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Ihate that I’m at Coy’s beck and call. He walks in like he’s the kingpin, expecting me to drop everything to do his bidding. It won’t be for long, though.
“Where are we going?” I question, looking out the window of Coy’s car.
“You haven’t been seen lately, and the Rossis are snooping around.”
“So, I’ve been missed,” I taunt, smiling.
“Only in appearances. Most people are happy you and your brother are out of sight.”
“Interesting. The Rossis start sniffing around, and now you need me in public. You plan to bury your nose in their ass too?”
Out the corner of my eye, I watch his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. He wants to hit me, and I hope he does. What he doesn’t understand is that I still have a loyal following. He’s trying to wipe most of it out, but it’s there. I have my own spies out in the world.
“You Mancinis never understood respect. You demand it but never give it. With the Rossis, you keep your enemies close.”
“Trust me, I’m keeping the Rossis closer than they realize.” I smirk, thinking about Gia.
“You’re poking the giant while we’re weak.”
“Sounds like a leadership problem.”
The car swerves, and Coy attempts to punch me. I catch his fist in my hand, glaring at him right in the eye.
“I will not be playing the playboy who parties in order to distract everyone. I want to sit at the table,” I demand.
Coy doesn’t show any signs that he’s shocked to learn that I know about the meeting. “I need you on lookout. Shoot anyone who’s not one of us.”
“Everyone knows you’ve exiled me. Might as well shock them and bring me. It will have them scrambling as to why I’m back instead of being predictable.”
“I should have put a bullet in your head when I had the chance.”
“Can’t change the past now, can we?”
Coy brings out his gun, and I wonder if he has the guts. I’m not afraid of dying. I don’t have any intention of living the way I have been for the rest of my life. Coy lowers the gun from my head, and I snicker before a gunshot rings out.
“Fuck!” I holler, feeling the searing pain in my side. I look down and see it went straight through my flesh.
“While we have the meeting, the doctor can stitch you up. Learn your place, Romeo. Next time, it will be in the temple.”
It stings, and I become lightheaded. I try to keep my head up and in control. I’ve never been shot before. It hurts more than I thought it would. I bite down on my lip, plotting my revenge. He should have killed me when he could.
I hold my stomach, on the verge of passing out, while Coy makes off-handed comments about bleeding too much in his car. It’s a shitty car, not his regular, so I have no idea why he’s complaining.
Arriving at my old home, instead of the American flag we once flew, I see it has a new flag. A Campisi family flag is in its place. It’s a disgrace. He stops, and I step out with a groan. I’m forced to walk up the steps and into the house where the doctor is waiting.
I curse under my breath, seeing all the underbosses who once stood behind my father. The same men who should be standing behind me. I believe a few to be still loyal to me if I could rise up. At the rate Coy and his father Hugo are killing anyone who opposes them, anyone who dared utter my name wouldn’t be here and breathing.
The men watch us walk in. My shoulders are slumped like a weak pussy, a trail of blood dripping behind me. I grit my teeth at the position he’s put me in.
The doctor comes to me with a fucking wheelchair. No way in hell I’ll be accepting that. I would rather bleed out on the floor. My head shakes for him to step back. I walk into the meeting, blatantly defying Coy’s orders. I can see the men eyeing me, not sure what the hell is going on.
“Romeo, the doctor is available to see you now.” Coy’s voice is strained, and I can hear him take his gun back out. His father silently watches our exchange.
Taking off my shirt, I look at the men, who pretend not to witness the events playing out. “Will anyone give me the shirt off their back?” I ask.
I may be digging my own grave right now. Two men look from Hugo—Coy’s father who’s come into view—then to me. I watch him lift his shoulder in a general “I don’t give a fuck” gesture. It’s all image. He wants to see who is loyal to me.
Finally, one of the guards of the men steps up and gives me his shirt. I will be in debt to him if I make it out alive, and he knows it. He will now have to count on it for the safety of his own life.
