Page 44 of Mercy in Betrayal

Gallagher is Fiorelli’s man. Or at least, his father was. I don’t know what the alliances are now that his father is dead, struck down in the streets recently by some unknown player. His organization, the East Coast Irish, has always been a valuable partner in extending our operations south.

There’s even been talk of merging his family with an Italian one and giving them a seat on the Commission.

I take the drink and raise it to my lips. I sip a small amount, letting the flavors lap across my tongue. I’m testing it for any unusual tastes, but it’s pure brandy.

“I need to leave Philly more often.” Kael downs almost half his drink.

“As if you don’t have troubles enough.” My words are sharp, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he continues to smile and talk.

“We do, but not like this. You see, in Philly, the cartel is much stronger than it is here. The Italians cannot split into this family or that family. It’s all Italian. Cosa Nostra. But you guys…” His eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t finish his sentence.

What just happened in the church was a shit show, and at least Gallagher is being honest.

But it doesn’t mean I have to be. He is, after all, Fiorelli’s man, and from the sheen in his eyes, he’s had far more to drink than a few brandies.

“How’s Sal?” I ask.

He scoffs. “Alive and still thriving, but you know, still the boss. He’s got goals.” He is the perfect mix of confidence and drunkenness. What a perfect opportunity.

“You saw Vivi slap me?” I ask.

His smile widens. “I heard it first. I mean, that girl was mad.”

I force a laugh. “She’s Rowan’s best friend. Of course, she’s mad.” I hold up the glass and take another drink.

“Women are so fucking complicated. I mean, I’m more of the wham bam, thank you, ma'am type.” He smiles again and empties his drink. I don’t want this conversation to end.

“You want to grab another drink?”

“Why not?”

Perfect. We pass a waiter and I take the full bottle of champagne from the tray. Small double doors to the balcony give us some privacy.

The fresh air is nice, and once Kael sits down, I fill his brandy glass with champagne. I fill my own but take a small sip while letting some of the liquid back into my glass. A trick I learned a long time ago.

“See any friendly faces in there?” I point toward the room with the glass.

Kael pats his pockets before taking out a small box; he opens it to reveal three cigars. He offers me one, but I decline. He lights his before looking up at me. Something in his gaze makes me rethink taking the cigar. People like it when you accept what they offer; it makes them think we’re bonding.

“Maybe I will have that cigar.”

He grins and rises to join me at the balcony railing.

“You didn’t hear this from me…” he starts.

I take a pull of the cigar. I don’t inhale but release the smoke. How the fuck this is enjoyable is beyond me.

“Azrael is here.”

I try not to react to the mention of the Commission being at my wedding.

“Hmmm,” I say and take another puff of the cigar. “Why would Azrael be here?”

“I can’t say,” Kael says. I’m considering hanging him over the balcony to get the information out of him. He is a future holder of the Commission, so he would be privy to information that I would never get. But hurting him would be a kill strike for me.

“It just seems strange for him…them…to be here.” I continue, and I don’t look at Kael; I shrug like it’s not a big deal.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Kael says again.

---