Page 2 of Her Dark Salvation

“The old man didn’t bat an eye. Kept slicing prosciutto and singing to himself over that damned radio of his while they pulled me into the alley.”

“He had a terrible voice.”

“The worst.”

Tony stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You came outta nowhere—arms swinging, fists flying, even though they were twice our size.”

I remembered. I remembered the rags hanging off Tony’s starved body. They’d been in even worse shape than my own sorry excuse for clothing. I remembered how the red glow of his eyes had dimmed amid the streaks of dirt and blood covering his face, his strength waning with each starved attempt to fight back. And I remembered those idiot Gallo bullies shaking down a street kid with nothing left. That had been the first time we met.

“My life changed that day, and I’ll never forget who changed it. Sei mio fratello, Marco.” The conviction in his voice and the sincerity in his dark eyes told me he meant every word.

I clenched my teeth and gave him a short nod. We’d come a long way since those early days, and we’d done it together. I should’ve known that would be enough.

We resumed our march and crossed the border into the North End.

“Can’t be the money’s turning you off,” Tony said dryly.

I snorted. “I like money, and you know what I’m willing to do to get it.” Illegal fights and gambling. Loans and protection. Extortion and armed robbery. I’d been at the game for twenty-three years. “But Vinnie’s invested in the narcotics racket, and Big Frankie isn’t stopping him. That’s where I draw the line. I want out.”

Big Frankie Valenzano had given me a chance to pull my family out of squalor, turn the DeVita name into one people respected. I’d taken it. No regrets. But Big Frankie was human. He wouldn’t be around forever, and Vinnie was set to take over as boss of the Valenzano crime family. I wanted out before a federal indictment was pointed at my head like a loaded gun. One of the New York capos had already been pinched by the feds. Was doing fifteen-to-twenty on narcotics charges. I couldn’t provide for my family if I was in jail. Or dead. Human jails weren’t staffed with Sources.

Not to mention the damage inflicted by that drug shit.

That was the difference between made men like me and Tony and an underboss like Vinnie. Tony and I came up from nothing. Hell, Tony was an orphan, a street rat before he started working for the Valenzanos. But Vinnie’d been born into privilege. Grew up with a silver spoon, however tarnished. He hadn’t lived what we’d lived or seen what we’d seen on the streets. Starvation from lack of food or blood or drugs, it didn’t matter. It was real, and it was ugly. And I wanted nothing to do with creating that kind of pain.

“Fuck, Tony, you know what it’s like to need something. Big Frankie’s Source racket makes money for a reason. We don’t have a choice. We need blood. But drugs?” I shot him a hard look. “That shit’s inflicted. That addiction doesn’t need to exist.” My jaw tightened. “I won’t be a part of it.”

“We all have our limits, Marco. Sounds like you found yours.”

I’d taken several steps before I realized he’d stopped. I pivoted to face him. The streetlamps lining Hanover Street cast a soft glow through the twilight. They illuminated the steam rising from the sewers and the serious expression on Tony’s face.

“But I haven’t found mine yet,” he finished.

Cars rumbled and clanked atop the century-old cobbles. Pedestrians sped down the sidewalk and across the street. Diners hurried into restaurants, escaping icy snaps of wind. Amid the commotion, two brothers stood at a crossroads.

“Our relationship will change,” he said. “Once you’re out.”

My body tensed. “I know.”

He stepped forward and clasped my arm. “But we’ll always be brothers.”

I clapped my hand over his. “Grazie.”

The remaining twilight had waned while we’d discussed my future, a silent reminder we were late. We darted between cars and turned down one of the narrow cross streets. Unending walls of red brick rose on either side of us, fragmented by the soft light emanating from first-story windows and the occasional front-door lamp. A few neighborhood kids ran by. The leader shouted over his shoulder for his followers to hurry up. Muted voices and the clang of pots and pans accompanied the faint aroma of pasta and garlic. My stomach rumbled.

“When you gonna tell Big Frankie?” Tony asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Not sure.” I didn’t want to divulge too much. I couldn’t. Not with this new relationship. “I have a lead on some real estate near the Commons. Always preferred that end of the business.”

He arched an eyebrow and gave me a knowing grin. Yeah. Things had already changed.

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