Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
“It was terrifying to him, too.”
He didn’t need ten years to make it scarier.
Salvatore shook his head as if answering Nico’s unspoken thoughts. “You’ve got a lot of anger and bitterness driving the way you say it and feel it right now. Trauma, too. But you need life behind it, Nico. Real grief. True joy. Loss and love. Experience that only aging brings. When you say that same thing ten years from now, with all that behind it and what you’ve already got going on, the world is going to move for you.”
Nico didn’t know what to say.
Salvatore added, “You need to start realizing what power that has.”
And they needed to move on. Nico couldn’t think about tomorrow, let alone ten years down the road. He was still trying to work on getting through today.
“What’s in the third file, or do you have more questions?”
Salvatore wagged a finger at him. “You hate being made to think. Last folder. Any guesses?”
Nico couldn’t think of any. “Is it bad?”
“You tell me.”
“I mean, I only go to the convenience store and get smokes. I used to give money to the guard at the back of the property to get me some, but I take the Ducati now. I had a bit of cash stashed. Uh, what else?”
Salvatore remained impassive while Nico rambled.
“Oh, I did go to the hospital after the accident. I stayed out of sight and went right back to the estate. I even passed them on the way. They didn’t realize it was me. Just to check on...” His voice trailed off, and his gaze started to Salvatore. “Frankie.”
Oh, he finally got a trickle of something.
Salvatore’s mouth pursed with a swallow. “I bet she needed that.”
“Are you going to tell me something about her?”
“Do I need to?”
Nico shook his head. “She’s seventeen. I stopped messing with girls that were under eighteen as soon as I turned eighteen. Is that the problem? Were Larkin’s guys keeping notes or something? I just talked to her outside, too. For the record.”
“That’s enough,” Salvatore replied. “It’s not about my daughter. Yet.”
Nico chewed on his inner cheek at the flippant comment. He meant what he said, but he wasn’t blind or stupid, either. Francesca turned eighteen in two weeks and whenever he ran into her, she had his full attention.
ADHD or not.
“You should know, however,” Salvatore said, breaking through Nico’s thoughts, “I will know the moment that changes.”
“Huh?”
“The second something becomes about my daughter, Nico. I will know.”
The man offered nothing else.
Not—don’t. No warnings, threats.
Nothing.
I will know.
Nico glanced at the third folder again. “So, what is that?”
“Your next steps but on my terms.”
Nico sat at the ready, waiting to hear it.
Salvatore flipped the file open, and then turned it around, offering it to Nico. After taking it, he also caught the phone with his other hand that quickly flew through the air without any warning.
“You’re going to have to be fast like that for some of those guys,” Salvatore noted, gesturing at the file.
Nico glanced down.
He read the basic scope out of a crew that worked out of New Jersey. The write-up included various joints the crew owned, what they were handling through drugs, counterfeit sales, and more. He recognized Big Mike’s restaurant in the list of connected businesses.
“It’s not good enough for you to third-hand score drugs from a relative who’s connected and make profit,” Salvatore said, clearly going back to what he promised earlier. “Not if you intend to go for your button. You pay dues whether you are crew or not, whether you’re made or not. It’s respect, and you know this.”
“It was play money.”
“You’re right,” Salvatore agreed, “but it’s also an in. Think about it. You drain three hundred grand out of your account, walk it into Big Mike, and see where it goes. Whether or not he keeps you, the money stays. That’s how you need to move, Nico. That’s the respect.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Why would you? You were just playing.” Salvatore lifted one shoulder as if to shrug it all off. “Now it’s time to go for the big guns. No more playing.”
“Did you put in any calls—”
“Trust me, I don’t have to. Big Mike is the kind of capo that does his homework. You walk into his joint, and he’s going to know the last time you shit before nightfall. He will do his own digging. Let the rest speak for itself.”
Nico thought about it, but another concern popped up. “What about the territory? Big Mike’s runs along Anthony Carcoli’s. He’s my brother’s best friend.”
A few years older than Marco, though. Also, a made man through inheritance. That just made Nico hate the asshole more. He didn’t deserve a spot at the table because his daddy died. Plenty of others could have run that crew just as well as Carcoli’s puke son.