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)
“And so do we. Which I can’t do when I have the entire country looking at anyone with my last name like they’re connected.”
Most were in certain areas. Sal wouldn’t point it out. No need to pick at a raw scab.
“Money has been moved into a few hands. I talked to just enough people; said enough things to matter. Give it time to see the difference it’ll make. I’m waiting on a call for confirmation of one of the things you asked for as we speak. It’ll happen, boss. Trust me. That’s all sensationalism and amusement for bored people with nothing better to do,” Sal said, gesturing at the newspaper. “I wouldn’t get worked up about it. There’s nothing more we can do for Christiano at this point. I’ve done what I could. What can you do?”
Giorgio seemed to take that question in and consider it for a moment. “Well—”
“We could kill him,” came a quiet remark. The boss sighed heavily. “Isn’t that the rule? What we demand when made men swear omerta?”
Right. Wives were untouchable. Except that little rule only mattered when it served Giorgio Russo’s agenda. Otherwise, the man had yet to prove himself beneath killing the wife of a made man to get what he wanted.
Finally, Salvatore had to give the festering problem—one of many in his responsibilities handling the boss’s business—his attention: Marco. “We can’t kill Christiano, you idiot.”
Barely concealed rage flashed across Marco’s otherwise stoic face. “What did you just call me?”
“Easy,” replied Giorgio. “Sal meant no harm.”
Sure, he did. He meant all the fucking harm. Marco worked his last nerve on a good day. And it wasn’t a good day.
“Right?” Giorgio asked with more severity behind the word when Salvatore didn’t engage the peace offering.
“Right,” he eventually agreed. “Fact remains the same, however. We can’t kill him. What, because he’s gotten himself in a bit of trouble, we should just send the hounds and let the vultures pick up the scraps?”
“I mean, it would get him and that murdering his wife business out of the papers,” Marco countered.
“Fair enough, and it would also get us right back in it. Your father is practically apoplectic at having Christiano tied to the family and our dealings. Do you think he wants it splashed on every headline between New York and California about how the mob put a hit out on their capo because of a trial that has nothing to do with us and our part of the country?”
The slight arch of Giorgio’s eyebrow and the quick glance he passed Salvatore’s way spoke to his appreciation for the man having enough patience to put Marco in his place using words in a calm manner. That could be hard to do at times. Outrageous behavior that didn’t help tense situations were more common than not with the twenty-three-year-old. How the hell he ever planned to be boss one day, and Marco stupidly did, Salvatore couldn’t understand.
“We’re also not in a position to absorb and manage Christiano’s dealings,” he continued, deciding while he had the moment of unusual silence to educate Marco, he might as well try. “There are narcos that sit at that man’s table monthly to handle business, and don’t for one second think they would speak to us if we were the ones who showed up. No, they would just see that turn of events as a move to make. A.S.A.P.”
Marco didn’t hide his unhappiness or the lingering anger in his stare when he replied, “Point taken.”
What nobody wanted to say about Christiano Lombardi clung in the air like mildew in a damp room. The capo had his own setup in California without his ties to the Russo mafia. He wasn’t the only capo in the family to stretch his legs and head elsewhere to make his way. The boss encouraged it. It was good for the family’s captains to have plenty of territory of their own, so they weren’t constantly shitting in someone else’s. Either way, Christiano no longer needed them in the like he once had, and that could be a problem should push come to shove on an issue.
Sal figured it came down to blood and loyalty for the boss and the capo. That was why the one man made his way to New York to still pay his dues and the other man in the equation didn’t allow his stupid son to call the shots whenever he wanted.
Yeah, blood and loyalty counted for a lot. But that could always change, too.
“Enough of Christiano,” Giorgio said, drawing in a hard gust of air after the words slipped out.
Salvatore instantly gave his attention back to the man at the center of the room. “Did you not call me at two in the morning three weeks ago and demand I drop everything for this?”
Giorgio didn’t blink. “We have another problem.”