Page 18 of Veil of Vengeance

I slant him a look as we head toward the locker room to get cleaned up and change before we head back and, without another word, he nods in understanding.

* * *

When I leavethe stall and head to my locker where I keep a change of clothes, I see that Romiro has already finished and is probably waiting for me. I spot both he and Lucio as I step out of the changing room.

“Did Matteo set up the link?” I ask, directed at either of them, as we leave the corridor and head toward the main entrance.

“He did. When do you want to use it?” Lucio’s the one to reply.

“Possibly tomorrow night.” They follow me out, both Lucio’s and my car the only ones in the parking lot. The sun is peeking out over the horizon, which means that it’s still early hours of the morning.

“Did you call Eugine?” I question Romiro as I open my car door.

“Yes, they’ll be here in five minutes. Where are we going now?”

Romiro is getting restless because he’s gotten less than three hours of sleep.

I roll my eyes at him. “We’re going to check on the cargo that arrived from the Japanese, then we’ll head to the warehouse for a little visit. Matteo spotted some mistakes on the shipment sheets.”

Romiro’s face breaks out into a wide grin as he says, “You’re not going all the Fourth of July massacre style on us again, are you?” I don’t react to his comment about the rampage Lucio and I had gone on after our Pop’s death.

“Lucio texted he’s going to New Hampshire,” he says. I nod at Romiro, not paying attention to what he’s saying anymore.

We weave through traffic faster than we anticipated and make it to the Agnes port in twenty minutes. Mariano is waiting for us by the port’s parking space. Lowering his head in greeting, he opens my car door once the car comes to a stop, and I pat his shoulder as I get out.

“Mariano, why are you here? Did I not instruct you to stay in Las Vegas?” I interrogate him as we make our way to the back of the port where our men are manning the cargo.

“Boss, shit’s about to hit the fan in Vegas. Lorenzo Vitielli is dead, and his underbosses have separated. Vegas is free for the taking,” he informs me, and I pause to look at him.

“Doesn’t Vitielli have five legitimate sons and one bastard?” I ask.

“They were in France locked up in a boarding school, but they’re gone. No one knows where the fuck they went.” My eyes narrow at the revelation, jaw clenching. The eldest of the Vitielli brothers is just fourteen. Where the fuck could they have gone? I don’t need more shit to worry about; I already have restlessness in my ranks since I've taken over. I don’t need rumors of a fucking mafia revolution making rounds in my territory.

“Stay here. Mariano, keep your ears pierced for any disloyalty and make an example of those who dare to step out of line,” I order, at which he nods and slips back to the shadows where he blends in. Romiro opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head at him.

“Not here. Wait till we get back to my apartment.”

He nods, and we continue our walk in silence. There are around twenty soldiers guarding the three cargo containers. A large man is standing in front of the cargo container, and Nicolo Esposito is speaking on the phone, but quickly ends the call and hugs his brother.

“Nicolo, how are you? How's business?” I ask him as we shake hands. His face breaks out into a smile that looks at odds with his harsh features and his emerald eyes remain vacant.

“Business is going great. How’s New York been since you’ve taken over? My brother’s not giving you a hard time, is he?” His question might seem like he’s making basic conversation, but he's a snake trying to sense any weakness before there is one. Romiro might be on our side, but that doesn’t mean that Nicolo is. He’s a wild card.

“New York has seen worse days,” Romiro answers him as he drags his older brother toward the port’s parking lot.

Turning to the cargo container, I motion for the guard to open it.

“Make sure to take inventory of everything. I don’t want the Japanese to think that we’ll tolerate them trying to fuck us over.” The men start to pile in, dragging out sacks filled with wheat. At least that’s what you’ll see when you rip it open and not dig around.

“Silvio texted. He thinks it’ll be better to set up the camera and send the link out earlier.” Romiro informs me as he jogs closer. Nicolo seems to have left. In what, I don’t know, and I don’t give a fuck as long as he sticks his nose somewhere other than my business.

“Ask him why. I want details. I’m not moving shit if I’m not convinced.”

“I think it’s because there’s talk about the Vipers showing up to the whorehouse tonight,” he explains.

“What the fuck do you mean, they might show up? Sort it out, Romiro. They better behave themselves if they’re in my territory. I don’t need a fucking headache.” My jaw tightens. He pulls out his phone and dials someone’s number then puts it on speaker.

“Silvio, why do you want to move up the plan?” There’s the sound of paper shuffling on the line before he blows out a sigh.

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