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We’d both held up our ends of the deal, but I couldn’t wait to see Lorenzo wiped off the face of the earth.
For now, I stood solemnly with my hands behind my back while the casket that held the Luca family matriarch’s body was lowered into the ground. Vincent Luca’s face was soaked in tears, and even his second-in-command, Dominic Luca, had a tear streaking down his cheek. The pretty blonde woman next to him held his hand tight, though her eyes were just as watery as everyone else’s. Maria Luca was well-loved. That much was obvious.
I wondered how many tears would be shed at Lorenzo’s funeral—not many if I had to guess. And my own? Maybe even less. Aunt Isabella would have cried for me, if for no other reason than she’d have had no one left to do her bidding and listen to her prattle on about the “good ol’ days.” But Aunt Isabella was dead, and even though she deserved a better burial than I’d given her, there would be few tears shed over her passing either.
It wasn’t the Costa way. We didn’t cry. We didn’t weep. Cold, hard, unyielding; those were the traits Lorenzo had instilled in his family.
As the casket reached the bottom, the mourners stepped forward, one by one, with a single long-stemmed rose to drop in the hole. There were so many flowers, there’d be no room for dirt pretty soon. It didn’t escape my notice that instead of roses, Vincent Luca, his sons, and the blonde woman had tossed lilies onto the casket.
The Lucas remained there until the roses had been tossed, and the mourners had begun to venture away from the grave site. Only then did Lorenzo step forward, making his way to Vincent Luca. It was the first time I noticed my father’s posture wasn’t quite what it used to be. The tone of his skin wasn’t quite right.Sallowwas the best way to describe it.
I turned my attention to the brood of Lucas as we approached, watching for subtle shifts in body language, anything that would give them away.
“My deepest condolences, Vincent,” Lorenzo said, holding out his hand, then clasping Vincent’s hand between his, firm but no warmth.
Lorenzo did not care that Maria Luca was dead. In his defense, though, he wouldn’t have given a damn no matter who it was sealed in that casket.
“Thank you, Lorenzo,” Vincent replied with a slight catch in his throat. The mildly irritated look in his eyes said he wasn’t buying my father’s bullshit either, but he conducted himself well.
“If there’s anything at all I can do, don’t hesitate to ask. And my boys are always here to lend a helping hand,” Lorenzo said, motioning to me and then my brothers, ignoring my mother completely. “Old families like ours are a dying breed, Vincent.”
“I appreciate the offer, but Dominic has things well under control, don’t you, son?” Vincent said, turning kind eyes to his eldest.
Dominic nodded. For the first time in the dozen times I’d met him, he looked anything but under control. It wasn’t the hard lines of grief that etched his face that caught my attention. It was the look in his eyes. He looked like his mind was running calculations.
“SignorCosta,” Dominic addressed my father, eyeing him closely, “do you by any chance have a son named Vito?”
Dominic knew the name of every son, soldier, and associate of the Costa family. So, what was this really about? I kept my gaze on him, trying to read through the storm in his gray eyes.
“No, I don’t, son,” Lorenzo replied, looking at Dominic like he’d lost a small piece of his mind to his grief.
“A relative, then?” Dominic persisted, drawing a questioning look from even his own father.
An odd line of questioning… unless someone had been murdering his relatives and carving names into their arms too.Vito Costa?Would so many letters, crudely etched, fit on a forearm? And why lead the Lucas to a man who didn’t exist?
“No relative that I’m aware of, and since nothing happens in my family without my being aware of it, I guarantee you that no such man exists,” Lorenzo answered. I could detect the thrum of irritation underneath his words.
“Come,” Vincent spoke up, motioning to all the Costas around him. “The repast will be held in my home, and you and your family are welcome, Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo nodded and fell into step beside Vincent, leaving the rest of us to follow behind.
A meal at the Luca estate? Could this situation possibly get any more fucked up?
Chapter Six
Raven
The tantalizing aromas of basil, rosemary, and oregano wafted from the door ofVia Carota. Even standing outside, amid the damp subway and burnt street meat odors of New York, it was enough to make my mouth water. My stomach rumbled quietly in agreement.
“When you said you were going to New York, this wasn’t really what I thought you had in mind,” Greta said, standing next to me while we peered across the street atVia Carotaas surreptitiously as possible.
It wasn’t really what I had in mind at the time either. “You don’t have to be here, Greta. Go back to the hotel room and chill. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
“What? Leave now, and miss out on spying on the real-life cast ofThe Godfatheruntil they catch us and kill us before you have a chance to explain you’re really their dead daughter? Pfft,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “How could I pass that up?”
Maybe she had a point. Spying on the mafia—even if they were my family—wasn’t the smartest plan I’d ever concocted. But this wasn’t espionage. I just wanted toseethem.
I’d stood outside the big iron gates to my family’s estate for two hours the day we arrived in New York. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk through the gates, not knowing what I’d find on the other side. So, here I was, trying to scope them out like I was Nancy Drew.
