Page 31 of Captured Innocence

Now my thoughts drifted to what Marco had tossed out moments before his death. “How is it manifesting itself? If you don’t buy it’s the Russians, then who?”

“Possibly the Americans.”

Now I laughed. “Bullshit, Pops. Neither the New York nor Chicago Cosa Nostra give a shit about returning to the old country.”

“Maybe not but there are others. The Armenians. The Greeks. The fucking Irish. They’ve all hungered for what the Cosa Nostra has to offer. Our land. Our grapes. Our oceans.”

And the Bratva, although he would never admit it. Still, I could tell he was more worried than usual, which meant the threats received weren’t being taken lightly. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him.

“Just like our shipments have been hijacked, so have some within the Rizzo and Romano syndicates. Don Rizzo is asking for our full support in developing a plan to flush out whichever enemy is dead set on undermining us.”

I laughed. “There’s not a chance something like that could be done as a singular person. You know that as well as I do.”

He swirled his drink, studying me intently. “Your fresh eyes and ears will help. But do not mention your brother to them.”

“Tommaso or D’Artagnan?” I’d always known there was more to the story of why a stable boy had come to live with us, adopted when my father hated children with a passion. It was a secret that my father would likely carry to his grave. Dar was rarely allowed outside of the compound, kept in a prisonlike atmosphere. Any time I’d dared to ask, I’d been beaten to within an inch of my life. Maybe it was time I found out the truth.

“Do not test me, boy. D’Artagnan. He is not ready yet, still grieving.”

Grieving a tragedy from almost thirteen years before, a fire that had taken his entire family. At first, Dar had lived in the streets, already too old to be considered adoptable. Then he’d made his way into our world, fighting his way until earning the right to be a soldier. The adoption was something neither Tommaso nor I had understood, although the history Pops had with Roberto Lazarro was a thing legends were made of.

I had the distinct feeling there was more to this than just a fact-finding mission. At least he was admitting my keen observation skills were worthwhile. “Alright. Are we offering our assistance?”

“Yet to be determined. However, if you want to ask for something in return, then do so.”

The fact his eyes held amusement surprised me. Something else did as well.

His hands were shaking and I doubted it had anything to do with fear. Maybe I wouldn’t need to slice his jugular after all, disease doing the job for me.

“Just remember, Pops. If I’m right, then the Russians will become a force to be reckoned with whether the other members of the Five Families choose to accept that or not. I’ve studied the Bratva’s actions. They’re getting stronger every month.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, almost as if he was looking right through me. Then a look of resignation crossed his face.

“Then we’ll need to make plans to stop them. But I’ll require proof before I go off halfcocked. For now, be my eyes and ears at this goddamn meeting and nothing else. I don’t mind aiding the other Dons, but there needs to be something in it for our family. Do you hear me, boy?”

Boy. I glared at him, fisting the glass with enough pressure I sensed I could break it easily. “Not a problem, Pops. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Report back to me,” he insisted. “Perhaps you will find yourself a beautiful wife in the process. Maybe then my soldiers will take you seriously instead of seeing you as the fucking playboy.”

Why did I have a feeling he was challenging me? Was he hoping I’d pull out my weapon?

“Fine. I’ll be there.” I powered back the rest of my drink, holding the liquid in my mouth. If the man wanted me to choke, he had another think coming. After swallowing, I slammed the glass on his bar then headed for the door of his office.

“Incidentally, I’m sending that worthless brother of yours away. Tommaso has no stomach for the business, a weak link just like your mother.”

His statement stopped me short. “What do you mean away?”

“Like I said, he’s worthless, just like that bitch of a mother you had. He can spend his life in solitude for all I care.”

Fisting and flexing my hand, rage broke through the surface. I’d had enough. I took two long strides, issuing a hard punch to his jaw, another to his gut. The force was enough to topple him backward, slamming him into his precious bar. As glasses rattled and slipped to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces, I moved closer, standing over him.

The asshole was dazed but attempted to get up, taking a single swing. I pummeled him in the stomach, tossing him into the wall with ease.

Then I heard footsteps, bristling when two of his Capos came into the room.

“Uscire!” Get out! I snapped at both without bothering to look at them. When they hesitated, I ripped out my weapon, pointing it in their direction. “You won’t get another chance. Leave.”

The soldier in front held up his hands, glancing at my father who obviously gave him the nod to leave. He backed away, pushing the other soldier. I knew Raphaelo and Sergio better than most of the other men working directly under my father. They were good guys, loyal to a fault, but I had no doubt they’d be the first to eat my bullets when the shit came to a head.

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