Page 6 of Stormy Knight

“Ma’am, are you sure it’s not an animal attack?” The dispatcher asked in a bored tone.

Stormy could hear the skepticism in her tone. After all, how many calls did they get about these kinds of things? Stormy, however, wasn’t in the mood to explain the strange feeling that had been creeping up on her lately. She wasn’t sure if it was just paranoia or something more sinister.

“No, this is...something else. It’s not just the animal. I’ve been getting weird things left on my doorstep. I need someone to come out. I’m worried for my safety.”

The dispatcher’s voice seemed to soften, it now sounded concerned. “Alright, ma’am. I’m sending a unit over. Stay inside. Lock your doors. The police will be there shortly.”

Stormy hung up, clutching the phone like a lifeline. She wasn’t sure who or what was behind the bazar things that were happening, but the nagging feeling that she was being stalked – watched - was getting harder to ignore. Every day it felt like she was sinking deeper into something dark. She just didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending everything was fine.

She needed to get to work, to maintain some semblance of normalcy. But her mind was reeling with unanswered questions. What kind of person could do something like this? And why? Was it a sick joke? Or was something more twisted at play?

Taking one last look at the mutilated rabbit, she stepped back inside and locked the door behind her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something much worse was coming.

3

Reeves didn’t flinch, didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained steady, his expression a mask of indifference as Marco’s words hung in the air, as dry and sharp as the heat outside. He adjusted his position, his gaze drifting lazily to the window. He leaned back in the room’s chair, the leather creaking beneath him, but his mind was already miles away. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the fields.

Marco’s voice, rough with tension, sliced through the quiet of the room. “Franco Marcello wants a meet with you, said it involves the Serranos.”

“Franco Marcello,” Reeves repeated quietly, almost to himself, testing the sound of it. His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of the chair. “What’s he got to do with the Serranos?

Marco, his posture as firm as ever. The man had a way of delivering bad news without a trace of emotion, as if it was just another matter of business. Marco was always like that—calm, collected, like everything in the world was just another transaction.

Marco stepped forward, his boots steady as he moved across the floor. Serrano crossed a line. “I’ve not been read in on thatinformation. All I can tell you is that Marcello’s got business that needs taken care of in Texas. And he thinks you can help him with it,” he paused, the weight of the words settling, “It’s not the kind of thing you walk away from, Reeves.”

Reeves let out a breath, his fingers stopping their rhythmic tapping. The room felt smaller now, the air thicker.Franco Marcellowas no minor player. His reputation was built on more than just wealth; it was built on violence, on quiet deals and bloody power struggles that left a trail of wreckage behind him. The kind of man who made a habit of ensuring people knew just how much he controlled.

“Am I going in just to discuss Serrano or is there other business he wants to discuss?” Reeves asked, keeping his voice neutral. He already had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. He trusted Marco and wanted to know what the man knew.

Marco’s lips twitched into something close to a smile, but it was more a grimace than anything else. “Word on the street is he wants a merger with the Salvadors. He’s got...associates, people who need your expertise. It’s not just Marcello, word is Francis Martinelli will join in on the meeting.”

“New Orleans must be running smooth for those two to be in talks.” That information had Reeves more than interested. Two heavy hitters coming to Texas. Tapping his fingers on the chair’s armrest, Reeves knew he couldn’t say no, it would be seen as disrespect.

“Meet with him, think of it as a test, Reeves. He’ll decide if you’re worth the investment and you’ll decide if he’s worth it as well.”

The mention ofassociatessent a chill down his spine. Marcello and Martinelli didn’t work with anyone unless there was something to gain, something personal, something dangerous. A test. Reeves didn’t like tests, not when it came topeople like the New Orleans bosses. But he also knew when to play the game.

“I’ll reach out and set the meet,” Reeves said, standing up, his mind already shifting into business mode.

Marco nodded, his face unreadable. “I’ll travel with you to Houston. After the meet, I’ll fly back here to Texas Creek.”

Reeves turned toward the door but paused before leaving. There was one more thing he needed to know. “And this is related to Mario Serrano?” The silence that followed felt like it stretched for an eternity. Marco’s gaze flickered, just for a second, but it was enough. It told Reeves everything he needed to know.

“For Marcello, it’s connected,” Marco said quietly. “And Marcello isn’t the forgiving type. He wants Serrano brought to heel.”

Reeves needed no more details. The warning was clear. He knew the stakes. And he knew walking into that meeting was going to be more than just a simple conversation. It was time to see what kind of trouble Franco Marcello was ready to throw his way. Or what kind of solution he was going to offer up. Either way, the Salvadors wouldn’t be letting Mario Serrano off the hook.

Reeves valued Marco as a friend and an associate. He portrayed himself as a bodyguard for the family, when in reality he was a capo. He had risen through the ranks, becoming an important part of the Texas Creek mafia. “Do you think this could be a set-up?” Reeves asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t nervous, but he could feel the tension building, like a coiled spring in the room.

Marco didn’t flinch, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. “No. Not a set-up,” he replied, his words measured. “But when you work with people like Serrano, people likeMarcello, and Martinelli, you don’t always know who they’re sending towatch you.”

Marco stood eye to eye with Reeves. “Just keep your head, Reeves. When you meet Marcello and Martinelli. That’s all. No need to entertain anything else.”

Marco was right, there was no reason to read more into the meeting. He’d had a lot of experience meeting with high profiled and powerful people inside and outside of the mafia. Nothing had changed with business. He’d have to inform Monroe and Jackson about this recent development while at dinner. That wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have over Sunday dinner. Waving off Marco, Reeves headed to get dressed before heading into town.

4

Reeves walked through the restaurant. He knew come tomorrow the place would be a buzz with people looking for authentic Spanish dishes. If they did their research, they’d knowLa Familiawas the place to go. Some came for the food. Some came to catch a peek at a real mafia family. Which was the rumor that floated around the area, fueled by the locals.

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