“And just what do you think he said?”
“You mean before or after he shit his pants?” Nixon smirked. “They know where we stand. So now we negotiate. We tell them we’ve got it handled.”
“Um…” Tex cleared his throat from behind us. “No offense, Nixon, but we have absolutely nothing handled. We have a crazy mafia boss in hiding and we still don’t know who killed Trace’s parents.” I sighed in exasperation. Maybe it was Nixon’s father—after all, he was capable of anything. We all knew that.
“Right.” Nixon exhaled. “But they don’t know we don’t have answers yet. And I have a plan.”
“Plan?” I echoed. “You want us to meet with the scariest family known to the Mafia because you have a plan? Are you insane?”
“God, I wish.” Nixon laughed and bit down on his lip ring. He pulled off his leather jacket and checked a few of the guns strapped to his body. “We’ve got some old beef between us; they’ll be curious, they’ll want to listen.”
I cursed and hit the steering wheel.
“Calm yourself.” This from Tex. Did he seriously not know?
Once we were at the stoplight I turned around and glared. “Calm myself? You naive piece of shit. The last time they were in Chicago my mom was shot. She died, Tex. So help me God, next time you tell me to calm myself I will shoot you in the foot.”
The light turned green and I sped off. Complete silence blanketed the car, and for once I was thankful that I didn’t have anyone in my life that loved me. Because if it came to a shootout with those guys, I would take it, with pleasure. I would end them—for what they’d done to me and my family—without hesitation.
Chapter Seven
Nixon
I knew Chase was pissed. I also knew he wouldn’t have wanted to come if I’d told him who we were meeting. And he needed this as much as I did. He needed closure. What they did to his mom… it was horrendous. It was never proven that she’d been murdered by the Nicolosi family but we had our suspicions. Strong ones. After all, each family had a crest, and the one left by the body had belonged to none other than the Nicolosis.
She was raped and beaten to within an inch of her life—and all because she’d talked to one of their wives. Confided in them about something to do with the family.
She’d been killed the next day. Left in a warehouse.
Adrenaline surged through me as we pulled up to the restaurant. It was a good meeting place, one of the chains we owned, known for its Chinese food which, frankly, I always found hilarious. Just because we were Sicilian didn’t mean we only owned Italian restaurants.
The smell of sweet pork and fried rice invaded my senses as we burst into the restaurant and went to the back meeting room.
The first thing I noticed was that the lights were dimmed, dimmer than I remembered. The second was that the bartender’s hand was shaking. He smiled and nodded in our direction, but his damn hand was having trouble pouring drinks.
I nodded back and showed him one of my guns—reassurance and all that.
The back room was usually reserved for out-of-town guests. But when I say “guests” I really mean out-of-town family who need a place to interrogate.
It was completely soundproof and had at least twenty cameras set at different angles up on the walls, just in case we needed to watch tape to see exactly who did what first.
I nodded to Tex. He shut the door behind us. I walked toward the table and had a seat, placing my gun in front of me for all to see.
“Nixon… it has been… a while. Tell me, how is your family?”
“The same,” I said dryly. “Wealthy, powerful, pissed…”
Luca Nicolosi grinned. His glaring white teeth were like a bright light against his tanned skin. At forty-seven, he’d been taking care of the Nicolosi family since his father’s passing ten years ago. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been a cocky piece of work. Now, well now he just pissed me off. Everything about him screamed indulgence, from his pressed silk suit to his combed hair. Hate did not even begin to describe what I felt toward him and his family.
I detested them—more than anything in the world.
At eleven years old, I had trusted them. I had run into their arms that night…
“Help! Help me!” My father had left the box unlocked this time. I hadn’t realized it until I started kicking against the door. He was punishing me again. I knew it was my fault he was angry. He’d told me to spy on Ma again and I’d told him to go to hell.
So he’d put me in the time-out box.
It was really small and black. One time I’d been in there for the entire day.