Page 102 of Scorned Obsession
“Isn’t it?” Matteo nodded to the damage of the café.
“It wasn’t us,” I said.
“Wow,” Dom said. “Are you considering yourself one of them now?”
“Dom,” Dad warned. “Let’s not make this worse.”
Mom returned, and her eyes made the rounds at everyone at the table. “Food is on the way. From the looks of it, everyone will feel better once their blood sugar isn’t crashing, hmm?”
“Food isn’t going to fix this.” My stomach grumbled loudly and made me a liar.
Sandro
“I want to talk to Bianca,” I growled into my phone.
“Looks like they want you to suffer a little,” Luca said dryly.
My convoy was still an hour from Manhattan. At a rest stop, I switched driving with Arnie. Cops were all over the interstate and I couldn’t drive without my lead foot weighing down on the gas pedal. The last thing we wanted was to get pulled over and have a cop discover a trunk full of illegal weapons. I had two sub-machine guns hidden in the spare tire compartment. It didn’t help that the De Luccis were declining my calls.
It was payback.
“Can’t you do something?”
“Hey, they’re my family too. But Dom released Tommy. He’s in the café. I hear they’re enjoying an Irish feast.”
“What the fuck?”
Luca chuckled. “This is good. Now don’t screw this up.”
He ended the call.
I hated when he did this, but he was Luca Moretti. He suffered no fools gladly. At least this drama between the Rossis and the De Luccis was keeping his mind off his missing wife.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. It was pushing three in the afternoon.
“No luck?” Arnie asked.
“None.” I’d probably pissed off the De Luccis enough by hitting redial over and over. We were grown men behaving childishly.
Motherfucker.
I tapped the corner of the window and willed the Expedition to travel faster.
Bianca
“It wasn’t us who did this!” Tommy repeated.
We were still gathered around the communal table. When Tommy arrived, I was outraged to see the bruises on his face. He couldn’t open one eye. Divina gasped a sob when she saw him, and I glared at Dom.
But would I expect anything less? We were the mafia. Someone had tipped off Dom where Tommy was the same night somebody shot up Jabbin’ Java and Tommy wasn’t too far from here. But my cousin was smart enough not to jump to conclusions.
“I believe the Rossis didn’t do this,” I told them. Mom was right. Everyone was calmer after eating or maybe it was the carbs from the mashed potatoes, but at least the smirks from my family didn’t aggravate me like earlier. “Just as we believe it wasn’t the De Luccis who set fire to the club. Not your MO.”
Dom was about to say something, but I cut him off. “Now Gian’s poker game, though, I wonder.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Dom’s face remained neutral because he was being watched, but I didn’t miss the look Matteo and Nico exchanged. Meanwhile, Trevor’s mouth twitched, and he disguised his smile by taking a sip from his super-sized soda.
Matteo and Nico may be mafia adjacent, but the secret organization my father started, The Archer Syndicate, kept the underworld in check. They were more organized and technologically advanced than the average mafia, moved easily from corporate boardrooms into the underworld, and with Dad’s financial resources, was virtually unstoppable in getting things done. Heads of the Syndicate were called Archers. Their soldiers were called Arrows. The organization didn’t have the bullshit recruiting requirements of other crime families based on race or gender. They didn’t care whether you’re white, Asian, or Arab. Italian or Russian. Male or female. It was based on skills and alignment of beliefs. Most of its members were ex-military, like Trevor and my cousin Ronan, or financial powerhouses like Matteo and Ivy’s brother, Daniel.
