She arches a brow. “They’re in Hunts Point. They’re way too cool for Manhattan.”
I chew the side of my lip, trying to take it all in.
“Right. So, the mafia thing… Are they Di Santo’s?”
She blinks once. “No. They workwiththe Di Santo’s. They’re pretty tight too.”
“Wait. If they’re not Di Santo’s, what are they?”
“Bellucci’s,” she says simply.
“Bellucci’s?”
Why does that name make the hairs on the back of my neck bristle?
“Do you…” I swallow, nervously. “Do you know Il Diavolo’s real name?”
She leans in and keeps her voice down. “Yes. It’s Fiero. But don’t let anyone ever hear you say it.”
Fiero Bellucci.
A strange chill ghosts across my shoulders. My body recognizes something, even if my mind doesn’t.
“Yeah. Came up from Jersey,” Hallie continues. “But they’re tight with the Di Santo’s. And more ruthless by all accounts.”
New Jersey?My pulse softens. I don’t know anyone from New Jersey, I reassure myself. The name just sounds familiar, that’s all.
“Moreruthless? What do you mean? How can anyone be more ruthless than the Di Santo’s?”
I still shudder at some of the stories my father told me growing up. It wasn’t the Mayor who cleaned up New York City—it was Gianni Di Santo and his men. They mowed every other criminal organization to the ground—every fall adding a brick to their Long Island castle. Now, even the Feds are on their payroll.
Furthermore, when the Di Santo’s razed the city, a lot of the gangs were pushed south, into New Jersey and Philadelphia, where they continued to wreak havoc on the cold, gray streets. Were the Bellucci’s one of those gangs?
“The Di Santo’s rule New York,” Hallie says, like it’s something I don’t know. “But with that responsibility comes reputation. There’s only so much blood they want to spill in public. The Bellucci’s on the other hand…”
She bends even closer to my ear.
“They’re low profile, and they use it to their advantage.”
My eyes narrow as I face her again.
“Put it this way,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t stick around if anyone were to dig up the parking lot.”
“Wh-what?”
Hallie doesn’t respond with anything but an arched brow, but she doesn’t need to.
“For real?”
“You didn’t hear it from me.” She turns to leave but I stop her again.
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure, but quick. I need to get back.”
I swallow, nerves crawling up my throat. “Am I ever going to get out of here?”
She tips her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
