Page 41 of Tortured Hearts
Savage.
“Decrypting the accounts took time,” he continues. “By the time I identified one owner as the Providence Chief of Police and another as a dirty U.S. Marshal, it was too late. Gianni was in Rhode Island, and Marcello had set up his endgame.”
The muscles in Toscano’s neck tighten. “Start connecting some dots, Altieri.”
“If you scroll to the last page of the shell corporation financials, you’ll notice the overseas figureheads Marcello masqueraded as owners are no longer on the accounts. The day he walked out of prison, the dates were altered and corporate ownership transferred to?—”
“Giovanni Marchesi.” Carmine glances up from his screen, a red curtain sweeping up his neck.
Anton nods. “Marcello lured Gianni back to New Jersey knowing the Authority would shoot at first sight. By the time the ‘truth’ about Providence came out, his hands would be clean, and Gianni would be dead. But we didn’t come here expecting a full pardon on a few bank records.” With one more push of a button, a familiar conversation fills the room.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s hear this ‘brilliant’ plan.”
“Simple. We call a truce.”
“You’re forgetting the Authority considers me Public Enemy Number One. I’d think the only ‘truce’ they’dentertain would involve a bullet.”
“Five Families. Five bosses. Five votes. As a member of the Authority, I have the power to make rules and bend them. It’s surprising how quickly people will alter their values when given the right motivation.”
“Just an observation… If I’m such a pariah, wouldn’t the whole ‘forgive and forget’ thing make you guilty by association?”
“I don’t have to forgive you to exploit you, Gianni. You’re simply a piece on my chessboard.”
“And you expect me to believe I’m anything other than a pawn?”
“I don’t care what you believe. My actions aren’t for you to question.”
“The other bosses might question them once they find out about your Providence side hustle.”
“Those idiots are incapable of finding their own dicks, much less something operating in front of their faces.”
For a moment, no one speaks. Then, Anton ignites a cannon of preemptive strikes, firing off answers to questions before they’re even asked. When the dust finally settles, I look damn near pious, and my father is nine ways of fucked.
“And you knew nothing?” Toscano asks. “For twenty-two years?”
The Marchesi underboss doesn’t miss a beat. “Marcello kept his side action to himself.” His gaze drifts to me. “And Gianni wasn’t a part of this until his father made him one.”
I suspect Carmine’s nerves are fraying when he swipes the bourbon and fills his glass. “Why didn’t you come to us when you found out he was framing his son?”
Anton scrubs a hand down his face. He’s reaching his breaking point. One more stupid comment and that cool, calm demeanor might turn inside out. “Gianni didn’t have the time for protocol. Besides, with all due respect, I justpresented a shit ton of proof, and you’re still arguing with me. Imagine what would’ve happened if I’d come without the audio.”
“You can’t expect us to believe he did this all by himself,” the Boston boss insists. “Even the bestdon needs boots on the ground to make an operation like that run.”
“Why not?” Carmine snaps. “Thestronzothought he was a fucking god.”
Anton nods. “You’re both right. Marcello kept his men in the dark, so I suspect with all the revived Rogue activity in Providence, one of the remaining offshore accounts belongs to a disgruntled, leftover member.”
Toscano’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you have a name?”
“Not yet, but we won’t stop until we do.”
“What about this police chief and marshal?”
Anton and I exchange glances. I’d hoped to keep this part under wraps, but I’d also like to walk out of here with my nuts still attached to my dick. “George Reese and Henry Saddler,” he says reluctantly, quickly adding, “But we have both under control.”
Sure we do … and I’m a well-adjusted, productive member of society.
The fuck?
