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“So, what are you waiting for? I’m happy to beat you for old time’s sake. Let’s go. Your men stay out of it… unless you feel you need the extra assistance.”
A second passes where Renzo can’t hide his offense. His grin stays but his mouth tenses up, making it look forced. A clear indicator he doesn’t want to show his hand—he’s still as susceptible to smack talk as ever.
Renzo’s always been somebody easy to insult. Easy to get riled up.
I’m taking a chance, considering he could get angry and direct it at Delphine. But there’s a much greater chance he’ll take my digs as an affront to his manhood; he’ll feel compelled to make good on our old rivalry and fight me like old times.
“I don’t need any assistance beating you, little boy,” he says. “Let’s get that straight right now. Ya might think you’re some tough guy on your boss shit, but you’d be wrong. Ya ain’t nothing but a fake. Everybody knows it. Why do you think it’s been so easy sabotaging you? All the bad things that keep happening to your operation? The shooting at your club, the drug distribution problems, the tensions between the families, even the dumb car that tried to mow you down. Guess who?”
“I’m bored,” I say. “If you’re not going to square up, then you’ve proven what I already knew. I won, and you can’t beat me man-to-man. You’ve got to be deceptive, playing stupid games.”
Renzo chuckles, then, perplexingly enough, begins pacing. He walks from wall to wall around the living area. We’re left to hover in between and watch him. Even his men seem confused. They share glances. The one on the right makes a noise as if about to speak.
But Renzo hardly notices, much less cares. He mutters to himself and ruffles fingers through his hair in some kind of open deliberation with himself.
I track him with my gaze, on full alert, never letting my guard down.
“Ya must think I’m dumb. Ya must think I’m real gullible,” he says finally, stopping his pacing. “We’re not gonna do things how ya wanna do ’em. We’re gonna do things how I wanna do ’em. And I already knew we were gonna play a game. Just the three of us. C’mere, sweetheart.”
I step in the middle. “She stays out of this.”
“What part of ‘this ain’t up to you’ don’t you understand? We’re gonna play a little game… or we can cut things short, and you can both gobye-bye. Don’t test me, little boy. Tell him, sweetheart, tell him about the bitch I shot.”
“Jon,” Delphine says hesitantly. “It’s okay. I’ll go.”
One of the guards shoves her toward Renzo.
I shoot him a look that could kill if at all possible. They’re too cocky to be fearful.
Delphine crosses the room to meet Renzo. He slides an arm around her and traps her at his side.
“Down, little boy. I’m not gonna hurt her. Not ’til we start playing. Fellas, push this table into the middle of the room, then get outta the way.”
His guards do as instructed. The console table against the wall is moved into the middle of the room. They step onto the outskirts once they’re done.
Renzo grins. “Pull up a chair. How about the three of us have a seat?”
Something sinister’s brewing. My instincts sense it’s coming. The fucked up twist of whatever it is Renzo has planned.
Both Delphine and I step toward the table. His men supply the chairs. Renzo chooses the one across from me while Delphine winds up opposite nobody. He looks between us and then lays his revolver down on the table. Well within reach to grab.
My fingers ache to go for it. Snatch it up in a split second and shoot. I could probably pull it off—kill Renzo in his chair. The real risk would be the guards who’ve got their weapons trained on us. Unless they were to hesitate, there’s almost no way I’d be able to get them too before they got us.
Since there’s no guarantee, there’s no way I’ll risk it. Not with Delphine in the room.
“I’ve got a story to tell,” Renzo says. “You two are gonna sit by and listen. It all started ten years ago. I was acapoin the Visconti organization. Little boy, you were busy fucking up in South Valley, so you might not remember. But I had a lot going for me.Caporegime. Rich. Successful. Feared. In good with the Don. I had a beautiful woman on my arm, can ya believe it? We got married.
“Big Catholic wedding. Hundreds attended. Everybody I’ve ever known. Gloria looked so damn gorgeous in her white dress. I kissed the heavens and thanked Madonna,” he speaks, pinching his fingers and thumb together and giving a chef’s kiss. “I had real luck. Life couldn’t’ve been going better. But there were some issues going on that were bigger than me. Territory issues between my family and yours.”
I already know where this story is going. Renzo is referencing the war between the Mancinos and Viscontis. Lucius had wiped out the entire family. He’d spared nobody, even low-level soldiers and distant associates were slaughtered. By all accounts, Renzo had been too.
Apparently, he’d survived, along with a handful of others.
“Your father was the devil in human form. A fat, evil fuck that had not an ounce of mercy in him,” Renzo says, a sudden loathing in his stare. “He killed women and children. He killedGloria.”
My adrenaline kicks into overdrive. “Look, I won’t disagree with you about him. He was hell bent on making people suffer. His own family included. Which is why I fought him and killed him myself.”
Renzo lets out a loud laugh and bangs a hand on the table. “So what you’re trying to tell me is you’re some hero, is that it? I should thank you?”
