bay where the police assumed it had been dumped.

Franco said that this was really good news for us. He’d planned on some of Sal’s men to report back that Dante had been kidnapped. Since there hadn’t been that many guys at the dock, and we had to shoot some, no one was sure what had happened to Dante.

“It’s time to let Sal know what’s going on and see if he’s willing to play ball or if he’s going to be the selfish prick he’s turned into.” Franco put his phone on speaker and dialed the number.

“You have some fucking nerve calling me after your part in killing my son,” Sal shouted into the phone.

“First of all, your son was attempting to rob me when he was shot, so don’t go acting like I shot Dante in cold blood. And he fired first too,” Franco added. “He wasn’t innocent. He deserved to be shot.”

“Tell that to Camilla,” Sal shot back.

At the mention of Camilla’s name, Franco’s face softened. “He’s not dead.”

“That’s a fucked up thing to say. My men said he was shot. We can’t even find his body.”

“That’s because he’s here,” Franco said.

There was silence on the other end of the line. You could almost hear Sal thinking. “He’s there...or his body is?”

Again, there was silence. It was the silence of hope. There was always that feeling of hope when someone you loved had been killed that there had been some sort of mistake.

Franco was brilliant, he’d created the sorrow for Sal and Camilla, and now he created hope. “He’s here,” Franco said calmly.

“You son of a bitch!” Sal shouted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put Camilla through? You’re fucking sick. Enough is enough. You’re just jealous that—”

“Are you going to insult me,” Franco cut him off. “Or do you want to hear how to get him back.”

“Are you kidding me? You think I’m going to talk to you? Listen to you? You can go fuck yourself.”

“Tell that to Camilla,” Franco’s statement was the same one Sal had said to him a moment earlier and seemed to have the same effect.

Silence came over on the line.

“How do I even know you’re telling the truth? Everyone knows Dante’s body is missing.”

“I’ll put him on the phone in an hour. Make sure Camilla is there, because it might be the last time she speaks to her son. Don’t mistake what’s happened for kindness or weakness. You deserve everything you’re getting. All I want is for you to pay back what you stole from me.”

“Is that even possible?” Sal said. “You’ve got to let this go.”

“The way you let it go? The way you’ve let me run my business? Your son is here because he was trying to steal from me. All I want is what is fair. Proper repayment. I want control of the dock again, and I’ll be taking the shipment you have coming in later this month.”

“The hell you will,” Sal yelled.

“It’s your choice. I’ll let you tell your son and Camilla what you decide in an hour.” Franco hung up the phone with Sal still yelling something about him being a piece of shit.

I didn’t have to ask Franco if he’d really kill Dante if Sal didn’t come through. Franco had killed men for much less. He’d even killed his cousin once who had a serious cocaine problem and had been stealing from the strip club.

Yet, there was a little part of me that had to wonder if this was slightly different. This was the son of the man who’d been his best friend for over a decade, and there was clearly something going on in regards to Camilla. Franco wasn’t talking about it, and I let it drop.

“Find out everything you can about the gun shipment. Arti spilled the beans about it, but he doesn’t know much. All he knew was that it was worth millions. I want that and control of the dock again.”

“Do you think you’ll get it, Boss?” Donnie asked.

“I think I might, given the situation, but I want to be prepared if things go south.”

I left his office to do as he asked. I checked with a few of my guys on the street that usually had Ranetti connections. The shipment seemed to be Russian. It was weapons, mostly guns but there were a few other things expected to come into port.

There were other details, like the name of the man from Russia who was brokering the deal and some of the types of weapons. I wrote it all down, and took it to Franco.

When an hour had passed, the three of us headed to the basement.

“Come to let me out?” Dante asked, with the same smart ass attitude he’d had when we brought him in.

“That’s up to your father. It always has been. Let’s see if he comes through for you, or if he decides that a ship full of guns is worth more than you.

“I told you, he’s never going to make a deal with you. That’s not what kind of man he is.”

Franco smiled. “I’m not too worried about convincing him. It’s your mother who will convince him for me.” He took out his phone and pressed the number to call Sal again.

“Hello,” Sal said, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Let me talk to Dante.”

“You’re really in no place to make demands, but that’s what I planned to do anyway.” Franco handed Dante the phone.

“Dad?” he said, keeping himself together. “Yes, I’m fine. How are you? How’s mom?” There was a brief pause. “Mom? Mom…don’t cry… no, they’re being… hospitable.”

Franco reached down and took the phone. “You know what I want, and you know what you need to do.”

Franco hung up the phone with Camilla still yelling into it… something about if something happened to Dante she’d make sure Franco paid.

“Damn, she still has fire,” he said to Dante. “You better hope, for your sake, that she convinces your father to make the deal.”

Dante didn’t react. In fact, his face had been like a stone since he’d spoken to his parents. He was emotionless.

I knew this look though. I’d worn it at times. He didn’t want anyone to know his true feelings.

We didn’t stay long after the phone call. I followed Franco out of the room.

Dante laid on the bed staring at the wall.

If this thing worked, it would be a miracle. It appeared Dante knew this as well. He was basically a dead man walking.