And right on cue, they were laughing and drinking.
I couldn’t stand Tulio Costa. Always wanted power but was terrible whenever he was given control of any deal. His brother Emers, the boss of the Costa Mafia, let him oversee a restaurant they’d taken over in downtown Chicago. Only enough to make him think he was in charge. Now he was trying to encroach on our area, and that was something he couldn’t do.
We neared the table as the waiter placed their food on it. I clamped a hand on one of his guard’s shoulders and smiled.
“Tulio, what’s so funny? I love to laugh.” I slid my jacket to the side and showed off my holster.
“Renato Calabresi. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You tell me. I hear you trying to claim something that doesn’t belong to you,” I said. The guard to his right clenche
