Chase
Sometimes a lie is necessary in order for someone to live, in order for them to cling to hope.
As I walked out that door, got into my car and drove to the old warehouse on the lake, I knew that lie would be the best one I’d ever told to not only her, but to myself.
Because I still had a job to do.
A purpose to fulfill.
And the greatest kindness I could give Luc would be the hope that I would come back, that I wasn’t driving to my death.
That my brothers weren’t going to be the ones to do it to me.
I sighed as I pulled into the parking lot.
Always last to the meetings. I liked it that way; it gave me time to think, time to assume the worst, and time for Tex to fill everyone in. I shoved my hands in my pockets as gravel crunched beneath my feet.
One of the men guarding outside nodded at me and opened the heavy metal door.
The entire room was soundproofed.
Flat-screen TVs lined each of the four walls.
And five long tables were placed in the middle of the room.
Along with another five on the other side.
It was no surprise to see Nikolai on one side of the room — he was more Italian than Russian anyway. He just hated to admit that he was one of us almost as much as he hated to admit he drank more wine than vodka.
He tilted his head in acknowledgment as I joined the Abandonato table and let my eyes roam across the room.
Tex was seated in the middle of the Campisi table, his men behind him looking bored as hell.
Dante sat at the Alfero table. Frank stood behind him, most likely offering his support as the new boss. He held his head high in pride, and I couldn’t blame him. Dante was making out to be a boss that people feared, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The chair creaked as Phoenix leaned back. Nicolasis stood behind him. Most from Italy had flown in. Though he chose his home base as Chicago, Phoenix had more men in Europe than he had here, not that it mattered; he held all the power, all the secrets.
His men looked ruthless, and I knew, firsthand, that if you crossed them, you would be dead before you realized you’d even been shot.
And then there were the De Langes.
No leader.
Nobody to call boss.
Pain filled my lungs as I looked at the empty chair, the one Mil used to fill, the one she used to rule like an iron throne that she’d always wanted but never admitted she needed in order to survive.
I closed my eyes and shook my head as rage took over.
Nixon shot me a glance from the right, a silent warning to keep my mouth shut and stop looking trigger-happy.
But I couldn’t help it.
Each De Lange associate looked at me with a mixture of fear and complete hatred, and I couldn’t blame them.
I wanted them dead.
All of them.
The fact that they were even here meant that they didn’t think I would follow through on my promise to end their line.
The fact that Phoenix looked just as pissed as I did was the only thing keeping me from opening fire.
Five other Families from Italy were present. Their jurisdiction wasn’t a part of the Cosa Nostra, but what happened between the most powerful Families in the States affected them greatly.
It was a courtesy to give them a vote.
And they knew it.
My eyes landed on the Vitela family, then the Buratti men, old enough to be grandfathers to each of us, with black eyes and dark hair slicked back with oil. One of the bosses held a cigar in his mouth.
It was every horrible mob movie come to life. Once I would have laughed, made a joke, but I wasn’t that guy anymore.
I nodded to the Rossas and Di Masis, and then my gaze landed on pure treachery.
“What the fuck is he doing with the Sinacore Family?” It was out before I could stop it.
Andrei just smiled and shrugged at me while the boss looked genuinely confused and then shrugged. “He is Family.”
“He is Russian,” I spat.
“Half.” Andrei grinned. “Surprise.”
Phoenix broke eye contact with me. Great, just great.
“And everyone knew this?” I yelled at the entire room.
“It was kept quiet,” the Sinacore boss said in a low voice, “until certain things were set in place. He sought sanctuary with us after the death of the De Lange boss. And once more information came forward…” He eyed Phoenix. “…we thought it best to do what we could to unite what was left of his family with ours.”
I was too pissed to think straight.
Nixon stood and glared in my direction and then nodded to Tex. “Shall we get started?”
What? We weren’t going to even talk about it?
I hated the smug grin that spread across Andrei’s face. What the hell was going on?
“We are here…” Tex stood. “…to discuss the end of the De Lange line.”
The De Langes didn’t even flinch.
“Stay standing!” Tex barked to the men, fifty-eight of them left, fifty-eight souls I couldn’t wait to wipe from this planet. Fifty. Eight. “Your crimes are as follows: drug smuggling, prostitution, sex slavery, plans to kill each of the men in this room, and dealing illegally with other crime families for information. How do you plead?”
“Guilty.” One of the men stepped forward.
I clenched my fists.
“We’re just as guilty as every one of you in this room. What we do with our family is our business. We follow our boss.” He eyed me. “And when our boss tells us she’s working with Russians, we listen. When our boss tells us we’re open for business on the slave market, we do it. We are only guilty of listening to a power-hungry boss. So if loyalty makes us guilty, then kill us now.”
I almost pulled my gun out.
Tex nodded. “The bosses will vote. It needs to be majority in your favor. If not, then we will allow the executions to take place.”
Finally.
Tex started calling out the names of each Family.
Alfero. “Guilty.”
Nicolasi. “Guilty.”
Sinacore. “Not guilty.”
Di Rosa. “Not guilty.”
My stomach filled with dread.
Vitela. “Not guilty.”
Baratta. “Not guilty.”
I clenched my teeth.
Abandonato. Nixon looked at me straight in the eyes as he said loudly, “Not guilty.”
My best friend.
My brother.
My betrayer.
Campisi. “Guilty.”
I closed my eyes.
Tex sighed. “It seems that you’re free to live another day.” He eyed the De Lange family. “Who will take over as boss?”
A man stepped forward.
How was this happening?
How?
I reached for my gun.
“Wait,” Nixon hissed next to me.
I was shaking so hard I felt like my body was making noise as one of the De Lange men stepped forward. “I nominate myself.”
The rest of the men rolled their eyes.
A few laughed.
And then a fight broke out between two of them while the rest of us watched.
“Sometimes,” Nixon whispered, “it’s best to let someone destroy themselves from within. Then again, you already know that, don’t you?”
I shoved him. “It’s weird that you think your vote counts, when technically I’m the boss to this family, right? Blood bond to lead.”
“Careful,” Nixon snarled through his gritted teeth. “You stepped down.”
“And if I challenge you again? If I kill you?”
His eyes fell. “Then you not only lose your brother. You lose the last part of your pathetic soul holding on, for what, Chase?” He shook me by the shirt just as a gunshot rang out.
The De Langes shot at each other; one of the bullets ricocheted toward us.
I shoved Nixon behind me, pulled out my gun.
And fired ten rounds.
Direct hits.
In the chest.
And as each body fell.
I felt nothing but rage.
Chaos erupted between the bosses as I was jerked back from the group by a pair of hands.
“Go,” the gruff, familiar voice said.
I turned to yell and wondered in that moment if I was dead. I spread my hands over my chest and shook my head. “What the fuck?”
“Go.” His hair was longer.
His face older.
His posture more relaxed.
“Luca?” I felt myself cave then, felt myself want to reach for him, to make sure he was real.
“Go,” he said it again, blocking me with his body before I ran out of the building and into my car.