Page 132 of Wicked Rivals

Then I cracked the butt of my pistol against his temple. One swift hit, and he went down, out cold.

Enzo stared with wide eyes at the guard lying on the floor.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered.

“He’s not dead, only unconscious for a short time. This keeps him from changing his mind before we’re far enough away that it won’t matter.”

The boy nodded. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, we can. Tony's waiting for us.”

We made our way to the main entrance, both of us deep in our thoughts.

My men would need a few minutes to verify the correct information, and I needed a few minutes to think through what I’d learned.

My son had been attending a school where the principal willingly hired a known associate of mafia families before also hiding his identity.

On the outside, Saint Christopher Academy looked like the perfect school for a young Italian boy, but Enzo couldn't stay.

No fucking way.

He deserved better.

Enzo was strong, willful, with the raw skills, intelligence, and aptitude for success, and I would be damned if I let a second-rate school help shape him into the man he was meant to be.

In that moment, I finally understood my father. I didn’t agree with many of the things he’d done, but now I had a better grasp on what it meant to be a parent—what it meant to be angry when things weren't good enough for my child.

To some degree, I also understood my mother. She couldn't bear the pain of losing my brother, not after she'd already lost my sister to a marriage contract.

Still, I would never forgive her for leaving me the way she had, when I needed her the most, but her reasons made more sense to me now than they had previously.

Love, in all its forms, was a powerful motivator…

And a crushing goddamn weight.

My phone buzzed with a text message from Bruce.

Sending Tony directions now

Rather than replying, I called Bruce to tell him once we had Val safe, once we neutralized the threat, and I killed Donnie Cozza, I wanted the engagement announcement I’d prepared forwarded toThe New York TimesandThe Herald.

I wanted Bruce to hear me say the words.

I wanted him to hear in my voice how important it was to me for the families and the Commission to see that Valerie Salera belonged to me, that our son would be treated as my legitimate child and heir from this day forward.

When I got into the vehicle, Enzo had already buckled in, ready to go. Tony had Bruce again, on the Bluetooth speakers, and finished punching the address into the navigation system.

He disconnected the call just as I closed my door.

“Bruce followed up on the addresses,” Tony said. “The one in his employee file was old, but we called in a favor and got the address for his mother’s house. She died a few years ago and left it to him.”

“Are we sure he’s there?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got two men sitting outside now. They say it’s quiet inside, but his car’s there. There’s blood smeared on the trunk and a bloody handprint on the license plate. Want ‘em to go inside or wait for us?”

“How far away are we?”

“About three minutes.”

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