Page 26 of Wicked Union

"One second!" I call out, feeling stuck. She's my sister, my best friend. I tell her everything, and we don't keep secrets from each other. But this secret has to stay a secret a while longer until I figure out what the hell I'm even going to do.

The plan to make Carlos seem like the true leader is working, but too slowly. I know Donatello is having doubts about Tito now. Carlos has told me as much. I'm overwhelmed. I can't tell anyonethat Tito hurt me, because he hasn't, but that's my only way out of this agreement. That or turning on him and telling my father that Tito had Jasper killed, but I'd have to confess as to how I know that and it would lead to their finding out it was me. I can't live with myself if my parents learn I'm the reason my brother is dead.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mel asks again, and I scoop up the test, shove it back into the foil wrapper, run water over it so it looks like it's been peed on, and crumple it into the trash with the box and bag. Hopefully, she doesn't mess with it.

"I'm fine…" I reach for a towel and dry my hands as I step out of the bathroom into her bedroom. I let my natural emotions out, pouting a little. She doesn't know I’m pouting because of all the pressure I'm under, but the expression is the same, anyway.

"So?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"So, it's negative," I sigh and flop onto her bed. Inside, I’m thrilled my father will have an heir… hopefully. It could be a girl. But I'm also lost as to how I can make sure Tito doesn't take what rightfully belongs to my father—his businesses and his grandchild.

"Bummer. I want a little baby to cheer me up." Melody flops onto the bed next to me and grabs my hand. "Mom would have loved that."

"Yeah…" I squeeze her fingers and draw strength from them that she doesn’t even know she's providing for me. "Too bad…"

Now, I just have to decide what to do next.

20

TITO

The little street cafe is packed, not an empty chair in the open-air dining area. The scaffolding overhead shades this little meeting from the late-evening sun. I tap my finger on the wrought-iron mesh of the table and listen to Vic and Sal going on about my choices. I'm in too foul of a mood to listen to this bullshit, but I'm not going to blow my lid like a maniac so that everyone around me knows my business.

"I'm just saying if you spread yourself too thin, your enemy is going to slaughter you." Sal, older than me and probably wiser, tries to chide me as if he is my father and has authority over me. Of course, his wisdom is correct, but he underestimates the strength of my army of men.

"The Uhkovs are moving in every day now, Boss." Vic crumples the wrapper from his burger and tosses it on the table. "We are having skirmishes every day on street corners. They're stirring up unrest with our ladies. The entire row of businesses on Fifth are squeamish now, wanting to pull out."

"I trust you've put an end to that." My glare is directed at Vic, who is supposed to be in complete control of all of ourmovement in Central LA. This nonsense about the Russians moving in on my territory has gone on long enough. I've sent enough men down there to push them back and enforce our territorial lines, so I don't understand why we're still having this issue.

"They know you don't have the manpower to push them back the way you want to." Vic's head bobs like a fucking bobble head, and his heavy eyelids betray his haphazard approach to strong-arming my enemies. "They're going to keep coming until we send a clear message, but right now, you're all tangled up in the Peralta bullshit, focusing your time on that."

"My dealings with Hector Peralta are none of your fucking business. I'm making moves you don't know about or understand." Though my volume is low, there is so much poison in my tone that Vic gets the point and shuts up. I glare at him with nostrils flared as Sal steps in to calm me down.

"Hey, Tito, he's just tryin' to help. Listen, we get it. You want that organization, but if your enemies come up the backside while you're pushing down the front lines, you're going to be caught with your pants down." Sal presses his palm into the table, and I turn to look at him.

"Do we or do we not have enough manpower to push the Russians back and send a signal that will make it clear to them that we aren't fucking around?" My shoulders hurt. My head is pounding. I want to go home and blow off some steam, get drunk and fuck my wife to relieve this tension, but I have idiots I need to deal with.

Sal narrows his eyes at me and tilts his head. A shadow of a bird overhead passes across his face, and he purses his lips. "In this organization under normal conditions? Yes. We can defeat theRussians with no issue. But when you've sent more than half of them to work their way into the Peralta businesses, expanding our territory that direction on the streets and in their clubs, no. We can't hold both fronts, Tito."

I'm not pulling out of Peralta territory to fight the Russians. They've been on our back doorstep for years, and that's where they will stay. Maybe it's time to test this alliance with Hector and see if he will lend his men to me. That may fix both issues at once. The fewer of his nosy soldiers that are in my way, the more easily I can take what I want, change things to my way and reinforce to those remaining that I'm leading things now.

Then Hector's men will be fighting on my side against my enemy, showing the Uhkovs that we are a force to be reckoned with. It seems like a win-win to me, but I won’t even bring it up with Sal and Vic. They'll question the loyalty of men who are being forced to fight in a war that's not their own.

"We'll have to finish this discussion later. I am going home now. Just pour what we have into the worst areas. I'll have more support in a few days." I stand and pull out my wallet, dropping a few crisp bills onto the table.

The guys say nothing as I slide my wallet back into my pants, but they stand to join me. We begin walking, heading to the parking garage around the corner where my car is safely stowed for our meeting, and I hear the squeal of tires on the pavement in the distance.

"Watch out!" I hear someone shout, and before I even know what's happening, Sal is on top of me, throwing me to the ground.

Seconds later, gunfire erupts. Something fully automatic lets off more rounds in a second that I can count, and my hand goes to my lower back where my Glock is tucked into my belt.

"Stay down," Sal orders as he pushes off me, but I won't lie here like a coward. He races into the fray with his gun pointed at the car from where the ambush has originated.

I raise my gun and fire too, peppering the side of the black sedan with bullet holes. Vic is down, sprawled on the pavement with blood oozing from a hole in his head. His eyes are wide open and his mouth is agape. He was dead before he hit the ground, and I'm surprised it isn't me. Sal saved my life.

"I said stay down," he screams at me, and I crouch lower, but I keep shooting. These bastards could have just driven past and shot the place up, but they stopped. They're not here to send a message. This is an assassination attempt. And I recognize that license plate. It's the Uhkovs' errand boy.

"Get to the car, Sal!" I order, and as he lays cover fire, I stand and run to the street corner. Then I turn and reach around the corner of the brick building to lay cover fire for him as he charges toward me.

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