Page 89 of Delivered in White

“You heard the man.” The card player sounds smug. “No sudden movements—”

Bang!

I duck, and hear athumpon the floor behind me.

“Straight fu-fucking flush. Sorry I’m late, boss.” Snaps winces as he steps over the corpse.

“Snaps, you brilliant son of a bitch.” I smile wide. Straight fucking shooter right there. Then I turn to Frankie and tell him, “Time for a new game.”

xxx

Later that night, my blood pressure remains sky high – goddamn Lucrazis. As a matter of fact, it continues to tick up.

I toss Frankie into a dungeon in one of our warehouses at GFE Plus. He’s got a bag over his head, and I have half a mind to bat him like a piñata for what went down tonight. Snaps told me everything… how Bruno got shot. Star Dust is closed for business following the incident of Nicky Frits’ raid. And worst of all… Capri is nowhere to be found.

No way a boss sanctioned rolling in on a Valentino family business.No fucking way.

That means Nicky is operating out of the confines of Don Vino. Unless this new boss of theirs is looking to blow up the entire mafia. That’s not what my instincts tell me though. They say Nicky and Sonny have been tight since they were up-and-comers. Both eccentric in their weird way, and loyal beyond the grave, apparently.

After I cuff Frankie to the radiator, I pace around the wide-open room, my footsteps echoing. Ignoring Frankie’s muffled grunts is easy. In fact, it’s satisfying, like a lullaby.

My men are gathering here in the second-floor office. Pop is on the way from Pennsylvania, and I was forced to involve my goddamn cousin, Castor, for extra resources. I’m a man down, and might potentially have the weight of the whole Lucrazi-Barone allegiance on my shoulders.

Again, all this doesn’t matter.

Capri…

Bruno…

The front door of the warehouse swings open, and I run out of the room, glimpsing the moonlight from outside casting a shadow on my big friend – Mikey Tools.

My fists clench. “Tell me.”

“Good to see you’re alright, boss.”

“Bruno,” my voice raises.

Mikey nods. “He’s going to pull through. Deep shot to the arm. Fucker lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable in Doc Fuccio’s wing.”

“Thank God.” I run a hand through my hair, allowing myself a sigh of a relief. “Is he awake? I need him on the phone. He’s the only one who knows—”

Mikey’s eyes go wide, and it’s just now I realize I’ve been talking to myself about Capri all this time. No one else knows I give this much of a shit.

“Boss?”

“Capri. I made a promise to my father, toherfather. I need to get her back,” I lie about the reason, but the result is all the same.

We talk logistics, and how Frankie can be used for a trade and potential ceasefire before things get really out of hand. We’re on the brink of war – and a war in the mob means looking over your shoulder every waking minute.

It’s not good for business.

It’s not good for life.

But if I don’t get Capri back, you best believe that’s where this is going.

My father rolls up an hour later. He’s a welcome sight, even if he is a limping mess. I hate the way he tries to hide the pain he’s in – holding back his coughs, pretending to have good posture. It’s pathetic.

“Hey, kid.” He kisses me once on each cheek. “You look better than I expected.” One slap on my bloody side makes me wince, and I jokingly hold up a fist pretending to punch him, which makes him laugh. “How bad is it?”

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