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“Aren’t we all, amico mio?” I say lightly, but there’s more to it. I can feel it in the knot that has twisted up inside my gut, a little more with every passing moment since we left the warehouse.
Leo throws back the rest of his third whiskey, then slams the tumbler down. “It wasn’t a lie when I told you the leak didn’t come from them,” he cocks his head toward the men on the other side of the room, then shakes his head slowly, chuckling. The sound is dry and humorless.
I sit up straighter as the prickling sensation across the back of my neck becomes a full-on burn. “What do you mean?”
He sighs, reaching for his whiskey glass. When he finds it empty, he sets it back down again and stares at it like it might magically refill itself. I’m about to hand him my own drink, but his following words make me freeze.
“That shipment?” he finally meets my gaze. “It’s on me. I made a deal with Romano. That was how they got their hands on it. It’s not the first time I’ve let them intercept our shipment, either.” And it’s because of me he knew you were coming for it tonight.”
His words land like blows to my chest. Leo isn’t just my righthand man; we’ve been friends since fucking elementary school. And he walked not just me, but my men, hell, my brother, right into a goddamned trap.
Why?
“I see.” Hot, betrayal-fueled rage pounds through my veins, making my fingers curl so hard I can feel the glass in my hand begin to give beneath the pressure before I set it down on the table. I look away from Leo as the implications of his actions settle on me.
“It was meant to be just the firearms, Nico. Romano wanted ammunition, and since he rebelled against the Outfit, he’s been iced out. So we struck a deal to let him have some—Just enough guns to arm his soldiers and protect his family and businesses. But then he started wanting…other things.”
Leo continues as if he were speaking from a rehearsed script. “My plan was to go alone tonight, tell him that I’m done working for him, and probably have him execute me like a dog. You weren’t supposed to be there.”
Leo looks around with half-crazed eyes. “None of these good men were supposed to be there. When you insisted on coming along, I had to warn Romano to give the consignment back in order to avoid a war. I didn’t expect a confrontation.”
I remember Leo walking in while Salvatore briefed me about Romano’s most recent theft. As soon as Leo heard what Salvatore was telling me, he offered—no, insisted, on going to retrieve the shipment alone.
Of course, I’d refused, instructing everyone to go instead, to seize everything in that warehouse and burn it down. A clear message to Romano and other would-be rebels for daring to double-cross me. Then I decided to tag along for the ride for good measure.
Something in my stomach turns, the roiling sensation usurping the rage for just a moment.
Leo has just signed himself a death warrant. Romano will come for Leo, and he’ll be coming for blood.
I can protect Leo. All it would take would be to call a meeting with Romano and his rebellious factions. But that would seem weak. And weakness is suicide, especially in a house that is already caving under the pressure of rebellion.
Not that Romano will get the chance to kill Leo now. With what Leo just said to me, I’m going to need to kill him. Right here, right now, and in front of my most trusted men. Men that love and look up to Leo.
As if this night wasn’t fucked up enough.
I throw back my whisky, relishing the burn and wondering what hell would feel like.
As if he could read my mind, Leo mutters, “I know I’m a dead man, Nico. I'm living on borrowed time.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I mutter coldly. “Why did you do it?” Not that it matters. The reason won’t change what will happen in the next few minutes, but it would be good to know.
If my most trusted soldier and friend could do this, I look around the room at some of my most trusted Capo regimes, then I might be well and truly fucked.
“I told you, Nico. I’m tired. This life… it sucks the peace right out of you.”
“Then you take a goddamn vacation,” I snap. “Or you bury yourself in enough pussy that you forget all about your fucking troubles. You don’t—” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what he should have done. It only matters what he did.
“I wanted something different for Maria, for Victoria. Something you could never give me, Nico.”
“And Romano can?” I scoff.
“He’s got ties to rural Cuba, a small place with Italians protected from extradition laws. The deal was solid: get him a decent stock of ammunition while making it look like De Luca was robbing you.
Orlando De Luca is the highest ranking and most powerful Capo, and one whose daughter I plan to marry in a bid to keep him loyal to the Outfit.
“Fucking hell, Leo!” My fist crashes onto the table. “You agreed to drop a grenade right in the middle of your family for a new life in Baracoa?”
Leo’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
