Page 43 of Steal My Heart
“Detective Pierre.”
“Care to explain why arrests were made inside Hotel D’Amico’s lobby just now?” I seethe.
“Just a sec.” The sound of movement, and then he whispers, “Order came from above my pay grade; only a select few were privy to what was about to go down. Had I tipped you off and a bust didn’t happen, I would’ve been outed. My hands were tied.”
Ending the call with a growl, I toss my phone across the seat. “A warning shot from the new mayor.”
“Sounds like it,” Maks agrees.
Sienna wanted to know the meaning of this. Here it is: I’m shutting down the call girl operation.
“Gentlemen, welcome.” I rise from my seat at the head of the table.
Capos file into the basement of my restaurant, and I wait until everyone is seated before taking mine. “As you know, I’m considering axing the skin trade. My understanding is that noteveryone’s happy about the decision. If there are any grievances, let’s hear them now.”
“Not a grievance, boss, but I do have to question why.” Dom pipes up. “Michele had the plum racket, and it’s only fair one of us gets our turn.”
“By one of us, do you mean you, Dom?” I say dryly.
He puffs his chest. “I’d throw my hat in the ring.”
“There’s no ring. The new mayor has made his position crystal clear, and we need to be smart about how we operate the next four years. I’m working through backchannels to establish a better working relationship, but right now, things do not look promising,” I admit. “Especially considering today’s arrests at Hotel D’Amico?—”
“Vitto would’ve never cowered to a pussy politician.” Dom slams down his fist. “You’re too damn worried about your ‘Mr. New Orleans’ reputation instead of what’s best for this family.”
I push back from my seat, strolling around the table with my hands in my pockets. “The day you catch me cowering, Dom, will be the day I hand over the reins to you. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Jerking my hand out of my pocket, I fling the bag open and bring it over his head. He struggles as I pull the bag taut, futilely sucking air until his body goes limp.
“See, I told him not to hold his breath.” I mock, releasing my hold. Dom’s body crumbles in his chair, and I leave the bag over his head as a warning to the other men. “We’re shutting down the skin trade racket as of this moment, and I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it.”
“Yes, boss,” the men say in unison.
Returning to my seat, I look each and everybreathingcapo in the eyes. Oh, the men fear me, alright, but they don’t respect me.
Mr. Ivy League, who never earned his button.
Vitto’s boardroom nepo baby.
Our leader, but not one of us.
The whispers shouldn’t bother me, but for some damn reason, they do. “Anyone else have a grievance that needs addressing? Let’s hear it.”
“Not a grievance, boss, just more of a question. What’s going to happen when Fabien returns?” Another capo asks gingerly.
“Business as usual, that’s what’s going to happen.” A lie, as I have no fucking clue what’s going to happen. Other than if Fabien’s dumb enough to escalate things between us, then he’ll find out why they also whisper the “Bag Man” about me.
“So there’s no bad blood?” he presses.
Bad blood?
That’s all that flows through these veins.
“La famiglia prima di tutto,” is my vague response. “If there’s no other business, this meeting is adjourned.”
The men file out as Maks enters, eyeing the dead body with amusement. “A bad day to be on your bad side.”
“Every day’s a bad day to be on my bad side.”
