“They didn’t pull me in, Sal. You did, when you first visited me back at Georgetown all those years ago, trying to make me into something I wasn’t. I see now that I’ll never be through with you. I’m done trying to play both sides of the fence.” I pressed the gun against the side of his head.
“Please. I’ll leave you alone. For good. I swear. Don’t you understand this was just business?”
Sal’s red face and shaky voice gave me a feeling different from anything I’d ever experienced. I felt incredibly powerful. Never again would I let him push me around.
“Don’t become monsters like them,” he urged as he closed his eyes.
“They’re not monsters. They’re my family,” I said as I pulled the trigger. “And nobody messes with my family—or our family business.”
For a few seconds, I just stood there, a changed man with a smoking gun in his hand. I had done the one thing I was determined never to do. I’d killed a man in cold blood, becoming a murderer just like my father.
I turned away from Sal’s lifeless body and walked out of the room. The three men were still there, now joined by LC.
“Is Mariah okay?” I asked, unable to bring myself to look at him.
“Yes,” my father-in-law replied. “She’s fine.”
“And London?”
“She’s fine also.”
I nodded, thankful that my family was safe, but unable to say anything else. I think part of me was still back in that room with the man I’d just murdered.
For LC, though, this bloody business was nothing new. He continued on like it was just another day at the office. “I have someone I want you to meet, Harris.”
He turned toward the older, white-haired man. “Johnny Mazz, this is Harris Grant. Harris, Johnny is a very dear friend and business partner. He also represents the Commission.”
From the first time he sought me out in college, Sal had spoken about the five Mafia families of New York and the Commission that ran them. I could always tell that he admired those families and aspired one day for his family to hold a seat on the Commission. And now I was meeting someone from the Commission mere minutes after shooting the man who’d told me about its very existence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to formally introduce myself,” Mazz said in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “but I’m sure you understand. We all needed to focus on the task at hand.”
I nodded but said nothing. I was too busy trying to make sense of this scene. Here was my father-in-law, proudly introducing this Mafioso, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that I’d just killed a made Italian man.
“The Commission is in your debt for removing such a worthless piece of shit like Sal from the earth.” Mazz offered me his hand and I took it tentatively.
“I don’t understand. You wanted him dead? I thought he was one of your people.”
“Sure, he was Italian, but Sal’s family wasn’t a voting member of the Commission. They were warned specifically not to interfere with LC’s business.”
So, LC had the protection of the Mafia, and he was apparently very friendly with a high-ranking member. I was the family lawyer, but obviously there were some things LC still saw fit to hide from me.
LC continued the explanation where Mazz had left off. “That’s why Sal was trying to manipulate us and the Mexicans. If he could get us to kill each other off, then the Commission couldn’t say shit if he moved in on our territory. And because of the amount of money he’d make, the five families would have no choice but to give him a seat at the table.”
“But LC brought this to our attention, and thanks to your help, we no longer have that problem.” He reached out his hand again, and this time I shook it with more confidence.
Mazz said, “By the way, your father was a good friend and a good man.”
“That he was,” LC echoed.
“You knew about my father?” I asked, turning my attention to LC.
“Sure did. Did you think I was going to let you marry London and not know every minute detail about you? It wasn’t until I found out you were his son that I was convinced you had the right stuff to marry a Duncan.”