Page 111 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“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.”

Claud shifted on his chair. “And what did you find, boss?”

“He had the bomb planted on Gian’s car. I got photos of the meets and the payment exchanging hands. It speaks for itself.”

“Gian is his friend.”

“Gian is his way to the top,” Edmond corrected with a shrug. “Gian was not making the moves that perhaps Constantino felt he should be after Corrado’s murder, and so, I believe he thought to simply push Gian in the direction he wanted.”

“As in, he didn’t mean to kill him, only knock him down for a bit.”

“So he would get up swinging.” Edmond chuckled. “Frankly, no one knows Gian better than Constantino, if you think about it. Maybe he knew exactly how to push to get what he wanted.”

Edmond had a good point, as much as Gian hated to admit it. Constantino had, on more than one occasion, made comments about Gian’s habits. Like always using his car starter to start his vehicle in the winter, even though it was hard on the engines to do so in the freezing cold weather.

“And if he had fucked up?” Edmond considered out loud. “Well, then I suppose Constantino probably thought of Gian as fodder. He would still get what he wanted, in a way. A war between the younger and older generations that would open up seats all the way across the board.”

“What do I do now?” Claud asked. “He’s my son.”

“He’s a made man,” Edmond replied just as fast. “And because of that, you’ll let him answer as one, no matter who demands their retribution. That’s how made men have always done this—it’s how we always will.”

Gian shut off the tablet.

He had never agreed more with something Edmond said.

He never would again.