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“Is that right?” he says, turning to me.
My finger twitches. Has anybody put this man in his place before? It’s like he doesn’t understand the reality of violence. He doesn’t understand what I could do and how quickly I could do it.
“My cousin’s fine,” Luca snaps. “You got a piece on you?”
Ritchie smiles tightly. “All due respect, Mr. Mareno, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.”
“Let me see it,” Luca says.
Ritchie hesitates. “I don’t think…”
“I’m interested in firearms. I’d like to have a casual inspection, brother. No big deal. I mean…” Luca laughs in that easygoing way of his. “We’re all friends here, right?”
Ritchie swallows, looking around as though for backup. “Why do you need to see my gun, man, uh, Mr. Marino? Come on.”
Luca walks over to him and stands within touching distance. “Come on? I’m not asking anything unreasonable. You come here at the last minute, a friend of Tony’s. Let me have a look.”
When Ritchie reaches for the back holster, I raise my gun to a twenty-degree angle, still pointing down but ready. I’ve got crazy rage in me, the sort telling me to unload my gun into this asshole because of a comment he made about Mia—one single comment.
So why am I letting therealmonster live, then? Ma, I try to remind myself. Ma.
Finally, Ritchie hands over the gun.
Luca takes it and walks backward, nodding at me. I approach him and start patting him down. When he raises a hand, I just look at him right in the eyes. He knows he doesn’t want to escalate this. After patting him down, I find a small knife. I drop that in my pocket.
“Way to make a fella feel welcome,” he laughs. “Jesus H. Christ.”
“I don’t know you, buddy,” Luca says. “My old man says you’re riding along, so ride along, but I’m not having a stranger with a gun at my back.”
“What if we need another shooter?” Ritchie snaps.
“This is a simple exchange.”
“Don’t we want to get the men who killed Vito Santoro?”
“Nobody gives a fuck about Vito Santoro,” I growl, staring Ritchie in the eye. I almost add, “It didn’t take much to kill the abusive, sadistic piece of filth. It didn’t take any effort at all.”
“I know he rubbed people the wrong way, but Christ, enforcer, relax.”
“Nobody actually uses the termenforcermuch unless you’re a cop. Are you a cop?”
“Yeah, endorsed by Leonardo Marino,” the man grunts sarcastically.
“Even if you were, all you’d see today is a quick, effortless exchange because nobody here wants vengeance forVito.”
“He made some mistakes,” Ritchie says.
“Mistakes? He assaulted people—elderly people. He robbed them. He terrorized them in their own homes. He was a shitty person.”
“He was a Family guy!”
“He was a friend of my uncle’s,” Luca snaps. “That’s a very different thing. How much do you think you’re worth on the East Coast, Ritchie? If you’re small inVegas?”
Ritchie swallows. “It’s not like I can fight, anyway, is it? People say you’re a charming fella, Luca. That’s what everybody says about you.”
“Yeah…” Luca lowers his voice, an aggressive edge to it. “And what do they say about him?”
“Dante,” Ritchie mutters.
