Page 170 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Tell me why you would steal guns from Chicago!”

Cross rubbed at his eyes, blinked a couple times, and surveyed the map spread out over the metal table. He had a route to plan, and a single, small private island circled on the map was the place he apparently needed to get to. Or, that’s what Lucian explained when they finally got the eighteen-wheeler backed into the port.

Men moved around him, chatting and working. Crates of guns were loaded onto the boat. Zeke stayed close to Cross’s side the entire time, keeping one eye on him, but never speaking. Cross was grateful. He didn’t want to talk; he needed to plan.

“Cross, you should speak to him,” his father said from across the table.

“Kind of busy.”

“You made a bit of a mess in Chicago.”

“Still kind of busy,” Cross told Calisto.

“I swear to fucking God, Cross—”

Cross spun on his heel, and ignored the way the floor swayed beneath him. He came face to face with a raging Dante, but he didn’t even flinch at the sight of the man’s anger. “I need you to shut up right now.”

Silence covered the entire port, and all the men working around the area.

Dante’s gaze narrowed. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“You heard what I said, and I need you to do it.”

“Do you realize what you just did?” Dante asked, suddenly calm in a frightening way. “I have managed to avoid giving Chicago even an ounce of legroom where New York, our families, and our business is concerned for my entire reign as a Cosa Nostra Don. You have effectively ruined that by forcing me into some kind of peace-making with Tommas Rossi. I could kill you right now.”

“Except I have guns to run, so fuck off somewhere and let me do that.”

“You are—”

“I have been awake for over forty-eight hours and counting. The last thing I need or want is you barking down my goddamn neck, Dante. You gave me a job to do, now let me fucking do it.”

Cross turned back around, and gave all of his attention to the map on the table. He dragged his finger from their current port, and continued out until he knew they would be in international waters. “I just need to get to here, and then we make sure we stay in international waters until we’re down in the Gulf. I didn’t realize his island was that close to the last drop, but I guess I know now why he asked for the guns to be brought there. Easy for him.”

“We’re not finished talking about this,” Dante said.

Cross still didn’t turn around. “Oh, I am entirely done talking about it. I did what I needed to do, and now you can pull your weight like we all know you can.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everybody knows you head the Commission between all the syndicates in North America,” Cross muttered, “and now is the perfect time for you to start throwing your title around. What is it again?”

“You know nothing, Cross.”

“I think I do.”

“Capo di tutti capi,” Calisto said, glancing at his son. “The boss of bosses.”

Cross nodded. “Yeah, see, my whole life has been men repeating to me that I needed to respect the Marcellos. Give them their space. Understand their rank. Know my place, especially against them. What was it you always used to tell me, Wolf?”

His father’s underboss coughed. “Uh …”

“It’s the respect of the matter, right?”

Wolf nodded once. “It always is when the Marcellos are involved.”

“Because,” Cross said, turning on his heel to face a very quiet, yet pissed off Dante, “you are the capo di tutti capi. Use it for once in your life. Otherwise, fuck off and let me run some goddamn guns. It’s what I do best.”

That, and loving Catherine.