Page 71 of Mafia Bride
By someone, I mean the Tabonas, but the question of who among them did it is open. Attacking her can ignite a war that would set Secondo Vasto ablaze, and they know it.
They wouldn’t.
Yet, it was done, and that requires a response.
When I enter, Gia approaches.
“Santino! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Lock the door.”
She nods and obeys.
“Stay away from the windows,” I say before going to the back hallway. “And tell me if anyone comes.”
My men are on the other side of the door. The best, most stable of them are guarding my house and my wife. I wait, listening to the ones who can’t stand still from the other side of the door to the back room as they imitate the gangsters they’ve seen on TV, instead of the actual made men who raised them.
“We could hit them hard at their compound.” Carmine’s voice comes through the door, feigning the accent of a borough he’s never seen. “Go in at night andpop pop pop.”
“They can’t come for us and not expect some shit to happen.” Gennaro snorts. I hear his heavy footfall as he paces the room. “What they did was fucking disrespectful. That’s a death sentence right there. So you gotta ask why.”
Gennaro’s the most sensible. He’s leading them to the right way of thinking, but I doubt they’ll follow.
“They’ll know it’s coming,” Vito adds in his deep basso. “Hitting the compound is a suicide mission. We gotta hit them when they least expect it.”
“How many guns we got?” Carmine asks. “Got enough to storm the laundry? Just take them all out?”
When I’m not there, nothing they say surprises me. They’re trustworthy, but too eager to prove themselves.
“Now you’re talking,” Vito growls. “Blow their heads off. Let them know who they are dealing with.”
As much as I want to send the men who hurt my wife to burn in hell for eternity, they’re too reckless and impulsive to plan a response. I’m going to have to be the reasonable one. A wrong move could expose Violetta to danger where I can’t protect her.
“Whothey’redealing with?” Gennaro asks. “We don’t even know whowe’redealing with.”
God bless Gennaro for seeing through the noise. On that note of sense, I enter the room, and they all go silent. Vito’s limbs are wound in a knot on the leather couch. Gennaro’s mid-pace, and Carmine’s arm is bent as he’s about to throw a dart at the target.
“What do you think, boss?” Gennaro says.
Carmine throws his dart.
I sit on the edge of the pool table and pull out my gun to give it a nice polish. I fantasize about blowing holes in every motherfucker in a 50-mile radius, but know I won’t.
“What do I think?” I ask, but it’s more of a quiz than a question. I know what I think. “Where the fuck is Roman?”
“Got a whore in Green Springs,” Carmine offers. “Won’t say who.”
Green Springs is a good place to do a job. Two towns over, it’s a clean, white-bread American town, except for one family.
“So, we were thinking…” Vito pops up off the couch as if he’s spring loaded.
“No,” I say. “You weren’t.” I push him back down. “I think someone tried to hit my wife to get to me, and I want to know how they knew where she was.”
“Wasn’t Gia with you?” Vito asks. “Maybe she—”
I cut him off with a glare.
“Tavie knew where to pick her up,” Gennaro offers up Gia’s brother’s life.
