Page 36 of Veil of Vengeance

“Yeah, you were so pissed that you couldn’t get a reaction out of him, that you thought it was a good idea to stay out late. I can still remember the way he was looking at you when he came to get you from our house,” I say, as Romiro takes the cigarette from my hand and takes the last puff before lowering his window to throw it out.

“I nearly pissed myself from how scared I was,” he says. Nicolo had never laid his hands on Romiro, and he wouldn’t do that even when Romiro acted up. Their parents had done enough damage.

“So, how’s it going with you and beauty?”

My lips curl at the idea that anything could be going on between me and that brat.

“Nothing’s going on. Tell me, has Costa sent an update on the murders?” I try to change the subject, and Romiro gives me a knowing look, telling me that he knows what I’m doing.

“Nah, he’s been radio silent since he’d come to meet you,” Romiro says. I nod, and we fall into a comfortable silence.

It doesn’t take us long to get to the private airport, where the jet is usually parked. Romiro winks at one of the flight attendants as we pass them to go to our seats. He gives me a cocky grin before he heads toward the back of the jet, where two rooms are located. My nose scrunches up in disgust, and I turn on some music to blast through the jet's speaker system when the flight attendant follows him. I can hear his laugh when the music plays.

* * *

Romiro comesout of the room, looking like a freshly fucked king before we’re due to land in ten minutes, and sits in his seat, giving me a smug smile. I shake my head at him.

“You use protec-” I ask, but he cuts me off.

“Do I look stupid?” he asks. I cock my head to the side and feel the corners of my mouth lift.

“Is that meant to be a trick question? And yes, you do look stupid enough to forget about a condom.”

He flips me off and takes out his phone as he leans back.

“You know what they say birds of a feather are the same.” He shrugs.

My face scrunches at the half wrong proverb. “It’s birds of a feather flock together, you fucking asshole.”

“You got what I meant, so that’s all that matters.”

“Are you saying that your Capo is stupid?” My voice holds no edge to it. He's my brother and I’m his. Whether I’m Capo or not is irrelevant. He yawns and stretches one of his arms before looking at me.

“Bro, do you hear how stupid some of the shit that comes out of your mouth is? Sometimes I think I might actually piss myself laughing.”

“Fuck off and stop trying to be a clown,” I tell him. He pulls a face, which takes me a second to realize that he’s trying to look upset.

“Do you think I can still make it into clown college?” Romiro asks. For fuck’s sake, this dude is meant to be my advisor, and he’s joking about going to fucking clown college.

“There’s a thing such as clown college? What the fuck would they even learn?”

Romiro’s face turns serious as he starts his own description of a clown school.

“On day one, it’d probably be makeup. You know, it’s important to nail down the pasty white shade for the base, the way to properly draw the lips of a professional clown and, of course, to perfect the arches of the clown. I suppose they would also teach them how to make people laugh without saying a word.” He continues to look at me with a serious expression. We both start laughing, my sides cramping. We’re able to compose ourselves before the seat belt light turns on and the pilot asks for permission to land in New York.

By the time we are off the jet, our faces turn to stone. We are the Capo and his advisor now. Benedicto is by the car to discuss the shipments. The drive back to the OX is spent discussing new routes for our new shipment.

“No. I want them to be distributed through six different routes. Alberto wasn’t careful in the eighties and that got one of our cousins twenty years. So, they’ll be distributed through the six different routes at different times,” I tell Benny.

“I’ll contact the guys and tell them to set up the six different trucks. They won’t be loaded until an hour before they are due to leave the property,” Benny says as he nods.

Romiro speaks up. “We don’t want another near run-in with that fucker Damian again.”

A bitter taste fills my mouth. Damian Barak, the bane of my fucking existence and the pain in every made man’s ass. The Momfucker has been trying to steal our suppliers for years now.

Our car comes to a halt outside the OX and we get out of the car. The parking lot is packed with more than a dozen cars. I straighten my suit jacket as Romiro comes around to stand beside me. A hush falls over the place when we walk through the door. My men are scattered around the bar, each of them either holding a drink or smoking.

All eyes are on us. On me.

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