Chapter One

Enzo

 

Enzo Marino sank into his leather couch with a sigh. His mug of coffee was warm in his hand, and today promised to be another good one. There would be plenty of work to do. Now that he was head of the family, it was up to him to make sure everything went smoothly. But he had a good team working for him, and he knew they were loyal. His father had left him quite the legacy, and he couldn’t deny it.

 

Before he went to the office and arranged hits, checked on protection payments, and ordered new shipments of black market weapons, he liked to spend a few moments all to himself. Having those first few minutes of the day alone, before anyone started bothering him about work, primed him for the day. Every morning, he sat in his den, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the back of the house, and reminded himself of just how lucky he was. Nobody would dare to call his cell at this hour unless it was an absolute emergency, and even then they would hesitate to dial, lest they suffer his wrath. The staff knew the protocol as well, and they didn’t come to the house until midmorning, when Enzo had already gone to work.

 

His eyes slid to the big portrait of his father on the mantel. An imposing and ruthless man, Marco Marino had ruled the city with an iron fist. He had government officials in his pocket and loyal capos at his side, which allowed him to control almost every aspect of the city. Though Enzo’s grandfather had come to America with nothing but the clothes on his back, Marco had been able to amass a fortune that would sustain the Marino line for generations. Unfortunately, he had died of a heart attack when he was only in his sixties. It had been heartbreaking for Enzo and the rest of the family. But for Enzo, he had known he was ready to step up to the plate. The rest of the Marinos had known that their crime organization would be in good hands, since Enzo was just as serious about all of this as his father had been.

 

It was then that Enzo had sold his ritzy apartment and moved back into his father’s home. As he took another sip of coffee—dark roast, served black—he knew he had made the right decision. The solid wood bookshelves, expensive furniture, and priceless heirlooms his father had acquired over the years meant he was living in the lap of luxury. It was a manifestation of his status, and he couldn’t ask for more than that.

 

But just as he was starting to see the bottom of his mug, a heavy thud sounded on the front door. Enzo sat up, splashing a drop of the dark liquid on his Armani suit. “Shit.” He stood up and set the mug down with a thud, pissed that his morning had been ruined already. Maybe he should have Rupert come in early, just to keep door-to-door salesmen at bay while Enzo had his coffee. Someone shouted from the other side of the door, but Enzo couldn’t hear through the thick wood.

 

His heart thudding with adrenaline, Enzo had a good idea that this wasn’t just a delivery driver with a package or a Girl Scout selling cookies. He stepped quickly into the surveillance room just off the main hallway of the house. The numerous screens that lined the walls of this room showed the grounds from various angles. Enzo cursed as his suspicions were confirmed: the police were standing on his front doorstep. He could see the angry face of an officer as he knocked again, mouthing the words, “Open up! Police!” Several squad cars were scattered over the front lawn haphazardly, their drivers probably getting a kick out of tearing up his property.

 

Despite the demands from the men in uniform, Enzo wasn’t about to open the front door. He headed to the back of the house and down the stairs. The finished basement was one hell of a man cave, with a floor-to-ceiling entertainment center, numerous televisions, and high-end furniture that was perfect for catching the latest sporting event. But Enzo didn’t have time to appreciate it as he gently pressed a square piece of trim. With a tiny click, an innocent-looking shelf moved slightly away from the wall. Enzo yanked it open to reveal the tunnel that ran underneath the back yard.

 

He smiled to himself as he went, glad that his father had put this secret exit in all those years ago. It had been made when he was just a kid, the workers coming every day to dig the passage from the basement to the gardening shed out at the back of the property. Enzo would walk out to the back of the property to watch them, fascinated that they had been able to do such a thing without any of the large construction equipment he had seen at his father’s other properties. When the work was done, the men had suddenly disappeared. Enzo hadn’t thought about it much as a kid, but he knew now why he had never seen them again.

 

It seemed worth it to him if he could get off his property without being seen, but as soon as he emerged from the trapdoor in the gardening shed, he knew that his luck had run out. Several cops stood right there in front of him, guns drawn, angry and fearful looks on their faces.

 

Enzo put his hands up above his head, knowing there was no place left to run. They would have already swarmed into the house itself, and he couldn’t keep them out of the tunnel forever. His arms were already over his head to keep the trapdoor open, and a quick reach for his gun would get him shot on the spot. “Hey there, boys. I’m sure a bounced check or two isn’t worth all this trouble.”

 

The police didn’t see the humor. “Lorenzo Marino, you’re under arrest for the murder of George Lewis. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” Enzo rolled his eyes as he held out his wrists for the handcuffs. So much for a slow, relaxing morning over a cup of coffee.

 

He could hear the cops gloating over the radio as they brought him in. “Yeah, we got him! It’s a good thing we got the info about the tunnel, or he might have gotten away.”

 

Enzo wondered who had squealed about the escape tunnel. Someone was going to pay for that, and soon. He hadn’t mentioned it to any of his men, but there was no telling who might have heard about it from his father.

 

“Oh yeah,” the cop continued, grinning from the driver’s seat. “Got his fancy suit on and everything. He’s gonna look real sexy in bright orange.”

 

Enzo put his face near the divider to make sure the officers could hear them over all their chatter. “You boys might want to tell them to go ahead and call my attorney. I want him waiting on me when we get there.” He leaned back in the seat, propped his elbow casually on the door, and looked out the window like he was just taking another limo ride. He would be back home by the afternoon, if he had any say in it.