Page 34 of Fortress of the Soul

Angelo snorts. “What is my sister doing?”

I glance at the table again. “Schmoozing with her friends over brunch, the wedding is at five.”

“Well, don’t get too distracted with any of her cute friends. The minute your back is turned, Valentina will be off like a rocket.”

There’s that feeling again… guilt. It threatens to swallow me whole. I don’t like deceiving Angelo, but it isn’t as if I’m going to act on these thoughts I’ve been having over Valentina.

“She’s fine, Angelo. Sometimes a little bit of freedom works wonders.”

“Try having a sister, you wouldn’t be saying that if you practically raised her.”

Angelo did basically do just that. He is the only father figure she’s ever had other than Mario, their uncle. Their Ma was pregnant when their father was shot.

“That is true, which is exactly why I’m sitting here and not you.”

He grunts a laugh. “As long as she’s relaxing and having a good time. She does seem stressed, and Ma’s on my back about it. What Ma needs to do is call Marco. He’s the one riding her ass about the casino.”

“This weekend away will be good for her,” I say. “It also doesn’t help that she inherited the Medici workaholic gene and never stops to take a breath. Burn-out is real.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re wasted in security?”

“I’ll remember you said that the next time another threat comes our way.”

“Speaking of which,” he interrupts. “We have to have a meeting when you get back. It seems the Petrovs have moved in on the underground gambling and prostitution ring. Our little warning didn’t seem to do much, so they need a reminder of who owns this town, sooner rather than later.”

The Petrovs, being the Russian Bratva, have been trying to muscle back onto our turf for years. While Angelo rules Boston, and everyone in it, the Petrovs have acquired some property and have ties north of the river, but moving into our territory to operate illegally while trying to fly under the radar is quite simply asking for trouble.

This is not good news.

“The sooner you have Aleksi and Yuri Petrovs heads, the better. Though, word on the street is that Aleksi cut Yuri off some time back. Brotherly love. This could be him acting out, trying to prove a point.”

“Or purposely trying to put us in another war,” he reminds me. “We all remember what happened the last time. Blood was spilled on both sides.”

I like to think we can always try to solve things without bloodshed, but in this business, sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“What would Mario say?”

“Kill them all.” Angelo laughs. Though, I’m not surprised, Mario did always rule with an iron fist. Angelo has a much better temperament and doesn’t turn every disagreement into a full-scale war.

“The old bastard always did have a way with people,” I muse. “How is he doing?”

Mario has been in the hospital for cancer treatment for some months, and Angelo doesn’t like to talk about it, but it seems disrespectful not to ask.

“The same.” His voice is cold. I know Mario is like a father to him, and to all of us. He’s been the only permanent thing I’ve ever known to a father myself, and we’re not even blood related.

While my father ruled our house with his actual fists, Mario ruled with his smarts. He might be a ruthless son of a bitch, but he’d never raise his hand to a woman or child. I swallow hard at the memory it evokes.

“If there’s anything I can do,” I say quietly. “You just have to ask, Angelo.”

“You always were like my fourth fucking brother,” he mutters. “Except you’re probably the least annoying.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“So you’ll be home Sunday night?”

“Valentina plans on going to a polo match on Sunday. Depending on how late that ends, it could be Monday morning, but I’ll be back at work mid-morning, regardless.”

“Just make sure she’s happy.”

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