Page 107 of Unraveled

Gian took the box, looking over the cut tape again. “Why did you open it, if you were told it was meant for me?”

“One bomb is quite enough for you, don’t you think?” Chris asked quietly. “I didn’t go through the contents, only cut and opened to make sure nothing was waiting to go boom.”

Gian wasn’t the least bit surprised that Chris had chosen to take the risk of opening the box himself before handing it over to his boss. It was that length of loyalty that made Gian appreciate the man even more.

“Thank you,” Gian said.

Chris nodded once. “And I am sorry about, you know, interrupting. If I did.”

Gian scowled again. “Yeah, you did.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

With a quick goodbye, Gian closed the door on his man, and headed back for the table. Cara seemed distracted by whatever was on the television, and Gian used that time to his advantage. He pulled open the top of the brown box—no bigger than a shoebox—and emptied out the contents. A small memory card rested on top of a tablet, and photographs fell across the table.

A small, hand-written note fell out last.

A gift, it read. This has gone on long enough, Gian. Here is what you’ve been looking for, and it’s time to end the rest. –Edmond

Gian’s gaze scoured the photos first.

Constantino.

A man Gian didn’t recognize.

He distinguished quickly enough from the images that a trade of sorts was happening—money exchanged hands in the darkness of an alley, and that was it. A few other pictures, taken in the daylight, showed Constantino having multiple meetups with several younger Capos, and even a few of the older ones.

That might not have been such a bad thing, but it unsettled Gian. It bothered him because Constantino had no reason—no business—to be running between Capo to Capo, not when he had his own territory and crew to manage. The dates on the photographs showed Gian that all of those meets had happened before Corrado’s murder.

Gian glanced over at the couch, seeing Cara was still lost in the television. He plugged the memory card into the side of the tablet and turned it on. He put the volume on low as he scrolled through the images and the one video that loaded from the card. More photos of Constantino showed up, although these showcased him visiting Edmond.

Gian tensed all over as he pressed play on the one video the card held.

A video of Claud Rossi lit up the screen, taken off to the side, slightly grainy, but still distinctive enough for Gian to discern who was in the room with Constantino’s father. Edmond, and Matthew, the new boss’s consigliere.

“He’s gotten himself mixed up in some kind of shit this time,” Claud said.

“Do tell,” Edmond urged.

“I think Constantino’s found himself over his head. Maybe he overheard me talking to my wife that the boss seemed unwell, or something. He jumped off my radar a lot more often than he usually does, and I took notice.”

“Me, too,” Edmond said. “Or rather, he was close to Gian. I needed to keep an eye on everyone close to him for a while.”

“I didn’t want to speculate.”

“But you did.”

“I can’t have my son hiding things from me in this business, not in this life of ours,” Claud muttered heavily. “It makes for dangerous things. I followed him, sometimes, and noticed he was trailing Gian some days, others he was off on his own. I started looking around, asking some questions to the men in the crew. A few pointed me in the direction of the kind of business Constantino had been asking about.”

“What kind of business?”

“A hired man.”

Gian’s chest tightened painfully at what he was hearing. He didn’t want to believe it, but certain things—his old friend’s behaviors over the last few months—had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“That’s not all, though,” Edmond said. “After Corrado, I was having a lot of the men watched, because everybody knew that kill came from the inside. I wanted to know who. I owed it to Corrado because, like him, I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.”