The cold grip of a late February wind clutched at Andino Marcello’s throat even as he tried to flip the collar of his jacket higher to keep it out. Nothing worked—nothing ever worked to keep out that kind of cold in this fucking city.
They still had another month of this shit to go, too. Winter wasn’t going to let up until it had ravaged New York with one cold blast after another, even if it was the last day of February.
Usually, he didn’t mind the weather as much as he did this winter. He could ignore the cold, and get lost in work, or something else. This year was not shaking out to be quite the same. So was his fucking life lately.
A giant dumpster fire.
A lot like his mood, too.
Andino grunted at the enforcer who held open the restaurant door for him to slip inside. On another day, he might have given the man a nod or thanks. Not to-fucking-day. All he wanted to do was get this goddamn meeting over with, and go home.
He wasn’t even planning to work.
Andino was acutely aware of the eyes that fell on him as he entered the business. Men from his family, and men from another neighboring New York Cosa Nostra. Although, where the Marcello family hated the Calabrese organization, they tolerated the Donati crime family.
It probably helped that Dante had finally accepted the fact his daughter was going to be with Cross Donati whether her father liked it or not. Andino gave it less than six months before his cousin married the cocky Donati fucker—everybody got to have their happily ever after.
Except him, apparently.
He was still alone.
Haven still wasn’t his.
And all for what?
Andino glanced around the restaurant, and the men waiting on him to come in and take a seat, so they could begin this meeting. Apparently, he gave her up for this.
This life.
His family.
The legacy.
Duty.
He didn’t want to be bitter about it, but that was difficult. Harder than he expected it to be, frankly. The problem was—nobody gave a damn, and he couldn’t find it in himself to let them know how he felt.
Not yet, anyway.
No man in this life wanted the people around him to know he was struggling emotionally, or with something silly like love. Or the loss of it, for that matter. It was a simple weakness for someone to pick at, or hone in on. Andino wasn’t in the business of showcasing his weaknesses like badges of honor for someone else to use as fucking target practice. He was still intended to be the boss.
The boss couldn’t be emotional.
Or so he was told.
Besides, they had bigger problems to deal with at the moment than his feelings. Too many issues to name. Every single one started and ended with the fucking Calabrese family, and the fact John had killed their boss.
Surprise, surprise.
It was a mess waiting to happen.
Why was anyone shocked?
“The roads are terrible,” Andino grumbled under his breath as he took a seat beside his quiet uncle. Dante hadn’t asked, but the quirking of the man’s eyebrow was enough for him to silently ask, Where the fuck were you? “The storm picked up.”
“Should make for a fun drive home,” his father said across the table.
Andino shrugged. “That’s February for you.”
He didn’t miss the look that passed between his father, and his other uncle, Lucian. Andino had been in a mood for days, and it wasn’t about to change anytime soon. He couldn’t fucking shake it, no matter how hard he tried. He was grateful that, for the most part, the men around him who knew him well chose not to ask.
That made shit easier.
On him, at least.
“Shall we get started?” Dante asked.
Andino nodded. “Yeah, let’s start.”
“We need to figure out a way to handle the Calabrese,” his uncle said. “We all need to come to some agreement that will clean up this mess—preferably in a peaceful manner.”
“Their violence is escalating,” Giovanni added.
“They’re directly targeting Capos, or their crews,” Lucian said.
Andino sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face. They all offered this information as though he didn’t know it to begin with. Like he’d had his fucking head shoved under sand for the last while, and pretended that he didn’t know what was happening out on the streets.
He was the underboss.
He got the calls.
He handled the Capos.
“I know what’s going on,” Andino snapped. “And I’m aware that we need to figure something out to handle the fucking Calabrese.”
Dante shifted in his chair, and said, “Other people in this restaurant are not aware.” With that statement, his uncle gave a nod in Cross Donati’s direction, adding, “Or at least, he doesn’t know the latest details. He’s the boss of another organization in this city—this growing war between our family and the Calabrese could indirectly disrupt his business and organization.”
Shit.
Yeah.
Andino needed to get back on his game, and fast. “All attempts to reach out to the Calabrese, and settle this by less violent means has been shut down at every turn.”
“Then, what do they want?” Cross Donati asked.
Wasn’t it obvious?
“A problem.”
Dante chuckled dryly. “That, and to one-up the Marcellos. They’ve always had a hard nut for that, yeah?”
A quiet agreement passed over the men sitting at various tables. There were more Marcello men in the business than Donati men. It looked like Cross had only brought a select few to the meeting.
“Do you have an opinion?” Dante asked the man. “Anything you would like to add?”
Cross folded his arms over his chest, and relaxed in the chair. “Attention in this business is always a bad thing when it comes to officials, and I can’t say that I like how many times I’ve seen the New York crime families’ names on Breaking News banners lately.”
Andino cringed.
That was accurate.
“Us either,” Dante agreed.
“Continuing this feud with the Calabrese will only bring more attention our way,” Cross said. “And I say our way because all three of the New York families know that when one organization gets attention, the other two get the same gift just by definition of association. A lot has happened over the last year—none of us, or our organizations—can afford that kind of attention right now. We need to keep the officials out. At least, that’s my take.”
Dante didn’t disagree.
Andino couldn’t, either.
“The problem with that,” Lucian murmured, staring straight at Dante as though no one else in the business mattered to him, “is that it means we somehow bend to the Calabrese, or whatever demands they decide to make when they get around to it. Is that what the Marcellos are willing to do, now—cower to a family that killed my blood?”
Dante didn’t even blink. “If it means keeping our family safe, then yes.”
“And what if that leaves us exposed—weak?”
“It won’t. It makes us smart.”
Lucian let out a dark noise under his breath, but turned to stone when he stared out the window to his left without another opinion to share. Andino sympathized with both of his uncles’ positions. He knew why Lucian felt the way he did, and why Dante—as the boss, and the one who needed to make the hardest choices to keep everyone safe even when pride was a factor—refused to give his brother what the man wanted.
Nothing in this life was easy.
It couldn’t be.
“We have to protect our family,” Dante repeated.
Only this time, he said it to Andino.
Like he needed another reminder.
Look at all he sacrificed for his family.
For his duty.
He didn’t need to be reminded.
• • •
Andino’s Lexus crawled behind the heavy traffic. Brooklyn was good for that—like almost every other part of the fucking city. That wasn’t really what had him on edge, though. This small part of Brooklyn was the only area where the Calabrese organization had territory. They kept a stronghold over it for years.
Which was, sort of, Andino’s whole point of being there today.
Just because one family held territory in the city didn’t mean other families couldn’t … work, so to speak, in the same area. Or rather, own legitimate businesses. A Marcello Capo had long since owned a club down in this part of Brooklyn. The man had never before had problems with the Calabrese, or the fact he was in their territory.
Until now.
The Capo assured he could—and would—handle it, but Andino decided to take a trip his way to check in, and make sure the man was fine. That was the job of the family underboss, after all. That, and Andino did actually like this particular Capo.
Still, being in this part of Brooklyn just had a tendency to make Andino nervous for a multitude of reasons, what with the Calabrese being in a fit like they were. Those bastards didn’t even think before they jumped the gun, lately.
Violence was all too common.
Andino’s eyes swept the streets as he passed, and the businesses he knew for a fact belonged, or were attached in some way, to the Calabrese family. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to see through the dark tint of his Lexus’ windows, but that didn’t mean anything. His car was well known, and so was the fucking driver inside. No one but him drove his car.
He didn’t trust the Calabrese bastards with an inch.
Not now.
So yeah, he kept his eyes peeled even as he drove through streets that, only a few months ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about getting out to walk down. Things were not the same, now, and shit had most definitely changed.
Not for the better, either.
Business was dangerous.
Andino reached over, and pressed the button on the stereo, saying, “Call Terrance.”
The call rang through the speakers, and the Capo in question picked up on the third ring. “Ciao.”
“I’m making a drive over to the club. You around today?”
Terrance sighed, and Andino heard the rustle of papers in the background of the call. “Define busy, boss.”
“Too busy to have a chat with me?”
Andino already knew the answer to the question before the Capo even answered. It was simple, and the rules of their life were clear. When the actual boss of the organization wasn’t out and about, the underboss was the next best thing.
No shunning a boss.
It wouldn’t end well.
“I’ll make time,” Terrance said. “What did you want to discuss?”
“The Calabrese.”
The man made a disgruntled sound. “Listen, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“So, they have been overstepping their bounds with your place.”
“Is it overstepping if I’m in their territory?”
“Are you causing problems?” Andino returned.
Terrance chuckled dryly. “Do I ever cause problems?”
“No.”
And he didn’t.
Terrance was good like that. All he really gave a fuck about was making money, and paying his tribute every month on time. He cared about bottom lines, and profits. He made sure to keep his head down, and his business as clean as possible.
If there was ever a Marcello Capo that Andino figured the Calabrese would leave the fuck alone, it should be Terrance. The man wasn’t even trying to get in between the problems happening amongst the two organizations. Sure, his loyalties lied solely with the Marcellos, but he wasn’t going out of his way to antagonize, either.
Andino needed to get this shit figured out, and soon.
“I’ll be over in about twenty minutes,” Andino said, “and we’ll figure it out. Traffic is a bitch today.”
“It always is in Brooklyn. See you when you get here, then.”
A quick goodbye later, and Andino hung up the call. Beside him in the passenger seat, Snaps chuffed as he sat up a little straighter, and glanced out the window. Usually the pup liked sprawling out across the back seat when they drove, but today, he wanted to be up front. Andino didn’t care either way—whatever made the dog happy.
“What are you getting excited for over there?” he asked.
Snaps passed him a look with those big, dark eyes of his. His stubby tail wagged as the traffic crawled along. For no particular reason, the dog became progressively more excited the more the traffic moved.
“What?” Andino asked.
Snaps let out one loud woof. He turned his big body in one circle on the seat—although with his size, he slipped on his paws a bit—and stared out the window. His head kept moving back between looking out the window, and staring at Andino.
It took Andino a second to realize where exactly they were, and what had his dog so excited. He didn’t know if every dog was like his, or if Snaps was just a special fucking case, but the animal always seemed to recognize wherever they were going when they drove. He remembered who lived or stayed where, and if those were people he liked.
Snaps barked again as they came to a red light, and Andino pulled to a stop. He hadn’t turned his blinker on to turn right, but he looked down that way anyway. He knew why Snaps was alerting, and what the dog was excited for.
It’d been a while since he came down this way.
Too long, maybe.
Just looking down that street made his fucking heart clench, and his chest became tighter with every breath. It physically hurt to look that way, and wonder …
“We’re not going to Haven’s club,” Andino muttered.
The light was still red.
Snaps still looked out the window, and when Andino refused to give his dog any attention, he actually put his paws up and dragged them against the window.
“Snaps!”
The dog just did it again.
Jesus.
“We’ve got no reason to go down there. The place isn’t even open right now. Who knows if she’s there? We’re not going.”
Andino wasn’t sure if he was telling his dog these things, or himself. Seemed there was a part of him that needed those little details played on repeat, too. Like his goddamn heart.
Life truly was a bitch.
A mean one.
Snaps whined loudly when the light turned green. Andino fully intended to just drive straight, but his body was suddenly on autopilot. He was cutting the wheel to the right, and cutting off the guy next to him before he could think better of it. He was a good few car lengths down the street that Haven’s club was on before he even realized what he was doing.
He wouldn’t stop.
He wasn’t going to see her.
He’d made his choice—he’d done what was asked of him because he didn’t have a choice, and this was what had needed to happen. And really, keeping her out of his life … away from the mess that had become his fucking life, was the better choice. This was better for her.
Even if it fucking sucked for him.
That’s what mattered.
That didn’t mean she never crossed his mind. Because she did. Every single fucking day, and every night before he laid his head down on the pillow to go to bed. Haven was the first and last thing on his mind, no matter what he tried to do not to think about her.
It was like he couldn’t control it, or something.
It was just as much torture to him as it was bliss. He still loved her—that was never going to change, regardless of the rest.
Of that, he was most sure.
Too bad it didn’t make a difference.
Andino slowed to a crawl on the quiet street as he neared Haven’s club. This road wasn’t as busy as the main road, and he barely even noticed the cars passing him on the other side as he drove by Safe Haven.
The club was quiet—dark windows, and signs turned off. There were a few cars in the parking lot closest to the building. Likely the managers, but not Haven’s car that she rarely ever used anyway. She had always seemed to prefer cabs, anyway.
A big part of him wanted to stop.
Just to see.
Just to check.
He had to force himself to keep driving. She wouldn’t be happy if he showed up there, anyway. Andino had no doubt of that, and he didn’t want to shove his way back into her life just to fucking hurt her again.
Hadn’t he hurt her enough?
Andino figured so.
Snaps all but clambered over the seats like he was a puppy on new legs again. He landed in Andino’s lap with a heavy thud, and stuck his nose against the glass. That only made Andino feel even worse because the dog didn’t understand. He couldn’t explain it in a way that Snaps would comprehend that … Haven was gone.
At least, to them.
Snaps had been a bit of a distraction that forced Andino to hold the steering wheel tighter, and look out the windshield. Not so much so that he didn’t notice the sign on the side of the club, though.
FOR SALE, it read.
Andino did a double-take just to see it again. To be sure he hadn’t missed it, or read it wrong. He hadn’t, apparently.
Safe Haven was up for sale.
Well, fuck.
• • •
Terrance threw back his fourth shot of whiskey since Andino had walked into the man’s quiet club. The place wasn’t open—not until well after dark, anyway—but this was where the Capo did the majority of his business. At least, in the daytime. Like a lot of them.
“And even your crew is getting shit?” Andino asked.
The Capo nodded, and set his glass down to the bar with a loud clink. “Yeah, ‘cause this is where they come to check in, and shit. The Calabrese know who all of them are. Some of them were followed … nothing happened there. Just to scare ‘em, I think.”
“And the others?”
Terrance let out a sigh, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Two Calabrese enforcers beat the hell out of the guy who looks after my guys on the streets. I guess they got in to a verbal thing on the corner, and they followed him home. That was the first real aggressive act. After that, they started showing up here.”
Andino’s brow lifted, and even he needed to take a drink for that one. Damn. It seemed like the Calabrese were really starting to grow a pair of balls. Then again, with their father dead, there was no one to hold the Calabrese brothers in line, so to speak. Kev Calabrese had taken over for his father, as far as Andino knew … he’d always been a fucking shit.
Not that the younger brother, Darren, was much better.
“They just come here, take a seat, and make themselves known,” Terrance said. “Flexing their fucking muscles, you know?”
“But it’s uncomfortable.”
And rude.
“Very uncomfortable,” Terrance agreed. “I can’t afford to be having official attention on my club. You know how much money and product I move through here. I’ve had to cut that down a bit since all this started up just in case an incident does happen, and the police get called in. I don’t need the fucking cops digging through this club, and finding all the stuff I have hidden in the back rooms.”
Yeah, none of them needed that.
The bigger problem was the fact now the Calabrese were starting to cause issues for business. Not just the Marcellos on the street, or in a personal way, but actual business. That meant money was being lost, and no man was going to take that lying down.
Certainly not Dante.
Nor Andino.
It needed to end.
“This will be fixed soon,” Andino assured.
Terrance nodded, and reached for the whiskey bottle again. “Hope so—I’m too old for a fucking street war. Not sure I got it in me, you know, even if it is those goddamn snakes.”
Andino chuckled, and smacked the man on the back as he stood from the barstool. “You’re barely over forty. You’re fine.”
“Says you. This life ages you.” Terrance passed Snaps, who’d been quietly watching them from beneath a table, a look. “Like dog years, or something.”
Wasn’t that the fucking truth?
“I’ll pass all this along to Dante.”
The Capo agreed, and that was that. Andino said his goodbyes, finished the last bit of his one glass of whiskey, and whistled for Snaps to follow him out of the club. Andino was no sooner out into the cold March air and had the club’s front door closed behind him than the bullets started flying.
Andino didn’t even see the color of the car because he didn’t notice it coming.
Snaps was the one who took him to the ground as bullets peppered the red brick of the building behind him, and pinged off the metal door. Andino barely managed to catch himself what with Snaps’ jaw clamped tightly around his fucking wrist.
The smart part of his brain that still seemed to work at a bad time remembered to cover his head, but the pain in his shoulder made the action torture. His arm screamed in pain, but he didn’t dare lift his head.
The bullets kept flying.
His Lexus’ alarm went off.
Glass shattered somewhere.
He didn’t even wonder who had done this, or why they would target him. He bet those bastards knew he was around the second he drove onto their territory just like the Marcellos always knew when someone was in their areas.
Fucking Calabrese.