Aggravation slithers down my spine, followed by shame and a healthy dose of disgust. “Of course, I’m thinking about it.” I have to. I’m a don, and that means making impossible choices.
“Fucking shit.” He swipes his hand over his lips. “Somehow, I managed to convince myself over the years that you care just a little about me.”
“I don’t want to do this, Nero,” I growl. “But I can’t ignore all the logical downstream effects if I don’t do what Gino wants.”
The coffee table goes flying toward me. I jump to my feet, pull out my gun, and point it at him. The air around us crackles with tension.
“You and your fucking logic,” he spits out, his eyes ablaze with anger and hurt. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need to know how you’ll rationalize this.” He advances until the barrel of my gun presses up against his chest. “Do it, Rafe. Just fucking do it. I can tell you want to. It’s the logical thing to do, isn’t it?”
My index finger hovers above the trigger. Seconds tick by.
It is logical. But it feels so fucking wrong that I can taste bile coming up my throat.
“I thought you’d finally changed,” Nero whispers. “Because of the girl. Because of your wife.”
That word triggers a flood of memories.
The way I kissed her at the altar. The way she looked at me when I told her it was over. The way my chest spasmed when she said those three fucking words.
“You were right,” I whisper back. “I never should have gotten involved with her.”
He curls his hand over the barrel, keeping it steady. “I don’t blame her for this. You shouldn’t either.” He leans even closer, his gaze piercing through me. “At least she showed you what it feels like to be human.”
Something is lodged inside my throat. A pressure builds behind my eyes.
Do it. Pull the trigger. I trained you for this.
At thirteen, I listened to my father’s words.
But at twenty-seven…I don’t.
I jerk the gun out of Nero’s grip and lower it. Surprise and then relief flash in his eyes. I turn away from him and cross the room, putting some distance between us. A headache blooms inside my skull. I want to claw my fucking brains out.
Some minutes pass before Nero asks, “Why didn’t you do it?”
I shake my head, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t know.”
He huffs. “So what now?”
“We’ve got time. It’s not morning yet.”
Nero checks his watch. “Five hours until sunrise. Until Ferraro sends his army after me. How do you want to spend them?” He spreads his arms and laughs, but it’s humorless. “Not much entertainment around here. I might be able to find us a deck of cards.”
My pocket starts vibrating. I place my gun on the coffee table and dig the phone out of my jacket.
“Ferraro?” Nero asks.
I stare at the caller ID. “No. It’s De Rossi.” Why is he calling? Is Cleo with him by now? Not wanting to torture myself by wondering about it all night, I pick up. “Is she with you?”
“Yeah. We’re leaving with her in the morning.”
A heaviness settles inside my chest, but I ignore it. “Good.” The words taste like ash on my tongue.
“We heard what Ferraro wants.”
I grunt in response.
“Are you with Nero right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you figured a way out of it?”
I stare at the gun on the coffee table between Nero and me. Since I’m not going to kill Nero, Gino will. Or at least he’ll try. And how many more will die as a result?
My jaw clenches. “No. Why are you calling me?”
“Cleo asked me to see if I can help somehow. She’s inconsolable.”
An ache appears inside my chest. I crack my neck, forcing myself to ignore the sensation. “I’m all fucking ears. Ferraro expects to see a body tomorrow. If he doesn’t, he will declare war. Many will die.”
Gino told me he had an affinity for water, but he won’t hesitate to let New York City go up in flames.
De Rossi makes a thoughtful noise. “You said Ferraro wants a body.”
“Yes, a body,” I answer.
Hold on. A beat passes. “Doesn’t have to be Nero’s body,” I whisper more to myself than to De Rossi.
Across the room, my consigliere looks up at me.
“Let’s talk it through,” De Rossi says. “I’m putting you on speaker. Ras and Giorgio are here too.”
I start pacing. “Right. Garzolo had a few big guys with him. About Nero’s size.”
“He did. We could get them back for you.”
If De Rossi brings me the bodies… “I could make it look like a fire. Make them unrecognizable.”
“Gino will want the remains,” De Rossi says. “He’ll want to verify it himself.”
“Yeah. He’ll check the DNA. Nero’s been swabbed before, and Gino has contacts inside the police who’ll be able to run it through the database.”
“I can update the records they have on file,” a deeper voice says, one I recognize as Giorgio’s.
I frown at the phone. “Are you sure?”
“It won’t be a problem,” he says, not a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “But you’ll still have to figure out what to do with Nero. He won’t be able to show his face around here ever again.”
I glance at my friend. He’s got his elbows on his knees, his palms cupped in front of his face.
“He’ll have to disappear,” I say.
Nero holds my gaze.
“I can’t send him to any of my safe houses in the state,” I say. “Too risky.”
“No, he has to leave New York,” Giorgio says. “I suggest sending him a few states over. Somewhere quiet without any mob presence. He can’t be spotted by anyone who could report back to Ferraro.”
Nero must pick up on what I’m proposing, because he gets to his feet, clear protest in his eyes.
Nero in a small town? What the fuck is a big-city guy like him going to do somewhere quiet on his own? He’s not going to like this, but he doesn’t have a choice. Not when the alternatives are death or war. I need to make sure he doesn’t come back, no matter what. But how?
Sandro picks that moment to walk through the door, two cups of coffee in hand. My gaze latches onto the driver. The kid’s got no family. He’s in his early twenties. And he owes Nero and me for pulling him out of the street racing scene where he would have crashed and broken his neck sooner or later.
I’ll send Sandro with Nero.
He’ll keep Nero from doing something stupid like coming back here as soon as things quiet down.
“Grab two of Garzolo’s men,” I say into the phone. “Sandro is going with Nero.”
“Sandro the driver?”
“Yeah.”
Sandro and Nero exchange a what-the-fuck look.
“All right,” Giorgio says. “Ras and I will grab the bodies and bring them to you. I’ll get a DNA sample from one of them, run it through as soon as we get back to Italy, and swap with Nero’s record,” Giorgio says. “That way, if anyone runs anything through the system, they’ll get the confirmation they’re looking for.”
I nod to myself. This is going to work. “We need to move quickly. Can you leave right now?”