Page 24 of Lord of Debauchery

“I’ll grab a cup of coffee and a muffin and get on it.” James crowded our space, yanking open a pastry box, grabbing not one but two muffins. The man could eat like a horse and was rail fucking thin.

“I’ve got my eye on that chocolate cupcake over there,” Jeff said, half laughing. “Smells delicious. How come you don’t provide us with pastries and muffins for our meetings?”

“Because I’m not Betty Fucking Crocker.” Hissing my response, I dialed my father’s number as I walked to the window, noticing Kenya was outside sitting in an Adirondack chair by the water. I hadn’t really been able to see just how beautiful everything was. With the early morning sun reflecting off the Atlantic, I could clearly see why people gravitated to Maine.

“You’re alive,” he said gruffly and with the gravel in his voice he’d had for as long as I could remember. My father was well known for his love of my mother, his violent outbursts against enemies, and his love of cigars and booze. Somewhere deep inside, he was a real pussy cat but right now, he sounded like the gruff bastard he wanted everyone to think he was.

“Yeah, just barely. We have a bigger issue than I originally thought. I’m sending you a photograph of a fucking branding these assholes have. Never seen it before. But they were suicide assassins and I have a feeling they’ll hit again.”

“A cartel?”

“Not sure. If so, they’re highly organized. I asked Declan to check our sources to see if a new clique rose up from Mexico.”

“You’re still in Maine?” he asked, his tone full of concern, which did surprise me.

“Yes.”

“Somewhere safe?”

I scanned the area near the water before answering. “Right now, yes, but I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary. I have a feeling someone knows about that goddamn brand. I could swear it’s like these guys didn’t have an official affiliation with anyone. Just a gut feeling but it will make finding out who’s responsible a pain in my ass.”

He laughed. “Well, we’ll find the fuckers. The police had been nagging me all morning even though I shut them down. Plus, the damn reporters are still hanging around. Let me know when you’re in the air. I’ll have some men scour the streets and see if anyone down here has heard anything. I’ll check with a couple buddies of mine as well. Who knows. There might be an epidemic. I just don’t like being blindsided.”

“Yeah, anything is possible and neither do I.” I’d used to make fun of the fact Pops had maintained some connections with the bosses of several crime syndicates. I’d never seen the need or the importance but as Pops had told me more than once, it was better to have some allies than all adversaries. That had helped with life expectancy, which wasn’t necessarily long in our business no matter how legitimate we claimed to be.

Even the Feds didn’t seem to understand that gone were the days of bootlegging and drug smuggling on the open seas. At least if the organization was smart anyway. “I’ll text the picture now. See what you can find.”

“I will. Take care, son, and get home safe. I smell blood in the water.”

“Oh, thanks.” It was a strange sendoff coming from my father. He’d never acted as if we were fallible in any way. He’d been acting weirder than normal the last few months but maybe it was all attributed to his retirement. He’d sworn he never would.

I sent him the picture, then stared at it for a few seconds before returning to make my coffee, shoving my phone into the pocket of the sweatpants. I knew the clothes had a story that brought her anger. That had been easy to tell by the look on her face. Who knew. Maybe it was cathartic for me to be wearing the dude’s old clothes.

It was odd waking up in a strange house. I’d been in dozens of hotels across the world, but this was entirely different. Quaint and homey. I could envision spending summers here. Great. One night in a beautiful, cozy location and I’d become domesticated. I wanted to laugh.

I found cream in the refrigerator and marveled at all the food. I could only imagine the woman had her hands full. After preparing my coffee, I headed out onto the deck, surprised how chilly it had become in just a few short hours. However, it smelled like spring with the deep richness of wet grass and flowers, trees that were almost halfway in bloom, and the scent of the ocean. It was truly peaceful here.

As I sipped my coffee, I studied her. She was wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug in both hands. Even from the distance, I thought she was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world. I took another sip, noticing I could see my breath. That was something else I’d rarely paid attention to, even living in the North. It was interesting how fresh air and a change in venue could alter your thinking process.

I took my time heading off the stairs and in her direction. The glare of the sun skimming across the water was powerful, light steam rising from the ocean’s surface as well. The waves were gently rolling into the shallow shore, the sandy beach a good thirty feet below. Serene wasn’t the word for the location and the view.

As I approached, I could tell she sensed my arrival, her body tensing. But she remained where she was, barely moving.

I sat down in the chair beside her. I hadn’t noticed she was wearing sunglasses, the dark shades blocking my ability to see her eyes. But I had a feeling she was doing her best not to look in my direction.

We both remained quiet, her expression pensive as she held the mug right in front of her nose. I was surprised she’d felt comfortable enough to come outside in what she’d worn before I’d ripped it off her. The seconds ticked by and I was pulled into a vacuum of trying to determine if anyone from my past, my father’s past, or one of my brothers’ was the person responsible.

No one came to mind.

Our typical enemies were the Italians from a slimier part of New York, who’d slithered out of their holes, believing they could acquire territories from the surrounding states. They were small and had no possibility of controlling more of New York than they already did. That’s also why I hadn’t considered the Bratva. They were not this well organized.

The Giordano family, also considered one of the strongest Cosa Nostra organizations in the United States, had a firm hold on almost every aspect of New York, including the rail systems, the metro, and the shipping ports.

Not them.

They didn’t have these kinds of balls.

I wondered if the Giordanos had been experiencing any issues. I might have to break down and find a level of communication with the current Don.

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