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“Will that get us back what was stolen?”
“No,” he rasps. “Capello’s lawyers are still searching for the young woman to claim her inheritance. If she isn’t found, then the assets will go to his third cousin, Tommy Galliano, in New Jersey.”
My jaw clenches, bringing up every ounce of resentment I have toward another double-dealing bastard. Galliano isn’t just the friend of our enemy, he’s the scumbag who lured away our newly widowed mother and made her his wife.
Five years ago, when Dad was alive and the organization wasn’t so fragmented, we might have been able to handle the Galliano family. But not now. Not yet. Emberly Kay is a more accessible target that I’ll keep alive until I get back our stolen property.
Vincent’s gaze still bores into the side of my face, but I hold my silence and continue toward Beaumont City until we reach the dirt track that leads to an isolated cabin.
That’s when I take the turn at speed, scraping branches down the sides of the car and sending dirt flying.
“What’s going on, Roman?” Vincent asks, his voice tense.
“We’re taking a detour.”
He reaches for his inside pocket, presumably to get his gun. My fist connects with his temple, knocking his head into the window. I wince at the damage to my beloved car and continue driving through the woods until we reach the cabin.
Benito is already waiting for us beneath the shade of a huge tree with his arms crossed over his chest. When I park, he opens the passenger-side door and drags Vincent to where Cesare is adding the last few branches to a waiting pyre.
While my brothers truss Vincent up with ropes and lay him atop the unlit wood, I reach for the cans of gasoline on the back seat. The old man jerks awake at the first splash of liquid.
“What are you doing?” Vincent slurs.
“Capello didn’t blackmail Dad into signing over his assets.” I empty the can over his spluttering face.
Vincent screams as realization hits his balding head. “No, Roman, please!” He hurls himself off the bonfire, but Cesare throws him back on the pile of branches. “All I’ve ever been to your family is a friend.”
“How did it work?” I ask, not bothering to address his bullshit. “Did Capello blackmail you into forging Dad’s signature, or did you trick him into signing?”
“That wasn’t me,” Vincent screams.
“We have Capello’s hard drives,” Benito says. “We’ve seen the footage he shot of you strangling that woman.”
Cesare shoves the edge of his shovel into Vincent’s gut, making him double over. I place a hand on my youngest brother’s shoulder, warning him not to ruin the bonfire.
“What I don’t understand is why you allowed Capello to frame me for your sick perversion,” I say.
Vincent squeezes his eyes shut. “Capello held my family hostage and threatened to kill them if I didn’t do everything he demanded.”
Cesare huffs a laugh and pulls out two cigars, but I exchange a glance with Benito. His story is entirely possible. As Dad’s second in command, Capello was capable of some heinous shit, but Vincent could have reached out to us for help.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask. “Dad would have killed Capello for threatening them.”
Vincent’s mouth opens and closes, but he makes no sound because there was no threat. Capello made Vincent scam Dad out of his assets in exchange for keeping quiet about the murder.
“That’s what I thought.” I nod.
Cesare lights his cigar and takes a few puffs before handing me the second, along with a box of matches. Keeping my eyes fixed on Vincent’s, I place my cigar to my lips and strike a flame. In an instant, my mouth fills with the sweet tang of tobacco, and I blow out a cloud of smoke.
“Any last words before you join Capello in hell?” I take a long drag.
“Please.” Vincent’s voice breaks. “I’ll do anything.”
“You’ve done enough. You stole from our family, strangled a woman to death, framed me for her murder, and stayed on our payroll pretending to get me off death row. I’m going to enjoy watching you burn.”
I throw the match on Vincent’s bound body and step back, letting the flames race across his suit and into the branches. Vincent’s screams ring through the air, mingling with the sound of the crackling fire.
The gasoline accelerates the blaze, creating tall flames that engulf Vincent’s flailing limbs. Cesare cackles and tosses a log onto the old man’s head, sending out an explosion of sparks. I snort. My baby brother still finds joy in mayhem.
