Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
25
ROCCO
I hated leaving Maggie the next day. I’d already left my son, and that had been hard enough. It killed me all over again to leave Maggie, but Julian would take care of her.
And there were other things I needed to take care of.
We were in a tough spot. Any fool could tell you that.
Roselli had turned against us.
A mob boss with powerful connections was determined to put us in the ground. Our years in the family didn’t mean jack shit to him. We had to be removed.
But he had made a mistake. It wasn’t surprising, really. Unlike the other Dons I knew, Roselli had never bothered to adhere to tradition, and tradition was everything in our world.
No matter how much they loved the dollar, no matter how much they loved to fuck around with prostitutes and snort cocaine, mob bosses did have to obey certain rules. And those applied to everyone—no exceptions.
The rule Roselli had broken?
Don’t try and take out your own blood.
Family ties were considered sacred. A blood tie was the strongest of all. Friendships, marriages, and everything else were not as important as this one. You hunt down your brother? Your sister? One or both your folks? You’re dead in the water. There was no forgiving that. You could have ranted on about your motives and how strong they were, but that wouldn’t do you any good. In the end, you would get a bullet between the eyes. A disgraceful death you brought upon yourself for disrespecting your flesh and blood.
Unfortunately, men like me and my buddies couldn’t make a made man like Roselli obey the rules. Made men were considered untouchable. To go after a Don, one of his fellow bosses had to give you the green light. Without it, you couldn’t lay a hand on them. Doing that equaled a death sentence—and even more certain than the one we were under now.
Even talking to another Don about it was a risk. There was also a good chance you’d get whacked yourself, in case the reason you provided didn’t sound good to the Don you requested permission from. Simply put, unless a made man had done something despicable, you’d wind up dead in his stead.
But I couldn’t leave this alone.
Not with four lives hanging in the balance.
Slater, Julian and I were used to this shit. This had been part of our lives for a long time. Rival crews had gone after us in the past and we had come out on top. Even if we had ended up with a bullet in our heads, some would have called it “fair.” We weren’t angels—everybody on the street knew that.
Maggie on the other hand? No. She couldn’t have that threat looming over her. She couldn’t have wise guys chasing after her, because a mob boss was too greedy to follow his father’s last will and testament.
I had to reach out to a Don. Amid this insanity, discussing Roselli’s antics was perhaps the sanest call.
So, the day after Maggie and I had shared that incredible moment in bed, I reached out to Don Michael Gambini. I respected the man. Unlike my boss, he rewarded loyalty. He knew the rules, and for the most part, he played by them.
“DeLuca. Someone said you were dead.” He sounded as if he hadn’t believed it, and his next words proved it. “I had a feeling you’d call.”
“Hello, Don Gambini. May I ask why?”
“Call it a hunch. What do you want?”
“Could I meet with you, sir? Someplace public. Today if possible.”
“A meeting? What for? So you can walk me through what you did to Baxter? It was you, DeLuca. Either you or one of your guys. I know that now.”
“This is much bigger than me and my guys. Believe me, Don Gambini. You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
“Elaborate.”
“It’s about my boss. That’s all I can say on the phone.”
Gambini sighed. “Enrique’s. Times Square, tonight, eight-thirty.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be there.”
After the call ended, I couldn’t quite identify the Don’s tone. Angry? Except he was one of the most level-headed men I knew. Maybe… resigned? That seemed more like it. Dons didn’t usually speak ill of each other, but he had to know what kind of man Nick was. And knowing what kind of man Gambini was, I doubted he approved.
That didn’t take away the risk of going to speak to him about my boss, but it had to be done. For all our sakes.
Later that evening, Slater and I crossed Times Square. For once, he was calm and collected. I wasn’t. I kept checking my watch as the noise of traffic grew and dropped. The two of us arrived at Enrique’s about ten minutes early, but Gambini was already there. To me, that revealed concern on his part.
The older man was sitting at the best table in the back—no surprise there. Four of his men were at tables all around him, while one more was sitting next to him. This was a classic example of a Don's behavior. He had plenty of men watching over him, hiding in plain sight.