Page 59 of Nanny for the Don

The anxiety is clawing at me from the inside, and I feel like I’m barely holding it together.

Chapter 29

Nico

I’m sitting in my office at the warehouse in Yonkers, tapping my fingers on the desk.The space is bare—just a desk, some shelves, and an overstuffed couch that’s seen better days but works fine for crashing. It’s simple, functional, nothing fancy, but it serves its purpose.

Still, I can’t shake this itch under my skin. I’m ready for action. I know I need to be prudent, make calculated moves, but sitting on the brink of conflict and not being able to strike yet is nearly impossible to tolerate.My instincts are screaming to make the next move, but the timing has to be right.

I lean back, thinking about the Rossis.If they orchestrated my father’s assassination, they knew it would trigger war, which means they’re ready for it, maybe even more prepared than we are. But I’ll be damned if I let that stop me. This conflict is inevitable, and I’ll make sure we come out on top. Failure isn’t an option.

My jaw tightens as I think it over. The more I dwell on it, the more I realize how deep this is going to go. The Rossis knew exactly what they were setting into motion, and that meansthey’ve planned for every move I could make.

But I’ll outmaneuver them. I have to.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. I grab the Glock off my desk, approaching the door with the kind of caution that’s second nature by now. Before I can ask who it is, a voice calls through the door.

“It’s Sal. I’m not alone—I’ve got a little present for you.”

I keep the gun in hand as I unlock the door and swing it open. Sal’s standing there, but it’s the sight behind him that grabs my attention. Two of his guys are holding up a beat-up schmuck, blood all over his face, his arms pinned by the goons on either side of him.

I narrow my eyes. “What the hell is this?”

Sal grins like he’s just handed me a gift wrapped in red and gold. “This, my friend, is the man who planned the hit on your father. The one who pulled the trigger.”

I say nothing for a moment as I size the guy up. He’s not Jack—that much is clear. My grip tightens on the Glock as I take in the sight of him, this pathetic excuse for a man who thinks he’s walking out of here alive.

“Let’s take him to the conference room,” I say coldly..”

We move as a group to the conference room next to the office. My men shove the guy into a chair, binding him tight. I step back, my mind already working through what’s coming next.

The guy’s face is swollen and bloodied, but that means nothing to me. I glance at Sal again. “You sure this is the guy? The one who shot my father?”

Sal nods, confidence in his voice. “Yeah, this is him.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Well, that was fucking easy.”

I turn my attention back to the man. He’s got fear in his eyes, and the gag in his mouth is soaked with blood. He knows what’s coming. I raise the Glock so he can see it, turning it over in my hand, watching his face pale even more.

“Listen,” I start, my voice cold and measured. “I’m a busy man. I’ve got a lot going on, and I don’t have time for bullshit.” I take a step closer, the gun still in view. “You’re going to talk and let me be real clear—if you bullshit me, waste my time, or eventhinkabout playing games, I’ll put a bullet in your skull without a second thought.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “Now, I’m going to take off the gag, but I want you to thinkverycarefully about each little word that comes out of your mouth. Because any one of them could be your last. Understand?”

The guy nods frantically, eyes wide with panic.

“Good,” I say, satisfied, ripping the gag off and tossing it to the side.“Start talking.”

“It wasn’t me!” The words burst out of the guy’s mouth in a desperate plea.

I can’t help but laugh, and the rest of the guys follow. The sound echoes off the walls like a death sentence. Without a second thought, I backhand him hard across the face. His head snaps to the side.

“I should’ve known you’d start with that bullshit.”,” I say, my voice low and cold.

The guy’s shaking, clearly terrified, but he keeps talking. “I was set up by the Rossis. They needed a scapegoat for the hit, and I—”

I turn to Sal, raising an eyebrow. “Where the hell did you find this prick?”

Sal steps forward, arms crossed. “One of my contacts in the Rossi network heard about a payout. Tracked this guy down in the middle of getting a fat payday. Picked him up right after.” He smirks. “We’ve got the money too, boss, if you want it.”

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