––––––––

AS SOON AS I SHUT THE office door, Adriano speaks, “This is a very weird story.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Since Fallon said she was feeling fine when we woke up, I hadn’t expected her to repeat what she told me. I thought she would recant her words and confirm that she was confused, perhaps due to shock.

All the men watch me as I rub the back of my neck, which begins to crawl with discomfort. I should’ve interrogated her alone this morning; however, I truly didn’t think it was necessary, and now I’m losing the reins on this situation.

“Could she possibly be trying to cover something up, Luca?” Adriano asks me directly.

I hesitate but defend, “No.” Although a hint of doubt fissures inside me.

At that moment, Logan reaches into his caramel suit jacket and takes a card from his inside pocket, holding it up between two fingers. “I already have the attacker’s ID and Henry has checked him out, but I didn’t want to tell you with Fallon present.” He pauses, looking at Adriano, deepening my curiosity as he nods, so Logan continues, “He’s an addict who’s been convicted of misdemeanors involving drugs and theft. He doesn’t have a tie to the Syndicate or Club 7.”

Adriano’s mouth tightens. “His identity doesn’t support Fallon’s story. The most likely scenario is that this was a robbery. Furthermore, how do we know the attacker actually mentioned the mafia or Syndicate to her – if we can’t trust her about the message?”

“Don’t treat Fallon like a suspect; she’s my wife and obviously confused or...” I violently rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t know why she’s sticking to that story.”

“But it’s also coincidental that she erased the supposed message, Luca,” Henry adds as Adriano leans back and scrubs his beard, obviously irritated, which mirrors my state of mind. “Did you check her phone as well?”

“I did. The message wasn’t there, like she said. And Fallon isn’t foolish. It does seem like she really believes she received a text from me and deleted it.”

“Has she acted out of the ordinary lately? Is she feeling okay? She did hit her head and was unconscious just a week ago,” Carmine addresses me.

I recall the previous days where we, in fact, lived peacefully. “I haven’t noticed anything different in particular.”

Silence ensues while I rack my brain and remember the events of late. “If it’s Syndicate related, it could have something to do with Rudd and the breach on New Year’s. This is why I wanted to keep Rudd.”

“Don’t you think you’re reaching, Luca?” Logan refutes.

“I can’t rule it out.”

Adriano thoughtfully strokes his chin. “Then interrogate Rudd, because I’m concerned by Fallon’s vague story, which makes me question her, and I don’t like feeling that way. Thank god no one witnessed the kill and Logan had the body disposed of – but we could’ve been compromised easily if a civilian had seen it.”

At this point, it hits me that even though I have questions myself, I have to defend Fallon with these men. “Wait a minute, I admit some things aren’t adding up, but remember, my wife was attacked. And Fallon’s not the one who shot and killed this lowlife—Michael is.”

Then, since I need to make sure Adriano, the boss, stays in my corner, I reel in my temper and vouch for her, “She cooperated with Michael instantly, and you know she’s been my wife long enough to not compromise us on purpose. She won’t lie to me. I think she’s still in shock and needs a few more days to rest. I’m also going to have Dr. Calderone examine her again.”

Instead of agreeing with me, Adriano studies me, and I detect a hint of uncertainty. Naturally, he’s aggravated as well, being thrown due to Fallon’s story. And like me, Adriano isn’t used to running after the facts.

Finally, he relents, most likely since we’re brothers. “Fine. But, Luca, only because she’s your wife am I allowing you to handle this with discretion. You have to keep an eye on her – I don’t want captains or soldiers to know that we might have an...issue with a high ranking member’s wife.”

“She’s not an issue,” I protest, while I consider the best way to shield my kids and Fallon. Obviously, what we’ve been doing has failed, and I begin to realize that they need protection around the clock.

“Make sure it stays that way,” Adriano finishes in an ominous tone.

“Can I say something?” Michael intervenes, and all our gazes direct to him sitting next to Adriano, who nods.

“Isn’t your primary problem the fact that you didn’t have a guard for Fallon during the weekend? If she’d had one, it would’ve never happened. A trained man would’ve dropped her off at the restaurant’s doorstep and he wouldn’t have allowed her to roam the park alone.”

“That’s true,” Adriano agrees. “Almost every problem we have is due to our lack of security, which is why we’ll have a host and a guard at both the front and back entrances after the remodel. Carmine and Tez are hiring new men for the club. This will be a team that’s strictly used for Club 7, however, so we won’t use them to watch our wives.”

“We had this problem in the New York Syndicate.” Michael leans forward. “You need a separate team. A few highly trained people who can safeguard your families.”

“You mean full-time?” I question.

“Yes. You need men who can be with them always when they go out. And one main guard to organize it within the family who’ll have access to their calendars and have their numbers. In turn, your wives will have their appointed guard’s number so that they can summon them at all times. Also, in case of extreme danger, the guard can protect them twenty-four seven. I set this up in New York”—he pauses and swallows—“after I lost my fiancée because of our lack of security.”

Everyone takes a minute of quiet contemplation before I reply, “I agree with Michael that we need a full-time team for the women and kids. Our family has grown so much, and we can’t go about our day like regular civilians. If we do, either more of these incidents will occur or someone will get to us.”

“Carmine?” Adriano prompts his consigliere for advice.

“We can afford it, but if we hire new guards, we’ll have to give them a crash course.”

“We don’t need all new ones,” Henry suggests. “I still want the same guy to watch Mary – they know each other now. I need him on the team. By the way, let’s call that our private team to avoid miscommunication.”

“That’s fine.” Adriano points at Henry. “Have Mary’s guard scope out our soldiers to find out who’s seeking a promotion. Then Logan can pull up their info, and we can make a selection of five men. One guard for each of our families.”

“But who’ll lead them?” I ask, and Adriano’s gaze lands on Logan, who’s the head captain and instructs the lower ranks.

Yet Logan shakes his head. “I can’t take this on too. I’d say we need a sixth rank for a main guard. If he’s the family’s guard, he’ll be close to us, so it has to be someone we can trust completely.”

“I can set it up and lead them, if I get an official rank within this team,” Michael offers, not surprising me nor Adriano, I’m sure, since he mentioned last Friday that he wants to transfer to Chicago.

Adriano smirks. “Well, this worked out perfectly for you, and you knew just when to swoop in.”

“It’s time I had some luck on my side.” Michael’s voice is even, though there’s a sadness in the way he carries himself that he can’t hide.

“How are you going to do it? You’re New York’s boss,” Henry blurts out.

“I’m going to resign and have asked Adriano to allow me to return to the Chicago Syndicate. I can’t live in New York anymore because of...Rachel.”

Henry sends him an empathetic look. “I see...”

Then we all evaluate Adriano as he makes the final decision. “How are you planning to organize it, Michael? And how fast can you set up this private team because I need it yesterday.”

“Within days,” he replies confidently. “If Henry gets me in contact with Mary’s guard, I’ll instruct him to make a selection of soldiers. Then Logan, who knows their history, can pick the best ones. Preferable ones with a military background. See, I know how the Syndicate works, so you don’t have to show me the ropes. And I’ll personally guard Fallon, for now.”

He steadily holds my gaze while I grit my teeth, wondering why the sudden interest in my wife.

And as if he can read my mind, he adds, “Via Fallon, I can quickly learn more of the daily comings and goings of all family members. That way, I can instruct the men better. She most likely trusts me now. I’m your best shot if you want her cooperation. Plus, the guards need to build on trust so that in case of any problems, the client knows to let him do his work. And I live in the Blackhall – logistically, it’s easiest for me to watch Fallon.”

Amazingly, I’m pleased that someone on this team is offering a solution.

“You’ll be sixth in rank. Are you okay with that?” Adriano asks Michael.

“Yes. But my condition is that you won’t expand my workload for a couple of months. I told you I need this to have a break, yet I’m also a man who needs to work, and I’m good at this.”

A sardonic twitch appears at the corner of Adriano’s mouth before he holds out his hand, which Michael accepts. “Then welcome back to the Chicago Syndicate, my head guard. You’ll get the same salary as the ranks beneath Luca plus bonuses, of course. Carmine will handle the financial details with you. Tell Cesare that I’ve agreed and he can claim his position as boss. Do you need to go back to New York?”

“No, I settled everything, knowing I wouldn’t return.”

Suddenly, Henry’s phone chimes in and he brings it up, explaining, “It’s Mary’s guard. I’ll tell him to come up so that Michael and I can inform him of what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Adriano concludes. “And, Michael, come to my apartment for dinner tomorrow. You can meet the entire family and we’ll update them.”

“Good idea. So for today, keep your wives inside,” Michael says around a chuckle, standing up.

“We’ll all meet at eight.” Adriano assesses me wearily as Michael follows Henry through the connecting door into the security room, and Carmine and Logan rise.

“Can you two take Cam and Fallon home?” Adriano inquires. “I’m going with Luca to see Rudd.”

I’m astounded he wants to join me but school my expression. Although he’s correct in assuming that I’d go right away, because the mafia beast inside me has been uncontained since Noah was harmed.

“Yeah, we’ll drive them home now.” Logan walks past me and grips my shoulder, evidently seeing my rampant emotions through my façade.

I dip my chin in gratitude just when Adriano gets up and takes his navy jacket from the back of his chair, throwing it on as he advances on me.

“I know you’re going to see Rudd, and I’m not sure about your current state of mind, so I’m coming with you.”

“Sometimes it’s annoying how well you know me,” I respond, making him grin.

He shrugs as we stride out of the office.

***

AN HOUR AND A HALF later, I enter the brown brick warehouse up north, which is where we store our drug supply. It’s also where the soldiers dispose of bodies by burning them in the incinerator.

After we turn toward the three rooms that we use as cells, the medium-built soldier opens the door for Adriano and me. I crook my finger, and he instantly presses a key into my palm before I step inside. Adriano shuts the door behind us, smoking a cig, while a sweaty, overweight Rudd is perched on the edge of a cot, glowering at me. He can’t move because he’s handcuffed to the bed.

In the corner of the four-by-six cell is a rusted sink with a glass of water on it and a wooden chair. I grab the drink before standing in front of Rudd, but he refuses to look up. Leaning down, I slide the key into the lock of his cuffs, setting him free.

He rubs his wrists, tilting his head up slowly and I hand him the glass. With gritted teeth, he accepts it, and I notice his dirty fingernails as he downs the contents greedily.

Then I take the back of the chair and screech it over the worn concrete floor while Adriano leans against the door, observing me with a frown. I place the chair across from Rudd and claim the seat.

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I laze back, saying in a low tone, “There have been two incidents this week involving my family. See, yesterday my son got hurt. So tell me, do you think it might have been orchestrated by your client?”

His stare shifts from me to Adriano, who blows out three rings of smoke.

After a long silence, he replies, “How would I know? You’ve had me locked up in here.”

I inhale a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves. “Let’s be honest here. You do know more about your client, but you’re keeping quiet. We can continue this game and I can keep you captive, or you can spill it and I’ll let you go.”

His eyes round and then narrow in suspicion. “You’d let me go?”

“Yes. My son has been harmed! This has gone too far.”

He remains unmoving for several seconds before I realize that I’ve stoked his anger. “I do know something, but I’ll never tell you, son of a bitch. Everyone in Chicago knows how the Syndicate works. Make one mistake and they’ll kill you and no one’ll ever find you. You’re never going to let me go!” His lips curl up into a malicious smile.

Apparently, my peace offering of water has given him courage. In reaction, I smile back, making his fade, and I coolly rub my neck.

“You should know when to stop talking,” Adriano advises around a chuckle, anticipating my next move.

“Fuck you! You two goddamn arrogant Italians think you’re untouchable?!” he spits.

“Yes, we do,” Adriano answers his rhetorical question with a smirk.

“This isn’t fucking Italy. Go back to your own country. Fucking Italian mafia!”

“Well, that’s a little racist,” I mock. “I was born in America, idiota.”

“Do you know what will happen?” he snarls.

Adriano takes his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t care what will happen, and it’s not my fucking problem.”

Rudd spews, “I hope they take, rape, and murder the wife you desire to protect so much.”

With that, I snap. “You should’ve listened to Adriano,” I growl and lunge at him, delivering an uppercut to his chin and causing him to collapse onto the cot.

Then I jump on him, digging my knee into his stomach as I fold my hands around his throat, squeezing hard while he tries to slap me, but I dodge left and right while strengthening my chokehold. Nonetheless, he manages to hit my cheek, my head flying to the side, and as he hurls me off, I flop onto the floor with a loud thud.

Adriano immediately jumps forward, cig between his lips, and he raises his fist, punching Rudd in the nose when he leaps up, knocking him back on the bed and almost making his head bang against the wall.

“Urgh! Fuck off!” Rudd roars, wrestling with Adriano as I surge up and stand at his head to grab his arms, slamming them above his head just when Adriano presses his foot onto Rudd’s knee to incapacitate him while he lies on the cot.

Breathing hard, Adriano aggressively takes his smoke from his teeth to squeeze the end of it onto Rudd’s chest.

Jerking his body, Rudd screams, “Don’t!”

Adriano wipes the sweat from his upper lip, flicking the butt aside. “No. We were nice and you goad us. Now, we’ll show you just how arrogant Italians can be.” He kicks him in the stomach, making him double over as I release his arms.

I’ve been stuck in a red haze ever since he mentioned Fallon and rape in one sentence, so I take his wrist and lift his arm.

“Break his finger,” I say to Adriano as Rudd struggles when he captures his ankles.

Adriano’s brow furrows. “No. We end him,” he orders, yet I defy him without thinking and wrap my hand around Rudd’s forefinger.

“Stop. No!” Rudd protests while Adriano holds his legs still as he sends me a scowl.

Disregarding my boss, I look down at Rudd’s tear-filled face. “Since you won’t tell me anything anyway, you just signed your death warrant. And I’ll break each of your fingers because you threatened my wife!” Then, with all my power, I bend his finger back, hearing bones break.

“Ahhh! N-no!” Rudd stammers, squirming his sweaty, oversized frame.

With his pain spurring me on, I grip his pinky and twist it backward as well while he weeps pathetically.

“Luca!” Adriano snarls, but I carry on, realizing full well that I’m losing control, and grab Rudd’s middle finger to repeat the action as my hair falls forward and obscures my vision.

“Luca, basta!” Luca, enough!

All of a sudden, I hear a thud, and when Rudd goes slack, my gaze whips up to Adriano, who’s standing there with his gun in hand.

“You need to calm the fuck down,” Adriano commands in a tone that holds no room for argument.

I release Rudd’s wrist and let his arm flop down. Expelling a loaded breath, I spin around and rake both my hands through my hair.

“Don’t let them bait you. Rein it in. I get that you’re mad about what happened to Noah. Maybe you’re even a little mad at Fallon, but this won’t help us.” He stashes his piece in his ankle holster.

Because I need to keep my boss’s trust since I have no plan of action regarding how to discover what the hell’s going on with Fallon, I lie, “You’re right. I just needed to vent.” Bringing up my palms in supplication, I add in my usual measured voice, “I’m calm.”

To my great relief, he nods. “Let’s go then.” And he walks to the door without waiting for a response.

I trail him out and we return to Club 7 in silence.

***

BY THE TIME ADRIANO and I arrive at the club, it’s past noon. The place echoes with the bustle of employees readying it for the night.

When we pass the bar where a blonde bartender is wiping the counter, Adriano stops and suggests, “Go home, Luca. Be with Fallon and take care of this. I don’t need my underboss distracted by his wife, and I certainly can’t allow her to become a liability to us – if she’s unstable...”

That thought has crossed my mind too. I must keep control of Fallon in order to contain this mess, so I agree, “I’ll go home. You can call me if you need me.”

“Go wind down,” he instructs before continuing to the staircase and ascending it to disappear on the balconied second floor.

I turn back toward the exit, yet as I pass the bartender, I stop when Noah’s face pops into my mind. On top of that, Fallon’s peculiar story is still nagging at me, making fury and confusion overpower every other emotion I’m feeling.

I lean against the bar and pause, yet I still order, “A whiskey.”

The tall blonde freezes in astonishment before she dips down and comes up with a glass and a bottle. I never order alcohol because it weakens me and it’s strictly forbidden for any member to be intoxicated, although having a drink now and then is acceptable. And right now, I’m unable to relax without some assistance.

“Here you go, Luca.” She glides the glass to me.

“Grazie.” Thank you.

I swirl the drink, watching the brown liquid and knowing I should be careful with liquor since I already drank last night.

Then my phone vibrates in my pocket, so I fish it out, seeing Fallon’s name and photo on my screen. Gripping the device, I waver and don’t answer instantly. Aggravated to no end, I take the drink, lift it to my lips, and toss it back instead of picking up because nothing makes sense at the moment.