by Bethany-Kris
A problem?
That didn’t seem like the right word for what could possibly be happening on the other side of Brooklyn. It didn’t feel like a big enough word.
Sighing, Renzo replied, “Yeah, a problem is one way to put it.”
Lucian pressed his lips into a thin line, and fiddled with the cuff on his suit jacket. Renzo recognized those actions for what they were—a man trying to keep his cool, and maintain his calm composure. Lucian didn’t seem like the type to overreact because of emotions or fear. He understood that.
“Lucia,” Lucian murmured, “would you mind giving us a quick minute to talk?”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Renzo could have spoken up then and let Lucian know that Lucia already had a pretty good idea about what was going on, and having her step away was pointless. But if it made Lucian feel better to think Lucia wasn’t worrying about the current drama, then what would it hurt for Renzo to stay silent?
Stepping out of the elevator, Renzo waited until Lucia was around the corner before he turned to Lucian with a grim expression. “You want the details I know first?”
Lucian shrugged. “I would appreciate it.”
Renzo went through a quick rundown of the shit he knew—the fact that John had went to the meeting as he was supposed to, and the approximate number of men he and Andino had brought along for the arrangement. He sped through the details of Christian not showing up, not answering calls, and currently, being entirely off Renzo’s radar as his vehicles were still showing parked at the hotel he’d been using for his stay.
Lucian only started to become visibly agitated when Renzo moved onto the fact that John—his son—and the others were currently in a warehouse, and had reason to suspect that leaving would be a bad thing. Be it because of an ambush, or something else.
They were stuck.
“Your turn,” Renzo said when he was finished. “Why is it a vendetta and not an asshole with a big ego and an even bigger Caesar complex?”
Lucian chuckled dryly, and shook his head. “I didn’t have a reason to suspect that’s what it was, Renzo, but it could have been. And that alone was enough for me to make sure there was someone watching Christian Savino from the time he walked onto my son’s radar.”
Interesting.
Except …
“That tells me nothing,” Renzo said.
Lucian sighed. “I told you earlier, I might not be in the game anymore, but I am always watching from the background. I will step in should I need to in order to keep my children safe, regardless of what they want or think.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Well over three decades ago,” Lucian said, his voice lowering, “there was a man in Italy named Bruno Savino. He would have been Christian’s father, but as far as I know, he didn’t even know his father. He was kept in seclusion until he was five, and when his father died … well, I don’t know what happened after that, but he came back into the public eye.”
Renzo cocked a brow. “You’ve tracked a dead man’s family? Why?”
Lucian gave Renzo a look. “Bruno Savino kidnapped my son, John, when he was a baby. He was going after one of my brother’s wives, and my son was the way he thought to do that. Obviously, it didn’t work—John is alive, and fine. I can’t say the same for Bruno, or the small handful of men he brought along to help him.”
Shit.
Yeah, that explained a lot.
“Italians love their vendettas, huh?” Renzo asked.
Lucian scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “Usually, we make it known when we’ve got a vendetta with somebody else. We tend to … like for people to see us coming, if you get what I’m trying to say.”
He did.
So why was Christian different?
“I suppose he couldn’t get as close to your family as he did if he was going to make it known what he was coming to America for, huh?”
Lucian nodded. “And consider … the event where we killed his father happened years ago. Decades, Renzo. Our family has moved on, and we never spoke to our children about it. It was something we wanted to leave in our past. And when our sons began to step into our roles and take over our families, we promised to step back and let them have full control of the family, business, and how they wanted it all handled. It’s not a surprise that John wouldn’t recognize his name, or know what happened decades ago.”
“You know,” Renzo muttered, “this fucking information would have been great to know months ago. I could have taken care of this issue before that asshole ever got to New York, Lucian.”
“I didn’t want to step in unless I had to. Give me some credit—I couldn’t know it was a vendetta without him acting against us in some way, or making it known. And he did none of those things until it was too late.”
Renzo didn’t think so.
The second the asshole approached Lucia would have been a big red flag waving high. It was. At least, for him. He wanted to kill Christian right then, but he’d held back because he believed it was his jealousy getting worked up, and he tried not to give into his weaknesses like that.
Be a better man, and all that shit.
Fuck.
“Well, enough of what could have been done,” Lucian muttered under his breath, “because what we need to figure out right now is what we’re going to do about today. And my son in a fucking warehouse on the other side of Brooklyn. He’s got a wife and kids to get back to tonight, Renzo. And Andino, my nephew? He’s got a wife and a handful of kids, too. Why haven’t my brothers—”
“I suspect they know,” Renzo said. “But maybe they also know what you’re trying to handle here, Lucian, and they factored that in on whether or not to call you.”
Lucian scowled. “Fucking stupid.”
“Yeah, well—”
A chime echoed in the hallway, and Renzo figured out what was making the noise quickly enough when Lucian pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. The man said nothing as he unlocked the screen, and his brow dipped at whatever he saw waiting for him.
“What in the hell?”
“What is it?” Renzo asked.
“A video,” Lucian murmured.
Wordlessly, the man turned the phone around to give Renzo a peek at what was on the screen. The video text had come through from an unknown number, but it didn’t take him too long to figure out who had probably sent it considering the video was of Johnathan and a hell of a lot of others walking into a warehouse.
“He was watching them?” Renzo asked more to himself than Lucian.
God.
That was cold.
It made him cold, and he wasn’t even the one in the fucking warehouse. Because that was just creepy as hell. Like Christian was watching his work go down with no problems, and maybe enjoying it.
Yeah, creepy.
Renzo finished watching the video through, and before it had even finished, a second text came through. A link. No words accompanied the text to explain what the link was or what it might lead them to, but he didn’t think for a second that it was … a mistake.
Christian wanted them to check that link.
He wanted them to click on it.
Lucian went to click on the link, but Renzo was quick to bat his hand away, almost knocking the phone to the ground in the process.
“What the fuck?” Lucian growled at him.
“I don’t know what that link does—is it a trigger, Lucian? You click it and something activates? I don’t know.”
That was the explosives specialist in Renzo talking. Sure, it’d been a hot minute since he had to fuck with a bomb, set one, or disengage one, but still … the second The League put him in front of a dismantled bomb and gave him access to explosives, that shit was always in the back of Renzo’s mind.
Something just clicked.
Bombs felt like his anger.
Dangerous.
Explosive.
Deadly.
It gave him control, and made his mind run. It engaged him like nothing else ev
er did when The League was training him. Some people could name every gun ever made in the world, but Renzo?
He could do bombs.
“Yeah, shit,” Lucian muttered.
Then, his phone started ringing.
The same number that had sent the texts.
Lucian passed Renzo a look.
That was a risk—it too could be a trigger. Pick up the call, and it activated something. A person could do anything with the right code to get it done. It was that simple.
“I should pick it up,” Lucian said.
“That’s a risk,” Renzo returned.
“It’s him, clearly.”
The phone kept ringing; Christian wasn’t giving up.
He wanted to talk.
Renzo didn’t think it was a trigger. “Pick it up, then.”
Lucian connected the call, but put it on speaker phone. He was quick to turn down the volume in case anyone was listening nearby as he said, “Lucian Marcello speaking.”
“Ah, Lucian. It’s nice to finally speak to the man I’ve been watching for … well, most of my life, now.”
Renzo glanced at Lucian, but the man’s face was a mask of nothing.
“Funny,” Lucian replied calmly, “I’ve been watching you, too, Christian. It seems we have the same idea about one another, no?”
“Well, you’re a little late to the game. I’ve already made my moves, Lucian. I’m waiting for you to try and catch up, now.”
“Came to finish the business your father never got the chance to?”
Christian made a noise on the other end of the phone—anger and pain, Renzo thought. That’s what it sounded like. He was quick to hide it with his next sentence, but it didn’t matter because he’d still heard it.
“The only vendetta I was willing to follow through was the one I held onto for your family, Lucian,” Christian said, “so let me get down to the details, okay? You might even appreciate this, if you think it through.”
“Doubt it,” Lucian murmured.
“You will.”
“Get on with it, Christian.”
Christian clicked his tongue. “Listen, this is my day. It’s all on my time.”
“Well, I’m about a minute away from vomiting—chemo is a bitch, you know. Make it fast, or you’re going to be talking to the sound of a toilet flushing.”
Renzo pressed his lips together to keep from smiling because damn, Lucian didn’t have time for this shit today. Who wouldn’t appreciate that?
“The warehouse where your son, nephew, and … well, a good portion of their men are currently situated, it’s live wired to a bomb that will level half the block,” Christian said. “They were fine to enter, but the second they leave …” The man trailed off with an amused laugh, adding, “Well, it’s going to go boom, in a beautiful way. Mind you, I have a kill switch, Lucian, so if something goes wrong, I only have to press a single code into my phone as a text, and that’ll be it for them.”
“What do you want, then?”
Christian was quiet for a second, and then said, “Nothing, Lucian.”
“Nothing?”
“I want to watch them die like you watched my father die years ago. It’s what you deserve. You’ll hurt like I did when I lost a man I never got the chance to know. I think it’s a fair trade, isn’t it? Oh, and the link I sent you, well, that’s just a live feed to watch them inside. You can call them and talk … their wives and children can chat as well, if you want to punish them that way. Say goodbye.”
Renzo met Lucian’s frantic gaze and mouthed, Ask about a timer.
Lucian nodded.
“Is there a timer backup, Christian?” Lucian asked.
“No timer unless someone messed with the bomb. Then, yes, it’ll begin ticking down. But otherwise, I just wanted to watch them panic like rats before they finally figured out there was no real way out. And don’t for one second think someone from the outside could hold the doors open for them, either. They all have sensors to tell the difference. They’re in there now, and there’s no way out. Appropriate, don’t you think, Lucian?”
“How so?”
“My father tried to blow you all up once, didn’t he? All three of you brothers at the same time … he failed, unfortunately. I won’t. Have a good day—this will end the vendetta between us.”
Christian hung up the call before Lucian could do it. Renzo had to physically take the phone out of the man’s hand so that he didn’t break it into pieces. Renzo could see it in Lucian’s eyes that’s exactly what he wanted to do with the phone.
“Don’t watch the live feed,” Renzo told him. “Don’t do that.”
Lucian glanced his way, but quickly looked away. Not before Renzo saw the line of water streaking through his eyes, though. And his jaw—stretched tight, and taut. His muscles worked with every clench of his teeth, and swallow of his throat.
“I can disengage it,” Renzo murmured. “Let me try.”
Lucian shook his head. “Impossible. You heard what he said—he’s got three backups on the bomb, Renzo. It’ll blow if a door opens to let someone out. It’ll automatically begin to count down if you start fucking with it. And he’s got a kill switch in his hand as he watches a live feed.”
None of that mattered to Renzo.
“I can disengage it. I can.”
Lucian’s hands shook, but he hid it by shoving them into the pockets of his slacks. “It’s a death wish.”
“I could get them out. Somehow, there has to be a way out, right? I just … let me try. I can’t know if I don’t go in there and try, Lucian.”
“Renzo—”
“You have to let me try, Lucian. Look at everything you did, and gave to me. This is what I do. Let me try.”
EIGHTEEN
“Hey, dolcezza.”
Lucia looked up from her lap to find her father standing in the doorway of the hospital room wearing a smile that felt a little forced. She wasn’t going to tell him the truth—that she’d stayed just beyond the corner where he couldn’t see her so that she could listen to the whole conversation he had with Renzo, and the phone call that followed.
Oh, yeah.
She knew everything.
Lucia knew, without a doubt, that her father had enough to worry about. His son being trapped in a warehouse that, at literally any moment, could blow up. And, what could her father do about it?
Nothing.
Hospital policy meant he was going to have to sit in this room for at least another hour so that they could monitor him after his treatment. Sure, he could probably force his leave, if he wanted, but that still wasn’t going to change the situation her brother and other members of her family were currently in.
It would only put her father closer to danger.
Wasn’t it bad enough that her brother was there? And now … now, Renzo was on his way there, too. Because yeah, she heard that. He hadn’t even said goodbye, but she understood why. She didn’t blame him.
That would have been the fight of his life against her—she never would have let him go willingly, and he was smart enough to know that he was going to have to just go. She was pissed, sure, but she would deal with it later.
Right now … she had to figure out a way to help. To help her father, her brother … the rest of her family.
Renzo.
They needed all the help they could get, even if they wouldn’t ask for it. So, she would do it. Somehow. She just needed to figure out how.
“Everything okay?” Lucia asked.
Her father nodded. “Fine, but I’m not feeling great. Nauseous, you know.”
Yeah, she bet.
And not just from the chemo, either.
“Come sit down,” she told him. “One last day for this, right? And then you’re done with all this, Daddy.”
Lucian smiled, and for a moment, it did look genuine. That fear and panic in his eyes that he wasn’t very good at hiding disappeared for her, although it was quick to come back, too. He crossed the room, and droppe
d into his chair with a groan. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he swore under his breath.
“Cazzo. What a day, Lucia.”
“But it’s almost over, Daddy.”
Lucian nodded. “It is.”
He wasn’t looking at her, though. He was looking at the ceiling. She didn’t need him to say it—he didn’t need to tell her what he was doing, then.
God wasn’t a big thing to Lucia. He was there on the back of her mind, and she went to church. God and religion was as much a part of being a Marcello was as anything else in their life. It was engrained into their culture, honestly.
He was praying.
Silently, sure.
Privately.
Her father did that a lot.
She didn’t mind.
Lucian’s silence let Lucia run through the shit in her mind. The things she knew about Christian Savino, and this plan he had made. It seemed like the man planned for everything, didn’t it?
Backup after backup.
A timer.
A kill switch.
Just in case.
Lucia wondered … what if she was able to take away one of those backups? If she could possibly give Renzo a little extra time, or if she could take away one of the backups altogether, would that give him the chance to do what he did best?
He’d never explained his specialty with bombs to her in detail, although to be fair, she had also never asked. So much about his time at The League and the person it made him were not topics that he wanted to discuss with her, and she didn’t push.
She didn’t have to push.
Renzo was just Renzo to her.
But could he do it?
And if she was able to help … would it give them a better chance? Should she even try?
It wasn’t even a question for her. Yes, she should try, if she could. For her family because she loved them more than anything. Her father hadn’t just spent months of his life fighting to be healthy just to end it by watching his son and nephew die.
For Renzo, though?
God.
Hadn’t she spent enough time without him? Hadn’t all this time been enough? They’d just started again—just came together again. There was no way in hell she was going to give up.
That was weak.
The easy way out.
