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Parisi narrowed his gaze on Bou, even as Wilde lingered in front of her. Since Celt stood down, I turned around, so my shoulder lined up with my brother’s, facing Parisi.
He continued, “I wasn’t aware MCs allowed pregnant women at church.”
“I’m a patched member,” said Bou.
“I don’t doubt it with how your father ran the club.” Massimo appraised the surroundings. “Tragic what happened to Ronan.”
Bou growled, and Wilde held her back.
I lowered my chin and smiled. Only a man with a death wish would mention her Pops’ demise in Bou’s presence.
“No offense.” Massimo held up both hands as though to make peace. “I have a business proposition to discuss.”
Celt whispered to me, “I’ve got one for him too.” His eyes burned into Snakes.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Not yet,” I shot back.
Already, the MC was getting antsy, and it would only get worse ifMassimo didn’t get to his damn point.
“What’s the catch?” asked Wilde.
“He’s got my mom,” I grumbled. “We all know la Famiglia doesn’t start business deals without leverage.” It was why we’ve never made deals with the Mafia.
“See,” said Massimo, spreading his hands. “We have a mutual understanding of each other.”
Celt blew out a deep breath, and Bou shot me a look from the corner of her eyes. I kept my face like stone, thankful that he didn’t have Maddie, but I didn’t know how long I could hold Celt back.
“I hated to have to go to such lengths, but you’ll understand that I needed a little insurance policy,” said Massimo. “You see, I’m here to ask your help in taking down the Gambinos.”
Angel inhaled sharply, and Wilde threw out his arm to keep the man from launching into action.
“As I thought,” said Massimo. “Together we can greatly reduce your issues. I know the Gambinos have been up your ass recently. It’s a bad habit, really. They like to put their noses in business that isn’t theirs.”
“Stand down,” Wilde said to Angel then faced Massimo again. “I can see how this might help us—big might. We’ll get back to that, but what do you get out of it?”
“To start, I become Don.” Massimo clapped his hands together, and his Don ring glowed in the light.
“In that case,”—I pointed at his hand—“isn’t that ring a bit premature? Maybe like your ejaculation?”
Massimo gave me a crooked smile but didn’t miss a beat in the convo. “My capos insisted.” He moved closer to Wilde, letting his eyes fall to his Prez patch. “It’s authority given, not taken. Much like the rank you wear. No?”
A muscle ticked in Wilde’s jaw. “Go on.”
“It’s simple, really. I get la Famiglia out of your business. You let us transport guns across the border.”
“Fuck that!” barked Celt. “We’ll end up the target of the fucking ATF.”
“Of course, we’ll make it well worth the effort. You’ll profit nicely by allowing us to transport guns to the Jalisco Cartel without interference.” He shrugged. “It’s a fair deal.”
“Bullshit,” snapped Angel, shaking back his dark hair, while Celt still seethed at Snakes.
Massimo narrowed his eyes on Angel and Celt. “Keep your dogs on a leash, Wilde.”
Wilde stepped back, allowing Angel to have the floor, and that alone gave me a bit more respect for the man. His subtle message didn’t escape Parisi’s notice either, and I smirked.
Angel stepped forward. “A cut of your gun-running money isn’t e-fucking-nough.”
Parisi appraised the man, glancing back to see if Wilde might step in. When he didn’t, Parisi said, “Then name your price.”
