Page 36 of Gilded Princess

Chapter Fourteen

MATTEO

Dante’s number flashes across my screen, and I pick it up on the second ring. Looking both ways for any rogue cabs, I jog across the street, forgoing the crosswalk. I don’t have time to fuck around with them and the hordes of people waiting at every block.

Something’s wrong, I can feel it in the air. There’s a certain electrical charge, something that feels ominous and pressing. At first, I thought it was because I pulled Maddie from certain injury earlier, but it didn’t dissipate.

Then I attributed it to the gigantic mess that the Irish are in right now. The Brotherhood and the five families are technically at peace, but I’ve grown close with their junior council. Friendly, even. I stepped in and helped out, got them sorted and safeish, so that can’t be it. If anything, it’s gotten worse since then.

“I’m in the middle of something. Let me call you back,” I say by way of greeting.

“It can’t wait, boss.”

The use of the title has me pausing. I continue walking down the street, but I focus my attention on him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Gio’s Pizzeria and two of our bodegas were targeted about thirty minutes ago. I have our guys looking into it and checking-in with everyone in our territory as well as your aunts’ and uncles’ places.”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and spin around, side-eyeing everyone. Raking a hand through my hair, I clench my jaw to keep the rage threatening to spill out onto the dirty concrete.

My gaze darts around me, pausing on everyone I can see. I’m searching for weapons, shifty movements, and most importantly, fucking exit strategies. I like options, and right now, there are only a few. These blocks are long, and only two of the four alleyways open up on the other side.

I’ve never walked away from a fight in my life, but I’m not an idiot. If twenty people cornered me here, I might not make it out unscathed. And these innocent bystanders don’t stand a chance.

Satisfied that this isn’t some elaborate set-up, I pick up my pace toward the shortcut alleyway.

“What the fuck is going on, Dante?” The words come out louder than I intended, and the woman next to me flinches.

“Dunno, Matteo. But I don’t like it, and I don’t think it’s over.”

I’ve long gotten used to his intuition, so I don’t even bother asking him for more. If he doesn’t think it’s over, then it’s probably not.

I clench my jaw as anger and paranoia infiltrate my bloodstream like a virus. “Motherfucker. I just left a member of the Brotherhood at O’Malley’s with a hole the size of Georgia. You think someone knows the party we’re planning?”

You think someone knows we’re planning to take out the boss?

We’ve been talking in code over the phone ever since my cousin got pinched for grand theft. He was bragging about it to his girlfriend. Fucking idiot.

We were thirteen.

No matter how many sweeps we do for bugs or how many times we switch burner phones, I don’t take those kinds of reckless chances. If we can’t speak in person, then we use our code.

“Nah, I don’t see how they could know about the surprise party.”

“I fucking hope not. There’s a very small party planning committee,” I say through gritted teeth.

There’s a small number of people who know about our plans.

I fucking knew siding with the Brotherhood could be risky, especially when they started making moves to step into their presidential roles earlier than planned. But we’ve been solid with them for years. There really shouldn’t be any reason for any sort of retaliation.

“Gio doesn’t know our Irish friends. Same with the bodegas. From the reports from our guys, it was sloppy. Some punk kids in black hoodies with their hoods pulled up were seen running away.”

I glance behind me, looking for anyone out of place. Those dumb motherfuckers in black hoodies stand out on a hot day like this. Fucking amateurs.

“Okay. So coincidence.”

“Could be. Or it could be something else.”

---