25. Alessandro

The ring box digs into the side of my leg from the inside of my pocket as I drive through Brooklyn. Somehow, I don't have it in me to take it back to Pop tonight. My mind races and I don't want to box it out. I need sleep.

I hate the pit forming in my stomach, the way I already miss Evelyn and only a few hours have passed. The brightness of the sun peeking through a sliver of my blackout curtains forces me to open my eyes. Every muscle in my body aches, pushing me to get out of bed and head downstairs to make some sort of recovery drink.

Dark roast coffee brewing makes me hope that Evelyn's in the kitchen, but I know she's not. She doesn't want to be here and I don't want her in danger. Instead, I'm looking at the back of Lorenzo's head as he moves around the kitchen. He doesn't appear to notice me as I get closer, but when I turn around, he has two mugs in his hands.

"About time you got up," he says, sliding the mug across the island countertop.

"What time is it?"

"Ten. Dimitri called too, said you weren't answering your phone. I was worried for a second there, but when I got here, you were passed out. At least you got some sleep."

"Fuck sleep. We need to figure out who keeps taking shots at me. Did Dimitri say anything?"

Lorenzo furrows his brow, scrunching his face together with confusion. "I know you just woke up, Less, but get it together. Of course not. He looked into what you asked him to look into. All he said was swing by Kings when you get a chance and he'll talk to you there."

"Fine, what about you? Find out anything?" I ask him.

"Yeah, actually. I've been looking into those businesses that were torched according to Oz." He pulls out his phone and shakes his head. "Busy Bee Beeper Services in Canarsie. The first shop on our list didn't burn down. I spoke to the guy who ran it, Jean-Paul. He was washing money for us. The IRS audited him, and his books weren't up to date."

"Shit. Who's doing our accounting?"

"Looked into that." He grins. "Some uptight accountant working out of Brooklyn, George Bullard. He was told to stop working on some of our businesses."

"Some of them?"

"He thought the Feds were working him. Said some guy in a suit came to him about a year ago and gave him a list of businesses to forget about because they'd fallen under federal indictments. He didn't hear anything from us and thought I'd shown up to kill him for cooperating."

"Did you kill him?"

"I recommended he give me the books of the businesses he stopped working on and take a long vacation. I don't know why he hung around."

Fatigue and downright sleepiness have me in a chokehold. I sip the coffee which is far stronger than Evelyn ever made. Black, no sugar, no cream, nothing.

"Probably because we'd find him. Or maybe he did run. When he realized we didn't even know he was missing, he went back to life as usual. No one wants to uproot themselves to go on the run from La Familia."

"Agreed. Anyway, Jean-Paul said the IRS slammed him with a tax fine that he had to pay out of his own pocket. It bankrupted him, so he closed up shop."

"He didn't call us?"

"Uh, yeah, said he left several messages for Oz and your father, but no one got back to him."

I groan. "That makes sense. Neither one of them wants to be seen in the one of the most gang-polluted neighborhoods in Brooklyn. What are we doing about it?"

"I got all the paperwork and took it to your guy."

"Michael?" I ask him to be sure. I only speak to my accountant about once a month. He's not in the life and doesn't ask questions about the money I make so long as he and the IRS get paid.

"Yeah, he told me to bring him the rest of the businesses that failed. He wants to double check to make sure no errors were made."

"I think we should hold off on that until I can speak to him. He needs to get a deeper understanding. I want him to clean our money, not clear his conscience with the Feds. What about the other businesses?"

Lorenzo scrolls through his phone. "Two others went down the same way. The owners feel like we deserted them when they were doing us a favor by washing money. On Rossi's side, only two of their businesses went down. One was an actual fire, but it was a hookah shop that their consigliere, Peter, backed as a sure thing. The only thing sure about the smoke shop was it going up in flames."

"Suspicious? Insurance fraud or what?"

"No, an actual fucking fire. They've had several citations from Fire about code violations, and what do you know? Those codes are actually good for something. Turns out it really is a fire hazard. The other business said a guy came in demanding money for protection, claiming to be from Montegna's organization."

"Claiming?"

"Yeah, claiming because the owner was a plant by Don Montegna in the Rossi vineyard. It's a florist not too far from here. He laughed the guy out of the shop because according to the shop owner, he was in the perfect location. The perfect setup."

"How'd he figure that?" I ask.

"Montegna paid him to keep an eye on real estate in the area that might go up for sale. You live in the neighborhood. It was unlikely anyone would harass him in this area, so his shop was safe. Washing money for the Rossi family practically guaranteed him protection from all sides of La Familia. He's operating fine."

"Funny that all of these shops going under are coincidences being brought to my attention at the same time. Do we have the soldier who told Oz about the shops being torched by Montegna?"

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow. "Sorry, Less. We don't. No one knows where he got off to. Oh, and one of the Rossi capos said you should know that some hitman, Gramercy, has you fitted for a toe tag. I have to look into it more because the guy sounds like a bedtime story where the boogeyman comes to town, kills a bunch of people, and vanishes into thin air. No code, no rules with this guy. No one's off-limits."

The pieces are coming together, but something's still missing. After downing my coffee, I spend the next few hours scrubbing down my kitchen. I made Evelyn leave in such a hurry, the place is a mess, and I'm not going to ask Lorenzo to clean up after me.

My heart aches every time that smiles flashes at me from a memory I never want to lose. She doesn't belong here, not with me and the darkness that erupts from those corners of my mind. I can't protect her from the likes of human scum who did what they did to me if I'm too focused on her losing herself to be with me. I never want my depravity to taint her.

I have to stay busy so I don't haul her back here, into my bed where I need her. She doesn't want to be with me, anyway. A part of me feels the lie in those words, a misunderstanding I may have purposely misunderstood because it's easier to let her go than to let her stay and love the monster I truly am.

Three days pass with me looking into the books and businesses that were the catalyst to my heartbreak. The reason this treaty was forced on Evelyn and me was because we were under attack. We both fell in love for loyalty.

No. I fell, and she wants nothing to do with me.

Kings is quiet when I finally arrive around four in the afternoon. Aromas of food being grilled over open flames tell me they're prepping for the dinnertime rush. In just a few hours, the kitchen closes, and the dungeon opens.

Dimitri doesn't waste time with his typical theatrics, bringing me straight into a VIP room for the restaurant.

"What have you found, Dimitri?"

"Firearms, Less. Friend of mine says that the De Luca organization is moving into weapons and stepping on a lot of people's toes to get shit done. Since your old man hasn't been seen over the past few months, shit rolls downhill. You're the underboss."

"My father is still the Don, and he'd never agree to running guns unless we had a plan that minimized our risks. We're not going to war to sell bullets and gear."

Dimitri laughs heartily. "Less, you're like a brother to me, but the Bratva? There's no war when it comes to them. It's a massacre. No one lives. Shit, I might not get away with even being linked to you. They're giving some leniency because nothing's been done, officially."

"But if a sale is made?"

"Everybody dies." Dimitri sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

"You seem awfully calm about that."

"Why get upset over something you have no control over? I'd hate to lose you as my friend, or my life, but if you don't know your Family's stepping into business ventures without you, maybe it's time you take a hard look at the people close to you."

He's right. After thanking him, I head out of the bar when I see a familiar face clasping a pink drink in a martini glass. Dr. Kathleen Bireli is sitting alone.

"Macallan, double, neat," I call to the bartender.

"Ah, Dro-seph, how goes it?" she asks with a lazy giggle. Her normally curly blonde hair is bone straight, falling to her waist, and I can see the eyes of every man in the room locking onto us. Well, her since she's wrapped in latex under a light trench coat.

"You haven't called me that in ages, Kathleen. How are you?" The name comes from a time where she never knew it, but I was Italian and connected. My name had to be Joseph, according to her. Not one to ever be told what to do, she decided on Dro-seph until we got older, and I refused to answer to the moniker.

"I'd be better if you took a few steps back. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea here."

The bartender places my drink in front of me that I sip leisurely, turning my back to the bar so I can face the room. "Two peas in a fucked up pod?"

"Yep."

"What the fuck? Why would you say that to Evelyn?"

"Mrs. De Luca? Am I wrong? You found me at a strip joint in the Bronx getting my face bashed in by my old man who happened to be on your slice and dice list. She thought we… we… she thought we were fucking! Eww."

I grunt. "You don't have to be so disgusted by the thought. Still, Evelyn and I were very new in our relationship."

"Clearly. That doesn't mean she gets to come into my office that I worked damned hard to get?—"

"Let's not exaggerate the truth. You were sixteen when I pulled you out of that place. After I turned that pedo, Tony, into fish food, you got enough money out of his safe to go to med school and open that practice."

"Don't forget the trauma therapy, oh, and the lifestyle that helps ease the tension. Listen, I'm sorry if I caused a little tiff between you guys. I didn't mean it. Call it envy. For a long time, I've been the only woman in your life you'd let close to you. It's like owning a piece of something everyone wants, but less than a handful of people on this planet have access to something so special. Hearing Mrs. De Luca just rubbed me wrong."

"Don't worry about it, I won't be rubbed wrong or right by Mrs. De Luca ever again."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Alessandro. It wasn't anything I said, right?"

"No, only I can run people who love me out of my life."

She chuckles and nods. "Yeah, but only the people who love you let you catch up to them. Don't let her go if you love her. If she cares about you."

"She wants a divorce."

"Did she tell you that? Have papers drawn up? Divide the assets?"

"No. Not yet."

"Always the sunshine looking for the dark cloud. I've never known you to accept anything less. Go get your wife, man. Weddings are easy. It's the marriage that takes work. Now that I've given you a dose of reality to treat the scars uglying up your love life, go away. I'm trying to ram these stilettos down someone's throat tonight, and you're scaring away all my potential subs."

"Yes, Mistress." I bow my head to her with a joking smile, down my drink, and head home.

Every room smells of Evelyn, the faintest scent of something sweet with a hint of lavender. I open the door to my office where it still smells of Scotch and leatherbound books, inhaling deeply to erase the pain of missing her. I linger in the room until the sound of someone moving around upstairs jars me out of my trance.

Lorenzo is out running down leads on the info Dimitri gave me. I go to my desk and open the top drawer where a gun and a knife stare at me. If they want to do something as personal as break into my house, they're going to get the personal touch of death from the butcher himself.

I take the stairs two at a time, making sure to stay on my toes to muffle the sound of me charging toward my intruder. The noise is coming from Evelyn's room, causing me to circle into mine. Creeping through the bathroom, the door to her closet is open, and I make my way through, coming up behind them with my knife to their throat.