Page 110 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Chris barely blinked in the face of Gian’s rage. “Did I interrupt your morning—”

“Finish that statement.”

The enforcer grinned instead.

The fucker.

“What do you want?” Gian demanded.

Chris held up the item in his hands; a brown box, taped across the top, though the tape had been sliced through and it looked as though it had been opened. “This was delivered to me this morning by a friend, of sorts.”

Gian eyed the box. “What friend?”

“One of Edmond’s enforcers that knew I was more likely to question him first, before shooting. I suspect that’s why the old fucker sent him over.”

Well, then.

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.