Page 14 of The Wages of Sin

Nine months later, we still didn’t know who was behind the hit. No rival families stepped forward to start a turf war. No internal power struggle was sparked inside the family. Everyone simply moved one rung up the ladder as had always been planned.

Now Sal was the boss, and Gabriel his underboss—a role my fiery, take-no-shit brother was perfect for. Always the more level-headed and analytical of the twins, Matteo made a damn fine consigliere and public face of the family’s legitimate business enterprises.

Giuseppe’s old four-story mansion in the Carnegie Hill neighborhood of Manhattan, just across Central Park, was still the family home. The only difference was that Sal had now taken up residence in the suite of rooms his brother used to occupy.

And even though Sal was finally in the position to cut me out of the family if he wished, I still found myself in the inner circle.

No doubt my brothers had something to do with that. They’d never shown even a sliver of the suspicion and doubt their uncle did, even though they arguably had much more to lose. There had never been anything stopping Matteo and Gabriel from seeing me as anything more than a threat to their inheritance and father’s love. But instead of going down that path, they’d embraced me as a true brother.

My presence at family meetings like this one was proof that, even though Sal might not consider me his nephew, he understood how vital I was to the family business…even if he still called me boy.

“I asked your opinion on Bonetti?” Gabriel quickly repeated his question, allowing me to ignore Sal’s taunt. “Do you think he’s a rat?”

“The photo certainly makes it look that way,” I said, glancing down at the glossy black-and-white photo on the marble table in front of Sal.

He and the twins were each sitting on one of the Italian leather sofas set in a U-shape in Giuseppe’s former study. As usual, I stood behind the center sofa, facing the only entrance as we talked, ready to fly into action if anyone came through those doors who shouldn’t.

Matteo leaned forward and picked up the picture of one of our most trusted soldiers surreptitiously handing an envelope to a known federal agent on a street corner, giving it a slow once over. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I buy it,” he said.

“What’s there to buy?” Sal asked, sounding irritated this was even a discussion. “The proof is right there in black and white.”

“Exactly,” Matteo said, slapping the photo back down on the table. “Bonetti is usually smarter than this.”

“Usually,” Sal argued. “But clearly not this time.”

“It doesn’t make sense—a veteran soldier who’s so skilled in covering his tracks that he’s never been picked up by the cops or the feds once suddenly becomes so reckless that he’s handing over information in plain sight.”

“I don’t like it any more than you,” Sal said, “but what other explanation could there be?”

“I don’t know,” Matteo admitted. “Hell, we don’t even know what’s in that envelope he’s giving them.”

“Are you saying you want to wait around until the feds knock on the door with a warrant to figure it out?” Sal asked.

“No.” Matteo shook his head, his dark, slicked-back hair staying perfectly in place as he leaned back on the couch. “I just want some answers.”

“Like why now?” Gabriel broke in. Even though he was Matteo’s identical twin, in tense moments like this, it was easy to tell the two apart. While Matteo was handling his frustration well, without a single hair out of place, Gabriel wore his anger on his sleeve. “After decades of loyal service to the family, what would make him turn?”

“My guess? The feds finally dug up some dirt on him,” Sal offered. “Your father always used to say you never knew what a man is made of until he’s facing spending the last years of his life behind bars.”

“Could be,” I said. “Or it could be that Bonetti’s loyalty was never to the whole family in the first place.”

That got Sal’s attention, and he turned around in his seat to face me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that it’s only been nine months since your brother’s death,” I answered. “Giuseppe was a strong leader, one who commanded a great deal of respect.”

“And I’m not?” Sal’s face was already turning red.

“I didn’t say that, just that Giuseppe ran this family for over forty years. The connections he had with his capos and soldiers were unbreakable, but now that he’s gone?—“

“—some of them might finally be breaking,” Matteo finished the thought for me, nodding his head. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard that makes any sense.”

Maybe…but it certainly didn’t make Sal happy. The boss continued to stare up at me with barely contained disgust in his eyes.

“Whatever the reason,” he said, turning away from me to refocus his attention on his real nephews, “the important thing is we cut our losses and clean up this mess as soon as possible. I want Joey Bonetti taken out.”

“With only a couple of photos as proof?” Matteo sat up in his seat.

“You think I should drag him here so he can lie to our faces? Maybe he can wear a wire so the feds can haul all of us in at once,” Sal shot back. “No. We end it before this shit can go any further.”

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