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I shrug. “Probably not. If anything, I think we’ve made your life easier. But I’m just doing my due diligence, and ensuring our mutually beneficial relationship continues.”
He waves a hand. “Enough with the word salad, Campano. I get it. You line my pockets, and I made sure you and yours don’t end up in prison. Maybe ease up for a few days after this one, though. If you’ve got any shipments coming through, try to get it handled quickly and lay low for a bit, hm? I’ve always got a few hotshots who think they’re too good to take a bribe, and I don’t feel like developing another ulcer.”
“You should probably lay off the black coffee, then.” I nod to the mug at his elbow. “But I’ll take that under advisement. Our shipments will be increasing soon, as will some of our businesses, but I’ll try to delay that until this can blow over.”
“See that you do.” Dawson gives me a look that tells me his patience is running out, but it doesn’t bother me. I know as well as he does that he’s not going to jeopardize the money that the Campano family funnels into this place. The shipments might pose a bit of an issue—Don Fontana wants our drug business to increase, after his deal with my brother over Altiere’s removal. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.
“Always a pleasure.” I stand up, nodding at him before leaving the office. Our meetings are always brief—neither of us wants to spend more time with the other than necessary, and I’m glad for it. It’s getting to be late afternoon, and I have other things to handle before night falls and I go to Altiere’s mansion to make sure that the cleaners did their job thoroughly. By tomorrow, the cops will be on the case, and his mansion will be an active crime scene. Nothing can be left behind that will complicate the agreement we have with the police—we don’t leave messes, and they make sure we don’t pay for our crimes.
I’m nearly out the door—pointedly ignoring the receptionist—when it swings open, and a tall, young-looking officer that I haven’t seen before steps inside. He catches sight of me, and his eyes instantly narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he stops in the doorway, effectively blocking my way out.
I raise an eyebrow. “ Can I help you? I have somewhere to be.”
His upper lip curls, ever so slightly. “I know who you are, Campano. Here rubbing elbows with the chief again?”
“You’ll have to take that up with him.” I nod towards the space he’s blocking. “Excuse me.”
He doesn’t budge. “Not all of us here are greedy enough to prefer lining our pockets over doing our job. You’re not going to get away with this forever.”
Ah. This must be one of those hotshots that Dawson mentioned—some new officer with bright ideas about the future of the city. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.” His dark eyes narrow. “You and everyone like you will pay eventually, Campano. One day, your luck will run out.”
My mouth curves in a half-smile, and I can feel the dangerous glint in my eyes as I return his look. “But not today. And if you’re not careful where you step, son, yours might run out first. Now, excuse me.”
I take a step forward, crowding him a little, and I see his face pale the slightest bit. He moves around me, out of the doorway, but I see the anger on his face. He doesn’t like that he had to back down. He hates me more for it, now.
Truthfully, I don’t care. One cop isn’t enough to cause a problem for me, and even if there are a few of them who are like-minded, they’ll get in line or learn to stifle their objections soon enough, if they want to keep their jobs. Dawson isn’t someone to cross, either.
I put him out of my head, as I walk back to the waiting SUV. He’ll learn his lesson soon enough, and I won’t be the one to teach it to him.
—
Later that night, as I head to Altiere’s mansion, I make a few calls on a burner to the men handling upcoming shipments. I know Dante isn’t happy about having to continue—much less expand—our drug business, but I’m pleased with the outcome. He wants to cut ties with Sicily as much as possible, removing our family from the illegal mafia dealings and investing in legal, safer projects. I’m inclined to think that there’s no reason to undo what our family has spent a lifetime building an empire on. No reason to undo the connections that our father and grandfather developed with Don Fontana, and no reason to break away from Sicily and what they offer us.
For now, I’m getting what I want—part of the deal that Dante made in order to get Fontana to give him men to rescue the woman he’d fallen in love with, that Altiere stole from him. In the future—I have no idea. I know Dante will only let all this stand until he finds a way to start backing out of it again. While I once thought I would eventually have more control over the family, I know that won’t happen now. There was a time when Dante had no intentions of marrying, and the title of don would have likely been passed to my eventual son, once I married. But now Dante and Emma are expecting a child, and if they don’t have a boy the first time, I’m sure they will eventually. The family line will continue through Dante—and I can’t find it in myself to be upset about it, because I know it’s what our father wanted.
Hell, maybe he knew that Dante would pull our family further away from all those illegal things that the last three generations of Campano men built. Maybe that’s why he gave Dante the title. Or, more likely—he passed it on to Dante because he’s the eldest, and it never could have been any other way, regardless of whether or not they saw eye to eye.
Our father was a stickler for tradition. And, like it or not, I’m the middle son.
I have no plans to undermine my brother. Our family is only strong so long as we stick together. I’m not even sure that I’d want to deal with the pressures of being don. I just wish Dante listened to me more often.
For instance—I suspected Altiere was a danger long before he did. He brushed off my concerns—and here we are.
We take the back entrance onto Altiere’s property, the driver pulling the black SUV around behind the mansion. I do a quick, cursory glance around before striding towards the back of the house, but all of Altiere’s security that survived our attack has long since fled. They will have moved on to other work, not wanting to be caught up further in what Altiere brought down on himself. He wasn’t the sort of man to inspire loyalty in those who worked for him, and I have no fears that any of his former employees will retaliate against us. The mansion is as quiet and empty as I expected, and I stride through the back entrance and the rooms on the first floor, looking as I go to ensure that all signs of the fighting that happened down here have been removed.
There’s no blood, no bodies, no broken glass. Destroyed furniture has been removed, windows replaced, anything that was damaged taken away. The lower floor is clear, and I move up to the second, carefully inspecting the stairs and hallway. Our cleaners are thorough, but I don’t like to leave anything to chance. I’m meticulous in ensuring that nothing is left behind that could come back to haunt us, and that’s one of the reasons that Dante often leaves this to me.
Altiere’s bedroom, where he was killed, is my last stop. I go over every inch of the room carefully, looking for blood splatters, torn clothing, anything that could indicate what happened here. I’m no crime scene investigator, but it’s the job of the cleaners we employ to make sure they find nothing when they come here.
As I’m checking the floor, I pause. For a brief moment, I almost thought I heard footsteps in the hall. No one else should be here, and I straighten, walking quickly towards the door to look out into the hallway. My hand rests on the gun tucked into the back of my trousers as I open the door, ready if anyone is there. There’s always the possibility that one of Altiere’s men might have returned to loot the place, and if so, they’re going to get a quick lesson in why that was a poor choice.
But when I glance up and down the hall, there’s no one there.
Just the sounds of the house. I return to scoping out the room, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. The investigation has made me tired, and I’m ready to be done with it so that I can go home and relax with a drink before I go to bed.
Making one final loop, I step out of the bedroom, heading down the hall. I’m already mentally thinking about what else I need to take care of in terms of business, and I don’t even see anyone in the dark hallway until a body suddenly smacks directly into the front of me.
