Page 96 of Single Malt Drama

“Dante, it’s me. Giancarlo has Nico. Can you get in touch with Leo? Find out if their plane in still in New Orleans. If so, have him keep it here. Blow the fucking thing up if necessary.”

He cleared his throat. “And if it’s gone?”

“I need to know when they left, where they’re going, and the name of every son of a bitch on that plane. Also, call a family meeting. I can be in the Quarter in two hours.”

“That’s easy. Ma is hosting a breakfast to celebrate Enzo’s engagement.”

What the hell?“She hates Shanna.”

“Who knows why Ma does what she does? All I know is we were ordered to be at the mansion at ten.”

“My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.” Or she knew I would show up without one. My breath caught. Had my mom set me up? I thought it was strange she’d left my dad in Sicily for a birthday party. It was part of her plan. It had to be. How else could Giancarlo have found us?

Before that asshole had clobbered me, Nico had told me how to get her back. She’d seen the pieces moving on the chess board before I’d even noticed the game.

I knew what I had to do for Nico, and for the Grassos. “I want Pops on the phone for the meeting. I’m taking over.”

“Shit, Marco. Do you hear yourself right now?”

“Do it.” I disconnected the call before he could argue.

Cyril narrowed his eyes. “Son, I don’t know who you are, or what you’re into, but I have your back.”

“Good. I need a ride to the marina.” I walked into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I needed a shower, but that could wait. Everything could wait until I knew Nico was safe.

I glanced at the mirror and barely recognized my own reflection. Besides the dried blood and dog spit, I had a hell of a shiner, but that wasn’t what made me hesitate. The hard set of my jaw and anger in my eyes reminded me of my father.

Nico had accused me of having mafia in my blood. Maybe she was right. Maybe she’d hate this side of me, but I’d do whatever I had to do to get her back.

Two hours later, I walked into my childhood home in the same filthy clothes I’d worn to Enzo’s party. I followed the sounds of silverware on china and voices to the dining room.

Dante was right. Our entire famn damily, including the kids, was seated around the massive table.

Hildie was the first to notice me. She gasped and pressed her hand to her chest. “My goodness.”

Chloe, my nine-year-old niece, turned and stared. “Uncle Marco, you’re bleeding.”

All eyes turned to me.

“I’m okay, sweetheart. It looks much worse than it is.” Shit. This isn’t how I wanted this to go down. I met Gabe’s eyes, nodded, and headed for my father’s office.

My brothers filed in behind me. While none of them seemed thrilled, Dante started some kind of staring contest. I looked away first, not because I had anything to be ashamed of, because I didn’t have time for games.

“What the hell happened to you?” Gabe folded his arms.

Leo leaned close to get a better look at my skull. “Jesus, Marco, you really should clean that up before it gets infected.”

Enzo rested his hip on the corner of the desk and remained quiet.

I glanced at Dante. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I told them about Nico.” He smirked. “You can tell them the rest.”

I turned to Leo. “Did the Lazios’ plane leave New Orleans?”

“Yeah, a couple hours ago.”

“Son of a bitch.”

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