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Furore: Chapter 10

Furore One Week Ago

“Tell me you got something,” I said the second I sat at the table.

“Not even I miss you, bro?” Fort, my Road Captain, grinned in a tease.

I miss you, bro. Now fucking speak.”

He sighed, losing his grin. He ran a hand through his long, jet black hair, and his thick eyebrows furrowed before he clasped his hands and leaned forward. “I’ve set all our crew and prospects to listen to every whistle and whisper out there.”

I threw a hand in the air in exasperation. Patience hadn’t been my friend in weeks, and now it was taking its last breath. “And?”

“Look, you were right about the Italian honeymoon. It’s over. The Lanza-Bellomo alliance is no more.”

“C’mon, Fort. Give me something I don’t know. Something I can work with.”

“It looks like the Bellomos are gaining turf. They now own Kentucky and Michigan, not just Chicago, and the Irish up north are getting in bed with them. Tino Bellomo is expanding his empire fast, and everybody is game, y’all, even the MCs. He has the Wicked Warriors on his side.”

“So the Lanzas need to expand, too, to counter his move. They can’t rely just on the West. But why the South when it’s the hardest to slip in? Why not go east?”

Fort leaned closer, lowering his voice. “There are rumors Bellomo is planning on taking that, too. He’s already talking with the Italians there, but the only problem is, he has serious beef with the Irish in Boston and New York. They’ll never let him in.”

“The Larvins?” I matched his whisper.

He nodded. “That means one thing. The enemy of my enemy…”

“The Lanzas are getting in bed with them to gain turf in the East. Together they’ll be strong enough to match the Bellomos. Then they’ll come to steal our turf before the Bellomos try to do the same. Fuck.”

“Well, the good news is, Tino Bellomo isn’t a greedy motherfucker. He’s batshit crazy, but he’s like elite and territorial as fuck. He protects what he has, and I don’t reckon he’s stupid enough to waste it on a useless war in the South. The Italian Mafia has tried for years to get on our land, but it always ends in loss of money and blood. We’re immune, bro. Texas is a fucking fort, like me.” He laughed, his big body shaking with humor I couldn’t share.

“The Lanzas look desperate enough to try something as stupid as going to a useless war.”

“But I have more good news. The Larvins don’t like the Lanzas either. They don’t give a shit about an alliance. Without the fucking Irish, the Lanzas can’t do squat. They can go fanculo.”

I hooked my hands behind my head and put the pieces together. Then a dreadful memory filled my throat with bile. “Shit.”

“Why shit? Ease up, brother. This is good news. They can’t do shit.”

“No.” I whispered. “They can do a lot if she is who they think she is.”

He grinned. “The hot teach?”

My jaws clenched hard. I didn’t like anyone saying anything about her body, not even my best friend. “Fifteen years ago, Declan Larvin had a bastard kid for eight years in the dark. When the wife found out, she sent men to kill the switch on the mother and the kid together. The fucker let her as if that wasn’t his blood she was spilling. The girl’s mother died, and they said the kid met the same destiny, but word on the street, there was only one grave dug that fit a grown bitch, not an eight-year-old.”

He pursed his lips, contemplating. “If the teach is Larvin’s girl…”  

“The Lanzas will serve her on a silver platter to the Larvins. They get the allies they need, and with our help, which they’ll get as long as they have me by the fucking balls, they find a way with the MCs in Texas. The war to come won’t be as useless as you think.”

“Fuck. Is she the kid?”

“I don’t know yet, but…” My gut told me she wasn’t just not Italian. She was hiding something big. She wore a fucking wig in the summer for fuck’s sake. I could tell that wasn’t her hair because when my sister got cancer she sent me to buy her wigs. She taught me how to pick them, to spot the synthetic from the real and to choose the ones that looked the least fake. She gave me shit when I bought the ones with bad hairlines. It was always about the fucking hairline. Jo’s wig, for those who never bought one before, looked as real as it got. For me, I could spot the treacherous little light roots on her cream white forehead. She was fucking blonde, and with every day that passed, I was more willing to bet my own dick on Irish eyes.

“You gotta give the dog a bone. Do whatever it takes to get outta here, and the rest can be taken care of. Supported by the Irish or not, we’ll make sure they never set foot in our territory, y’all.” He shrugged. “Larvin’s kid or just a teach with bad luck, just give her to them.”

“No,” I said fast.

“No? They’re gonna pull the plug on your boy’s shitty stepdad. Your ass will rot in here for four fucking years instead of two if not more.”

“I’m not gonna let them touch her,” I gritted under my breath.

He shook his head, pulling at the back of his hair. “It’s your call, Prez, but squander it all for some pussy? You? I’ve never seen you like this, Furore. Your brothers need ya more than ya need that pussy. Your boy needs ya. ”

“You think I don’t know that?” I growled. “But I’m not gonna let them lay a hand on her, you hear me?” I wouldn’t let anybody hurt her. Not anymore.

He shrugged, putting his hands out in surrender. “Gonna tell me why?”

I just stared at him. I didn’t have a straight answer to tell my Road Captain or even myself. She wasn’t mine to protect, not my child, not my pussy, not my blood. But even if I had yet to feel her clench and cream around my cock, I just knew I had to keep her safe as if she was mine. Until I made her mine.

And if she was Larvin’s lost kid, if she was Madeline’s daughter, then I owed her a lot more than just protection.

“Wow.” He chuckled. “How big is that ass?”

“Fuck you, Fort.”

“All right, all right. But please tell me you have another plan to get outta this dump. I ain’t spending the next four years taking eighteen-hour rides to this funk ass town every weekend to visit your old ass.”

He was right. I had to get out of here as fast as possible. For my boy. For my brothers and the MC. And for her. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”


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