When they said I had a visitor, I wished it’d have been my boy finally agreeing to see me or just coming to give me shit about what I’d done, but it was likely one of the brothers updating me on business or a sweet butt coming to give me some company and show me a little bit of what I’d been missing.
What was waiting at the table, though, was a suit as expensive as my bike on a shiny scarface with enough grease in his hair to butter up an entire engine.
He smiled like we were best friends, not two strangers that were meeting for the first time. “If it isn’t the infamous Laius Lazzarini himself. Piacere.”
I narrowed my gaze at him, sizing him up. “The name is Furore.”
“Certo. Furore it is. I’m Armando L—”
“I know who you are.” I pushed my elbows on the table and tilted my chin up. “The new coyote.”
He gave a low laugh. “Word travels fast. Do you know my cousin?”
“Can’t say that I do.” All I knew was Domenico Lanza was the Lanza famiglia enforcer and a motherfucking bastard that flayed his enemies and fed them to the coyotes. That was how he got the name Il Coyote. Last winter, he had an accident and had to retire early. At least, that was the story the Mafia lords of San Francisco were feeding everyone. But the rumors were—more than rumors if you asked me—shit hit the fan between the Lanzas and their best buddies and recently in-laws, the Bellomos—the Mafia lords that ran Chicago. Domenico Lanza paid the price. Some said the son of a bitch had it coming. Others were sobbing tears over the Italian Dom. Me? Didn’t give a shit. Never would I over a Mafioso. I cared about no one but my own family. The Night Skulls and my own blood. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your precious visit?”
A cocky smirk curved his mouth. “As you know, the Night Skulls and the Lanzas have always been good friends.”
“Maybe with the San Francisco chapter, which, as you know, is a fucking memory. One we don’t like to remember.”
He chuckled. “Not just with that chapter. The ones all over Europe are still great allies to the Lanzas. We’d like to be friends with the chapters in Texas, too. You’re the man that can make that happen.”
I didn’t like where this was going. Running with the Mob was shitty business, and I’d managed to stay out of it until now. Besides, the Lanzas ran the west coast. Since when did they or any mobster have interest in the South where gambling was a shit show? Why are we really having this conversation, Lanza? “I only run Houston.”
“C’mon, Furore. We all know you’re their leader. You even have significant weight with the rivals. If there’s one man that can get the South under one call, it’s you.”
This wasn’t about getting friendly with the Night Skulls. This was about easing a way in to a new turf. A connection that could build a bridge that would lead not to the MCs or the casinos but straight to the cartel. Looked like the rumors weren’t horseshit after all, and no matter how the two families were trying to sugarcoat it, the Lanzas and the Bellomos honeymoon was over. The Lanzas had lost their cut in the Midwest, and they wanted to get their hands on a new territory. Yeah, I didn’t like where this was going. No one in the South would.
But you didn’t say that with a straight face to a fucking Mafioso, especially when you had twenty-one months more to serve in a fucking can. “When I’m out of here, I’ll be happy to discuss said friendship with you and pass it to the other presidents in our quarterly church. We’ll vote on it.”
The arrogant smile he had on vanished as he slowly leaned forward. “How’s your son doing, Furore?”
Was this little shit trying to threaten me? Leveraging my own boy against me? It was one thing to keep my shit for the sake of keeping business going without unnecessary wars, but when it came to my own family, I didn’t give a fuck. A mafia enforcer with an army behind him or not, nobody threatened my family.
“Piano.” He must have read my face and got the hint because he was flashing his friendly smile again, asking me to take it easy. “I mean, I’m sure you’d like to get out of here as soon as possible and try for a family reunion with him. Two years seem a little too long. You must miss him.”
I squinted at him. “Twenty-one months.”
“When you put it that way it sounds even longer. I don’t know, but if I were you, I’d do anything that could get me out of here in, say, three months, or…maybe even now.”
Taking a deep breath, I blinked. So it wasn’t a threat but an offer? “No judge will reduce the sentence to six months because of my priors and how that filthy fuck is connected. I was lucky to get just two years. It could have been four. That bitch called the cops on me herself and said I was gonna kill both her and her wife beater of a husband. I didn’t even point that gun at either of them, but her testimony stood.”
“It’s just words, Furore. She can change them.”
“She’s my boy’s mother. I won’t let any—”
“I figured you’d say that, and I respect you for it. Still, what if I can tell you our lawyers can make what you’ve done look like self-defense and get you out of here in no time?”
My brows hooked. “Without getting anywhere near Delilah?”
He nodded once.
“How?”
“McNamara is on our dime. Well, his aunt is.”
“His aunt? The mayor?”
“She’s a great lady. I never liked the nephew, though. I think that’s something we both can agree on. I’m glad you taught that motherfucker a lesson. As a matter of fact, I think you went easy on him.”
“That asshole won’t walk straight again. I broke half of his bones.”
“Exactly. He got lucky.”
I scratched the back of my head, getting the info soaked in. “That’s why I got two years instead of four, ain’t that right?”
“Smart fella. And if you do us that one little favor, we’ll make McNamara himself say he threw the first punch and his bitch was lying.”
That was how much power the Lanzas had on their turf. They would make the mayor’s nephew, who was still lying in a fucking hospital till today, drop the case like the little chicken shit he was, and even the mayor couldn’t help him because she was in the Mafia’s pocket.
I wiped my mouth and beard, deep in thought. Getting out of the slammer now, trying to win my boy back before that bitch poisoned him further against me, was more than tempting. There was nothing I wanted more than to have my son by my side. My odds at having that were slimmer by the day. He was eighteen now. One more year in high school, and with his brains, he’d go off to college with no hustle. He’d be madder and more embarrassed of me, and the next thing I knew, his kids wouldn’t even know who their real grandpa was. I didn’t want that to happen. He was my only son. I’d always wanted to be in his life, taking care of him, protecting him, loving him. I wanted to teach him how to ride, give him his first bike, be there for his graduation and wedding, and get his little suckers Christmas presents.
That bitch took his past from me. I shouldn’t let her ruin the future, too. “That little favor is my vote when I pass your proposal to the other presidents?”
He shook his head, his smile growing wider. “No, Furore. That would be for the two-year sentence. For the acquittal, there’s something else.”
My fist clenched under the table. I hated those mafia fucks. They thought they owned everything and could force anyone to play their game the way they wanted, only the way they wanted. Fuck that shit. He thought he owned me for a favor I didn’t ask for? He didn’t know who he was fucking with, but for my boy, I’d pretend I took the bait. “Let’s hear it.”
A triumphant look glistened on his face. Seriously, that guy was shinier than a sleek, brand new bike on a hot, sunny day. Even the scar that ran on the side of his nose and down to his upper lip seemed transparent. That was how fucking clean he was. What did those motherfuckers eat? “There’s a woman who teaches here. We have reasons to believe she’s not who she says she is. We want you to verify that for us,” he said, his voice lower by an octave I could barely hear him over the noises of the other inmates.
The fuck? “Huh?”
“You heard me the first time. Her name is—”
“Meneceo. I know all about the hot teach every fucker is wanking off to these days. They talk about nothing but her hot ass and the shades she wears all the time like she’s a fucking Fed. There’s even a bet going around—”
“About what color her eyes are,” he interrupted me like I interrupted him, his gaze letting me know he didn’t appreciate it when I did. “We know. But we’d like to have that piece of information earlier than anyone else and keep it exclusive for as long as possible.”
“Why?”
“We’re curious if the little Italian high school teacher has Irish eyes. It’s important to be the first to know if it’s true.”
Blinking, I tried to put two and two together, but I couldn’t place it. Let’s say she was Irish hiding under an Italian name for whatever fucking reason, why did they care? Why was it urgent information? And why would they come to me to figure it out for them? Why wouldn’t they just send any of their men to find out the stupid color of her eyes out there, bribe one of her friends or even a kid at the school where she taught? “I don’t get it.”
“The less you know the better. All we need you to do is charm her, get her to trust you enough to talk a little about her past. Any detail no matter how small will help. And most importantly, make her show you her eyes.” He smirked. “I have no doubt you can make her show you more than that.”
I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. “I still don’t get it. You can’t be serious about the eyes. So many people have light blue eyes, but they’re not really Irish. It proves nothing.”
He reached inside the pocket of his suit jacket and brought out a photo. He leaned forward and stretched his arms as he slid the photo across the table for me to see, making sure it was only me that could see it. “When you see them, you’ll know.”
I took a hint, so I didn’t touch the photo and only dropped my eyes a little so no one around would notice. The second my gaze met the innocent, most eccentric, light greenish blue eyes I’d ever seen, ones that were so unique it was almost impossible for even God to remake, I froze, my lips parting with a silent gasp. I, a grown ass motherfucker, fucking gasped, and no air came in or out because that little blonde girl’s face in the photo literally took my breath away.
Then something vicious and dangerous clicked in me. The girl in the photo couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Maybe even younger. So beautiful and innocent and clueless…and sad, so sad. I didn’t know if it was that face that belonged in fairyland, that look in those rare eyes or my protective parental instincts that had been heightened since that fucker laid a hand on my boy, but every cell in me wanted to protect that little girl.
Instead, for the sake of my own child, I was supposed to hand her over to those animals. “What are you gonna do to her if she is who you think she is?”
“The less you know the better, Furore,” he stressed.
Shit. That could never be good. I dragged my eyes away from the photo, shaking off that fucking feeling that wasn’t supposed to strike me like a lightning bolt. But when he took back the picture, all I wanted was to ask him to keep it with me, as if I needed to protect even the goddamn picture from his hands.
Snap out of it. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s just another bitch now, who has probably done bad shit like every other woman out there, like Delilah. She doesn’t need your protection. Your son does.
In spite of what I thought of bitches after what Delilah did to me, I couldn’t bring myself to be okay with this job. I wasn’t Roar. The former president of the San Francisco chapter wouldn’t have batted an eye and would have jumped into that shady deal with a sick smile on his face. But not me. Putting those sudden feelings that picture sparked inside me aside, hurting young women like that teacher—they said she was fresh in her early twenties—wasn’t something I stomached. Unless she’d done something really nasty that she had whatever shit the Mob had in mind for her, handing her over to ruthless men like the Lanzas wasn’t something I was willing to do. Not even if it brought me back to my son. “Why me? Can’t you just send someone to do it outside? It’d be much easier.”
“We don’t want to draw any attention to her outside of those walls or anyone to know we’re looking into her.”
She must have been a big secret they had to protect. Why? And until when? How much danger was she in? Fuck. I had to know even though I shouldn’t. I needed to know. “You coming here has drawn a lot of attention already.”
“Not at all. The Night Skulls and the Lanzas go way back. You’re a valued friend who has come all the way to our city and sadly encountered an unfortunate event. It’d be strange if we didn’t come to check on you and make sure you were comfortable in your new accommodation. No one knows the true nature of this conversation but you and me. Your discretion, which I know you’ll honor, is very much appreciated.”
I snorted. “Trust easy, huh?”
“What are friends if they can’t trust each other, goombah?” He rose, buttoning his suit jacket. “Besides, I’m sure you know that if we can make McNamara move his tongue to say the right words, we can also make him shut his mouth forever. How much time do you think people serve for manslaughter in here? With your priors and him being the mayor’s nephew… Good God, they can push for life. Che guaio. Shit would be really hard on you, and your poor son would lose both his fathers. I wouldn’t want that for you or him.”
