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Everyone knew the story, and Damon was an expert on it, fascinated as he was with old American gangsters. Lucky had taken out his rival and declared there would be no more capi di tutti capi, boss of all bosses. Instead, he’d instigated the Commission. Then he put the ‘organize’ in organized crime by running the crime syndicate similar to how corporations were run. That system was still in place to date.
Viking set down his glass and walked into the back room. Caputo gestured him to his side.
“I hear congrats are in order.” He presented a box of cigars. Then he took one out and gave one to him and Kristoff.
Viking dropped into a chair next to him, lit his cigar, and took a good puff. “Thanks.”
He’d quit smoking tomorrow. You didn’t insult a boss by refusing his gift. Still, this couldn’t be the reason Caputo was visiting them. He’d barely known ahead of time that he was getting hitched, and Caputo must have planned his visit before his surprise marriage.
He gave Kristoff a what-gives look.
“Damian has some issues back in Vegas. I gave him some pointers on how to deal with them.”
Caputo wasn’t the kind of man to ask for advice how to handle his business. Not unless he was looking for another way besides total bloodshed. Kristoff was known for his more…creative ways of handling things. He was even more creative when it came to doing away with bodies, but that was a whole different story.
Rings of gray smoke left Caputo’s mouth. “If only I could do it the Bratva way.”
“Who’s going to stop you?” Kristoff cocked a brow.
“My pockets,” Caputo countered. “I like them to be deep. Dead bosses and capos mean less business.”
“Do what I did,” Kristoff said. “Marry people off, eliminate the threat.”
Viking mentally flipped him off. He wouldn’t actually do it with Caputo present, though. They always showed a united front to outsiders. And no matter the friendly connection between the two bosses, Caputo was and always would be, an outsider.
Caputo looked pensive. “Marry five families off?” There was a laugh in his voice until he saw Kristoff’s face. It looked damn serious.
Viking sat upright. He always knew when something good—depending on which side you were standing—would come out of Kristoff’s creative vault. This looked like one of those moments.
“We have a saying in Russia. It’s not about who’s against you, but who’s with you. You’ve got five feuding families. People who hate each other’s guts. They have killed capos without the Commission’s permission.”
Caputo’s eyes narrowed. Technically, no one outside the Families was supposed to know about the Commission’s existence. He didn’t comment on Kristoff’s observation, though, but gestured for him to continue.
“Your problem sounds a lot like how, in medieval times, kings conquering new lands dealt with the nobility. Instead of letting them kill each other in one on one fights, the king would marry them off to each other. This way, whether they wanted to or not, they became family. As a generation passed, the families became more and more intertwined. New, better, stronger alliances were forged.”
Caputo took one last puff of his cigar. “Just like that?”
“Pretty much. You just have to secure the women first. Then you have to beat the men into submission. It’s all about logistics.”
Viking sent his friend two more mental fuck-yous. The bastard had basically used this tactic on him. Damn Kristoff’s sneaky ways.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Then Caputo’s face turned serious, darker. “Now, the reason I’m here. I’ve heard you’ve been looking for the Bridemaker.”
Viking tensed. That asshole, whoever he was, had had a hand in kidnapping Sy’s wife. Not only that, but he’d brought young girls into Kristoff’s town to be sold as child brides, and they’d been looking for him ever since. When they found him, they were going to make an example out of him. He’d broken Kristoff’s most sacred rule: don’t fuck with kids.
Kristoff casually leaned back, but Viking knew better. Taking out the Bridemaker was high on his priority list.
“What of him?” Kristoff asked.
“I want you to back off,” Caputo said. “That leech is mine.”
“Why?”
“It’s personal.”
“Didn’t know you had a personal life.”
Caputo’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Fuck you, Romanov.”
