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And for some reason, I had a very bad feeling today would end up being a shitstorm.
“A stunning replica of the MGM resort in Vegas,” Sabatino DiMaggio said more in passing as he flanked my side. He was also relatively new to the alliance, joining less than a year before. He was known for his suave way of handling business, easily getting under an opponent’s skin before they knew it.
“I’ve never been there.”
“You’re missing out.” He lifted his glass as if his nod of reverence would matter to me. I was still not convinced this was in my best interest, but with the possibility of taking over the Cosa Nostra, it was best to build friendships along the way.
“I’ll consider going one day.” I continued sipping on my drink, curious as to why my thoughts were never far removed from Maria. She was entirely different than I’d thought she’d be, not nearly the spoiled brat I’d been told she was. There was more of an air of someone who’d been through a lot in her life, just as easily scraping her fingers through dirt as through caviar. I couldn’t seem to get it off my mind and there was absolutely no reason why.
“Don’t worry. The shitheads over there don’t bite,” he offered, as if that was what I worried about.
“We heard that, newbie,” Gabriel Giordano shot out, the New Yorker considered my brother’s best friend even though there were a thousand miles between our territories. He was a genuinely good guy, something I enjoyed being around.
The others? Not nearly as much, their smugness driving me crazy.
Both Sabatino and I walked toward the rest of the group, Constantine continuing to scrutinize me. Always the damn big brother no matter how old we got. I found that annoying as fuck.
“What’s wrong, Daniel? Married life doesn’t suit you?” Diego Santos asked. He and his twin brother Dante were both members, brutal yet suave.
“It suits me just fine. The timing of this meeting is what doesn’t suit me,” I answered, which brought a deep laugh from the Russian in the group, Maxim Nikitin. He was a panther in a cage, all sharp canines and claws, eager to rip out the heart and guts of anyone who crossed him. I found myself admiring his take no shit attitude.
“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the fact that you antagonized Liam O’Banyon,” Brogan Callahan stated. Somehow his Irish accent was more pronounced than usual, as if doing that for effect given Liam’s heritage.
I slowly turned my head in his direction, studying him intently. He was usually the quiet, jovial one of the group, at least according to my brother. I’d received a full lineup of the men prior to today so I knew what I was getting myself into. “It was necessary given their attitude at the meeting I called. What’s it to you?”
The tension was based more on the level of testosterone in the room versus the question, although I sensed Brogan bristling.
“Because anything that happens with the O’Banyon clan I hear about. They are insistent on coming into Chicago as well. They were told they weren’t welcome. Now, I heard on the street they’re continuing to search for a new landing spot.”
“Why not stay in New York?” I asked.
“Because no one wants to be associated with them. They are known to eat their own,” Phoenix Diamondis, the Greek god out of Philadelphia muttered. “But they are very connected in Europe. If you do take over the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, you don’t want them as your immediate enemy.”
In my mind it was unacceptable Constantine had mentioned the terms of the deal made with Rossi, but I understood why. “I will take that under advisement. If they stay out of our way, I have no qualms keeping the peace.”
“Be mindful, gentlemen, no matter what I’ve told you about my studious, animal-loving brother in the past, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Then he’ll fit in perfectly with the rest of us,” Dante Santos offered. Or perhaps I should call the twins by their birth names, their father the brutal leader of the South American cartel, the second of the two destined to take over when their birth father resigned or was killed.
Just like Giovanni Rossi was fearful of.
Our world certainly took a toll on longevity.
“Any news on the Death Squad?” Diego asked, already moving past concerns about the Irish.
“Nothing concrete,” Constantine answered. “We’re still working through cleaning up the streets of their possible soldiers, but most have fled the city.”
The infamous Death Squad, a group of unknown yet highly powerful men and women determined to take over the world.
They had men everywhere, low ranking members of the secretive organization required to do their bidding, including the elimination of their enemies. It was as if a ticking bomb had been planted in the center of the earth, destined to go off eventually. We were banded together, the Brotherhood looking at further expansions in an attempt to create an even more powerful organization.
I wondered if that would occur in our lifetimes.
“Well, then. Let’s get on to the business of the day and the reason for our meeting so our newlywed here can get back to his lovely bride, your new ball and chain,” Maxim said more in jest.
Every man in the room was married, several with children, which added to the solidarity and commitment we afforded each other.
“Then we do it,” Constantine stated as he placed his glass on one of the tables.
