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Aidan frowned. Something in Declan’s tone was off. “Just about. I sent all the guys home an hour ago, and I’m nearly ready to head out myself.”
“I need you to meet us at the club.”
Aidan checked his watch. “Little early for a drink, isn’t it?”
“Falcone wants a meeting. Twenty minutes,” Declan said before disconnecting the call.
Irritation had him rolling his shoulders. Fuck, he really hated being at his brother’s beck and call sometimes, hated that Declan expected to snap his fingers and get whatever he wanted. Except he would because Aidan was interested in hearing what Falcone had to say. Viv’s father seemed to be the driving force keeping Collin Milano alive, and it was starting to piss him off.
The fact that Falcone knew Collin had been hitting Viv months ago and did nothing to him had rage bubbling just under the surface. Nothing but a broken nose, and even then, that had been her brother’s doing. The man was supposed to be loyal to family. If he wouldn’t protect her from an abuser when she was still under his roof, what good would he be ten, twenty years from now when it counted most?
Securing the warehouse behind him, Aidan climbed into his truck. Twenty minutes was a steep ask at this time of day, but he’d do his best, and Declan would have to deal with it.
When he pulled into the parking lot of the nightclub, he was surprised to see it full with Declan’s Range Rover, Brogan’s Jag, and Evie’s Maserati, plus two other vehicles he didn’t recognize, all parked in a neat row. Must be some meeting for them all to rush over in separate cars.
He keyed in his code for the employee entrance and let himself inside. The club always looked strange in the light of day. The matte black and chrome looked much better under the sweep of neon lights and pumping bass. Not that he’d spent much time here in recent weeks.
“Not as late as I thought you’d be,” Declan said, emerging from a long hallway that led to a manager’s office and the bathrooms.
“You really set me up for failure with twenty minutes. Falcone finally ready to explain?”
Declan raised a brow and turned for the basement door. He unlocked the biometric lock with a mechanical whir and click, and Aidan followed him down the stairs that illuminated as they walked. He could hear muffled voices coming from the conference room in the back.
When they stepped into the doorway, Aidan saw Brogan and Evie on one side of the table, Falcone flanked by Leo and Gavin on the other. Declan moved to take a seat next to Evie, and Aidan dropped into the chair on Brogan’s other side, ignoring the subtle way Brogan leaned away from him.
“Now that the gang’s all here,” Declan said, turning to Falcone, “what did you call this meeting for?”
Aidan could tell by Declan’s tone his brother didn’t appreciate being summoned. He preferred to be the one doing the summoning.
Falcone leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “I’ve looked into the Milano situation, and my hands are tied.”
Aidan’s hand curled into a fist on the table. “They’re tied, or you don’t care to do anything about it?”
Falcone’s jaw clenched, and he leveled Aidan with a hard stare. “What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing. I’m outright saying you should have done something about this guy months ago. The last time he posed a threat to your daughter.”
“You think Giordano would have let me just off one of his men?”
“From what I heard, Giordano didn’t really care who did what as long as the money was coming in.”
“Then you are grossly misinformed. If I had done anything to Collin, he most definitely would have retaliated. Not because I killed Collin but because I did it without permission.”
“So why didn’t you get permission?”
“Because Giordano didn’t see violence against women as a punishable offense. A policy I’m sure you’re familiar with,” Falcone added, flicking a glance at Brogan, who tensed.
Declan rubbed at his temple. “Then what is it you wanted to say, Falcone?”
“I can’t touch Collin—”
“Won’t,” Aidan mumbled.
“Because executions without proof will hardly help me earn the respect I need to pull the Mafia up out of the gutter. Italians have been all too happy to stab each other in the back for generations if they thought they could gain something from it. That’s a leadership problem.”
Falcone flattened his palms on the table before leaning back in his chair. “I’m not saying I like it. No one is particularly fond of the Milanos. Collin’s father, Frank, is a total prick and too drunk to be useful most of the time anyway, but they’re tied to the Bellos by marriage, and the Bellos are a substantially larger family that I cannot risk alienating right now.”
“So we just, what? Wait until he gets close enough to hurt her? Kill her?”
