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“She does?”
“Did you expect her to be a Manhattanite?”
“I suppose.”
“Only the unmarried people seem to still be in Manhattan. Everyone else already lives in Queens or moved back there when they got married.”
“So, you two and Lorenzo?”
“Yes.”
“How long do you think it’ll take to get to the courthouse?”
“About forty-five minutes. She lives in Malba.”
She doesn’t know what to say to that. Maybe she doesn’t realize just how wealthy our family is. Malba is the most expensive neighborhood in Queens. Auntie Paola used to entertain a lot earlier in her career. She hosted tons of fundraiser dinners for various candidates. Now that Uncle Cesare and Carmine don’t live there anymore, it’s a big house for her to be rattling around in. But she enjoys being out on the coast. It’s quieter.
“Could we leave at six-forty-five? I would feel better if we left an hour to get there.”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks. Goodnight, Marco.”
There’s the not-so-subtle hint. I clap him on the shoulder.
“Night.”
He does the same. It’s the closest we get to a public embrace, and it’s more than what we exchanged for like eighteen years.
“Night.”
I walk out with Sinead, and Pauly’s right by the curb, waiting for us. He gets out and opens the door for Sinead. She slides over, and I follow her in. Once we have our seatbelts on, she wilts. It’s going to be an hour drive from Chelsea to Malba, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and nudge her head onto mine. The strain of the day is too much, plus it’s already close to midnight. She’s asleep before we make it past the Flat Iron Building and onto Lexington Avenue, so not even four city blocks. I close my eyes and rest, too. I’ve fallen asleep in our town cars plenty of times. Sometimes, it’s the only place I get enough time to sleep. But I can’t with Sinead with me. My eyes snap open, and I’m looking out both windows, watching everything. I can’t relax knowing someone bugged her place. It’s been on my mind all night, but I’m finally letting myself really consider it.
I don’t know what to make of this. The most obvious explanation is usually the right explanation, so that means the Polish. But I’m not convinced. The bratva categorically do not involve women in syndicate business.Ever. Luca and Carmine— which invariably means me —made some shit choices with a bratva then-girlfriend, now-wife. Things went way left, and shit happened that none of us intended. We’ve been on the top of their shitlist for two years. We finally seemed to have fallen down to maybe number four or five.
The Colombian Cartel could most definitely be behind this, but we’ve been getting along well lately.Tres J’s— Javier, Jorge, and Joaquin— thejefe’snephews —did us a solid when traffickers kidnapped Maria in Miami. Enrique, their jefe, has been trying to get back on good terms with the bratva leader’s wife. She grew up near Enrique’s family in Jersey. Shit went down between the woman and another one of Enrique’s nephews. He’s in one of the circles of hell right now because of it. So maybe they aren't the ones. A strike against any woman, bratva or otherwise, is a battle call to that woman.
The Irish are a constant love-hate relationship for us. We’ve been rivals and allies for decades. Generally, we don’t like them. But we do sometimes need them, especially when it comes to the docks. But we’ve had the upper hand there for a while, and they’re paying us a tax to keep the customs inspectors away. They were willing to help us protect Maria too, so I can’t see them suddenly flipping and going after a woman again. Not after what they’ve already lost from targeting bratva andCosa Nostrawomen.
That leaves some smaller syndicates who might make a play to seize some of our business or territories. Only Uncle Salvatore, Uncle Massimo, and Auntie Paola’s great-grandfather did it. It was when he took control of our branch from Carmine’s father’s family. We came out the winners in that. Very few have even plotted something so foolish, let alone tried it. Nothing good will come of this except destroying whoever it is.
That means it could be Italians from Chicago or LA. It’s just as possible it’s Greek-Americans, Jewish-Americans, Assyrians and Chaldeans, or Albanians. There’s a good chance Mexicans in NYC or closer to the border like Texas or California are trying to gain power. For a while, smaller Colombian Cartels tried to oust Enrique by bringing us down. We’ve had a few target us directly, but it’s never gotten past their planning stage before Enrique sweeps in and takes out the trash. The list for other Latin American cartels is pretty long, though. Mexicans, Brazilians, Nicaraguans, Bolivians, Peruvians, Dominicans, Guatemalans, Hondurans, Venezuelans. Take your pick. They all have active cartels, too.
It could be Triad, but as long as the Chinese syndicates get their drugs run through us, they stay out of the way. Same thing with theyakuza. The Japanese aren’t that interested in us. There was a little ripple with an investment that didn’t go through properly for one of our casinos Luca handles. You also have the Golden Triangle and the Golden Crescent in Asia. But I don't think they're looking in our direction.
Even Canada has a string of syndicates that wouldn’t mind getting more territory across the border, eh. They are not the polite, “no, you go first; no, you” types either. You have the Italian-Canadian Mafias, like theCosa Nostraand'Ndrangheta.There are a few syndicates in Quebec and British Columbia, but we’re on good terms with them since our relationships are mutually lucrative. I can’t see them trying to frame me for anything.
So that takes us right back around to I don’t know who the fuck to blame for framing me and targeting Sinead. But when I find out…
I look down at Sinead, who’s still sleeping against my shoulder. The bubble I put myself in when I met her is shrinking. It may have even popped since getting in the car and having time to think clearly for the first time in a week.
She’s a fucking lawyer. What am I thinking that I can be with her and fulfill my commitments to my family? How do I keep any kind of a connection with her without getting her disbarred? She’s not my wife, so they could compel her to testify. I can’t let this slight go. I have no choice but to retaliate, or at least my family must. I’d let it go and move on with my life if I could, but that’s not even remotely an option.
Maksim Kutsenko’s wife, Laura— the one pissed at Enrique —balances being their corporate attorney and being married to the bratva leader. But she doesn’t touch their criminal matters. Sinead only handles criminal cases. At least she’s a defense attorney and not working for the District Attorney.
And once again, this is why I don’t date. Because it’s complicated.
But I’ve never wanted a woman like I do Sinead. I need to slow this the fuck down. What the hell is she going to think when she wakes up? She didn’t drink at dinner, and she barely finished the drink she had at the club. She can’t blame being drunk for a second hook up. I don’t want to give her the cold shoulder in the morning like I sort of did today, but things need to slow the fuck down.
