Blood Always

6

He ran a hand over his receding hairline and sighed as though he had just been informed he had six weeks to live. “You truly believe this is the best course of action?” “We’ve discussed this, and I thought we were in agreement. We’ve had trouble recruiting decent soldiers—no man with a brain is going to sign on to go down with a sinking ship. With an unpredictable boss and enough bad investments to bankrupt a small country, we’re teetering on the brink of annihilation. We’ve managed a good number of changes to help turn things around, but this would be monumental in securing our future. The Gallo family is our priority, and I will do whatever it takes to restore our position of power.” “And how do you propose we handle Angelo?” he asked as he dropped into a leather armchair. “He’ll be out of the city for a while. It won’t be a problem.” “People will question why he’s agreed to this.” “He isn’t exactly the most predictable man,” I offered as I sat opposite him. “He may have agreed, but it was begrudgingly. The way I see it, he’ll want to make sure that’s known by refusing to appear at the ceremony. Yes, it would make people talk. But would you expect anything less from Angelo?” “No, I suppose you’re right.” He stared at his hands for a moment before continuing in a hardened tone. “What’s the latest on Sal?” After his botched murder plot to take out Enzo, Sal had attempted to flee the country by using Enzo’s other daughter, Sofia, as leverage to escape. He failed miserably and ended up shot in the process but still managed to evade capture. That had been two weeks ago, and we’re still working on locating the prick. “As you know, security footage showed him getting on the subway and exiting at the bus station. Enzo informed me that Sal has since been tracked loading a bus to Kansas City and was seen exiting that bus station. By that time, blood loss was affecting his movements considerably. They were able to locate the records of a John Doe getting medical attention for a gunshot wound to the shoulder. The man was treated and then fled the hospital. That’s where the trail ends, but we’re still searching. No one involved has any intention of giving up, and one day soon, he’ll resurface.” “You think he’s still in Kansas City?” The glint in his eyes worried me. I didn’t think he’d go off on a John Wick revenge spree, but Maria and her father were proof that people could still surprise me. “I doubt it. I’m guessing he got patched up and headed to wherever he’s got a contact who would harbor him. Every outfit in the country knows we’re looking for him, so he’d have to find someone outside the life or a family man with a death wish.” I studied the man who I regarded as one of my most trusted, loyal friends. “We’re going to find him, Diego. And when we do, you’ll have your revenge. I promise you.” His eyes snapped over to meet my gaze before sadness softened his features. “All right, I hear you. I’m not about to do anything rash.” Pressing his hands on his knees to help hoist him up, he rose from the chair and nodded at me. “I’m gonna stop by the office for a bit before I head back home and check on Bella.” “Take care of your wife. We can handle the rest,” I murmured. Isabella Venturi had slipped into a crippling depression after the loss of her son, making it that much harder for Diego to process his own grief. A better friend probably would have tried to help talk him through it, but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t a f*****g shrink. He needed time off—not a problem— but that’s as far as my nurturing side went. He’d have to figure out his own s**t just like the rest of us. He lifted his fingers in a resigned wave and took off. The second hand didn’t even make it all the way around the face of my new Bulgari watch when my brother interrupted again. “Nona called while you were busy. Said it was important.” He gave two raps on the doorframe with his knuckles and disappeared. When I glanced down at my phone, I had three missed calls from my grandmother. Some days I felt like the king of men, and others, I wondered if I wasn’t a glorified nanny, cleaning up spills and talking angry toddlers down from tantrums. From my soldiers to my brothers to discarded girlfriends and insulted business associates—there was always a fire to be put out, and as the underboss of the Gallo family, all roads led to me. As it so happened, Nona was one of my favorite people on the planet, but everything was always important in her eyes. At eighty-three years old, she’d seen the death of both her parents and two of her six children, including my mother. She walked to the corner market each morning to buy whatever food she planned to cook. On one of those trips, she beat a man unconscious with a 2x4 for trying to mug her at the ripe old age of sixtyone. She worked in the family deli while raising her children, one of which she birthed on her lunch break and went back to selling sausage an hour later with a newborn slung across her chest. She was the toughest, fiercest woman I’d ever known. Nona took the place of my mother when she died, and for that, she’d always hold a special place in my heart. However, the woman could be absolutely maddening. She saw fit to call me regularly with important news such as rain in the forecast or my Aunt Teresa’s newly developed head cold. One time, she’d called to make sure I knew lambchops were on special at the butcher near her apartment. To Nona Luisa, everything was important, and she wouldn’t stop calling until her message had been received. I selected her contact in my favorites and waited as the phone rang. We had tried to get her a cell phone on a number of occasions, but she refused to learn how to use one. Instead, she held tightly to her push-button landline phone hanging on the wall of her kitchen. “Hello?” Her garbled voice came across the line. “Nona, it’s me. Filip said you had something you wanted to tell me?” “Ah! Tito, just who I wanted to talk to.” She’d called me Tito since I was a baby, claiming I’d earned the ‘giant’ nickname by trying to run the family before I was out of diapers. “This morning I was looking at the cards, and when I did your spread—I don’t even want to say it.” Her voice dropped as if the winds of fate might overhear her. “It was the death card, Tito.