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Success, always success.
All over Eastwick and Gray’s Ferry, they were winning. The few Russians left in Vlas’s gang were either dead or running. A few buildings were burning, cars were flipped over, blood was spilled. But slowly, Gray’s Ferry was flipping, and Eastwick would be next.
All the while, we sat in Sergio’s bakery and orchestrated it all from afar.
Dante paced around the room, barking orders at his men when they came in. I sat in the corner watching, my stomach doing strange flips. All I could do was sip coffee and nibble on a pastry and replay that early morning meeting in my mind.
Dante didn’t have to hurt that Jalisco guy. He could’ve told him off, or just refused him and made it clear that he was being insulting. Instead, he decided to hurt him, decided to take it far. And part of me felt so excited and grateful that Dante wouldn’t let someone talk about me like that, even if he was a member of a powerful cartel.
He showed no fear, no hesitation. Dante defended me without a second thought.
Pride and something else bloomed all through me as I watched my man work.
Slowly, the day passed. More reports came in, and by the time the sun went down, Gray’s Ferry was completely flipped to the Leone family. Dante put a few of his soldiers in charge of holding it for the time being as he called his victories in to the Don’s man, who sounded very pleased about his progress.
We ate a small dinner of sandwiches one of his soldiers brought from a deli down the block. When we finished, it was just after eight in the evening, and Dante stood up. He smiled at me and held out a hand. I stood up and walked to him, and he pulled me up against his chest.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“Really?”
He nodded. “I hope you like it. Would you like to see?”
I bit my lip. “I think so,” I said.
“Good.” He turned and looked over at Ryan who was sitting in the corner. Steven was out supervising their first push into Eastwick and would be busy for the next few hours. “Bring the car around,” Dante said.
Ryan jumped up and ran outside. Dante smiled at me, took my hand, and led me out to the curb. Sergio stood behind the counter, watching without a word, wiping his hands over and over with a white kitchen towel.
We stepped out into the night. I leaned up against my man, a smile on my lips. There was a small red stain on his lapel that I hadn’t noticed earlier, and it took me a moment to realize that it was Gerardo’s blood.
For some reason, that made me reach up and run my fingers into Dante’s hair. I stood on my toes and pressed my body against his, kissing him deep and slow. He kissed me back, a little purr on his lips.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“Just because,” I said.
The car pulled up to the curb and Dante opened the back door. “After you,” he said.
I got in then Dante followed. He shut the door behind him then leaned forward. “Take us to Lucky’s,” he said.
Ryan shrugged, put the car into gear, and pulled forward. We glided out into traffic and moved north, winding through the small city streets, through the Girard Estates neighborhood and into Gray’s Ferry. The demarcation wasn’t clear, but I did notice one thing.
Nobody was out walking the streets past a certain point.
It was quiet, dead quiet. I saw a laundromat with windows smashed. I saw a car, burned out and half flipped on its side. I saw a bar with its door broken down, smashed into pieces. It looked like a hurricane had ripped through a relatively clean and quiet family neighborhood, and I could only imagine the chaos of the day before.
My heart was beating fast as Dante took my hand and smiled.
“This is what happens when someone fucks with me,” he said, nodding at the street. “This is what it’s like to burn the city.”
“Where are the cops?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“They were here earlier,” Dante said. “But nobody saw a thing. That’s the beauty of the mafia. Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody talks. Police leave with shit.”
I looked out the window as Ryan pulled the car over in front of a row of businesses at the end of a block of rowhomes. There was another dry cleaner’s that avoided attack, a Chinese food restaurant, and a bar that was painted red and white on the outside with a big neon sign along the side. The sign said LUCKY’S and glowed a brilliant orange.
“Here we are,” Dante said. “Ryan, stay here. We won’t be long.” He opened the door and slipped out of the car then helped me out. I stood on the sidewalk, looking at the building. Some of the windows were broken, but not too many, and the door was still on its hinges.
