Page 51 of Roque

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you fuck.”

“I am.”

Pacing to the corner, I looked down at the Club. The girls. The boys. All the people having a regular Saturday night with no idea of the wars that really go on. Never reported. Never known about. Bodies disappear in our wars. It never touched the real world.

“Fine. Set the meet with the Castellione bitch. Here in New York. Johnny can give us more cover. I don’t want any of them breathing in one lungful of air in Chicago. That air belongs to us and I’m not sharing. If they want a piece… they need to build their own turf. The Chinese have LA locked down. The Irish have Boston. Johnny’s crew, New York. Where the fuck are they going to go?”

“Detroit. I heard Detroit.” Vito lit his cigar.

“Good luck with that. Local gangs got that shit locked up.”

Geno nodded and fired off a text using one of his burner cells. It beeped with a reply two minutes later.

“They’re coming tomorrow night.”

My brows lifted. “Something must be urgent.” Johnny started barking out orders into his phone, setting up a secure place to meet where our backs will be covered.

“Do you want me there?”

“No, Rafe. I don’t need you. Stay clean like you always do.” He nodded and called it at night. I knew if I asked, he’d do it. Take a Glock and have my back. But having a friend on the outside is sometimes more valuable than a loyal thug on the inside.

***

“No.”

The word dropped like a bomb from my lips.

Vince Castellione is a short, fat, pug. I can’t even imagine what his sister must look like. And he wants me to marry her?

“You refusing this alliance is an insult. Refusing my sister is a personal insult.”

“I could give two fucks.”

“You will, when we finally finish what should have ended in Palermo.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?”

“The girl… the Fiorelli girl… she still lives. Ending her and you…will be my greatest pleasure.”

He fingered the gun tucked under his belt.Stupid fuck. It might be a while since the pit, but the cold darkness still clings to me. Only Blue chases it away for a while. Something tightened in my gut. Both are mine. Blue and the Fiorelli girl. I don’t question the fierceness of it. Both belong to me. Pieces of them pierced me and stayed.

With my hands fisted deep in the pockets of my impeccable navy suit, I strolled toward him, stopping inches from the fat fuck. His men stiffened. Guns were drawn. I leaned into his face so close; my eyes took in the hundreds of blackheads dotting his nose. “You’re such an ugly little fuck, eh? You couldn’t torture me into fucking your sister. She’s probably just as hideous as you.”

“Maybe,” he drawled trying to be all cocky as fuck. “But she saw the pictures. She wants you to be her prized Italian Stallion.”

I rolled my eyes. The corners of my mouth lifted as I pictured Blue in my mind. I’ve never rolled my eyes before at anyone. I wonder what she’d think?

“I said no.”

“You’ll reconsider.”

“Not likely.”

“The five families have already decided. Take my sister as your wife…bring us into Chicago or we’ll end the last of the families from the Old World. We won’t hesitate. We won’t fail.”

“Like your father’s did? The original circle of five couldn’t stop me. What makes you think you can?”

“They still live. Still remember…my father… he stands by the word he gave yours. But I’m adding a condition. His word isn’t mine to keep. Marry my sister. Unite with us and we can break them all.”

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