Page 94 of Vicious Intentions
With those words, Niccolò and Rocco take two steps forward, raise their guns, and put a bullet in both Ferraro and Lombardi’s heads. Blood and brain matter spill onto the table, just as their bodies limp and collapse onto the floor.
I then stand up from my seat and walk to a visibly shaken Marino, watching his friends now dead before his very eyes.
“You should have listened to your intuition and left when you had the chance, Marino. Oh well.” I shrug, pulling my own gun and aiming it at the back of his skull.
The loud sound of my gun going off echoes around the empty walls of the warehouse, easing the tension that had been in my shoulders for longer than acceptable. I roll my shoulders back, feeling ten pounds lighter now that those three fuckers are gone. And when I take my seat back at the table, I note that no one looks surprised in horror at my way of dealing with problematic bosses.
Good.
“Shall we commence?” I ask, the names Ferraro, Lombardi, and Marino already wiped from my memory.
For the next hour, I lay out my plans to get New York back underCosa Nostra’srule. I expected more blowback from killing their fellow colleagues, or at least for them to challenge me and my plan, maybe point out any holes they could find, but I didn’t get any of it. Quite the contrary. By the time I ended the meeting, they all seemed to have this newfound hope that ourCosa Nostrawould return to its former glory, and that I would be the Don strong enough to make it so.
“You did good, Matteo. Real good,” Moretti says like a proud father, with a pat on the shoulder as we walk over to our cars.
“We still have a long way to go, but at least I no longer have to worry about enemies within my own ranks,” I say just as my eyes land on Raffaele, leaning against the hood of my car.
Or maybe I do. Just one.
If I trusted Raffaele more, he wouldn’t have to sit out on the meeting and attend it right at my side like Niccolò. But unfortunately, our relationship has been so fractured lately that I still can’t trust my brother farther than I can throw him.
“Yes, one less problem,” Moretti says once we reach my car, just as Rocco and Niccolò make their way over to Raffaele. “Though I do have a question for you.”
“Go ahead,” I retort, though my attention is mostly on my brother and how he’s laughing away at something Rocco must have said, Niccolò trying not to chuckle in tandem.
The image of them together, laughing like that, spurs a memory of when the three of us used to be that close to one another. Yes, Niccolò is still my best friend as well as my brother. But with Raffaele, it’s different. Between growing up in such a toxic household and my relationship with Anna, we lost that bond somewhere along the way. The only one he ever listened to was Carlo Junior, and that’s mostly due to the fantasies our older brother planted in his head.
For some reason, it irks me to no end that he’s bonded with Rocco, so I snap my fingers to grab his attention and stare at my closed door, my silent order for him to open it for me. I pretend not to notice Niccolò and Rocco’s foreheads bunch since Raffaele isn’t a chauffeur. Still, the empty look in my brother’s blue eyes as he walks over, doing exactly as I commanded and opening the backseat door, aggravates the shit out of me.
Whereas before we were always bickering and fighting with one another, now Raffaele refuses to even say more than a few words to me, preferring to give me the silent treatment rather than talk to me like a fucking adult. And since he’s been doing everything I’ve asked him to lately, down to the very last minuscule detail, there is nothing for me to bitch at him for. It’s highly aggravating. And the fucker must know it.
“Matteo? Did you hear a word I said?” Moretti asks, his temple lined with a few deep wrinkles.
“Hmm,” I mutter noncommittally, still staring at my brother holding the car door open for me.
“I was asking if you’ve pinpointed the safest time to kidnap Annamaria yet.”
It’s the mention of Anna’s name that snaps me out of my grievances with Raffaele and back to Moretti’s question.
“In a sense. The Romanos love to throw parties during the year. That’s when we’ll make our move.”
“If that’s when you want to do it, then why not next month? It will be her birthday, after all,” Raffaele says, butting into the conversation just to remind me of his past with Anna.
“Next month?” Moretti parrots, not exactly pleased with the idea. “We just told the other Dons of our plan. A month wouldn’t give them enough time to get their affairs in order, and their men prepared for the war that will naturally follow if this plan goes wrong in any way. Hell, even if it goes right, we might still be facing a war with Romano.”
I don’t say anything. Mostly because like hell I’d steal Anna away from her family on her birthday. I know how important they are to her, and she already has so few occasions when they celebrate her. No. I’d never take that day away from my Anna.
“How about late May then? She’s graduating from high school this year. I’m sure her parents will throw a party for her then,” Raffaele adds again, and I hate how the fucker still feels like he has some sort of link to her.
“Is that true?” Moretti asks, moving his gaze from Raffaele to me. “That’s three months from now. That would definitely give us enough time to put everything in place.”
“No,” I bite out a little too harshly, and I don’t miss the ghost of a smile trying to make its way to my brother’s lips.
“No?” Moretti counters, confused. “Why not?”
“Because all eyes will be on her that day. We would never be able to kidnap her on a day when everyone would notice her absence. We need at least a good hour to take Annamaria and get her on a plane to New York before her father realizes she’s missing. Neither her birthday nor graduation day is a plausible option.”
Moretti ponders my words for a beat and takes my reasoning to heart. “I didn’t think of that. You’re right.” He nods to himself. “But when, then? When can we put your plan into action if not on those dates?”
