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LORENZO
Iwalk across the pristine grass on country club grounds, my shoes aimed in the direction of the six foot four olive-skinned man dressed in navy blue golf pants and a gray Polo.
Settimo leans with his club in hand, his feet shuffling and shoulders squaring as he looks out toward the green. He must sense me coming because he glances over his shoulder at me and then back to concentrate.
I stop ten yards short of him, behind the caddy, with my hands tucked into my slack’s pockets that always feel unnatural after I’ve gotten back from the cabin.
Settimo takes his swing, but I don’t watch the ball slice through the air. My mind is too full of the girl I left in bed this morning, fast asleep tucked beneath the covers.
The caddy rushes toward Settimo and takes the club. Settimo pulls off his gloves and looks pleased with a smug smile as he walks this way, so it must’ve been a good swing. How anyone could be so thrilled to play this game is beyond me.
“Finally,” he says, handing off his gloves to the caddy without a glance that way.
The twenty-something kid hurries to lug the set of clubs with us, but Settimo waves him off and throws him a glance. “I’ll meet you down there.”
“Yes, sir.”
The kid rushes off, leaving Settimo and me to ourselves on this part of the three-hundred-acre ground.
“I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”
“Well, don’t be so happy to see me,” I deadpan.
Settimo laughs and comes to stand beside me. He claps a hand on my back, and we slowly start to where his ball landed.
“Believe me, I’m happy to see you, brother. And I have good news.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Valentine is standing down. He’s asked for a meeting with me to discuss territories. By the sound of it, he’s going to kiss our fucking shoes and beg forgiveness for ever sending whores on our turf.”
“Yourshoes,” I correct.
Settimo glances at me with an amused grin. “Don’t be so sensitive. If you fed my men to tigers, I wouldn’t want to be friends with you either.”
“Yes, well, it’s a bit cowardly of him not to ask for a meeting withme, don’t you think?”
Settimo shrugs. “Did you expect any more from him? The point is, that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m going to demand Eastridge and Ward Three, and if he gives it to me without attitude, I’ll let him live. It’ll be nice not to have any backlash. There are enough things on my plate.”
“The Russians?”
Settimo nods. “They’re becoming a bigger problem every day. And they’ve got a hell of a lot bigger army than Valentine.”
I nod in agreement. The Russians didn’t used to be so difficult to cohabitate with, but since my father has handed the reins to Settimo, the Bratva’s leader has been reluctant to negotiate anything on Settimo’s terms.
“What about the FEDS?” I ask, filing the Russians away for another day.
“Not as big of a problem as we thought it would be. The feud with you and Valentine was known to them, apparently, and they started looking into Valentine’s crew heavily. He took care of them himself. Or he’s an informant now. I guess we’ll see.”
Settimo chuckles and looks to me to return the humor, but I can’t bring myself to fake it. I’m bothered that he would ask for Settimo instead of me. Settimo is underboss, so of course he has jurisdiction over everything, but I’m directly in charge of the territory he invaded. Valentine is skipping over the chain of command. All because he’s a coward?
“Did you get it all out of your system?” he asks, elbowing me.
“All what out of my system?”
“You know what.” His humor is still there, but it’s gradually fading.
I don’t answer. Maybe I would’ve laughed about fucking and killing the girl who crossed me a month ago. I’m not sure. Now, I don’t know how I’ll contain myself if anyone speaks about her.
