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“Buco, Bella. It is a traditional Italian dish, like a stew.”
“Are you Italian?” I ask, already knowing she must be, but trying to make conversation.
“Yes, Bella. Do you know any Italian?” she asks me, smiling.
I shake my head, feeling very sheltered having not traveled or done anything remotely interesting in my life.
“Well, I can teach you!” she says, and I perk right up with interest. I have never had the opportunity to learn another language, but even I know I would be stupid to pass up that offer.
“Really? That would be great!” I swear, my smile is now a mile wide.
As I watch and listen to Maria who starts talking to me and telling me sounds and words in Italian, I periodically look around the house, still not quite believing that I am here.
Who are you wolfman, and why have you brought me to your home for safekeeping?
9
Dante
The boys and I have been out all day, talking with families, calming their emotions all the while trying to find the Russo brothers before they find us. It has been a long fucking day, which went from bad to worse after Angelina called me again this morning. That makes twice now in a matter of days, demanding things that she has no business demanding of me, and I have barely had time to take a breath. As our car pulls up to another one of the shithole strip clubs in Queens, I crack my knuckles in anticipation. We may not find the Russo brothers, but I sure feel it in the air that we are close.
Carter and I step out of the car and our team follows closely behind, nodding at the two security guys out the front as we step into the dark seedy venue. Our eyes laser focus on everyone and everything around us, trying to assess if we’re walking into another shitshow. The music is loud and sultry, and the bar looks busy. It’s obviously one of Russo's more lucrative businesses, and I wonder if our money has been poured into this place instead of Allure.
To be honest, I don’t really care what business they put it into, we just want our money back. That was the deal.
We get the usual stares from people as we walk in. All of us together is a menacing sight and the patrons that frequent these places enough already know who we are. I don’t miss a few men as they skirt around us and out the door, sensing the trouble brewing and wanting no part in it.
I don’t blame them because I can feel it too.
I stand at the end of the bar with Carter, and together we canvass the room as our backup team also now enters and positions themselves around the perimeter, waiting for our command.
“Do you think they are here?” Carter asks me as our eyes track the movements of every asshole in this place.
“No,” I answer, my tone short, because while the Russo brothers are stupid, they are also sneaky and slip their way out of everything. They want our blood, but I know they are not yet ready to take it. After killing five of their most senior soldiers, they need time to reconnect, to plan and strategize their next move because they want it to be deadly.
That’s why we need to find them. We need to get them before they are prepared. We need to take them by surprise. It has already been a few days, and the longer it takes, the harder they will be to find and the more ammunition they will have against us.
“Fuck,” Carter mumbles, and I look to where his eyes are resting and stiffen slightly when I see my ex-wife. She’s stripping on stage to a song about regrets, and I bet she has a few. I know I sure do. Marrying her being one of them. I watch her for a moment and realize that I feel nothing. When I first saw her on a pole years ago, I was angry. Livid. But I tried. I tried so hard to help her, to get her better, and now as I see her oily hair in tangles on her shoulders and her black mascara smudged under her eyes, both of which are bloodshot and barely open, understanding washes over me that there is really no hope for her anymore.
I watch as she twists and turns, and my mind briefly goes to the woman in my bed, her perfect soft skin, her bright green eyes, and her long red hair. They couldn’t be more opposite, and I am already itching to get back home to watch her sleep some more. It has become my new favorite pastime over the last few days—as creepy as it may be.
I lift my chin to Carter. “Over there,” I say, pointing to a hidden door at the back of the room, just to the side of the stage. Carter nods, and we stalk toward it, completely uninvited, but not giving a shit. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a few burly men from the venue’s security team come closer, but one look from me and they stay rooted to the ground, turn their eyes, and pretend they don’t even see us.
Carter opens the door to a long corridor, and I walk through quickly, along with our men. There are doors down the hall, on both the right and the left, and my team and I open each and every one as we make our way to the end. The corridor is bare, and aside from the bustling dressing room for the dancers, we find nothing. Frustrated, I push open the exit door at the end of the corridor and what do you know, outside, in the back parking lot, appears to be where all the action is.
“Well, what do we have here…” I say, mocking, as I spot a group of four men, one of whom I know is Benny, a cousin of the Russo boys. My eyes flick to Carter, and I nod to him. Benny and his men reach for their weapons, but they needn't have bothered, because we are faster. Three of the men are shot dead point-blank while I shoot Benny in the hand and relieve him of his gun.
“Fuck, Dante! What the fuck!” he screams as he grabs his hand in pain, his right hand now out of action and short of a few fingers.
“Benny. You know better than to have your guys raise their guns at me.” I pocket my gun and put my hands in my pants pocket, walking around his men who are lying on the ground to get a better look at them.
There is no one that I recognize. No doubt they are all petty criminals thinking that working for a family in the mob would be something they should aspire to.
“Where are your cousins, Benny?” I ask as Carter moves toward him and grabs him by the shoulders, keeping him still. I move to stand right in front of him. Benny tries to get out of Carter's hold, thrashing about, but Carter never lets go.
“BENNY!” I shout, now tired of his shit and wanting answers, anger seeping out of my pores. “Where the fuck are your pathetic cousins?”
“I don’t know, Dante. I have no idea,” he breathes with a shrug, and I know he is lying.
