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He looked toward us as we approached, his smile courteous.
“Ahhhhh… the great DeMarco Cavalho. Returned from the dead.”
I stopped several feet from the gate. Obviously, the Coccico had done their homework and knew, just as Zeno predicted, exactly who I was.
“You asked to see me.”
“I did.” His gaze travelled briefly over the men around me. “Although I hadn’t expected such a formal reception.”
Raze slipped his hands into his pockets.
“You came to a Cavalho gate without an invitation. Be grateful the reception remains formal.”
The man’s smile didn’t change.
“I represent the Coccico family.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Atlas responded flatly.
The representative looked at him. “I’m surprised. I was told the Cavalhos valued manners.”
“We value time more,” Atlas replied.
I remembered that tone. Cool. Detached. Almost bored.
Raze carried the same stillness beside me.
They stood at my shoulders as if I had never left. I could not reconcile it. Ten years of silence should have made me a stranger. Instead, the old formation returned without command. Atlas watching the man’s hands. Raze reading the car behind him. Marcello and Gianni covering the angles. Archie guarding our backs.
Family.
The word sat heavily inside me.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The girl. We have no problem with the Cavalho family. Give us the girl, that’s all we want.”
“For what purpose?”
“She belongs to the Coccico family.”
“Last I checked,” Atlas began “human trafficking was still illegal. I can’t imagine she would “belong” to anyone unless she was being trafficked. Which doesn’t bode well for the Coccico cartel.”
“She has something that belongs to us. We want it back.”
“And what would that be?”
“Something Gabriele Serra stole from us before his death.”
My jaw tightened.
“Gabriele was an accountant. What could he possibly have that you would want?”
“Gabriele was many things.”
“The man is also now dead,” Atlas reminded him.
The man adjusted one cuff.
