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“Open it,” he said.
“Whenever we open these things, people die,” Dante chimed in. “Just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page. Those are bad juju.”
“Young one,” Tex barked after taking another giant gulp of wine. “Use the word juju again, and I’m going to seriously mess up that pretty face of yours, and you know I hate pissing off your wife.”
“She’s scary as hell when she’s mad,” Chase added.
“All the wives are.” Sergio yawned and then reached for the folder. “Plus, she still has one punch left.”
I took the bait. “One punch?”
“Oh yeah, they made a bet years ago. He lost, she got four punches, and she has one left.” Nixon nodded and poured more wine. “He sleeps with one eye open, not because of hitmen, nah, but one tiny little human who packs a punch.”
“She used her nails last time, and everyone saw!” Tex roared.
These people would be the death of me.
Phoenix grabbed the folder and opened it slowly. The room was silent except for the clock in the corner and the breathing from the rest of us.
He was tense.
Too tense.
“Good news or bad news?” He asked the room.
Phoenix grabbed an expensive bottle of Merlot, lifted it in the air, and then took a huge swig, then another. That wasn’t good. And it was extremely out of character for the cool and aloof boss of the Nicolasi Family to show weakness.
I gritted my teeth. Nobody was speaking, so I did it for them. “Bad news first.”
Sergio looked over his shoulder and read quickly, and shook his head.
Phoenix set the bottle down and clasped his hands together. “They’re coming.”
“Aliens?” Chase offered lamely. “Because I gotta tell you some of the shit I’m learning right now getting ready to run for office—”
Sergio’s hand shook as he reached for his own bottle and then sat back down, only to jump up again.
“Sergio’s pacing is not making me feel warm inside,” Dante said in a low whisper.
“Serg, stop triggering Dante.” Tex poured more wine. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Who’s coming?”
I grabbed the open folder and started to read, tired of the tension, of the waiting.
I saw the names first.
Mine was at the top of the list, followed by the rest of the guys’ names, and underneath that.
The price on our heads.
The price put there by the remaining Four Families in Sicily, half of mine included. My own blood. The ones who didn’t agree with my grandfather’s decision just like I hadn’t.
Wanted my head.
Because a dead boss? Great. A dead heir to add to it? Even better. There was no loyalty with descendants. They just wanted a throne.
Hadn’t I felt the same? Done the same so many years ago?
“Shit.” I dropped the folder onto the wooden coffee table, papers scattered a bit across it. “Can they do this?”
