Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
For reasons I didn’t understand, and didn’t exactly care to, there was a strange tension in my stomach at the idea of telling her I wasn’t going to help.
To that, Lorenzo sighed.
“No, we can’t exactly do that, either. Not with what we know these fucks are capable of. But we don’t exactly know if it really is them, either.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“I suggest you put a protection detail on her. You’ve got more than enough men under you. Take a few away from their usual shit, and stick them on babysitting her in shifts. That way, they can get intel to let you know if it even is these guys, and also allow her to live her life without worrying about suffering the same fate as that girl.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted.
But it had been what I expected.
Back in the day, before he was the Capo dei capi, Lorenzo wouldn’t have even stopped to think of the news and shit like that. Now? Now, he had the responsibility of the entire organization on his back.
He was trying to bring shit back to the Golden Days of the mafia. Back when men weren’t informing and turning on each other. When dons weren’t getting locked up. When the neighborhoods loved and respected us because we provided protection and gave back to our communities.
To be fair, he’d come a long way in the short amount of time since he’d taken over for his old man.
And the Family had been in fucking shambles when he’d come into power, so the change was even more impressive.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating at times, though. Even if a part of me had to understand that he had to run this as a business. Because that was what it was. And businesses had to care about public relations.
“Alright,” I said, nodding, then turning to leave.
“Hey,” Emilio called, making me turn back.
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you push everyone away after the arrest?” he asked.
“Why’d you go all dark when your sister was taken by Primo?” I shot back.
To that, he nodded.
Because, sometimes, there was no good singular explanation. We made choices or we did shit for whatever reasons felt right at the time. Then we adjusted afterward in whatever way we needed to.
“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging.
“Just to reiterate. No fucking killing anyone,” Lorenzo said.
“Got it, Boss,” I said, nodding, then making my way outside.
“What’s the word?” Miko, my right-hand-guy slash security guard slash errand guy, asked, nodding his chin at me as I came down the steps toward him.
Miko was younger. Think he said he was twenty-five at his last birthday. Younger, in general, meant hungrier. More willing to prove himself. Which was what Miko was. Hungry. For more power. For more cash. And he was willing to do whatever the fuck I asked of him because of that.
Miko was six-two with brown eyes and a scar that cut through one of his brows. He kept his black hair slicked back in the old style that he claimed was ‘timeless.’ We all dressed nice, wore suits, cufflinks, nice watches, the works. But most of us would pass for wealthy businessmen on the street. Miko? Everything about him screamed ‘mobster’ if you came across him. His look, his carriage, his accent that was just a bit more Long Island than Manhattan.
“We’re under strict no-kill orders right now. Boss says there’s too much heat.”
“Can see that,” he agreed as we walked. “Never seen as much mob shit on the news as I’ve been seeing lately. So what then? If we can’t kill them?”
“We protect the girl and her grandfather.”
“Halle.”
“What?” I asked.
“The girl. Her name is Halle. Whitlock. Grandpa is Melvin Whitlock. He owns Whitlock Antiques. Family business for three generations. Seems like she plans to make that four generations.”
Like I said, Miko was hungry to prove himself.
I could always count on him to be a few steps ahead.
Halle Whitlock.
Interesting name.
Halle was unique. It suited her.
“Any other family?” I asked, wondering why she’d come right to me instead of them.
“A brother. From what I can tell, he spends all his time with heiresses, letting them take care of him. Seems like he’s in Colorado now.”
“No mom? Dad?”
“Can’t find shit about a dad. Mom died in a car accident in Jersey four years ago.”
“So she has no one.”
“Not ‘cept the old man. And her best friend.”
“What do you have about her?” I asked as we closed in on my car.
Fucking city parking sucked no matter where you were. I wasn’t even sure why I bothered to have a car half the time.
“The best friend?” Miko asked, moving to open my door for me, then moving around the hood to slide into the driver’s seat. “Lauren Leonard. Got her boss bitch shit going. Luxury apartment. Designer everything, but in the classy, not flashy way,” he said.