Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Is it time for our covert mission?”
“In a minute,” I said. “Who did you say your brother was?”
“I didn’t.” I could hear the smile in his voice. I hated when people dragged shit out.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Harry O’Conner.”
I blinked once, twice, letting it register. “No shit.”
“I told you he was a badass.”
“I’ll call you back in a second.”
As I hung up, I laughed despite myself. Badass was one way to put it. Harry O’Conner had recently become the head of the O’Conner organized crime family. He’d taken the Russians out of Irish territory the first week he got there, which was impressive. He was also an acquaintance of ours. Not a friend, not an enemy. Someone you wanted in your corner, though. As I thought this through, Jack remained silent on the other end of the line. The idea popped into my head like a light bulb in a cartoon. I could ask Harry for help, but I’d owe him a favor if I did, and I hated owing people favors. I leaned my head against the wall and exhaled, as I looked up at the ceiling and thought about what I could offer Harry. My services, for one, but he had enough manpower and didn’t need me.
I could give up Joe Masseria, who had the drug ring on lock, which I knew Harry wanted. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go that route, since Joe was Gio’s dad and he’d stayed true to his word. He’d left the U.S. to us as long as we gave him room to sell drugs. He’d always been against drugs, but when you take over your Colombian wife's cocaine empire, things change. Right now, I’d give Harry just about anything. I pinched the bridge of my nose, aware that I was in a spa surrounded by amazing smells while plotting murder. It was a smart plan, though. As things stood, we’d lose some of our people if O’Conner helped. . .so, I texted the group chat:
Me: EM
Loren: NOW?
Gio: omw
Dean: omw
Dom: right now?
Me: NOW NOW
Loren: omw
Dom: omw
I left the room and called Jack back. “Stay on the phone and let me know if he’s still out there.”
“Got it.” I heard rustling, then more rustling. The door opened. “Oof, taking out the trash is exhausting,” he said. I waited. “Hold on.” I waited some more. “Okay, the coast is clear.”
I got out of there, thanked Jack, and drove to The Place as I brewed my new plan. I needed to fill my brother in, but as much as I trusted him, I couldn’t invite him to our meet-up spot. The safe house was one thing, since it was virtually untraceable, but if anyone thought to follow him here, we’d be fucked.
“No. FUCK NO,” Dominic said when I told him the plan.
“Our plan is fine the way it is,” Gio said.
“Do you think we need backup?” Dean asked. “And is it worth the price?”
“I’ll pay whatever price and deal with Harry personally,” I said. “This is the best shot at all of us making it out of there alive.”
“He’s not wrong about that,” Gio said. “We’re trying to ambush them with what, ten, fifteen people? They have thirty.”
“That we know of,” I said.
“I get that,” Loren started, “but what if the Irish turn on us during our own ambush?”
“They won’t,” Dean said. “That’s not how they operate.”
He was very familiar with the Chicago Irish family. While his dad was Italian, his mother's partner — who had treated him like a son — was their second in command until he was killed. Dean was still close to the current boss.
“They’re a lot like us, right?” Gio asked. “Women and children are off-limits to them?”
“Yeah, they abided by that even before we had that meeting to clarify,” Dean said.
“Why?” Dom asked. “Why are you changing the plan?”
“We may not have enough people,” I said, taking a breath as I looked at him. “Giuseppe hit Lenora.”
His chair screeched as he stood. “What?”
“He hit her. Slapped her around, pulled her hair, banged her head against the fucking wall, sold her fucking horse out of spite,” I said, my voice growing louder with each point.
Dom looked horrified and angry as he plummeted back into his chair. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“And now you want us to team up with the Irish to take down La Cosa Nostra,” Loren stated, trying to make sure he understood.
For a long time, I’d had it in my head that we weren’t Cosa Nostra. Our fathers were legit Sicilian immigrants who were heavily involved in organized crime, and therefore, La Cosa Nostra. That wasn’t us. Not really. Being born and raised in the U.S. gave us different experiences with different cultures and races. Even our food was different. We did share the same core standards: We were loyal to the oath of Omertà, we didn’t sell drugs, and women and children were off-limits. Their rule about women and children only pertained to their own men. Ours meant all women and children. Dealing drugs was tempting since it was profitable and we owned businesses where drugs were being passed around anyway, but we tried not to fuck with it. There was a hierarchy we all followed. Once Giuseppe was out, his underboss would take his place. Since his underboss would no longer be alive if our plan worked out, Lorenzo’s father, the consigliere, could technically step up. I doubted he would, but it was something he’d help with.