6. Angelo

6

ANGELO

S moke billows into the morning sky as I stand, fists clenched, outside Kings. The acrid scents of burning rubber and gasoline assault my senses, mixing with the cold air. My car, or what’s left of it, is a charred ruin. The once sleek, black vehicle is now reduced to a twisted, smoking heap of metal.

Marco stands beside me, his jaw set in a hard line. The other Dons of La Familia are here too, murmuring among themselves, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They’re waiting for me to make a move, to show them how a Pirelli handles such blatant disrespect.

“Gino,” I call out, my voice like ice.

Gino steps forward, a sly grin playing on his lips. “Looks like someone wanted to send you a message, Angelo,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “It’s clear you’ve pissed someone off.”

My blood boils at his audacity. He knows exactly what this means. The car bomb isn’t just a random act of violence—it’s a calculated warning. A reminder of how I failed to get to my father in time. A cruel echo of the past, meant to rattle me.

I take a step toward Gino, but he picks an invisible piece of lint off his suit jacket "Tut, tut, Angelo. No need to get violent. Just stating the obvious.”

His smirk fuels my anger, and I want nothing more than to wipe it off his face. But I force myself to stay in control. Beating Gino to a pulp would only show weakness and would invite a war. I need to stay sharp, think clearly.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I growl.

Gino shrugs, his grin never faltering. “I’m just saying, Angelo. Someone’s trying to get under your skin. Maybe you should figure out who it is before you start throwing punches.”

I lunge forward, but Marco catches my arm, holding me back. “Not here, Boss. Not now,” he says quietly, his grip firm.

I take a deep breath, letting Marco’s calm presence anchor me.

“Get the fuck out of my sight, Gino,” I snap, “before I change my mind.”

Gino gives a mock bow, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “As you wish.” He turns on his heel and saunters away, disappearing into the crowd.

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The other Dons are watching me, waiting for my next move. I can’t afford to show any weakness, not now. Not ever.

“Marco, get our men on this. I want to know who did this and why,” I say, my voice steely.

Marco nods, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary calls. I turn back to the smoldering wreckage of my car, my mind racing. Whoever did this is playing a dangerous game. They’ve made it personal, and they will pay.

The image of my father, lying in a pool of his own blood, flashes before my eyes. I wasn’t there to save him then, but I won’t let history repeat itself.

The street is eerily silent now, the flames having died down, leaving only the skeletal remains of my car as a grim reminder. The other Dons start to disperse, their whispered conversations hinting at the tension this incident has stirred.

“Boss,” Marco says, drawing my attention. “We’ll find them. Whoever did this won’t get away with it.”

I nod, appreciating his unwavering loyalty. “They think they can scare me with a fucking car bomb? They have no idea what they’ve started.”

I step into Romero’s car, my exterior calm betraying none of the turmoil I feel inside. The image of my smoking car keeps flashing in my mind, a stark reminder of how quickly things can change.

“Take us to see Genesis,” I order Romero, my voice steady despite the churning in my gut.

As we pull up to the Ardere Art Gallery, I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I dial Genesis’ number, and she answers with her usual abruptness.

“What?” she snaps.

“I’m here,” I say simply, then hang up.

Moments later, Genesis appears at the door. Her head is shaved close to her scalp, the massive tattoo that covers most of her burn scars clearly visible. Her dark eyes, glittering with intelligence and a hint of wariness, scan me quickly.

“Angelo,” she says, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”

I meet her gaze steadily. “Gino’s back.”

Genesis’ eyes widen slightly, understanding the weight of those two simple words. She steps aside, gesturing for us to enter.

We follow Genesis into her studio, the familiar scents of paint and turpentine filling my nostrils. The large warehouse space is a stark contrast to the polished gallery front, with high ceilings and exposed brick walls covered in vibrant, abstract paintings. Various sculptures and installations are scattered throughout, some finished, others clearly works in progress. In one corner, a metal staircase leads up to a loft area where I know Genesis sleeps.

But Genesis’ real moneymaker is her counterfeiting abilities. Her alter ego, Fucina, is legendary in the New York Mob community.

“I’ve got some new clients headed your way,” I begin, trying to ease into the conversation. “And there are some documents we need forged for those custom cars going to Sicily?—”

Genesis cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Skip the small talk, Angelo. Tell me about Gino. Why is he back?”

Before I can answer, Romero chimes in. “Probably couldn’t hack it in Chicago, Alvarez. Had to come crawling back to cause trouble here.”

Genesis’ eyes flash as she rounds on him. “Did I ask for your opinion, Romero? No? Then shut it.”

The tension between them is palpable. Their relationship has always been a strange dance of antagonism and attraction, neither willing to admit to the latter.

I clear my throat, drawing their attention back to me. “Gino’s not just back. He’s making moves, big ones. He’s got Chicago backing him, and he’s not playing by the old rules anymore.”

Genesis’ expression turns serious. “How bad is it?”

I hesitate, the image of my burning car flashing through my mind again. “I don’t have proof, but I have a feeling Gino ordered the car bomb on my car. And I suspect he’s the one who set fire to Perfezione.”

Genesis’ face goes white. For a moment, we both remember the fire at her family’s florist shop, the night that scarred us both. Genesis’ family was targeted by the Timpone family, extorted for money, and when they couldn’t pay, Gino Timpone set the shop on fire. I ran in because I heard someone screaming for help.

Luckily, I was able to get Genesis out, and we’ve been friends ever since. She was a child and was never meant to be a target. The backlash threatened the Timpone Family, and they sent Gino away, never to come back to New York.

At least until Antoni Timpone died.

She swallows hard, her eyes meeting mine. “So, he’s back to finish what he started?”

“It looks that way,” Romero says quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his heels. “But this time, he’s not just a rogue operator. He’s the fucking head of the Timpone Family.”

Genesis bites her lip. “What does Gino want with Perfezione? The place is neutral territory. Everyone knows it.”

“The bastard wants protection money,” I spit out, still remembering Fee’s screams as I carried her out of the shop. “And I intend to make him pay for that.”

Genesis cocks her head to the side. “What does it matter to you?”

I hesitate, unsure how to explain my connection to Perfezione and Sofia. Genesis, ever perceptive, holds up a finger.

“Wait a minute,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “What exactly is your involvement with Perfezione? You’ve never mentioned it before.”

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. I ignore Romero’s knowing smirk. “It’s… complicated. The owner, Sofia, she’s…”

“Ah,” Genesis interrupts, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “I see. Sofia, huh? Tell me more about her.”

I shift uncomfortably. “She’s just someone I’m trying to help. Gino’s been causing trouble for her shop.”

Genesis’ smile widens. “Just someone you’re trying to help? Angelo, I’ve known you for years. I can tell when there’s more to the story.”

“It’s not like that,” I protest, but even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

“I think it’s great,” Genesis says, her tone softening. “You deserve someone in your life, Angelo.”

I shake my head, memories of past pain surfacing. “Love isn’t for me, Genesis. You know that. The people I care about… they always end up as targets. My father, you… I’m never where I need to be to stop tragedy before it happens.”

Genesis’ expression turns serious. “Angelo, you can’t keep punishing yourself for things that weren’t your fault.”

“Can’t I?” I mutter, more to myself than to her.

Genesis sighs, then abruptly changes the subject. “So, what’s the plan with Gino? I say we hunt him down now, deal with personal lives later.”

I shake my head firmly. “No, that would start a war between all the Families. We need to play this smart. Gino needs to go down, but for reasons not related to the Mob.”

A smirk plays on Genesis’ lips. “Revenge is always sweeter when it’s personal.” She sighs. “But you’re right, even if I’m the one to do it, it might still come off as a hit, given our history.”

“Exactly.” I nod. “We need to be careful, strategic. One wrong move, and everything could blow up in our faces.”

Genesis paces the room, her mind clearly working through possibilities. “What if we find some dirt on him? Something that would turn the other families against him?”

“It’s a start,” I concede. “But we’d need solid proof. And knowing Gino, he’s probably covered his tracks well.”

“Fucker,” Genesis murmurs.

“And don’t think you can counterfeit something,” I warn her, smirking at the annoyed look on Genesis’ face. “Oh, come on, G. You’re the best in the state. You know that wouldn’t work.”

Genesis opens her mouth to respond when my phone rings. It’s Sofia, and she’s nearly hysterical.

“Angelo, Lou is missing,” she says, panic in her voice. “I went to Perfezione to check, but I can’t get inside. Someone installed a new security system! Please, help me!”

Fucking fuck. I forgot to tell Sofia about the new security system I had installed.

“I’ll be right there,” I say before the line goes dead.

Genesis raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going?”

“Sofia needs help at Perfezione,” I say, already heading for the door.

Genesis’ grin widens, reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, I see. Sofia needs help,” she says, making exaggerated kissing noises.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Fuck off, Genesis.”

As I leave, I catch a glimpse of Genesis and Romero, their bickering already starting up again. One minute, they’re at each other’s throats, and the next, they’re working together seamlessly. Like that time when they argued over strategy for hours, only to come up with a brilliant plan that saved us all.

It’s like they thrive on conflict.

“Try not to kill each other while I’m gone,” I call over my shoulder.

“No promises,” Romero grumbles, while Genesis just smirks.

Shaking my head, I hurry to my car and speed toward Perfezione. As I pull up, I see Fee, nearly hysterical, pacing outside the shop, a tall, beautiful, black woman beside her trying to calm her down.

I take in the security measures I’ve had installed—reinforced locks, a state-of-the-art alarm system, and bullet-resistant glass in the windows. It’s top-of-the-line protection, but I realize now that I should have coordinated better with Fee.

“Fee!” I call out, getting out of the car and running toward her.

“Angelo,” she cries, throwing herself into my arms. “I can’t find Lou. Her school called and said she went missing, so I rushed here, and I can’t get inside, and?—”

“It’s okay,” I say, holding her tight as I feel her tremble in my arms. “I have the override codes. We’ll be able to get inside soon to take a look.”

The woman beside Sofia eyes me curiously. “So this is the famous Angelo,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Fee blushes slightly, even through her tears. “Oh, um, Angelo, this is my friend Shawn. Shawn, Angelo.”

I nod politely to Shawn, then turn back to Sofia. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

As I input the security code, I can feel Shawn’s eyes on me, assessing. I wonder what Fee’s told her about me.

The door clicks open, and Sofia sighs in relief before she’s shouldering open the door and rushing inside.

The inside of Perfezione still smells like smoke, and there’s water dripping everywhere. It could have been a lot worse.

Free’s voice cuts through the silence as she screams Lou’s name, rushing up the stairs toward the apartment. I follow close behind her, with Shawn right on my heels.

“Lou! Lou, where are you?” Fee’s voice is frantic, echoing off the walls.

My heart pounds in my chest. If Lou isn’t here, where the hell is she? My mind races through worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. We need to find Lou.

Fee reaches the apartment door first, fumbling with her keys, her hands shaking. I step in, gently taking the keys from her and unlocking the door. We burst into the apartment, our eyes scanning the room.

“Lou!” Fee screams again, her voice breaking.

Then we see her. Lou is huddled in the corner of the living room, looking exhausted and terrified. Her clothes are dirty, and her cheeks are streaked with tears. Relief floods through me, but it’s quickly replaced by concern.

What happened to her?