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I run my hand over my face, feeling every etching from both scarring and time. I’m not as marked up as my twin, but I can feel the grooves of violence all the same. “It’s not that, little brother. Well, it’s notjustthat. I’m not sleeping all that well. I figure going on a retrieval with you is better than tossing and turning yet again.”
“What got stuck in your craw this time, old man?”
I point at him. “That.I’m getting old. Or maybe I can’t sleep because I’ve always got a million things to take care of.”
Giovanni shakes his head. “You should lean on Domani more. On any of us. Like this job? You don’t need to be here for it, yet here you sit.” Gio studies my expressionless face, searching for traces of our father to guide him.
Little does he know; our father was no gem. Luckily, he died when Giovanni was too young to remember the difference between a solid leader and one who simply has a solid team to pick up after his chaos.
I want both.
Which is also why I didn’t send Giovanni and his men off without me to oversee things. Maybe that makes me look weak. Maybe it makes Giovanni look weak.
I don’t much care. I’d rather stop my hovering when I am sure my little brother won’t end up with a bullet in his brain the second I turn my head. He was mom’s favorite, and the only reason she ever smiled, may she rest.
“Maybe you should try, like, herbal tea or some shit. That might help you sleep better.”
I snort at Giovanni’s suggestion. Our family is strictly a whiskey and wine sort of operation when we need to take a load off.
“Herbal tea. You’re funny.”
When Carlo crosses over the railroad tracks that divide the north half of the city from the south, Giovanni’s gun comes out of its holster and rests on his thigh. I’m not as nervous about crossing over into enemy territory, but I find my hand grazes over the hilt of my weapon all the same.
Ten minutes later, Carlo swears from the driver’s seat. “Shit. Boss, it looks like the place is loaded with civilians.”
I grumble at the inconvenience, but I’m not in the mood to turn around. “That’s good. The Torros won’t want to risk open gunfire on their people. We’ll be in and out, and hopefully that’s that. They can come back when the place is deserted and find their stolen treasure gone.”
That’s best-case scenario, which isn’t a given in our line of work.
Carlo parks the car near the back entrance of the library, which is lit only by a small beam over the emergency exit. It also looks to be the employee entrance. Giovanni moves to touch his door’s handle, but I fix him with a disapproving shake of my head.
Morettis don’t touch door handles. It’s like he’s learned nothing.
Carlo opens my door for me, and one of Giovanni’s men gets a clue and opens the door for him.
I leave my Armani suit unbuttoned, in case I need to reach for my piece on the fly. But the bushes surrounding the parking lot are quiet, and the cars in the lot are too soccer mom to belong to the Torros.
Giovanni stands beside me at the employee entrance, tapping his finger to his thigh, holding himself in place while one of his men breaks the lock to let us in. It’s good that Giovanni knows how to do everything himself, but it’s called a crime organization for a reason, and not a crime free-for-all. There’s a pecking order, and if Giovanni won’t enforce it with his men, then my presence will remind everyone of their responsibilities.
Carlo heads in first, stopping short and pulling his head back out. “It’s a building filled with kids, Boss. Teenagers. They’re… they’re reading.” Carlo says it as if he doesn’t understand what sort of afterhours library hosts quiet parties for teens to read.
I don’t get it either, but I’m still salty about the Torros’ lackey mentioning that they hid my money in a library because it was the last place a Moretti would be.
As if we can’t read.
“Discreet, then. No need to scare a bunch of children.”
But I know that when we cross the threshold of the library’s back entrance, that’s exactly what we’re doing. We stick to our cache of expensive suits, which makes us stick out in a crowd. That is usually how we prefer it, but my black suit and starched white shirt are not ideal for sneaking.
No matter. I button my suit jacket to hide my piece as best I can and follow in behind three of the men who lead the way into the library proper.
Sure enough, about two dozen teenagers are scattered around the place, eating pizza with their noses buried in books. They’re dressed in goofy pajamas, and a group to the right is playing a board came that requires participants to wear character hats.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
Giovanni’s eyes are wide. “I’ve always wanted to play that game!”
Though he says it only to me, I am still embarrassed by the juvenile exclamation.
