More than anything, Dom had never forgiven Corrado for that. Maybe he could have learned to accept that cold-blooded murder was part of this life, that Papa had done unforgivable things in an unforgiving world. But what man asked a child if his father’s death was worth it so others could live?
Even with those lifelong grudges, and with the blood on his hands because of Corrado, Dom struggled with the idea of ever losing his uncle. Some days he wanted to kill the man himself. Other days, he looked around and realized that, for better or worse, in a world that was full of killers and crooks, Corrado and his sons really were the only family Dom had left. What happened if and when they were gone?
He closed his eyes and let the water hit his face.
It was hard to say how life would be without his family, but he suspected it would be short. If someone killed Corrado, or Luciano, or Felice, then it would be open season on Dom anyhow.
What would I be doing if I wasn’t part of this life, Sergei? Feeling a little less like I’ve got crosshairs on my back.
Dom shut off the shower and stepped out. He dried himself, and when he opened the door to the bedroom, a small stack of neatly folded clothing awaited him on the foot of Biaggio’s bed. Trying not to overthink where he was, or who wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight, or what awaited him when he went back downstairs, he dressed.
He was still a bit queasy and off-balance, but the emotions remained far beneath the surface. He was just… rattled. His bones and muscles felt weirdly disjointed, as if they should have been shaking but weren’t. Like after a near-miss in a car, where the danger had passed and now the body didn’t quite know what to do with itself.
And God knew he had no idea what to do with himself now. Biaggio was gone. He’d died right in front of Dom, right in the middle of trying to settle his nerves about the future.
Corrado was right. There was a war brewing. Hell, it was done brewing. Taking out a boss’s consigliere was nothing if not an irrevocable declaration. A shot fired not across the bow, but through the first mate’s head.
This was, unmistakably, war.
By the time Dom returned to the ground level, the coroner’s van was outside, and two men were closing up the back. Dom was glad for that—he wasn’t sure he could stomach watching them wheel Biaggio outside.
Beside him, Corrado materialized, and he placed a hand between Dom’s shoulders. “Are you all right, Domenico?”
Dom nodded. “Yeah. Just, uh, shaken up.”
His uncle nodded. “We all are.” He studied Dom for a moment. “Did you see anything? Anyone?”
“No. I took cover in case any more shots came, but there was just the one.”
Corrado gazed out at the yard, saying nothing.
“There’s no way it was at close range, or security would’ve had him,” Dom said. “He probably had a perch out that way”—he gestured at a distant hill—“and a high-powered rifle.”
Corrado scowled. “Well, when we find him,” he growled, “rest assured he will wish he’d never taken that shot.”
A chill ran up Dom’s spine. Given the sadistic violence his uncle could inflict on someone who’d crossed him, Dom could only imagine what would happen to someone who’d killed his longtime friend and trusted advisor. He hoped like hell that the shooter didn’t have children.
Dom cleared his throat. “I, um, hope Brigida understands me canceling on her again.”
Corrado’s lips tightened. Dom cringed inwardly, fully expecting to be told that now was the time to stand up, be a man, and show his face to let everyone in Cape Swan know that the Maisanos would not be cowed like this.
Instead, Corrado sighed. “Take this evening. Anyone will understand that we need time to grieve. And there’s a funeral to plan.”
“Yeah. And I… I think I just need to be alone tonight.”
Corrado nodded. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” His jaw tightened. “Call me directly. Since… Biaggio…”
Dom winced. He really was gone. Biaggio, the closest thing Dom had had to a father since he was twelve years old, was really gone.
Throat aching and stomach turning, Dom took a deep breath. Fuck. He was… he was gone.
“I’ll give you a call if there’s any developments.” Corrado squeezed Dom’s shoulder. “But otherwise, you won’t be bothered.”
“Thank you.”
“How is your security? Do you need some—”
“I’m fine.”
Corrado eyed him. “I really think a bodyguard is in order after this.”
“No. Whoever did this had a chance to shoot me. A bodyguard would just tell him he’d scared me.”
His uncle paused, then nodded. “Good point. But be careful, Domenico.”
“I will.”