Page 24 of Consigliere’s Revenge

A position we purposefully put ourselves in by donating to the most crucial of causes in and around the communities we serve. Not that our forefathers really gave two fucks what people thought of them, but over time it has become important for the generations coming up behind them to be viewed in a different light than just brawlers on the street.

We might be that, but we have amassed generational wealth that allows us to complete our transactions over the finest of china and silverware in the most renowned restaurants on earth. We ensure people see us giving back to our communities and taking care of the shopkeepers who would otherwise be unable to fend for themselves, barely making enough money to put food on their families’ tables in the old country or right here in Vegas.

It’s clear the thoughts running through Isabella’s mind are far from good, evidenced from the sound of her breathing and the shaking of her hands. I take both of her hands in mine and wait for the De Rosa procession to come up the hill from behind us. We’ve positioned ourselves to ensure they have to pass right by us on the way to bury their loved ones.

A not so gentle reminder to the De Rosas that if you fuck with us, we will bury you and your loved ones in the ground.

But perhaps one that Isabella should have been spared, despite her protesting to come. I let her hands go and draw her to me. “It will be over soon, Isabella. They’ll drive by and proceed as normal. Emelia will need to be brave for her part, though. She has relentlessly insisted on being present. Dominic wants to give her that. So as a family, we ensure they are both protected. We intend to do no less and no more, unless it is needed. Okay?” Nothing to fear, although my biggest concern is not that she fears them, or what will happen, but the monster that is me.

She nods and snuggles into the crook of my arm, as if to calm my worry, but the pulse on the underside of her wrist still beats with her angst as we wait for the enemy to approach.

The first black Lincoln turns onto the road we are parked on and accelerates toward us from behind. I watch as it approaches, and other cars turn onto the road to follow past us and to the cemetery to our right.

Darryl shifts in his seat as the first car gets close. “Boss.”

Old man De Rosa is in the passenger seat of the first car. He doesn’t look our way as his driver moves around our vehicles, continuing down past Dominic and Salvatore’s cars before taking a right, and then another through the tall wrought iron gates of the cemetery.

Darryl reaches over and pulls out a long oval duffel bag and then hands it to me over the seat. I unzip it and remove a short automatic assault weapon, two pairs of binoculars, and a camera with a special telescopic lens that would make any photographer’s mouth water.

I hand the camera to Isabella as Dominic’s driver pulls onto the road and follows the end of the procession down the hill, around the corner, and through the gates. Isabella sucks in a breath, no doubt thinking about how scared Emelia may be and what a horrible way it is for her to pay respect to her mother and brother.

It would not be my choice for the woman who my cousin has chosen to make his own, but there are pawns in love and war, and she is undoubtedly a symbol of that today.

I keep the automatic on the floor at the ready just in case things really go south. I site in the binoculars and hand a set to Isabella before using mine to watch the people getting out of cars, shaking hands, and gathering around the gravesites for the ceremony that is due to begin very soon.

I move the glasses a centimeter at a time, scanning the brown landscape of the Nevada desert. I spot Dominic and Emelia walking hand in hand toward the gathering of people at the gravesite.

We both scoot closer to Isabella’s side, so we have a better view from the window. I scan the crowd, watching as De Rosa glowers at Emelia and Dominic from his position amongst his sons and soldiers. Just because I don’t see any weapons doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

I know far better than that. Funerals, weddings, and gatherings are all notorious for attacks by rivals, and while they have stopped occurring in the churches, the cemeteries have become common battlefields.

What better way than that to make sure most of another family is in the same place at the same time? De Rosa knows this too. I’d put bets on him having soldiers all around the perimeter with guns on us even now, and that’s what we’ve planned for with our men on the ready to counter any attack that may come.

Isabella’s breathing is fast. She has every right to be nervous because all of us are waiting for that one false move that could result in a fucking bloodbath.

I focus in on De Rosa’s face as Dominic escorts Emelia toward him and his entourage. He turns red with anger as he watches his daughter on the arm of the enemy.

De Rosa leaves the group with his sons, but they are close on his heels having recognized the two approaching. He closes the distance quickly between himself and his daughter. I can’t make out what he’s saying from here, but it doesn’t look friendly in the least.

Darryl shifts in his seat. “Damn,” he whispers under his breath, clearly as tense as everyone else, knowing in one second tempers could flair like the powder keg that they are.

Emelia and Dominic don’t make any sudden moves. Just as we’ve gone over, time and time again. De Rosa is saying something to Emelia. She listens to what he says and then speaks to her father for the first time since the night we raided their mansion and her brother tried to get her to safety.

I watch De Rosa, Dominic, and Emelia, wondering what Isabella is thinking, wishing that I could make this better for her and cursing myself again for allowing her to come. Part of me wants to see how Dominic will hold up under the pressure of being there for support, rising above rubbing De Rosa’s nose in the fact that he’s there, at least vocally. He doesn’t say a word, just one curt nod in greeting. Dominic has always been a formidable capo, strong and powerful, but he has quickly learned the art of restraint in his role as underboss.

Dominic is responsible for at least half of this funeral, if not all, and De Rosa knows it. His hand moves, and my entire body tenses. “Fuck.”

But just as quickly Dominic’s hand goes straight up in the air, alerting our soldiers to hold their positions. My heart pounds like a fucking freight train, instinct wanting Salvatore to get him the fuck out of there any way we can. “What is Dominic doing? Do you think De Rosa has a gun in his pocket?” Isabella asks quietly.

I stroke her hair from behind. “Do not worry. Old man De Rosa knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s probably been anticipating this moment since the photograph of his daughter and my cousin crossed his desk. He’s trying to get us to attack first. If we do, it gives him a reason to kill both his daughter and Dominic. The elders in his family won’t condone him killing his daughter when they believe she is being held against her will. De Rosa knows that, and so do we. It’s tied right now, but one false move from either of them could change all that.”

Chapter18

Isabella

My head swimswith all the things they’ve had to take into consideration to even allow Dominic and Emelia to attend this service. “Don’t worry. Dominic can hold his own under the direst of situations,” he says against my ear. “Look farther out. See that cavern? Our snipers have the most accurate of aim. They are trained for this, Isabella,” he says as the ceremony appears to begin. De Rosa and his sons each pay their respects and lay black roses at their loved one’s graves.

I know exactly what that means for the Larussios because the De Rosas will not stop until they have exacted their revenge too.

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