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Chapter One - Luca
“Please. You don’t have to do this.”
I’m barely able to bite back a sigh. Why do people always say that? Is it something they saw on TV or in a movie? Or was there a worldwide memo I wasn’t privy to? If somebody ties you to a chair and threatens to blow your brains out for being a worthless traitor, make sure you tell them they don’t have to do it. That will bring everything to a halt.
The worst part is, Jimmy used to be a real asset. My father trusted him almost as much as he trusted Jimmy’s dad, one of the few men the great Dominic Bruno allowed into his inner sanctum, into his innermost thoughts and most intricate plans. Dad trusted Jimmy Sr. with his life.
Which is what makes the sight of his lying, deceitful son that much worse. Jimmy’s left eye is swollen shut, the right open no more than a slit. Enough for him to watch as I take in the sight of him. The fresh gash on his forehead, over his eyebrow, drips blood down the left side of his face. Bruises are starting to form on his jaw and I think there were a few teeth in the blood he most recently spat out.
He parts his split lips to reveal a mouth that looks more like an open wound. “Luca, please.”
“I don’t know what disgusts me more,” I tell him. “The sight of you, or the sound of your voice.” There’s a soft snort at my right, where my second-in-command massages life back into his bloodstained knuckles. It’s been a decade since he’s boxed aside from the occasional sparring session, but I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his right hook.
Jimmy turns his head in that direction, too. “Jock, please.”
“That’s Giacomo to you,” he replies in a low voice a hairsbreadth away from a snarl. “Only my friends call me Jock.” His full name was a bit much for his two-year-old brother to manage when Jock was first born, hence the nickname that’s followed him throughout his life.
Jimmy looks my way again. “I needed the money. You know I did. With Mama’s bills—”
“Shut the fuck up.” It takes a lot to make me lose my cool, but this? “You know damn well I would’ve given your mama my kidney if she needed it. Both of them, even. If you had come to me like a man and given me the respect you swear you have for me, we wouldn’t be going through this right now. There wouldn’t have been a single dollar owed to anybody by close of business that very day.”
Instead, he accepted an offer from the Bernardi family. Money in exchange for information on the arrival of a huge shipment from our South American partners. He gave them everything they needed to intercept the shipment and confiscate the crates after gunning down four of our men.
He flinches when I come closer, leaning down until our noses are inches apart. I can smell the fear on him. Rancid, strong enough to stir up the impulse to recoil, an impulse I fight back. “Instead, you let those sons of bitches play you. They found out about your mama’s cancer and knew they could use the bills to get to you. How easy did you make it for them? Did you at least hold out until the second or third time they made contact?”
When he hangs his head, I take a handful of his sweaty hair and jerk hard. “Look at me, you spineless piece of shit. Because of you, four good men are dead. Because they trusted you not to bend over for Marco Bernardi or anybody else.”
“I know.” He’s whimpering now, and it only makes me loathe him more. A week ago at this time, if somebody had asked me how I felt about Jimmy, I would’ve told stories about him being like a brother to me. How we grew up together, spent entire days roaming the woods and getting into little-boy trouble, shared meals and even slept in bunk beds I insisted my father buy for when Jimmy stayed over because business kept our dads at work.
Now? I hate him with all the depth of the love I held for him. Funny how that happens.
“You aren’t worth the air you’re breathing.” I shove his head away from me before backing up one slow step at a time. “It makes me sick to look at you. But in the end, you did me a favor.”
“I did?”
“Yes.” I glance at Jock, who nods. “You taught me there’s no such thing as a person who can be trusted no matter what.”
Jimmy sees Jock stepping toward him and knows what it means. He ought to. He’s witnessed enough scenes like this. “No. No, Luca, no, no, please!”
I don’t turn away. I watch as Jock aims between Jimmy’s eyes and pulls the trigger. I watch Jimmy’s head snap back, blood and brains spraying out behind him.
Jock spits on Jimmy’s corpse before returning the pistol to his waistband and adjusting his jacket to conceal it better. He then raises a hand to signal the men keeping watch by the doors. They’ll make sure all traces of Jimmy are removed, cleaned, erased.
I wish I could say the same for the burning betrayal lodged in my chest like a hot coal. I wasn’t kidding when I said he did me a favor. I let myself get too close to him a long time ago and it blinded me to his weakness. Never again.
Jock joins me in the Lexus waiting outside the garage. The family owns most of the buildings on this block and the ones surrounding it, along with the businesses housed therein. Still, we’re both watchful until the doors are closed and Chuck, my driver, pulls away.
“I know that wasn’t easy.” Jock, however, sounds like it was just another day at the office. It was, in fact. I prefer not getting my hands dirty, so his lack of qualms when it comes to shedding blood makes him immensely valuable.
“It was what it was, and now it’s over.” I eyeball the file sitting between us. “What’s this?”
“You asked for intel on the family’s biggest debtors.” Right, I did. It’s been a wild twenty-four hours. I don’t think anyone could blame me for being forgetful after learning my lifelong friend betrayed the family.
“Yes. Of course.” I look through the names, the information listed—including how much each individual owes after gambling their lives away. One of them makes me whistle in disbelief. “A hundred grand? Who the hell gets themselves into that kind of debt?”
“A guy who’s sure his team’s taking the championship.” Jock sounds as bored as he looks. “You know how it is around March with the college basketball fans.”
Yes, I do. It earns the family a lot of money, our bookmaking operation, and March is right up there with October and February as our most profitable months. But a hundred thousand bucks? I want to talk to this guy in person, if only to ask where he found the balls to bet like that.
