Page 16 of Vicious Redemption

“Detective,” I greet coldly as soon as he enters the room.

His eyes cast to Johnny and Rasco, always nervous to have anyone else present for our private conversations. “Signor Moretti,” he responds, letting the door click shut behind him before he drops his stiff facade.

“I’ll keep it short and to the point. As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, things did not go as planned at the charity ball last night. Which means I need you ready to take point on any necessary cleanup in the near future. And I think it’s safe to say there might be a lot.”

Matthews nods, though his brow breaks out in a sweat—as it always does when faced with a daunting task.

“Can you tell me when the Guerra men are to be released?”

“Not yet. The mayor has been overseeing their arrests personally. I get the impression he’s not planning on letting them off easy.”

“Hmm.” I cock my eyebrow, speculatively. “Interesting.” That can mean one of two things—he either saw the Guerra family for what they are when they opened fire on my men at the charity ball, or he’s using their incarceration to keep them out of my hands and under his protection. Either way, it’s not common for the mayor to oversee criminal arrests himself.

Flashing my eyes back to the detective, I give him a quick jerk of the chin. “Keep me informed when you learn the date of their release. That’ll be all for now.”

He gives a sharp nod and turns on his heel, departing without a word.

Glancing at my watch, I check the time. The dons should already be waiting for me. Rising from my desk, I head back out the door and down the hall to my larger meeting room. Johnny and Rasco give me a double-door entrance, and all eyes turn to me as I stride purposefully toward the head of the table the eight dons sit around.

“I’m glad to see you could all make it,” I observe dryly, though I wouldn’t have minded removing someone’s ear today. I’m more than ready to inflict some pain and share the wealth.

Settling into my seat, I study the men before me, gauging the atmosphere of the room. The tension is palpable, and more than one face seems ready to challenge me if I give them the opportunity.

“Well, I didn’t have anything better to do today,” Don Fiore states glibly, drawing my eyes to him as he leans causally on the arm of his chair two seats down. “And besides, we get free alcohol.” He raises his glass of whiskey in a toast, his eyes dancing as he tempts me to teach him a lesson.

I ignore him, fighting my urge to be a hothead when an iron fist is what I need to maintain control of these men right now. “I presume you’ve all heard about what took place at the mayor’s charity ball last night, if you weren’t present for the event?—”

“Oh, we’ve heard,” Don Fiore pipes up again, this time volunteering himself as the man I’ll be making an example of today. “You must be starting to lose your edge, Don Moretti, if you could so easily be shot in the heel by an old dog like Don Guerra. He’s past his prime, and yet he got the drop on you and your men.”

A ripple of murmured humor passes around the room, and before it can get out of hand, I lift my fingers from the arm of my chair, a silent signal to my right-hand man. I’m not in the mood to be lenient, as Don Fiore quickly finds out when Johnny’s knife leaves his pocket in a flash.

The blade draws a quick, clean line across the don’s cheek before anyone sees it coming.

Immediately, the room falls deathly silent as all eyes turn to Don Fiore and the blood that starts to trickle down his face.

“The fuck?” he screams, slapping his palm to his cheek in an effort to slow the bleeding.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to open it, Don Fiore. Unless you’d like a matching scar on the other cheek.”

The subtle dissent that had clouded the room a moment ago vanishes as the other dons straighten in their chairs, their eyes casting nervously toward Johnny and Rasco now. My authority reinstated, I settle back in my chair, interlacing my fingers as I consider the men before me.

“Let’s talk business, shall we?” I offer as Don Fiore whimpers silently in his chair. “Depending on how things go with the Guerra family, I may be calling upon you to provide the numbers necessary to wipe his family out.”

“Your alliance is finished, then?” Don Valencia asks.

I turn my gaze sharply in his direction, and he swallows hard. But the question wasn’t meant to be impudent. I can see the fear in his eyes. At least I’ve managed to teach one family a proper lesson in my time since meeting Tia.

“That depends on how stubborn Don Guerra proves about making a claim to the territory he owns… and how much he likes keeping his head on his shoulders.”

The room is utterly silent, all eyes unblinking as they wait for what I’ll say next.

Leaning forward to place my elbows on the table, I state, “In light of last night’s events and some apparent fallout”—I cast my eyes to Don Fiore, who flinches visibly—“I will require a confirmation of loyalty here and now. And with that, I want to know the number of men your family can provide should this conflict become a war.”

Again the room is still, not a single movement stirring the charged atmosphere.

“Don Fiore, shall we start with you?” I suggest, a cool smile spreading across my face as I meet his eyes once again.

I can see the war waging behind his eyes, the utter contempt he feels for being forced to kneel before me. But after a nervous glance in Johnny’s direction, he rises from his chair to approach me.

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