After both brothers confirmed, Teddy keyed open the back door. In silence, the men headed inside. Greystone’s pulse stayed steady. He was about to right a wrong, Santini style. This was how his father and his grandfather had done business. It was illegal, it was violent, but it was their way.
And it got results.
Leading the way, Greystone entered the hallway in the rear of the building, pausing as Teddy quietly closed the fire door. In silence, they made their way to the private dining room. Rather than kill the lights, they wanted these men to see their accusers.
Moving swiftly, they entered the salon, and stood in the rear of the low-lit room. The stench of whiskey and beer filled his nostrils. All six men were seated at a table in the corner.
“That’s how we take back the restaurant—” Enzo said.
“And ice those motherfucking brothers,” Willie Boy added. “I can’t wait to spit on their graves.”
Fury that Greystone had bottled up for sixteen years burst out of him as he pulled his Glock.
“Good evening,” Luciano said.
All six men whipped their heads toward them.
“Fuck me,” said one of the flunkies.
“What the hell are you doing here?” blurted another.
Enzo’s eerie smile split his face. “Boys, what a surprise.” Despite his uncle’s laid-back words, Greystone couldn’t miss the fear in his eyes.
Willie Boy pushed out of the chair. “You need to leave.”
“Relax, Willie Boy,” Luciano said. “We’re here to talk.”
“How’d you know we was here?” Enzo asked.
“I know every goddamn thing that goes on in my restaurant,” Teddy growled.
“Your restaurant?” Enzo bellowed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re a punk. You don’t know a thing about the history of this place. The name Santini used to be synonymous with power.”
“And now?” Willie Boy asked. “You’re a bunch of nobodies running some irrelevant restaurant. It’s embarrassing.”
“Easy, WB,” Enzo said. “Boys, whatcha doin’ here?”
“Willie Boy, you put a hit out on me and that idiot Dante fucked up and killed my family,” Luciano said, his voice void of emotion.
“Whaaa?” Willie Boy protested. “Dante wasinsane, and you believed him?”
“Enzo, tell Willie Boy what you told me,” Luciano bit out. “Thetruth, Enzo.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enzo protested.
Luciano pulled out his Glock and fired.
BANG!
“AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEE,” Enzo shrieked as he grabbed his shoulder. “You motherfucker, you shot me.” He pressed a wad of cloth napkins against the wound.
Luciano glared at Willie Boy. “Your father told me to give you something to keep you occupied,” Luciano seethed, hatredspewing from his tongue. “He told me you couldn’t be left to run the business. You were an idiot then, you’re an idiot now.”
Willie Boy’s cheeks flared red while he glared at his father. “Is that true?” he bellowed.
“Of course not.”
“Last chance,” Luciano growled. “Tell him the goddamn truth!”
