Page 97 of The Boss
“Killing is not really our style.”
She stops moving, “Not killing? The fuck? Quit talking in riddles!”
“We try not to out-right murder anyone. We’ve seen enough death. We plan and plot and everyone kills each other or rots in prison for life, ideally.”
She stops again, “Quinn. Van. Whatever the fuck. You’re a known murderer! Your nickname is Skulls, what are you even talking about.”
“Baby, please stop yelling.”
“NO!”
I chuckle, despite the pain, “I have had to kill people, yes. Especially when I was young and proving myself. That’s when I got most of my tattoos. And many of them were merciful. It makes a great story that I chopped heads off but think about it, a bullet to the head—”
“Is a gift,” she says my words back to me.
“Exactly. As far as mafia kills go, a sword through the brain or a smash to the skull is the best of them.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this!” She sounds angrier than ever. “Youdon’tmurder?” Leave it to Luna Mancini to be disappointed about showing mercy.
“You’d’ve rather I tortured them all?”
“I’d rather you make some fucking sense! You’re planning to kill your whole clan?”
“No. My loyalty is not to the Irish,” I say, knowing it might disgust her. It’s the truth. “But I do care about them. I’ve worked hard to weed out the trash. To change the culture, to teach honor and dignity. Patience, self control, mercy. It took years.
“The men on the compound, almost everyone you’ve seen, they’re young and know almost nothing vital. They’ll be spared. The old guard, Quinn senior and all his lieutenants, the ones who trafficked slaves and raped and pillaged their way through Boston, innocent bystanders be damned,” I swallow, thinking of my father and his men. “They’llwishfor death.”
I settle onto a recliner that’s in the corner of the room for this purpose. I need to keep my head elevated but I need to sleep.
She stares at the floor, face contorting more and more, as she puts the pieces together. “So, you married me to get access to my father.”
“Yes, but—”
“So you can eventually kill my whole family. Some spy I am. You were going to kill me all along!”
“No,” I try.
“And then my whole family too! Asshole!”
“Not whole. It’ll be the same in every clan, Luna. The low-level men, the young boys, the women. They’ll have options. Short prison terms. WitSec. Or they can join us. Get recruited or marry in.”
“I am not low-level!”
“You married in.”
“The fuck I did! I hate you!”
“You don’t. And Zeno, the people you love, we’ll turn them. Many people join us when they learn exactly what they’re involved in. Men take orders but they don’t realize what products they’re moving, who they’re really hurting. People become spies in the clans. Work their way up in the government for us.”
I watch as her face lights up.
“Government. Mark fucking White! I knew it. Iknewit!” I nod. “Wait, Ellie…”
“She knows.”
For a flash, anger turns to sadness, so quick anyone else would have missed it. For a few seconds, my wife is a war of emotions. She stops and starts sentences. She switches from Italian to English and back again. Finally she locks eyes with me. Her voice shakes, “But he’ll never turn. My Papa.”
“Luna,” I say slowly and clearly, “Your Papa will not have any options.” She inhales, eyes burning, but I go on, “On my computer, you can open the file. Mancini. See for yourself.”
