8. Dino

8

DINO

" C hin up."

Funerals were a somber affair. I'd attended my fair share over the years, always making sure that my presence was noticed or felt. As an extension of Rocco, it was part of my job to make sure he was viewed in the best light, and that included turning up to the funeral of every single man we'd lost over the past seven years. Some were from the war when blood ran in the streets and the Adamis carried a death sentence. Others were for more personal feuds between families so small that we wouldn't step in unless it was becoming dangerous. Lately, the funerals were because of old age and even one construction accident.

Until now.

Until Aldo Adami was gunned down at a restaurant like he was nothing more than a hunk of meat hung out to dry on the sidewalk. I'd been by Rocco's side ever since he received the news, and he'd put on a brave face.

Until now .

"Sorted?" Rocco asked, his gaze still upward while I finished securing his tie.

"It's perfect." We'd been friends since we were waist height, and I could read Rocco like a book. He was barely hanging on, and the calm look on his face was nothing more than a carefully crafted mask to remain strong for his mother.

"Isn't perfect a fucked up word to use?" Rocco dropped his head and stepped away from me to check himself in the mirror. "We're at a fucking funeral."

"What do you want me to say?" I lifted one brow. "You look the part? You look like the Don? Or do you want me to be honest?"

Rocco straightened up and eyed me over his shoulder. "Honest?"

"You look like you're coming apart at the seams, and if Vito sees you looking like this, he'll sweep in and take power before you can say Hail Mary."

"He can try." A flash of anger passed over Rocco's face. "I'll fucking?—"

Rocco caught himself and lightly adjusted his tie in the mirror.

"You'll what?"

"Nothing."

I moved closer. "Bullshit. Get it out now so you don't explode at the wrong person out there."

Outside, behind the black door that gave us a moment of privacy, the church was filling with Mafia members, family members, and even a few townsfolk who were coming to pay their respects to Aldo. As soon as Rocco stepped through that door, he wouldn't be allowed to show anything he was feeling, and I could already tell that he was ready to burst.

"I'll… fuck." Rocco slammed his hand down on the dresser, causing all the bottles and items to jump. "I'll kill him. Or I won't. But I feel like I sh ould. I'm so… so fucking angry. Every little thing makes me want to yell or throw things. I don't want to bury my dad. I won't want to play this right." Slowly, he turned to me and his eyes shone. "I want to go out there and kill every single fucking Russian and Irish I can get my hands on until someone confesses. And then I want to keep going until it doesn't h–hurt anymore."

In half a second, Rocco crumbled. I surged forward and caught him as he sagged, sliding my hand around the nape of his neck. I pulled him into a tight hug, and he stood there, weeping silently.

"I want to kill everyone for daring to come after my family, for ruining the people we worked for. He gave his entire life for this bullshit, he took my life, and now…"

"I know," I hushed him softly, fighting the warm sting behind my own eyes at hearing him in so much pain. "I know. We'll find the fucker. We will, and you'll get your revenge. But you need to focus on one thing."

"And what's that?" Rocco lifted his head just enough so I could press our foreheads together and look him directly in the eye.

"We're not going to act rashly. The fucker who did this wants a war, and we're not going to let them play us like that, are we?"

"No," Rocco replied brokenly after a few seconds of thought.

"We're going to be smart about this, and then we'll make a sweet fucking example of the fucker who did this, won't we?"

"Yeah…" Rocco nodded, sniffling. His eyes closed, and we stayed like that for a long few minutes. I didn't let him go until I was certain he had gathered himself together.

"Vito is convinced it was the Russians," Rocco said, finally stepping back and returning to the mirror.

"Why?" I asked, brushing Rocco's shoulder. "He find something? "

"Nah, but there's been a few territorial disputes lately. He reckons someone got too big for their boots."

I snorted. "This is a bit more than that. Well, after today, I'll look into it. The Irish Captain sent a basket to your mother, by the way."

"A basket?"

"Yeah, fruit and shit. Wine. Some sort of sympathy thing. All the Russians sent was a letter saying that peace will remain as long as you don't do anything irrational."

"Me?" Rocco met my gaze in the mirror as he wiped his eyes. "I might kill the fucking Pakhan for saying that."

"Let's not talk about murdering any Family Heads until this is over, alright?" I puffed out my cheeks. "One funeral at a time, please."

"You think I'd lose?" Rocco turned back to me, his mask slowly slipping back into place.

"I think you're like a firework. One spark at the wrong time and…" I imitated the boom with my hands. Thankfully, Rocco snorted.

"The only spark I'm interested in is Mae. I saw her, y'know."

"When?" My interest was immediately piqued, and not just because talking about her would be a decent distraction to calm Rocco down.

"Yesterday. She was here, in the graveyard."

"What?" I frowned. "Why?"

"Her dad died. A few years ago. Carjacking."

"Shit. I had no idea."

"Me neither. I called her Mary and she looked ready to stab me. She definitely goes by Mae now."

"Fuck. The one that got away. From both of us. "

"Mmhmm." Rocco leaned back against the dresser. "You know, when I saw her, all I wanted to do was curl up in her lap and cry like a little kid. I looked at her, and I knew she understood how I was feeling. She was close to me, and I just… I couldn't say what I wanted to say. I gave her some shitty apology, then I invited her to the funeral."

Rocco's head dropped forward while I laughed. "Wait, are you for real? Hi, Mae, I'm still in love with you. By the way, come to my dad's funeral?"

"Basically." Rocco snorted. "I could feel him rolling in his grave. He took us away all those years ago to keep us away from distraction, and then she just dropped back into my lap like that."

"Fuck. Well, you know you can't do anything."

"What do you mean?" Rocco frowned deeply. "The fuck I can't."

"Rocco, remember what Jian said. She's got a kid. She's got a life, and she for sure doesn't need you or me chasing her up again because of some old crush."

"I know," Rocco snapped. "Don't you think I know that? I was angry at Dad for so long for taking us away because of that stupid war. All hands on deck because people were dying, and all I could think about was her. I never thought I would see her again, and now…" Rocco sighed. "Now some other fucker has her, and I bet he has no clue how fucking special she is."

"Special enough that you invited her to a Mafia funeral?" I snorted. "Most people ask their exes for coffee."

"I wasn't thinking. Besides, she won't come. If she did, she'd blend in with the rest of the town, but I dunno. She didn't look happy to see me."

"Can you blame her?" Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and a voice carried through, informing us that we had ten minutes until the ceremony. Mae might be a distant dream, but she was a nice enough distraction that Rocco successfully had a lid on everything once more.

The brokenhearted son was back under lock and key, and the new Don was ready to put our fallen leader to peace.

"You ready?" I handed Rocco his black suit jacket and slowly helped him into it.

"Yeah. Just… keep an eye on Mama."

"I got you."

To my surprise, Mae turned up. I spotted her near the back as I stood by Rocco's side for the entirety of his speech. She was a beacon amid a sea of faces that all blurred into one meaningless, sorrow-filled ocean. I knew the moment Rocco spotted her because his entire demeanor shifted. He became slightly softer while his speech grew stronger, and whatever he saw when he looked at her gave him the strength to make it to the end while his poor mother wailed in the front row.

When Rocco and I returned to our seats and he drew his mother into his arms, I turned to the comms and contacted Jian, who was providing overwatch for the service with another team.

"How is he?" Jian asked quietly in my ear.

"One wrong move away from starting a war," I replied softly. "But he's holding it together. I thought I was going to lose him halfway through the speech, but Mae is here."

"What?"

"She's here. At the back. Rocco invited her after bumping into her yesterday. He saw her, and he made it through that speech without a disaster."

"Fuck. I'm kinda jealous she's there with you and I'm stuck up here."

"You're like a little sniper squirrel. "

"Fuck you." Jian snorted. "It's clear, though, so whenever you're ready to move, let me know."

"Will do."

We sat through a couple more speeches from close friends and a cloaked speech from Vito that was a threat to those who understood his language. Then we walked outside into the setting sun and approached where the coffin would be lowered into the ground. Beatrice sobbed into countless tissues and wept on the shoulder of Rocco, and then her sister when Rocco stepped away to thank the priest. When he returned to my side, his face was grim but there was light in his eyes as Mae suddenly appeared beside us.

"You came," Rocco said softly.

"Yeah." Mae nodded.

Her gorgeous, long red hair was scooped into a braid draping over her left shoulder. A black belt cinched her simple black dress at the waist, and her striking green eyes were as bright as I remembered.

"Thank you," Rocco said. His hand lifted as if reaching for her, and then he changed his mind and rubbed at his jaw instead. "I appreciate it."

"I was… worried, I guess. You'd been gone for so long, and I had no friends at my father's funeral. I didn't want to risk your feeling the same because it was horrid, and I… well, anyway. It's an amazing turnout." Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she clutched at her black bag. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Rocco's smile didn't reach his eyes, but the appreciation was achingly clear. "You remember Dino?"

Suddenly, Mae's eyes were on me, and my heart skipped a beat. Jian had described her, and I'd seen her in the church, but having her this close was a completely different story. I could see every freckle on her cheeks, the dip of her collarbone, and the slight glisten of gloss on her kissable lips.

"Dino? Oh, my God, look at you!" Her smile widened. "You've grown so much since I last saw you."

Words failed me for a long moment. "I work out," I replied lamely, and embarrassment suddenly swept through my chest. "What I mean is, it's been a long time, but it's good to see you. If only it were a better time."

"Are you here for the funeral or…?"

"Oh, no. Rocco and I have been… working together," I explained. The gears were turning in her mind, and I could see the exact moment she worked out that when Rocco had left her all those years ago, he and I had remained in contact.

"Well," Mae said quietly. "It's clear your father was loved. I'd better let you get back to the service."

Rocco's next words melted into nothing as Jian's warning voice filled my ear. A second later, the deafening sound of motorbike engines filled the air. The six men standing around the coffin with ropes in hand, ready to lower Rocco's father into the ground, all turned in slow motion. I spun, facing their line of sight in time to see three brightly colored motorcycles race across the graveyard without caring for the flowers or graves they were destroying.

Jian yelled my name in my ear, and an explosion of gunfire filled the air.