Page 95 of Dirty Pool

“Salvestro Vannozzo—goes by Sal.”

“What about him?”

“He’s the cousin to the Cosa Nostra boss, and the brains behind this whole … shitshow,” Michel explained. “And I know just enough about him, and his business to cause a real fucking problem for him. I have access, and know people around him to get close enough that he could be gone before anyone even knew what happened. He assumed just because he won’t see me or take a call that it’s the only in I have to his people and business, but he’s wrong. For a year, I followed him around and had access to his people before I even took up dealing for him on the side.”

“Your point?”

“It goes beyond getting rid of him … being as close as he is to the boss, it’s one stepping stone, if you get what I am saying. His work and loyalty is intricately tied to the head of the Italian organization in Detroit. He’s a domino—kick one out, and the rest of them will quickly follow the same path. Cosa Nostra isn’t like other Italian mafias. When you cut out at the head of it, the rest falls apart.”

Gabbie inched closer to the hallway, but this time, the man let her go a little further. Not enough that she could be seen by Michel, but it was something. Her heart calmed for a split second at the idea she might be able to go to him, but then quickly realized she was still too feckin’ far away.

And that hurt.

“My father …” Michel made a noise under his breath, something harsh and painful. “My father would be sorely disappointed in me to know that I am using what I know about Cosa Nostra and their ways to help someone outside ruin a whole organization, but I don’t have a choice. I have to do what I have to do, so here I am. Is it a risk? Could you kill me before I stepped out of this house? Absolutely.”

“Right on both accounts,” her father replied dryly. “And something I am seriously considering at the moment.”

“Except, I have things you might want. The information on Sal, which will lead you right into the heart of the family to cull the organization. They’re so protected, it’s how Cosa Nostra works, that you’ll never get to the boss to cut the head from the snake without causing enough of an uproar that you’ll never be able to leave your home again. Police attention—the feds, too. And that’s before the rest of the Italians that will come after you from outside of Detroit. My family, for example. It’s a risk if you do it your way … not one I would want to take.”

Michel sighed, before adding, “But my way, with the influence I could have outside of Detroit and the information I have to help you in the city … it would be cleaner, and far easier. That’s what you need, isn’t it? To get rid of all of them, and then you’ll never have this problem again?”

“That’s interesting enough to make me listen to you instead of put a bullet in your brain, aye. The problem, Michel, is that you are under some assumption that this is a tit for tat. You think if you give me something, then I will give you another thing. Am I right?”

“You’re not wrong,” Michel returned.

“My daughter, you mean to say. You want her.”

“I love her.”

Gabbie’s heart clenched again.

Her father made a dismissive noise. “It doesn’t matter how I go after the Italians because it all means the same thing in the end. A war I don’t want, Michel. Maybe a smaller war, sure, but there will still be one. I know who they would come after first—I know what they would try to take from me, and while she might hate me right now, I’ll never put her in danger. The Italians want a war, but I don’t.”

“So, you plan to keep letting them attack you and ruining your source of income for your organization? What good does that do?”

“It keeps her alive. They’re focused on instigating me, not hurting me. Do you see the difference?”

“That could ruin you—ruin your entire organization.”

“Men have done worse for blood, lad. I assure you.”

She never considered that was why her father refused to go to war entirely with the Italians. She just thought … he was waiting for the final straw, and it had not yet come to break the proverbial camel’s back.

She was that straw.

For her father.

And for Michel.

The difference was …

One of them reached their breaking point.

Michel, that was.

“Tell me what you want from me,” Michel said, “and I will—”

“Nothing,” Charles replied quietly. “I want nothing from you.”