“You couldn’t have this meeting with me alone?” Andino Marcello asked.
Cross shot the man a look from across the table in the Marcello home. Just the tone of his voice grated on Cross’s nerves. Andino was a Cosa Nostra boss controlling his faction, and so was Cross. Even the slightest challenge from another man would make a boss rise to the occasion.
“I thought it was better to have a mediator,” Cross forced himself to say pleasantly.
For the most part, he liked Andino. Respected him, even, when the guy acted like a decent human being. Andino had a wife he treated well, kids under his feet, a family he protected, an empire he ran with an iron fist, and more.
Yeah, Cross respected that.
Still, bosses didn’t do well when put in the same room together. One boss was always left bowing down or surrendering in some way to the other man. It was instinct—natural. And entirely unnatural at the same time.
Andino was not the kind of man to bend. Neither was Cross. They would simply break each other trying.
“Kind of offensive,” Andino grumbled.
Dante sighed from his position in the corner. “I thought it was rather smart, actually. Cross intends to make this meeting happen quickly, peacefully, and to the benefit of both of you. In order to do that given he knows his own nature better than anyone, and he’s seen enough of your nature to know how you behave, he figured this was best. Someone to hold you both accountable or step in if needed. That’s all I’m here for.”
“Someone we both respect enough to hear out before each other,” Cross added.
Andino flattened his thin lips into a grim line. “You botched my gun run.”
“No, botched would imply what happened years ago in Cancun happened again. That’s not what I did.”
“That’s two major runs you’ve fucked up on in some way, Cross.”
Cross nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, two in what … probably fifty runs total? Two runs in, oh, over fifteen years of doing this? My ratio is still pretty fucking good, Andino. Better than anyone else on this continent, actually. Do you want to chat about that, or …?”
Andino gritted his teeth before muttering, “No.”
“Good. Someone set me up.”
“Who is this someone?”
Cross tipped a hand over. “The Russian I killed. His last hand was in motion without my knowing. That’s what this was. You should be mindful of your men, though, because it seems to me he was able to get a hell of a lot of information about my gun run into Canada. We both know I only deal with men of your family for that info, Andino. Someone fed him that info.
“They were going after people I care for. Cece and the park was my last straw.” For reasons, he opted not to add out loud. “I figured this was the better option.”
“Care for better people, then, you foolish prick,” Andino snapped. “I don’t want a war with the New York Russians!”
Cross bristled at that comment, but Andino wasn’t over the line in saying it. “We’re not going to have a war. I took care of it. The man wanted one thing—the rest of his men didn’t care if they got it back. They’ve got other things to worry about now. You know, reordering the hierarchy of their organization. I don’t care. Move on.”
Dante stroked a hand over his jaw as his gaze drifted between the two men sitting opposite to one another at the table. He didn’t speak or step in, yet, but that was only because Cross and Andino were not trying to kill the other one yet.
“You owe me for those guns,” Andino said with a pointed finger.
Cross nodded. “I’ll have the money sent over—in cash—tomorrow.”
“Fine. And Guzzi, too. They’ve paid half.”
“I’ll wire money to Gian tomorrow as well after I have a chat with him tonight over the phone.”
Andino side-eyed Dante. “Why are you even still here?”
“You will see, Andino.”
“What else is it?” Andino demanded with his attention back on Cross. “Clearly, the screw up with the guns and the Russian issue isn’t all of it. What’s the rest?”
Smart man.
Now or never, Cross knew.
He readied himself for the impact of Andino’s rage when he told him what he was about to say. It was bound to happen being who they were and all. Business was all about being smart, too. Andino was a smart man.
After Andino got over his little fit, Cross very much assumed the fellow Cosa Nostra Don would see reason, and concede to the main points of the matter.
“I can no longer run guns for the Marcello family,” Cross said.
Andino stiffened in his seat, and his features darkened. “You know that’s not the agreement that was made for your error years ago, Cross.”
“Quite aware, yeah.”
“Cross,” Dante murmured. “Try again, less attitude.”
Christ.
He felt like a child being scolded.
“I know that’s not the agreement we made.” Cross gave Dante a look as if to ask, better?
Just like a damn child.
Dante stayed still like a stone, and expressionless.
“Then, no,” Andino said, ignoring the exchange, “you don’t get to up and just decide you are done running our guns. Until you are entirely unable, Cross. That was the agreement. As far as I can see, your legs are just fine, and your hands, too. You can walk. You can hold something. You’re good. Get back to work.”
“Hear me out, An—”
“No, you heard me.”
“Andino,” Dante said quietly, “you should listen, unless you have no issue with your family coming under fire for your stupidity.”
Andino’s head snapped to the side. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
“Hear him out.”
Unlikely.
Especially when Andino turned to Cross with blazing eyes. “You run our guns. Only our guns. Until you couldn’t any longer. It was the agreement you made. Back out of that agreement, Cross, and you’re forfeiting your safety in this city. You very well may be married to my cousin, but that means shit to me in the grand scheme of things. You agreed—finish out your agreement.”
Cross had the strangest urge to dive across the table and bash Andino’s skull into the table. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to do it.
Somehow.
“I can’t run the guns,” Cross said. “I am fulfilling the agreement. I can no longer run guns safely. Consider it, Andino. An alias I use to run guns is hot. My face very well might have been caught at the border. Attention on gunrunning and smuggling is about to turn up big time because of this latest trip through to Canada. I cannot afford that kind of attention, and neither can you.”
“Yes, but—”
“There is no but,” Cross interjected fast, never backing down. “Your greed for money is one thing, but the freedom of me, you, and a great deal of other people inside this operation is far more important. One run could have me in jail on a twenty to life sentence, and all because you’re not willing to admit attention is too hot on me now. It’s dangerous. I am not playing with that kind of fire.”
Andino blew out a hard breath. “Fucking hell.”
“I’m willing to train whoever you handpick,” Cross added.
The fellow boss shot him a look, but stayed quiet. Cross took that as a good sign.
“Drop out of smuggling guns for a bit until attention turns down on all of this,” Cross said with a shrug. “Shit, stock up your warehouses so you’ll have lots to deal, sell, and move when the time comes. Go over your guys—smart, quick on their feet, attention to detail, and good listeners. Send them my way. I will train them like I was trained. They will be just as good as me. Only this time, you’ll have more than one you depend on.”
“That way, you’re not putting all your eggs in one basket, as the saying goes,” Dante said.
Andino still didn’t look pleased.
Cross didn’t blame him.
“I know this wasn’t what you wanted, Andino. It’s not really what I want, either. I like running guns. It’s what I wanted to do from the time I was twelve. Now, I’ve done it. The intelligent part of me knows it’s time to move on. And like anything in this business, shit has to come to an end sometime. We either evolve to fit the needs of the life, or we stay stuck in details and our own wants, and the business crashes down around us. You know this. You’re not stupid. It’s time to make different choices, and play it safe for a bit. When you’re ready to get back into the game with guns, I promise it’ll be better than it ever was.”
“I want the best gunrunners, Cross.”
Cross smirked. “As long as they’re trained by me, they will be.”
Andino shook his head.
Dante chuckled under his breath.
“Yes, we all know I’m arrogant,” Cross said with a wave of his hand. “Stop acting like this is a new thing. Do we have a deal, or not?”
It took Andino a few seconds.
Then, a minute.
Finally, the man said, “You’ll have a group of ten men sent to you next week that I feel might fit what you asked for. You’re the one with an eye for who might fit best, so find the three out of the ten that are most trainable.”
“Four,” Cross corrected. “Every man needs a partner, especially when gunrunning.”
Perhaps had Cross remembered that, and opted into a partner for this past run, things might have ended differently.
Or not.
“Four, then.”
“Sounds good.”
“Good,” Andino echoed.
That was that.
Cross sipped from a cup of coffee and watched the scene happening just a few feet away. As always when Catherine was dealing with business, especially with her mother, he opted to stay as far out of it as he could.
This time was no exception.
Cece stood at his front, and leaned into his legs. If he moved an inch, his daughter would likely go sprawling on the floor. She put all of her weight—and trust, it seemed—into her father, and that he would catch her.
He always would.
Cross took another drink of coffee, and ran a hand over the crown of his little girl’s head. She barely reacted to his touch at all. She was too busy watching her grandmother and mother stand toe to toe with one another in the middle of their kitchen.
It never failed to amuse him how Cece’s attention was zoned in every time the women in her life were talking. She was going to be just like them, he knew. No doubt about it. She may have gotten her attitude from him, but her spitfire, her slyness, was all Catrina and Catherine.
“This was my last lesson, wasn’t it?” Catherine asked.
Catrina smiled cunningly. “Figured it out, did you?”
“I didn’t want to believe it at first.”
“Of course, not. Who would want to think their mother betrayed them?” Catrina laughed lightly, adding, “I suppose, in a way, that’s what I did.”
“Details,” Catherine supplied.
“Exactly. It wasn’t something we could talk about, Catty. This kind of thing is not the sort of lesson you can learn at the table. It’s like most things in this business, firsthand and on the frontlines. You didn’t have competition to begin with because I’ve culled damn near all of it over the years. Smart, quick ones have a tendency to pop up. I had to help someone along to make sure you had something to chase, though.”
“Evira.”
“Evira,” Catrina echoed.
“You cost a girl her life to teach me a lesson.”
Catrina’s smile faded, and she lifted a single finger as if to wave that thought away. “Evira was susceptible because she already had an idea planted to go out on her own. Some girls will be like that. Usually, you can placate them into their position. They like it when they don’t have to worry about managing suppliers, getting clients to keep coming back, or finding clients to begin with. They come to you, work for you, because it is easy. All they have to do is show up and make money.”
A small shrug fell from Catrina’s shoulders in her red dress as she added, “Evira was a weak link in the girls—she had contacts, and I knew about them. She was already beginning to see clients off the time she was supposed to. I knew what that meant. It was a sign she was beginning to attempt to step out on her own.”
“I have to watch them all the time.”
“Never, ever trust them, Catty. The very second they think they can pull one over on you, they will.”
“And if they do,” Catherine said, “it can’t be a lesson learned kind of thing.”
“No,” Catrina replied simply. “Never, my girl. See, letting one get away with their misdeeds gives others the impression that they too will get the same treatment. You must be their friend, and make them think they can trust you. Of course. You must also be their boss—one that only accepts loyalty, and nothing else.”
“You have the strangest way of teaching me things, Ma.”
Catrina’s smile bloomed wider. “Your final lesson. I’m going to enjoy stepping back now for good. Enjoying what I’ve made, and watching how you grow it into something even better. You’re my daughter, after all, so I expect nothing less.”
“I want to be angry with you.”
“Yet, you really can’t,” Catrina said with a tip of her hand. “Because you see, when it’s your turn, and her turn …” A nod came in Cross and Cece’s direction before Catrina continued on with, “Then you will also know what to do, or perhaps she’s already soaking it in. Maybe she will make it easier on you than I did. Who knows? What was the lesson, Catherine?”
Catherine stared long and hard at her mother. Cross wasn’t sure his wife was even going to answer. She did, eventually.
“Never stand for competition,” Catherine said. “Always cut it off at the knees.”
“What else?”
“Trust no one.”
“Not even those closest to you. Even your own mother. Well done, mia regina.”
Catherine looked away. “Not the little queen, now?”
“Not when the crown no longer fits. Time to wear a new one.”
“I still want to be mad at you.”
“That’s okay,” Catrina said with a sigh. “We now have all the time in the world to work whatever it is out, and finally, without me being your boss. I’ve missed being just your mother. It’s a delicate line otherwise.”
Catherine’s defensive posture relaxed, and her crossed arms dropped to her sides. “You’re kind of amazing, Ma. You know that, right?”
“Only kind of?”
Cross snorted to himself. Both women’s eyes darted to him, but he was already taking another drink of coffee and looking anywhere but at them.
Cece pushed away from her father’s legs, and crossed her little arms over her chest. She eyed both her mother and grandmother like she was considering what she had just witnessed, and deciding how she felt about it.
Their sly, wild girl.
Their smart girl.
She didn’t miss a fucking click.
“Ma no mads,” Cece said, not even posing it at a question. “No mads at Grandmamma.”
“No, I’m not mad, Cece.” Catherine looked happier, and Cross liked that, too. These last few months had been difficult for more reasons than he cared to admit. “Are you mad, baby?”
Cece shook her head, which caused her waist-length hair to fly out in all directions. “Not to my ma.”
“And what about me?” Catrina asked. “Are you mad at me, bambina?”
Cross set his cup to the counter, and used his elbow to keep himself propped up. This was the most amusement he had in days. He was not going to miss this for a second. Cece never disappointed with her quick wit and cute face.
She didn’t disappoint this time, either.
Strolling across the kitchen, Cece pointed at her grandmother. She walked right on past, heading toward the entryway, and never once dropping her hand or looking away.
“No makes my ma mads,” Cece said earnestly, “no makes me mads, Grandmamma.”
Serious as could be.
Narrowed brown eyes.
A single pointed finger.
That girl of theirs was going to be just like her mother and grandmother. Dangerous. Pretty. Sharp. Quick. Everything good and wonderful and perfect.
“Cece, be nice,” Catherine called after her daughter.
“I says what I says, Ma!”
Cross full-on laughed that time.
He couldn’t help it.
Catherine shot him a look.
So did Catrina.
He shrugged.
“She is definitely my kid,” he said as he followed his daughter out of the kitchen. “And I regret nothing.”
“You look tired.”
Catherine stared down at Cross where he was stretched out across the large sectional in their living room. “And you look very comfortable.”
“I can afford to be comfortable now, babe.”
She smiled just a little. “So I heard. Got that all worked out with Andino, did you?”
“Enough, yeah.”
“What did you figure out?”
“I’m going to get some guys run-ready for him.”
Catherine nodded. “So, less work.”
“A lot less.” Cross smirked. “Seems you’ll have a lot less work going on, too. Taking over for your mom and knowing all the ropes has it’s perks, Catty. No more running back and forth across the country. No more lessons. All business.”
Catherine sighed happily. “Yep.”
“So, this is what the top feels like, huh?”
Her laughter was a balm to his soul.
“Yes, running after kids, church every Sunday morning, dinner on the table, and sore feet at night. This is definitely what the top feels like, Cross.”
“You don’t sound very sad about it.”
Catherine didn’t even think about it before she said, “I’m not.”
Other than the sandy blond-haired man professing his love for an equally blonde woman on the television, their house was quiet. Cece had gone to sleep after her nightly book, and a subsequent review that the novel was good enough to be read another night. There was a first time for everything, he supposed.
Catherine rubbed a hand over her stomach, and smiled sweetly at him. Reaching up, his hand covered hers. Pride, love, and happiness spread through his veins like a fast growing wildfire. It grew in his chest until it was almost hard to breathe.
He didn’t even mind.
“Still think it’s another girl,” he told her.
Catherine shook her head. “Nope. It’s a boy.”
“You only say that because Cece thinks it’s a boy. And she only thinks it’s a boy because she wants a brother.”
“You keep thinking that, Cross.”
“I will.” He eyed her with a grin. “Two is still your limit?”
“Don’t even,” she warned.
Well, he would never know if he didn’t try.
“I was thinking a half of a football team, you know.”
“You know I could cut your balls off before you even knew what happened while you’re sleeping, right?”
Instinctively, Cross moved his hand from his wife’s stomach to cover his junk. It didn’t matter that he was wearing jeans. “Don’t you even think like that, Catherine.”
“Call it a fair warning.”
“So that’s a no on more kids, then?”
Catherine snorted. “That’s a no. Cece is like five kids in one.”
“She’s just like me, that’s all.”
“Exactly,” his wife said with a roll of her pretty green eyes. “And if this one is a boy, God help us all.”
Finally feeling slightly safer about uncovering his cock and balls, he reached out to snag his wife by her wrists. Tugging her gently, he pulled her into the couch, and on to him. She stretched out like a happy little kitten over top of him.
Leaning up, Catherine watched him through her thick lashes. Cross kissed his wife three times in quick succession on her pretty mouth.
“Life is finally going to slow down,” she said.
“Kind of scary, isn’t it?”
Catherine lifted her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know.
“At least we won’t be bored to tears.” He kept one of his hands roving over his wife’s stomach, and his other drifted through her hair. “Life makes sure of that.”
“Can’t be bored with you, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Nope.”
“You give me too much credit, Catty.”
“Never, wild boy.”
Cross grinned.
Thankfully, life hadn’t changed them that much.
“Always, my sly girl.”