Page 40 of Controlled

“Are we talking New York or Chicago?”

“Right here in our backyard just like you thought.”

I laughed. There was always some level of treachery inside the family of every crime syndicate. Brothers killing fathers. Fathers murdering sons. Mothers stealing babies or fucking other men. It was almost like a rite of passage. I’d read enough about Frederico’s family, his wife little more than a cunt for him to use, his only son Antonio more than just rough around the edges.

We’d sparred with the Italian pricks over the years, the Don becoming at odds with Daddy dearest from time to time.

“Interesting. Maybe Antonio is trying to take the reins early,” I said more in passing. “Maybe I’ll set up a meeting with Daddy dearest for fun.”

“You like risking your life.”

“Hardly. It’s better to face the challenge head on. Besides, I could be saving Frederico’s life. For that, he would need to be eternally grateful. What else? I know you discovered something juicy.”

“Maybe. You might find this tough to believe and I double checked the information three times before I decided you need to learn what I found.”

“Cut to the chase, Kane. I need to take a shower.”

“You ever heard of Armand Marcello?”

I wasn’t certain he wasn’t asking a trick question, but Kane knew better than to do so. “I’m not certain. Who the hell is he?”

“Italian mafia out of New York, one of the sons of the original five families. He was supposedly responsible for killing his father to grab the throne. From what I was told, Armand was big in the day, making a shit ton of money and very vocal about it. He made it fashionable to be a mobster, the darling of media and women everywhere. He was like some fucking celebrity, if you can believe that.”

Yeah, I could. Bad boys were hot.

“Okay, I remember him to some degree. Didn’t he go to prison for shooting some other guy?”

“Yeah, a DA and guess where he did his crime?”

“Not New York?” I was already growing bored with the conversation. The truth was that there were enough mafia guys in the United States to fill up the state of New York. So the fuck what? If the Italians thoughts they could play games while trying to get a piece of our pie, they were dead wrong.

“Chicago. He used to travel a lot, like all over the world. Anyway, he was convicted, which was a shocking situation. I’m surprised you don’t remember it.”

“I remember dear old Dad talking about an enemy lost, meaning the DA but at that point in my life, I didn’t give a shit about my father or his business. I’ll repeat myself once. Don’t make me do it again. What the fuck does this have to do with anything?” DAs would always try to make a name for themselves. I hadn’t bothered learning the name of the current piranha courting the mayor’s ear. They were a dime a dozen.

“Well, the man has skin in the game, or so I think. I need to double check the information since nothing is in black and white.”

I glared at him, my patience now gone.

“I think there’s a possibility he’s Bella Rothschild’s father.”

Very little in the world truly shocked me, having seen the worst my rivals could offer, but this was enough to cause me to pause.

And for my blood pressure to rise.

“What did you say?’’

“Yeah, you heard me. It certainly wasn’t made public, nor do I think Carmine wants it made public. As a matter of fact, Bella’s mother hired some private dick years ago to scour for any pictures of the two of them. She was in Chicago where they met, which must have been the trip he made to kill the DA. Now, this DA was the son of some bigwig politician from New York, so I think it was a retaliation kill. Nevertheless, after Armand did the dirty deed, he took a trip to the Cayman Islands and guess where Carmine Rothschild booked a flight to.”

“Really? She needed a little R & R. And let me guess. Nine months later she gave birth to a bouncing baby girl.”

“You got it.” My Capo was obviously pleased with himself. However, sometimes breadcrumbs were distributed to scatter the birds in all directions. If that was what Frederico was doing, then I’d carve out his tongue.

“I need real proof,” I told him. I wondered if Bella had any idea. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say no, she did not.

“I have everything that I found on the internet, which isn’t much. And I’m shoving the pieces together but it’s far too much of a coincidence. I did find one picture that confirms they met.” He pulled a photograph from the file, handing it to me. “I know it’s not a smoking gun, but it adds credence to my theory.”

How many fucking theories were there in the world?

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