“You want to take the club off their home turf?” Michael asks, his brow furrowed.
“We’re playing defense out here, and it’s getting my men killed and their women hurt. I’m fucking done. I need the boys to vote on it, but if they do, we’ll head out once we know Carlo’s out of Rikers.”
“That’s smart. I doubt Carlo or Emilio will be expecting Forsaken back in New York any time soon. Once Carlo is released, it’s not going to take him long to figure out the mess his nephew’s caused.”
“You got the heart for this?” I ask, my eyes trained on Michael. I’ve never had a dad, so I can’t say I know how I’d feel if I were in his shoes. Can’t be easy, though. “Carlo fucked over Jim’s woman, scarred up her kid. As far as I’m concerned, they have every right to take him out.”
“My father isn’t a kind man. He’s prideful and mean. He won’t let his men know that the order to take Alex out didn’t come from him. He’d have to admit he failed as a leader and let an arrogant prick take control while he was locked up. He’ll lose the family regardless of anything else if he lets that be known. I want to believe he’ll leave her alone, but I can’t take the chance that he won’t.”
“I need to know before I take this to my brothers that you’re on board with this, Michael. I need your word that you’ll let us handle your father.”
“You know, back in Brooklyn, Alex used to tell me that she didn’t want me taking the Omerta. Because then I’ll belong to the family and not to her family. I don’t think I understood how much that upset her until now.”
“That a yes or no, kid?”
Junior’s face hardens, his expression unreadable. He’s staring down at the table, watching his wrists as he rotates them in slow circles. I don’t envy this boy or the decision he’s having to make. Even if he won’t be the one pulling the trigger, he’s still promising to stay out of the way when it happens. It’s a big deal to ask a son to let his father die.
Zander.
God, this kid is barely old enough to drink and he’s faced with this shit. If it were me or my boy . . .
“My sister is my family. She and my brother . . . they have to be kept safe. I don’t want to be the one to take him out, but I will if I have to.”
The tension in the room is high, and it’s mostly coming from Michael. We don’t talk for much longer. There’s really nothing else to say. They’re both on board with the club helping them gain some traction in New York, and they’ll in turn help us end this war once and for all. Taking out Carlo and Emilio doesn’t guarantee us peace, but if we play our cards right, it will secure us a foothold with the Italians that we desperately need in order to keep the threat to my brothers and our families as minimized as possible. If executed correctly, this plan will get Michael and Leo the necessary numbers to overthrow any lingering loyalty the Italians have to his father.
“Closed door meetings with the Italians. Should I be worried?” Diesel strides into the room just as Michael and Leo are walking out. His expression is guarded, his shoulders are hunched, and he’s got his hands shoved in his pockets. I don’t like it. Not one bit. My brothers don’t walk around all apologetic and shit unless there’s a damn good reason for it. I seriously can’t take anything else.
“We need to talk, Pres,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
“You shoot somebody you weren’t supposed to?” He grimaces at my comment. He. Fucking. Grimaces. And ain’t that some shit. If it were Ryan coming to me with this shit, I’d be worried. Even with Grady, who I trust enough to have made my VP, I’d be jumping down his throat. That’s one reason they don’t get along—they’re both hotheads and way too much alike. But Diesel—he’s solid and steady. But something’s happened, and now I actually am worried that he’s shot someone. He did disappear for a week fucking straight without a goddamn explanation. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t my club at the time, so I let it go.
“Need your word you’re gonna let me say what I have to, and then you can lay into me. But you gotta let me get this shit out first.”
“What the fuck have you done?”
“Your word, Wyatt.” He’s not asking. This is a demand, but I trust my brother. Regardless of what he has to tell me. So I give him my word and wait for him to start talking.