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Storm interjected diplomatically, “Now, hold on a minute. We didn’t come here to blow up any hope of a formal alliance. I’m sure Mason didn’t mean anything disrespectful.”
“Not everyone can afford to put their conscious first. Some of us are living in the real world where shit doesn’t get handed to us,” Steel gritted out. “We’re doing the best we can to put food on the table and take care of our families. That doesn’t mean we lack honor. In my opinion, putting your need to be moral and self-righteous before taking care of your damn family makes a man weak and cowardly.”
I started to squirm, shocked at how easily Steel had gone from being amused and indulgent to downright angry. He reminded me of my father, who was most definitely not a man to get on the wrong side of. Either there was some long-standing bad blood between these two clubs or Steel was the prickliest human being on planet earth.
“Storm’s right. I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything about you or your club by that comment. The fact is, I just hate mobsters. Those fucking city slickers are not to be trusted. They’re a different breed from us. I understand your former club presidents were none too particular about the kind of work they lined up for your club. You inherited a mess. Your ideas about how you and your club brothers should earn might be different from ours, but the bottom line is we respect each other and do what we have to do to get by. Those mobsters, on the other hand, fucking love crime and they’re evil, ingenious bastards when it comes to taking other people’s hard-earned cash,” Mason explained.
Steel stared at him for a long, hard moment. I looked from one to the other, trying to anticipate whether this was going to escalate to a physical confrontation. Finally, Steel snorted a laugh. “You’re onto something, Mason. Our club stopped all street level crime under my watch. We might do some shady shit every now and then, but we aren’t stealing directly from other people. That might not sound like a big deal to you, but it was a major shift for our crew. Twisted Metal’s never gonna be filled with straight arrows, but I’m proud of the direction our club is taking.”
Storm let out a sigh of relief, leaned forward, and slapped Steel on his upper arm. “Thanks for helping Mason yank his foot out of his mouth. You know we wouldn’t be allying our club with Twisted Metal if we didn’t trust you.” Shooting Mason and irritated glance, Storm turned back to Steel. “What do you say we get back to business?”
The three men began scheming ways to limit Don Diavonte’s influence in their small hometown. Meanwhile, I was left feeling conflicted. I was a little shocked to hear Mason come right out and say he hated the mafia. I was mafia. I’ve couriered for them and disseminated information when needed.
My father was a made man, mafia through and through. He spent his entire life in the business. It was hard to grow up in a mafia family and not end up involved in small ways. You learned early on not to ask any questions, I could have played dumb and been the dutiful daughter, but I made it my business to know what was going on. I never directly harmed anyone, but my hands weren’t clean by any stretch of the imagination. It hurt some small part of my pride to know Mason hated me—or would hate me if he knew all the details of my life.
Shit, these bikers were already arguing again. Steel was upset about Storm telling Diego about a job Steel did for Don Diavonte, something about papers in a safe that were being used for blackmail. Something in the manner they raised their voices made me uncomfortable. Most of the men I’d dealt with in life didn’t yell or scream. They were calm, calculating, and the people they harbored a grudge against usually disappeared or wound up dead. I wasn’t entirely sure how these men resolved their conflicts or how much danger I would be in if things went south during this meeting. It sucked that I was stuck in this situation until Nicco could take down our don.
Steel leapt to his feet. “God damnit, Storm. If the Russo brothers go snooping through Don Diavonte’s safe, he might realize I talked about the stuff he’s hiding there.”
Trying to calm them down, I spoke up. “I doubt your name would be the first Don Diavonte thought of if someone tried to break into his safe. Everyone in his orbit has spent years speculating about what he’s got hidden in there. Some think it’s gold, others think it’s jewels from all the old heists he used to pull when he was young. My father thought he kept an extra set of books.”
Mason’s head swiveled around to look at me. “Your old man was a mobster in Don Diavonte’s organization?”
“He was the underboss for Don Diavonte’s father when he was in charge of the business. He was an old man by the time I was born. Old man Diavonte used to come to our house for dinner when I was little. I barely remember him.”
“Then you know the family pretty well, right?” Storm asked.
My eyes jumped between Storm and Steel. “Yes. I know Don Diavonte well enough to know that whatever Sophia’s brothers are looking for, they aren’t going to find it in his wall safe. My father always said that everyone was barking up the wrong tree by wondering what was in Don Diavonte’s wall safe. He always said Diavonte was an old-school gangster, like his old man. That meant whatever he really wanted to hide would be found buried under the doghouse in his back yard with two of the most vicious rottweilers known to mankind chained to it.”
All three men stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
Finally, Storm spoke. “I assume your fiancé knows about this, because his brother sure didn’t. Diego was trying to decide if his office or home safe was more likely to contain the information he was looking for.”
I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. “I don’t believe that conversation ever came up between the two of us. I’ll drop him a clue about it that the next time we speak.” Surely, Nicco had heard that story. His father was a lifelong member of the mafia as well.
I paid careful attention as Storm and Steel discussed how to handle the next group of suits Don Diavonte sent to Griffinsford. It was weird that they called the men I grew up with suits, like they weren’t real people. They were all too real to my way of thinking. Some of them were absolutely despicable, murderous bastards, but others I was quite fond of.
As I listened to them talk, I realized that these bikers had their own little ecosystem of allies, IT specialists, attorneys, and police connections. Their system was very organized and easily rivaled Don Diavonte’s operation. I wasn’t surprised to find out our don had been leveraging the business owners in Griffinsford into paying protection money. That had historically been one of their most stable revenue streams, after all. Most of the mob’s money-making endeavors didn’t sit right with me. It was why I tried to stay out of it as much as possible growing up.
The conversation eventually moved in the direction of lucrative business ventures that were technically within the letter of the law. Storm seemed to be trying to nudge his friend away from illegal activities. It was clear from looking at the condition of both of their clubhouses that the Slayers were the more affluent club.
Steel started talking about his new cam girl venture. He talked to Storm about the upfront cost involved, how his crew had gotten involved creating sets, and how the women were excited about the prospect of solo performances on camera. Although Mason and Storm appeared interested, I got the feeling they weren’t wild about this particular business idea.
Steel shot me an assessing gaze. “How about you, Aprilia? Would you be interested in getting in some sessions in front of the camera?”
I tried not to look shocked by his brazen invitation. “No, sir, I don’t think that would work for me. In order to get comfortable doing that kind of work, a woman has to enjoy the attention or really need the money. I don’t fall into either one of those categories.”
Storm snorted a laugh.
Mason stood, put one arm on either side of my chair, and leaned down until he was looking me in the eyes. “Most engaged women would have just pointed out that being a cam girl while planning their wedding would be distracting, or I don’t know… maybe that their fiancé wouldn’t like it?”
I gazed into his eyes and knew all the way down to my bones that this man didn’t believe I was actually engaged. Mason seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to deception. I froze, caught in his all-too-knowing gaze. Storm cleared his throat and my hand shot out to push against his chest. Mason backed off immediately.
I heard Storm mumble, “Can’t take that brother fucking anywhere these days without him pissing someone off.”
Chapter 11
Mason
