Page 216 of Made in Love and Blood

The second to last man to show up was the only one related to Salvatore. His cousin. The last man to walk through those doors and take the remaining seat available at the end of the table, staring straight at Salvatore and Nico as he sat down, was Carmine.

His partner, Davido, stood at his back.

“And now we can begin,” Salvatore murmured. He wouldn’t waste time explaining why they had all gathered there, nor the reasons he called for them. They already knew. In their business, word traveled fast. For some of these men, Nico delivered the news himself. “My apologies for the fewer seats in the room—although, we’re only down by two.”

Anthony Carcoli. Giorgio. The unspoken names hung in the air.

Nico’s finger tapping at his back sped up, still needing the outlet as his gaze scanned the faces that occasionally found him watching. He didn’t look away when a man’s eyes met his, instead lingering to make sure they felt the way he watched back.

He would find something if it was there.

“Unfortunately, those changes were a seriously needed upgrade to this family’s structure, and I suspect, more than a few of you know why.” Salvatore settled into the chair with a more relaxed posture, eyeing the larger circular marble plate in the middle of the table with enough holes around the rim to fit each marble in front of every man. “For the most part, I would like to think we could all continue our business as we always did, but if for some reason one of you disagrees, now would be the time to voice it so that we can have a proper discussion on the matter and then we can move on to better things. As I’m sure you would all prefer.”

The two from Vegas spoke amongst themselves quietly but settled whatever discussion they had with a nod back and forth.

“Do the rest of us need to worry about being the next person you decide needs to go?” asked the one man, taller than the other.

Nico hadn’t spent much time in Vegas, or even with the Maine side of the family’s faction. Most of his knowledge and experience came from at home, with Big Mike, dealing with Anthony over the years, and most importantly, Chicago. Even the capo settled in California—Christiano—had been a cousin of his father’s first wife, but the man kept a healthy distance from Giorgio whenever he could. Like anyone else with a brain and self-preservation.

“I’ll answer that question,” Salvatore replied, “but there’s a deal you have to accept for me to do it. And everyone I intend to have sit at this table will make the same deal, so then it’s fair across the board. Are we clear?”

Confirmations passed. Nods came, too.

“I’ll answer, and you can take my word for what it’s always meant when I gave it. I got rid of a problem, one we all knew we had, but no one wanted to handle for reasons we all were intimately acquainted with. So, to answer, unless you are a problem that comes to my attention, then no, you needn’t worry about if I’m targeting you.”

“What’s the deal?” Carmine asked from the other end of the table.

A smile edged at Salvatore’s mouth, dangerous and cold. “Funny you would ask.”

“Why’s that, Sal?”

“Because it will not apply to you.”

Carmine’s gaze narrowed. A hand, from his partner, found his shoulder.

“For everyone else who would like to take the deal I’m about to offer, barring one other man in this room who may wish to take an alternate route which I have already given him and I do keep my word, here it is. I did the thing none of you would—maybe you couldn’t—and so, I will call the shots from here on out. You pick up your marble, you put it in its home at the middle of the table, and you leave. That is your vote. Your say so. Anytime we come back to this table, for whatever reason, those marbles will be waiting. Every time, you will get your vote.”

“And if we don’t vote?” Big Mike asked to Salvatore’s left.

He glanced at the man. “Well, that sounds a lot like a problem, doesn’t it?”

Nico tracked the way Big Mike folded his arms over his chest and eyeballed the rest of the people at the table to take in their reaction to the unspoken threat when he had already spelled out what he would do to a problem.

“Christiano,” Salvatore said then.

The capo a seat down from Big Mike lifted his head. “Yes, boss?”

“Have you considered the offer I made you?”

“I have.”

Nico had no clue what offer the two spoke of, but he figured it didn’t matter. He could fill in the blanks, if needed.

“And?” Salvatore pressed.

“I’m tired, Sal,” Christiano murmured.

“I bet. Killing one’s wife, and keeping oneself out of prison, is tiring work.”