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Now it’s the definition of disorder and chaos and it has me edgy and agitated. Military and science fiction novels are stacked high in a corner. Papers and folders litter the massive cherrywood desk, along with dishes with crusted-on food, and dust bunnies roll across the wooden floor.
One wall has been covered with Renzo’s collection of swords and tactical knives and other weapons that are utterly useless in the hands of a useless man.
Renzo drops loudly into the chair behind the desk, calling my attention to him.
He tilts his head and steeples his fingers beneath his bearded chin. “You were loyal to my father and brother. I need to know you’ll stand behind me now that I’m taking over the family.”
It takes me a while to say anything. I stare at him, scrutinizing him. Finding him as lacking as his older brother. Just as inept, if not more so. A piece of shit that has to beat a woman much weaker than himself, a woman already drugged out of her mind, to feel like he’s worth something.
“You must earn the men’s respect,” I tell him. “This isn’t a fucking monarchy. They’re not going to follow you blindly. Especially not after the disaster Joaquin was.”
His tanned face reddens. “Watch how you speak about my brother.”
“Why? He didn’t have my respect. Francesco is the only reason he had the position in the first place.”
“Fall in behind me, or I’ll consider you my enemy,” he says through gritted teeth.
My uncle’s words come back to haunt me. “If anything happens to me, back my boys. Don’t let them fail.”
How many times had I tried with Joaquin? I backed him, knowing our men would do the same if I told them to. But his God complex and inability to control his temper cost us money, power, and the lives of the men he sent on pointless raids.
He was a stupid man and his brother is too.
“I won’t back you, Renzo,” I finally say, realizing my mind was made up long ago, and I just needed to accept it. “Being the Gianni godfather isn’t meant for you.”
Laughter erupts from him. “Who is it meant for then? You?” He laughs harder when I don’t reply. “Fuckin’ stepkid wants to be the boss. Hilarious! I’m a fucking Gianni, dickwad, not you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t allow it.”
“And here I offered you a higher rank.” He chuckles, tucking his hand behind the desk. “Like I said, if you’re not with me, you’re against me.”
Before he has a chance to grab the gun I know he keeps in the drawer, I lunge for him, sliding over the surface of the desk. As I go, I grab the nine-inch blade from the holster at my ankle and hold it tightly in my fist.
We fall to the floor hard, but I’ve already got him pinned as I land straddling his chest. My free hand flies to his forehead, where I press it with the palm of my hand, forcing it back to expose his throat.
I don’t hesitate. Don’t give him a second to fill his lungs with the air he needs to scream, alerting his guards.
In one swift and powerful move, I slice the sharp blade through his neck.
He flails under me, his arms grasping futilely at my shirt. His eyes bulge and he gurgles as I push deeper, feeling flesh, sinew and bone split in two.
Then he’s gone.
My order was to make sure Francesco’s boys didn’t fail. I have now obeyed that order to the letter. With both of them dead, they can no longer fail.
8
NOAH
Pennies again. There were fucking pennies placed over Renzo’s eyes.
I’m staring at the photographs of the crime scene that were just given to me by Chief Morrison.
“Wanted you to have these first,” he says. “As a thank you for getting my pension back on track.”
The “pension” he’s referring to is the payroll I finally managed to get Joaquin to get him on, plus a raise, before he died.
“Are there any leads?”
