Page 17 of Highball and Chain

Emotions had run high at the family meeting. Gabe hadn’t left much room for discussion. He’d come in, laid his cards on the table, and all but dared us to disagree with his decision. If he planned to take Marchionni Corp legit, it’d take more than Leo throwing money at the Lazios.

“Pops isn’t calling the shots. I am. End of story.” Gabe turned for the house.

“Did the informant the police questioned say any more about who ordered the hit on Joe?” Saying the words aloud made my chest hurt.

My oldest brother and his wife had been killed in a car crash nearly two years earlier. Despite my father’s insistence they were murdered, the police had ruled their deaths an accident. It sucked, but life went on. That was until some inmate had claimed he’d tampered with their SUV.

“No.” The right corner of Gabe’s mouth twitched.

We weren’t all that close, but we’d known each other our entire lives. He couldn’t bluff here anymore than he could at the poker table. My brother had lied. The question was why.

Gabe cleared his throat, another telltale sign of his raw nerves. “Wake me up when Leo comes home.”

“Will do.” Marco sipped his beer.

Why didn’t he come clean?I leaned my head against the edge of the pool and closed my eyes. The conversation between Gabe and my father at the meeting had bugged me for weeks. Pops had said something about Joe wanting to go legit, but moving too fast and not compromising.

Is that what got Joe killed? Who would dare? Better question, if Gabe knows who ordered the hit, why isn’t he saying anything?

I climbed out of the pool and followed Gabe. “Hang on a sec.”

He turned and stared with the same impatient expression my father had worn most of my life. “I’m beat. Whatever this is can wait until tomorrow.”

I fought my first instinct—to get in his face. Anger wouldn’t get me the answers I needed. “Give me five minutes. In private.”

“Five minutes.” The SOB grinned and motioned to the path leading toward the gardens. “Let’s take a walk. Marco’s still afraid of spiders.”

“Here is fine.” I folded my arms. As long as our little brother stayed out of the conversation, I didn’t care if he overheard. “Are you sure we can withstand the financial implications of going legit?”

“If we offload anything that isn’t turning a profit, yes.”

“What about the other families?”

“What about them?” He narrowed his eyes.

“We launder their money and import their goods… How are they supposed to hide their illegal dealings without us as a front?”

“We’re giving notice, moving slow. They’ll figure it out.” He hitched a shoulder. “Pops agrees with my decision.”

Never in a million years would I have thought my father would agree to break ties with the mafia. I had a feeling Gabe overestimated his approval and underestimated the impact of his decision on the other families.

“What about Ma?”

“What about her?” Gabe frowned.

Of course, he wouldn’t bother to consider our mother’s wishes. “How does she feel about the decision to leave the mafia?”

“She will follow Pops’ lead.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I knew Evelyn well enough to know she had her ways of manipulating the situation, and our father. However, I decided to focus on the more important issues. “Who’s going to step into the power vacuum we leave behind? What about the people of Comiso? Don’t we have an obligation to them?”

Leaning closer, he spoke in a harsh whisper, “I don’t intend to stop charitable contributions, here or state-side. As for who’s going to step up, it’s not our circus, not our monkeys. Capiche?”

I understood all right. I understood he either didn’t give a shit or didn’t understand the situation. “There hasn’t been bloodshed between the families in two decades.”

Gabe winced.

I’d cornered him, but for once, I took no pleasure in it. “I’m wrong about that, aren’t I? Who ordered the hit on Joe?”

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