Miles’s stomach dropped as they reached the top step, leaving Landon and Sasha standing in confusion at the bottom of the stairs as they watched their father and brothers enter the secured chamber just outside of the war room. The men stepped over a line that was just begging to be crossed. Michael unlocked the door with a long silver key that he kept in his robe. Dustin followed close behind, dragging his feet into the large chamber as if he was heading in for a long day at the office. Just as Miles was about to follow suit, Knox gripped up the back of Miles’s shirt, slamming him into the wall. Looking down at his brother, Miles threw daggers at him with just his gaze. Looking up at Miles with a pissed off expression on his face, but with a look of trepidation in his eyes, Knox spat at him in nothing more than a whisper, “Stick to the fucking plan!”
Raising his eyebrows at Knox, Miles replied calmly, “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
An amused laugh choked from Knox’s throat as he unclenched Miles’s shirt. Not breaking his gaze, Knox walked away and crossed over the threshold of the room. Rolling his eyes, Miles grabbed the bronze handle and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Take a seat, fellas,” Michael suggested as he pointed to the three chairs that sat before his antique oak desk. Michael sank down into a vintage leather chair as he waited for his sons to take a seat.
The war room was a windowless chamber, with only one way in, and two ways out: through the door you walked in or by the gun you lived by. The walls were painted a vibrant shade of red and lining the walls were photographs of associates, family functions and “family functions.” The frames showcased a who’s who of the Capadonno crime family. It was a treasure trove for the feds and something of a twisted scrapbook for Michael Capadonno and his associates.
Miles lowered himself into the center chair, his brothers, Knox and Dustin, taking the other chairs, crowding him in like oversized book ends. The three of them stared up at Michael, each of them discontent in their own special way, at the man they served in one capacity or another.
The men that served my father took an oath. They signed up for this shit. That was not so for the Capadonno men. The king’s blood flows through our veins. La Cosa Nostra was my father’s version of a nursery rhyme. Our initiation was our birth. Our education was growing up with Michael Capadonno as our father. My mother tried to protect us as best as she could, but let’s face it, as strong as she was, Michael Capadonno’s presence was much stronger.
Michael cleared his throat as he threw his cell phone face up on the desk, next to the gold-plated frame that showcased a photograph of Michael, Sonny and Gino Rigatti, former boss of the Rigatti crime family in New York.
“In case you carognas didn’t get the memo, I’m not exactly a spring fuckin’ chicken,” Michael spat.
Miles lifted an eyebrow at his father’s tongue in cheek comment.
“No kidding…” Dustin said with a sly smile growing on his face. “I had no clue.”
Knox let out a snide chuckle, while Miles just stared at the man that was called the Butcher with a bored expression on his face. The old man rolled his eyes as he watched the range of amusement on his three sons’ faces.
“I’ve got some fight left in me, but I like to be prepared. The docs say I’ve got two months. Tops,” Michael explained. His fingers rested on the desktop, the edge of his fingernails gently scratching at the wood.
“Maybe you should sit your old ass down then,” Knox suggested as he still held his handkerchief to his nose.
“Maybe you should worry about the mobsters in the Big Apple…” Michael said to Knox, his eyes grilling his second-oldest son.
Knox rolled his eyes as he broke his gaze from his father.
“As I was sayin’…” Michael continued. “I need to put some provisions in place.”
“Provisions. What provisions?” Miles asked.
“Yeah,” Knox said as he adjusted his tie. Flicking his eyebrows up, Knox continued. “What provisions?”
“Don’t blow a load, Knox…” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes.
“Focus, assholes,” Michael spat. “I need to put one of you jabronis in charge.”
“Now?” Dustin asked. “Why now?”
“No! Not now! When I kiss the sky!” Michael yelled, his face turning a violent shade of red.
“In charge… You mean boss…” Miles said, giving Michael a blank expression. His poker face was legendary.
“Acting boss… ’til Uncle Sonny croaks,” Knox clarified.
“I gotta make a decision, and you three assholes don’t make it fuckin’ easy!” Michael growled.
“I don’t want it,” Miles announced dryly.
“Did I ask what you wanted?” Michael screamed across the desk. He was becoming more and more irate with every second.
Michael Capadonno’s face was bright red as he prepared to berate his sons from across his desk. Before he could, Michael’s cell phone began to vibrate. The Fish’s ugly face popped up on the screen.
“Just ignore it,” Michael said as he cracked his knuckles.
“No, it’s a text message. Answer it,” Miles spat.
Rolling his neck, Miles let the stress of the situation roll down his back. Michael stared at Miles, trying to test his mettle.
Go ahead, old man. I could do this all night long.
When Michael didn’t answer his phone, Miles swiped the black iPhone from his desk. Before Michael could even say a word, Miles had already opened the text message.
Fish: Did you a solid. We’re bringing Letty in so she can be dealt with. I know you said that you wouldn’t be around... but we will and we need to protect our secrets. Consider it an executive decision.