Chapter 30

30

Zara

A fter the most humiliating night of my life, I was up and showered, listening outside the door to Oriana’s room at six a.m. Of course, she wasn’t up that early, but I wanted to be prepared to spend every waking minute with her today. I’m going to focus on getting to know my daughter and not think about my husband who cruelly kicked me out of his bed last night. After waiting so long for something so amazing, the prick told me that he just wanted to fuck me at least once before I left.

Creed didn’t even ask me how I felt about leaving the city, possibly the country, or offer to figure out another solution with me. No, he made it clear I’ll be getting on a ship any second now whether I like it or not. He’s pushing me away, and I don’t know why.

Because he fears what Emilio will do to me? That he will try to find Oriana? I don’t want that man to ever get his hands on me or Oriana again either, but there has to be some way to keep her safe other than giving up the only man I’ve ever wanted. The only man I’ve ever loved.

I told him I loved him last night. I thought Creed loved me, too, and that he was finally starting to trust me when we were together last night. But he didn’t say the words back.

Now…well, I don’t know anything, including what this means for our so-called marriage. Will he mail me divorce papers once I’m shipped off to wherever he decides is best?

And speaking of leaving, has Creed even considered making arrangements for Paige and Bethany to come with me and Oriana?

While I think I’d be fine with her on my own, I know she’d probably like having some familiar faces with us until we get better acquainted. And getting them out of Creed’s hair, away from where they could tell Emilio who took Oriana, is best for the don too.

I still don’t have a phone, since Creed apparently doesn’t trust me even after everything we’ve been through, so I approach the guards at the front door.

“Could you please tell your boss that I would like for Oriana’s nannies to come with us if that’s at all possible?”

The two men stare at each other before the one on the left tells the other, “Do it. Boss said to give her anything she wants.”

“Creed told you to give me anything I want?”

“That’s right. Screw it. I’ll just text him myself,” he says as pulls out his device and begins punching in the message.

“Thank you so much. You hopefully won’t have to put up with me much longer.”

“That’s not a good thing,” he says when I turn to leave to go back and listen at Oriana’s bedroom door.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re gone, the boss isn’t going to be happy. And when the boss isn’t happy, shit goes sideways. ”

“I’m sure Creed Ferraro will be just fine without me.”

“Oh yeah? Well, someone wants him dead, and yet, he still refuses to take bodyguards with him.”

“Shut your mouth, Matteo,” the first guard warns.

But now I’m curious. “What do you mean, Creed doesn’t take any bodyguards with him? Isn’t someone with him now?”

“Aldo is his driver. He makes him stay in the car. Tristan wanted to go with him today and he caved. The only time the boss has asked for help was last night with the...you know, nabbing.”

“Why doesn’t he want anyone watching his back?”

“Because he doesn’t want anyone else to die or go to prison because of him.”

My heart sinks into my stomach. “Because of Carmine?”

“That’s right. Boss thinks it was some sort of mistake that his brother took bullets, and he didn’t. But we all work for him because he deserves our loyalty. Carmine wouldn’t have blamed his brother for a second. Any of us would gladly take a bullet for him because Creed takes care of our families, even if we’re not around. He helped my grandma get into this crazy expensive nursing home when we couldn’t leave her alone anymore or afford a nurse to stay with her. And Maurice here, the boss paid for his father-in-law’s chemo and surgery. He’s been in remission for what, five or six years now?”

“He just had his cancer free scan for the fifth year.”

“That’s...wow, very sweet of him.”

Creed doesn’t just pay his employees’ wages; he takes care of everyone in Manhattan who needs it. Or at least he tries to. Even if it might get him in trouble.

“One of our men went to prison for killing the guy who touched his little boy. And you know what Creed did?”

“What?”

“First, he bitched him out for not coming to him to help kill the son of a bitch, and then” — the guard leans closer and whispers — “he actually helped him escape, so he could be with his family.”

“That’s...amazing.” I can’t say I’m surprised. Creed is a good man, even if he can’t see that himself.

“The boss can make anything happen. That’s why he’s the capo dei capi.”

“Right. King of kings.”

I assumed Creed Ferraro ruled over the other families with fear before we met, but now I know that’s only a small part of it. He rules because he’s earned it through the respect of all the people he helps, doing what’s right even when it may be legally wrong. He loves and protects those loyal to him and would do anything for them.

Creed

“So, what information did you and Dre get out of the guards last night?” I ask Tristan as we sit in morning traffic. He’s in the back while Aldo drives and I ride in the passenger seat. Since this wasn’t a conversation that I trusted to have by phone, I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

Besides, it’s best not to show up alone when meeting with the other bosses.

“The four we picked up are all bachelors who live there in the apartment to watch the kid for Emilio day and night with the nannies. The boss visits several times a week, almost always on Fridays with the same four men — the ones who were searching everyone at his house. Izaiah would visit maybe once every few weeks with his father on Friday nights, but never on his own. They also said that other than Izaiah, his family doesn’t know about the kid. Or if they do, they’ve never been to visit. The guards were surprised and thought we were lying when we told them Emilio was the girl’s father.”

“Good.” If nobody knows, then once Emilio is dead, nobody will be trying to track down Oriana and take custody from Zara. “Did they give up any information about the club raid?”

“No. They were with the kid and swear they didn’t know anything about it.”

“Tell Dre to get rid of them tonight after you question them again for anything else they know about Emilio’s entourage and schedule.”

“Will do. So, where exactly are we going?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Gideon,” I tell him just as a text comes in from Matteo, who is standing guard at the penthouse. Zara asked if the nannies could go with her, which makes sense.

“Gideon Marino?” Tristan asks.

“Do you know any other Gideons?”

“No, but why are you meeting with him? The Marinos aren’t as seedy as the Sannas, but they’re not exactly trustworthy by any means.”

“The Marinos run the majority of the exporting out of New York. Either they pay for the cargo ships or know who does. I need a favor from them.”

“What favor?”

“Putting Zara and her daughter on one of his boats along with a few of our men to make sure there’s no trouble getting them somewhere far away.”

“You sound so excited by the idea.”

“I don’t have any other choice. At least this way Zara gets to live her life. I’m sure Dre will celebrate when she’s gone.”

“You know, he’s just a grumpy bastard who is trying to protect you from yourself. He’s not wrong in this case, either. The woman is not only a liability, but she also had a hand in Carmine’s death.”

“I know. I just wish Dre could understand there’s more to her than that one mistake. He probably wishes I would go with her.”

“What the hell? Why would you say that?”

“Dre is next in line,” I mutter aloud before I can stop the words from leaving my mouth. The thought of going with Zara and Oriana has crossed my mind. Leaving the country would also be one way to avoid prison…

Tristan is silent for several long seconds. “You can’t be serious.”

“He’s my second, the underboss to our entire family now.”

“I meant about you leaving! And I’m your third. Do you think I‘d ever want you and Dre out of the way?”

“No. But he’s not wrong. I’ve been making bad decisions, ones that put our family in jeopardy.”

“Just because he’s pointing out problems doesn’t mean he’s about to try and push you out.”

“So, you don’t think he could’ve had anything to do with the raid?”

“What? No.” Tristan shakes his head. “Absolutely not. That was all on the Rovinas, right?”

“I only have proof Izaiah was involved, not Emilio. Izaiah had to have been working with someone. That someone could be anyone.”

“You probably should’ve asked Izaiah before you killed him.”

“Right, like I could’ve strung Izaiah up by his ankles and asked him about what he and his father or whoever else have been up to, and he would’ve just confessed.”

“He might have. What if we string Emilio up by his ankles and see if he confesses to anything?”

“Our alliance with Emilio is hanging by a thread, one that Dre is going to sever if he doesn’t hurry up and convince Stella to marry him. We need that wedding to happen while we bide our time until we can take out Emilio.”

“You don’t actually think Dre is dragging his feet to hurt you, do you?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s only been a few weeks since you told him he had to marry her. And I know for a fact Dre wants Stella so bad, he would crawl across Manhattan in the nude, on his hands and knees, for a taste of her.”

“What?” I ask, since nothing he just said makes any damn sense.

“You really didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I thought that was why you pushed him toward Stella. It’s why I intentionally tried to rile him up by acting like I wanted to hit it.”

“You were messing with him just to get him to agree to the marriage?”

“Trust me. He doesn’t want Stella to marry anyone else. He lost his fucking mind when he thought I might swoop in and agree to the wedding. I was sure he was going to blow my brains out.”

“Because you joked about fucking her?”

“Yes! He wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s been trying to hit that for years now..”

Twisting around to look at him, I ask, “Stella has turned him down for years?”

“Repeatedly.”

“Wow. How did I not know this?” I face forward again.

“Because you’re too busy, sitting around and thinking the worst about people instead of actually getting the details. Dre is a good soldier. He wants to keep you alive, make you proud, and fuck Stella Rovina’s brains out.”

“He never told me.” Is that why he was so pissed at me for killing Izaiah? He’s afraid it’ll fuck him over with Stella if she finds out?

“Do you go around telling everyone about the women who reject you?”

“If I did, it would be a long list. Zara was the first in a long time to let me touch her. Even if I was just a gratitude fuck.”

“A what fuck?”

“Zara was happy and excited after I got her daughter back, so fucking me last night was her way of thanking me. It was our first time, only time...”

“You don’t think your wife is hot for you?”

“Zara is used to doing men she doesn’t really want to get what she needs.”

“I’m gonna have to call bullshit.”

“You can call whatever you fucking want,” I tell him while staring out the window. Now, I’m seeing the entire city in black and white like Zara’s photos. It’s all…colorless without her.

“Zara reminds me of the heart-eyed emoji whenever I see her looking at you. She’s head over heels in love with you. But is she wrong to have held off because you forced her to marry you and threatened to kill her? Now, you’re shipping her off to who the hell knows where, right? Why start something you can’t finish?”

“I tried not to give in, but last night…I couldn’t refuse her.”

“For the first time, right?”

“Yes.”

“And? How was it?”

“I’m not giving you details and shit,” I warn him. “But it was...better than I imagined it would be. The best I’ve ever had.”

“So that’s why you’re so pissy today. Last night you got the best fuck of your life, and today you’re arranging for her to leave, talking crazy shit about Dre having it out for you.”

“My head hasn’t been right since the raid,” I confess.

“No shit, boss. Everyone knows that. It rattled us all to lose Carmine and Jasper and not have anyone to take our grief out on. At least, none that we knew of…”

“I don’t know who I can trust anymore, and it’s driving me insane.” It’s not like I’ve ever been all that trusting, but at least we’ve had peace for the past decade, only a few minor scuffles with the other families. The raid was an assassination attempt to replace me at the head of the table. I know it, and it wasn’t just Izaiah behind it…

“Honestly, boss, I think it could be anyone.”

I turn around to glare at him, and he quickly adds, “Anyone in one of the other families. That shit didn’t come from ours. Emilio was probably in on it with Izaiah. I could see Bertelli, Marino, or Sanna coming for you like that.”

“It wasn’t Bertelli,” I declare.

“Why do you say that? Weston craves power. He built an empire on having the ability to murder anyone, anytime, to keep everyone scared of him.”

“He’s too old, and he’s not going to let his shithead son, Bowen, lead all the families. He’s smarter than that. And Serafina isn’t his biological daughter. She doesn’t have any Italian in her blood either. He knows she would never be accepted at the top of the food chain, not to mention she’s a woman, and Italians are sexist assholes. If it’d been Weston, he wouldn’t have missed taking me out.”

“Okay, those are good points. It wasn’t the Bertellis. Who else have you eliminated?”

“The Marinos, obviously. Do you think I would ask Gideon for this huge of a favor if I thought he wanted me dead?”

“Why can’t it be the Marinos?”

“Because the only potential leaders in their family besides Gideon is Gia, who is probably going to marry one of the Sanna boys. They were chatting it up at Emilio’s dinner. Then there’s the younger brother, Zaven, who is less serious than even you are about running things. Gideon wouldn’t make that big of a play when he knows he’s barely holding on to his own house.”

“Fine. So, it wasn’t the Marinos either. That just leaves Sanna, who hates Emilio Rovina, so I doubt they would work together to take you out. Hell, who knows? Maybe Aiden Sanna and Emilio Rovina only pretend to hate each other and were in on the attack together. Team ASER.”

“Aser?”

“Aiden Sanna and Emilio Rovina.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. “But it’s possible, I guess. I don’t fucking know anything anymore, and it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“That’s all that’s driving you insane?” Tristan chuckles.

“Zara will be gone in a few days, and it’ll be like she was never here,” I assure him, wishing I believed that lie myself.

Gideon Marino was only twenty-five-years-old when he took over the family business after his father died. He’s handled himself well enough these last five years, expanding their shipping business all over the world. The Marinos can get you anything from anywhere and can send anything wherever you want it to go.

“Gideon, thanks for meeting with me,” I say as I approach him and his crew just inside the harbor warehouse. I hold out my hand for him to shake.

“No problem, it sounded urgent, and I felt bad for not checking in on you after the funeral.”

“You were low on my suspect list.”

“Good to know,” he says. Pushing up the sleeves of his button down, he reveals the tattoo of a sea serpent that takes up his entire forearm. I swear this family thinks they’re a bunch of pirates. Every made man in their crew is required to get the ink on a visible part of the body. To not openly show off the sea serpent is a sign of disrespect to their family, like they’re ashamed of their association with one of the largest importers in the world. Legal and not so legal drugs.

“So, what’s up?”

“I need a favor from you.”

“How big?”

“I need three women and a child out of the country, and as many of my guards as you can cram into a boat to accompany them on the voyage.”

“Do you have a particular destination in mind for this large group of individuals?”

“No. Just the further away, the better.”

“Will the women and child have papers?”

“I’m working on that. I’m hoping to have the documents by morning.”

He nods. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve got some cargo headed to Lisbon tomorrow. It’s one of the…shorter destinations.”

Portugal would be a great place for Zara, and the shorter the trip, the better. Fuck. The country feels a million miles away from New York, though. I know a flight would be easier and faster, but that requires more documentation and is easier to track.

“Deal. Name your price. How many guards can you take to escort them?”

Rubbing his chin, he says, “I’ll have to look at the manifest, but three or four should be fine. Is that going to be enough protection?”

“Do you think it’s enough protection for three women and a child on a cargo ship?”

“I think your women and kid would be fine without any, but that’s your call.”

“None of them are mine,” I lie. Since Zara is leaving, there’s no reason for anyone to ever know we’re married.

“If you say so. ”

“And I need them to not be seen by anyone while boarding, if you can help it.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “How deep in shit is this going to get me if it blows up in my face?”

“Here’s all you need to know, the honest to god truth — she’s a good woman, a good mother, who had her daughter taken away when she was a day old. Now that she’s got her back after waiting for three years, she shouldn’t have to deal with anyone else fucking with them. The other two women are twenty-something nannies.”

“Okay. Well, make sure they all have docs because once they leave the boat, they’re on their own. And it’ll cost you a million a head plus a future favor.”

“That won’t be a problem,” I agree. I was expecting at least five million a head and was willing to pay it. The favor I would’ve done for him for free.

I hold out my hand again, and Gideon shakes it with his right. The sea serpent looks like it’s moving underneath the muscles.

“Since you don’t want any of my crew to see them, how about I have them picked up at your building two hours before departure?”

“That will work.”

“Send them down with my fee and luggage at four p.m. tomorrow.”

“They’ll be ready and waiting,” I assure him. “I appreciate this, Gideon.”

Tristan thankfully doesn’t speak until we’re back in the SUV. “So that went well. Now where to?”

“We’re going to go see Bertelli.”

“Great. Why are we paying that ancient asshole a visit?”

“Because he’s going to get the travel documents Zara will need.”

Tristan whistles. “Damn, boss. This is turning out to be one expensive bitch. I mean the favors alone — ”

Surging up between the seats, I grab his neck and squeeze before he can finish his sentence. “What did you call my wife?”

“Sorry,” he wheezes out.

“You won’t speak a negative word about Zara again, will you?”

“No sir, boss.”

“Good. Now let’s go to the Bronx,” I tell Aldo.

Weston Bertelli runs a hit man for hire organization across the world. Anywhere Marino can ship to, Bertelli will hire someone to kill for you, if the price is right.

His services are not cheap. His reputation is of the utmost respect. After all, who would dare disrespect a man with over two dozen snipers on his payroll? Nobody who wants to live a long life. We only have one long-range sharpshooter in our entire family.

“Weston, Bowen,” I say when the two men finally come out to the lobby. Their Concourse Plaza office in the Bronx serves as the front for their business dealings.

I didn’t know Bowen would be a part of the meeting, and it’s too rude to ask him to sit it out. If his old man trusts him, then I guess I’ll have to trust him too.

“Creed, Tristan. How have you been?” Weston asks, his voice scratchy from a lifetime of smoking. “Well, other than the near-death experience a few weeks back?” His chuckle sounds like a rake scraping over gravel.

“You know, if I were dead, I would have pinned the raid on you, old man.”

He chuckles again and gestures toward his office. “Come. Sit. Have a drink. Because of course it wasn’t me or my people. We don’t fucking miss.”

Inside the spacious office overlooking his territory, Weston has his secretary pour us all a scotch, and then we settle into the sitting area as if this is all an informal little get together.

“Have you found out who killed your brother and was trying to kill you?” he asks, getting straight to the point. That’s one of the things I always liked about him. The old man doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s a straight shooter, which is rare in this city where everyone wants to dance around shit to see what they can get out of you before doing actual business.

“I have a few suspicions, but nothing more just yet,” I admit to him. “Have any of your people heard anything?” I ask, since not all his assassins are men. His adopted daughter is just one of the many women who kill men for a living. That’s why he’s so good at taking out the target. Men are usually stupid when it comes to women, underestimating them to their own detriment.

“Not a peep,” Weston replies. “The culprit didn’t use a professional, obviously. Why would they think the cops could get anything done right around here?”

If I have a handful of men in the station on my payroll, then Weston has probably no less than fifty. He has to pay law enforcement well if he wants to keep his business lucrative and not end up in prison.

“No gossip from the NYPD either?” I ask in surprise.

“No. My guys and gals had no idea that you and your crew would even be in the club that night. They were told it was a drug bust set up by a confidential informant.”

“Well, that was obviously a lie. And the two cops who led the men into the club put a bullet through their own heads.”

“Did they?” Weston asks. “Or did someone want to make it look like suicides?”

“Either way, they’re not going to be talking,” I remark, since I don’t see why it matters.

“Right,” he agrees. “So, what is this business deal you need from me? ”

“I need the best identification, documents, and passports that money can buy, and I need it today or tomorrow at four at the latest.”

Since Weston’s employees need to get in and out of countries regularly without being noticed, he has one hell of a forgery team creating documents. I’ve heard he even has plastic surgeons and all sorts of makeup and costume artists as well to change the looks of hit men and women as needed.

“How many individuals are traveling on such short notice?”

“Three women and a child.”

“Do you have their photos?”

“Yes.” I asked the guards to get the photos after Zara requested the nannies accompany them, and they didn’t let me down.

“I can try and ask my... representative at the State Department to expedite your request, but it’s going to cost you.”

I have no clue if he actually has someone working for him in the State Department, or if he’s just saying that to cover his ass. Either way, I don’t care as long as he gets it done.

“Name your price.”

“Twenty million that Andre is going to invest and turn into fifty million.”

“I can’t make any promises about investments,” I admit. “But I can make you as much money as possible.”

“Why not just make him pay it now?” the son, Bowen, asks.

His father raises an eyebrow in his direction in warning making me assume that he’s supposed to be seen but not heard in this conversation.

“I apologize,” Weston says. “Bowen has a thing or two to learn about how to clean money and make it multiply.”

“Right.” While twenty million in his hand right now might be nice, he needs the cash to be laundered through legit means like investing.

“Do we have a deal? ”

“Do you have any sort of time limit for when you want to make this fifty million?”

“Let’s say a year?”

“A year,” I agree. That should give Dre plenty of time to invest and get great returns on Weston’s money. He can get it all set up, hopefully, before our prison sentences begin.

As I get to my feet, I offer the old man a handshake, but not his idiot son.

“I’ll have the documents hand-delivered by four p.m. tomorrow. Not a minute later.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“Of course,” Weston says. “And if you find out who is behind the failed attack on you, I hope you’ll share their name with me. I don’t want to be in bed with amateurs.”

I nod my head in agreement, and then Tristan and I are shown out of the office. On the elevator, Tristan opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head in warning. God knows Weston has video and audio recorded in these elevators.

Once we’re back on the ground and enclosed inside the SUV, Tristan asks, “Did Bertelli just offer to off whoever came after us?”

“Yes. At least, that’s how I interpreted his comment.”

“Even if it’s one of the other families?”

“I’m sure he’s considered that possibility. He’s obviously offended that someone’s assassination attempt in his city failed. He doesn’t want anyone thinking it was him. Weston would rather be the one who took down the fucker responsible to send a message than to let his reputation take a hit.”

“Even if it starts a war?”

“Respect is more important to some men like Weston Bertelli than bloodshed. He would go to war with one of the other families just to prove he’s still good at what he does, what he promises his high-paying clients all over the world.”

“Good thing he’s on our side,” Tristan mutters .

“Do you see why I didn’t suspect him? Now, his son, on the other hand, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him off the top of a flight of stairs.”

“You think Bowen is shady?”

“I think Weston may need to skip over him in the line of succession unless he wants his entire empire to be spent on whatever pops up in that idiot’s mind. He’s too impulsive.”

“Says the guy who killed another man for a woman he didn’t even know.”

“Zara and I had met, briefly,” I correct him. “And that may have been impulsive on my part, but it was still the right thing to do. I don’t regret it.”

Tristan sighs heavily. “And I thought love at first sight was a bullshit myth.”

“I didn’t fall in love with Zara the second I saw her,” I assure him. “It took a few days.”

“Right. How many seconds did it take for you to put those bullets in Izaiah?”

Unable to help my grin, since he’s not entirely wrong. “I waited almost five minutes before interfering.”

“So, roughly three-hundred seconds? Excuse the fuck out of me.”

“You and Dre have both been a little too...opinionated since I brought Zara home.”

“Since you killed a man, an ally’s son, without planning it all out or asking for our help, and then kidnapped and married a random witness, one who fucked us all and could take us down with you? Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Smartass. One of these days, I bet you’ll fall in love with someone who you would kill for without knowing her name too. Here’s hoping the kill shot won’t actually be necessary in the same five minutes you’re alone with her.”