The air was tense. Something had happened.
Biaggio stepped around behind Corrado’s desk and whispered something to the old man. Corrado lifted his gaze, and looked right at Dom. Then he stood, waving a hand. “Luciano, Felice, Dom—stay. Everyone else—out.”
Immediately, everyone headed for the door, and within seconds, they were alone. Biaggio didn’t even stay, which was weird—he knew every bit of the family’s inner workings, and Corrado’s secrets were Biaggio’s secrets.
With only the immediate family remaining, Corrado sat back in his enormous leather chair. “Nicolá’s body was found early this morning.”
Dom’s stomach dropped. Death was a routine part of this life, but it was still hard to lose someone he knew. He turned to Luciano. “Does Serafina know yet?”
Grimacing, he nodded. “I told her this afternoon.”
“Is she…”
“She’s devastated,” he whispered.
Dom exhaled. As much as he disliked Luciano’s wife, she’d adored her brother. Hell, they all had. “You’ll give her my condolences?”
“I will. Thank you.”
Dom nodded, and turned back to his uncle. “What happened?”
“Run down out on the 103.” Corrado folded his long fingers, and his voice was nearly a growl as he added, “By a drunk Eugenio Cusimano.”
“Eugenio—” Dom inclined his head. “Run down? As in, on foot?”
Corrado scowled, and nodded slowly.
“What the hell was he doing out there?”
“We don’t know. It sounds like it happened last night, but it took until today to find the body. A medic stumbled across it, actually, while they were investigating a one-car ‘accident’ in the vicinity.”
Dom shifted his weight. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” Corrado took in a long breath. “This was no accident, and someone is going to bleed for it.” The vicious undertone of his uncle’s voice made Dom’s skin crawl; he was only too aware of what Corrado was capable of.
“I’ve got ears open on the investigation.” Luciano spoke up, his voice quiet and calm despite the shock of his brother-in-law’s death. “But word is that Eugenio was drunk off his ass and—”
Felice laughed bitterly. “He’s always drunk. And if the Cusimanos won’t keep a leash on him, then we’ll have to take care of him before he kills another of our own. He’s fucked up enough, Dad. It’s long past time to—”
Corrado put up a hand. “We’ll take care of him when I say we do, and that won’t be until after we’re certain of his connection to Nicolá’s death.”
Felice’s expression darkened. “Cusimano was found almost half a mile up the road in a ditch. With blood on the windshield and on the bumper. If that blood doesn’t match Nicolá, I’ll eat my hat.”
“Wait.” Dom grimaced. “A half mile up the road? So, he hit him and kept driving?”
“Yes,” Luciano said. “Don’t know if it was an accident or deliberate, but there’s no way he didn’t notice when he hit Nicolá. My contact says it wasn’t just a sideswipe.” An angry undercurrent was slowly working its way into Luciano’s voice. “He didn’t clip him—he hit him dead-on. Took him up on the windshield and tossed him into a ditch.”
“Then why are we fucking around and not offing this asshole?” Felice snapped. To his brother, he said, “For God’s sake, this is the man who keeps trying to fuck your wife, and—”
“I’m aware of that,” Luciano snarled back. “But I’m not shooting anyone until—”
“Until I give the order.” Corrado glared at both of his sons. “No one makes a move without my say-so.”
Felice clenched his jaw but didn’t speak. He’d been closer to Nicolá than Luciano—regardless of Corrado’s decision or permission, this would not go unanswered.
Corrado met Dom’s gaze, and the subtle arch of his eyebrow told Dom everything he needed to know. Indeed, Nicolá’s death would not go unanswered, but it wouldn’t be Felice who carried out the sentence.
Dom responded with a nod that was just as subtle. Though neither of them said a word, he understood all too well what his task would be. There were plenty of hitmen in this town who worked as contractors, but no one suspected that Dom was Corrado’s hired gun. His own royal assassin, as he’d somewhat jokingly called him after his second or third hit.
Beside him, Felice bristled. “Dad, we need to be proactive. Even if that idiot didn’t kill Nicolá, the Cusimanos are out of control. They need to know we aren’t going to tolerate—”
“The Cusimanos know where I stand on their encroachment of our businesses,” Corrado snapped. “I will not have blood spilled over trade relations until it’s clear we’ve exhausted all other means for resolving our differences.”