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Ciro shot me a look then muttered under his breath, “So glad we got those locks changed again.” Louder he said, “Morning, Nico. Nice to see you. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room preparing my ‘Dear Chief memorandum’. He shot me a meaningful look and then wandered down the hall muttering to himself. He spoke loudly enough that we could hear bits and pieces as he strode away. “Dear Chief, no one was more surprised than I, to come home this morning to find a mobster sitting in my living room, on my couch…” His door slammed shut. Nico and I stared after him silently for a moment before we met each other’s gaze.
There were very few people who felt comfortable enough to joke around with Nico Romano. Ciro only attempted it because he knew I’d never let anything happen to him. He was closer to me than the brother who was currently occupying my apartment. We didn’t associate with one another anymore, but we were still family and our father would come back from the grave to kill us both if we didn’t respect that fact. One of the few positive things our father had instilled in us was you did anything you needed to for family.
Once Ciro left, Nico murmured a greeting to me in Italian. I returned it awkwardly. We hadn’t been close since we were kids. Rather, we hadn’t been close since I’d decided to become a cop. That happened when you made the choice to toe the metaphorical line and your family headed up one of the largest crime syndicates in the city. Nico and I had spent a lot of time together growing up. There were times I missed him, but I didn’t have the luxury of taking comfort in him any longer. Setting my gear down in the kitchen, where I could keep myself between it and my brother, I turned to him with a sigh.
Chapter 6
Nico
Iwatched quietly for a moment as my little brother paced back and forth in front of me. He was dressed in jeans, a snug black t-shirt, and black boots. A refreshing change from his uniform. It made him look more relaxed, though no clothes could change that he walked like a cop. Finally, he sighed and glared at me. “How did you get in?”
I just smiled at him. I hadn’t told him that I owned this building. He would have insisted on moving. I’d rather have him somewhere that I could keep an eye on him, which meant I’d have to buy whatever building he moved into.
Shrugging, I adjusted the sleeves on my suit. I eyed his casual attire with jealousy. I wished I could dress down every day, but I had a part to play. Not that Dante had it much better, I had to admit. He was usually dressed up in his stuffy, pressed uniform.
I’d rather wear the suit. They may be worth thousands a piece, but they barely hid the monster inside. But they did hide it. Somehow, the suit helped to separate me from the common psychopath. A subtle reminder that the monster was still civilized—for now. It didn’t concern me if others managed to see it. The pretense was just there for the convenience it afforded for those who only bothered with a quick glance. Once it was no longer convenient, I took care of things the way I always did, however I wanted.
“Why are you here, Nico?”
He sounded tired. I narrowed my eyes and scanned him. He looked tired too, but otherwise well so I didn’t mention it. I had a specific group of my made men, whose entire job was to ensure that things went as smoothly during Dante’s shifts as possible. He’d be pissed, if he knew about it. He’d only found out about one incident so far, and he thought that’d been the end of it. Dad had set it up when Dante had first begun working as a cop and I’d kept it up. It was well known in most circles that my brother was off limits, unless they wanted to deal with me.
“Tell me what you know about Santos.”
“Damn it, Nico. You know I can’t.” He’d paused his pacing for a heartbeat when I’d given my demand and now, he stalked into his kitchen. Shoving up from the couch, I followed him into the small space.
“This is the first break you guys have gotten on the case in three months, Dante.”
“How do you know that?” He asked suspiciously.
I rolled my eyes at his naiveté. “I have informants within your precinct.” His mouth dropped open, and my lips twitched at the actual look of horror on his face. I had to hand it to my brother, he worked hard to prove himself, to be a good cop. Others were not so dedicated and were happy to take bribes.
“Then why don’t you ask them about Santos?” he growled at me. He was clearly irritated that I was trying to bring him into the middle of this, but it didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was Maria and finding her killers.
“Even they haven’t been able to get me any information. Which means, there are some pretty powerful people connected to that car bombing that don’t want me finding out what happened. Every time I start to get close to any information, they shut me down. I have a few names. Santos was one of those and I only learned of him a few days ago. I was putting together one of my…special meetings, to ask him some questions when I heard he was found murdered.”
It sounded like he hadn’t gone in a pretty manner. That made me happy, although I was furious someone got to him before me. The bastard deserved to die, but he was supposed to go under my knife.
“What do you know?” I asked again as he filled a glass with ice water and lifted it to drink. We locked eyes over the rim of his cup, a battle of wills. I sighed in frustration. Anyone else and I would just torture the information out of them. I couldn’t do that with Dante and being a cop was important to him, although I didn’t understand why. I knew by the look on his face he wouldn’t tell me anything. We Romanos were known for our stubborn streak. I didn’t get why he’d give up the life that our father had given us to go in the complete opposite direction, but Dad had supported him and so I would protect him as well.
We stood silently glaring at each other. This was getting me nowhere. I’d known it wouldn’t before I’d made the trip over, however it was an excuse to drop in and see him, so I’d taken it. Dante followed the letter of the law and didn’t have contact with me any longer. The kid brother who used to hero-worship me when we were younger had cut me off years ago and it pissed me off. We were so much alike and yet so different.
Many people had mistaken us for twins growing up. There were differences if you knew where to look. I was slightly taller, two years older, my eyes more hazel than brown, but we had the same black hair, olive skin tone, and devastating good looks. They had served us well.
I’d settled down with Maria early, though we hadn’t started our family yet. I’d been informed later that she’d been pregnant when she’d been murdered. It had compounded the blow against me. There wasn’t much in this world I loved—she was one of the few things I had. With her gone I was even less human than before. A temper that was already on a short fuse was more volatile. It had most everyone around me ducking into the shadows rather than face me.
Silently, I turned and left his apartment, shutting the door quietly behind me. I paused outside to adjust my suit sleeves and heard Ciro’s booming voice filter through the door.
“Could we possibly keep the visits from the Mafia Don to a minimum, bro? It’s going to affect both our careers eventually,” he joked. Ciro treated Dante like a brother and always watched his back. It was the only reason I didn’t gut the annoying motherfucker.
I headed toward the elevator, my mind already on the meetings I had scheduled for the day. There was one in particular that I was looking forward to. I was hoping this new informant would be able to do the impossible and get me more information on the car bombing, since every other had failed me, and I’d had to dispose of them.
I started down the hallway and stopped when two kids rushed toward me. Tensing, I watched them carefully. To most people they were just kids playing in a hallway. In my world, people wouldn’t hesitate to use kids to carry out crimes that would horrify the good citizens of this city. They both skidded to a stop in front of me, their eyes wide. I swear children had a sixth sense—like animals—and usually knew when a person was dangerous. I smiled at them and they exchanged uncertain glances.
“Mommy told us not to talk to strangers,” the little girl piped up. Her brother nodded solemnly. They couldn’t be more than five or six.
“Then why are you?” No one would ever claim that I was good with children.
Their mouths dropped open at my response. Before she could reply, a biting voice barked out from behind them. “Rosie, Toby! I told you not to go running out ahead of me!” The mother came up the stairwell, looking harried and pissed off. Her gait stuttered and she stopped when she saw her children standing in front of me. “Get over here,” she said in a low voice as soon as she saw me. Fear permeated her words. It was as though she were suddenly afraid to raise her voice, as though any sudden movements would provoke me.
