Page 3 of Vow

Andino couldn’t, either.

“The problem with that,” Lucian murmured, staring straight at Dante as though no one else in the business mattered to him, “is that it means we somehow bend to the Calabrese, or whatever demands they decide to make when they get around to it. Is that what the Marcellos are willing to do, now—cower to a family that killed my blood?”

Dante didn’t even blink. “If it means keeping our family safe, then yes.”

“And what if that leaves us exposed—weak?”

“It won’t. It makes us smart.”

Lucian let out a dark noise under his breath, but turned to stone when he stared out the window to his left without another opinion to share. Andino sympathized with both of his uncles’ positions. He knew why Lucian felt the way he did, and why Dante—as the boss, and the one who needed to make the hardest choices to keep everyone safe even when pride was a factor—refused to give his brother what the man wanted.

Nothing in this life was easy.

It couldn’t be.

“We have to protect our family,” Dante repeated.

Only this time, he said it to Andino.

Like he needed another reminder.

Look at all he sacrificed for his family.

For his duty.

He didn’t need to be reminded.

• • •

Andino’s Lexus crawled behind the heavy traffic. Brooklyn was good for that—like almost every other part of the fucking city. That wasn’t really what had him on edge, though. This small part of Brooklyn was the only area where the Calabrese organization had territory. They kept a stronghold over it for years.

Which was, sort of, Andino’s whole point of being there today.

Just because one family held territory in the city didn’t mean other families couldn’t … work, so to speak, in the same area. Or rather, own legitimate businesses. A Marcello Capo had long since owned a club down in this part of Brooklyn. The man had never before had problems with the Calabrese, or the fact he was in their territory.

Until now.

The Capo assured he could—and would—handle it, but Andino decided to take a trip his way to check in, and make sure the man was fine. That was the job of the family underboss, after all. That, and Andino did actually like this particular Capo.

Still, being in this part of Brooklyn just had a tendency to make Andino nervous for a multitude of reasons, what with the Calabrese being in a fit like they were. Those bastards didn’t even think before they jumped the gun, lately.

Violence was all too common.

Andino’s eyes swept the streets as he passed, and the businesses he knew for a fact belonged, or were attached in some way, to the Calabrese family. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to see through the dark tint of his Lexus’ windows, but that didn’t mean anything. His car was well known, and so was the fucking driver inside. No one but him drove his car.

He didn’t trust the Calabrese bastards with an inch.

Not now.

So yeah, he kept his eyes peeled even as he drove through streets that, only a few months ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about getting out to walk down. Things were not the same, now, and shit had most definitely changed.

Not for the better, either.

Business was dangerous.

Andino reached over, and pressed the button on the stereo, saying, “Call Terrance.”

The call rang through the speakers, and the Capo in question picked up on the third ring. “Ciao.”