I raise my brow, waiting for him to speak, but he says nothing. “Well?” I urge.
Nycto runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a huff. “I couldn’t get a read on it. Tony’s coming here now to have a chat. Wouldn’t tell me what about. Said he wouldn’t discuss it over the phone in case people were listening. Have to admit it’s piqued my interest.”
“You believe it’s a good idea to let the DeLucas on our home turf?” I ask with more than a little concern laced in my voice.
Nycto shrugs. “At least here we have the home advantage. I don’t know what Titanium Tony wants, but I am interested in finding out.”
***
I’ve heard many stories of Titanium Tony, the most notorious mafia don in Florida. He’s sneaky, cunning, and a big believer in famiglia. You come after anyone in his house, your body is never found. Fuck knows how they handle disposal, but what-the-hell ever because we’ve never crossed paths. Basically, we stay out of his way, and he stays the fuck out of ours. We’re far enough away for our territories not to be an issue, so for him to make a special trip down here to see us, it must be for a good reason.
He needs something.
Or one of us has done something.
There’s always a reason for another crime syndicate to cross our path, and I’m anxious to hear Tony’s reasoning.
Voltage signals that the convoy’s approaching, so we head outside to the gate as a club united. We can’t be sure how many men Tony’s bringing with him, but we need to show him we’re not sending out any sort of welcoming committee.
We’re being cautious, as we should.
West pulls open the gates as we stand in a long line. Nycto and me in the center, arms folded across our chests in a show of impatience. Mammoth and our other brothers are fanned out at our sides as we barricade the entry to the clubhouse. The four black Audis pull up, their doors opening in perfect synchronicity, so much so, I have to hold back my laughter.
How many times have they practiced that shit?
“Man, it’s like they’re trying too hard to be supervillains,” Mammoth mutters under his breath, which causes me to smirk.
In the lead car, the driver steps out along with the front passenger. They’re wearing perfectly tailored suits. Their five o’clock shadowed chins are well-manicured. They appear more like Italian princes than mafia as they arrogantly shift to the rear of the car.
After opening the door, they stand back while Tony steps out. His graying beard is trimmed neatly on his face. He’s exactly how I would imagine what the ladies call a ‘silver fox.’ His hair is dark gray with a few strands of silver running through it, giving him an edge as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his impeccably tailored black pants. His crisp white shirt so fresh, I’m sure it’s as new as his ridiculously shiny shoes, which reflect his face.
The man screams wealth.
Actually, no, more like dirty money, which I’m assuming he has in spades.
Tony’s eyes drift to the other side of the car, where a younger man steps out dressed much the same in an impeccable dark blue suit. His dusty blond hair sweeps over his head is a styled wave. He too has a well-maintained beard, though his is a darker blond, and is in total contrast to Tony. Both men are broad in the chest, strong in stature, and oozing confidence as they turn heading toward us, flanked by their men.
Ten guards surround them—so much for coming with a couple of capos. Instead, the asshole’s here with a small arsenal of men.
I glance at Nycto, who appears to stiffen his posture. He’s angry—furious actually—I can tell by the fists he’s tightly holding to his sides. So he should be. This gratuitous show of force from Tony is totally uncalled for.
“Tony, this is not what we agreed,” Nycto yells as they approach.
“And your little welcoming party doesn’t exactly incite confidence either. I surmise we both came into this without trust, didn’t we, Nycto?”
“I guess so,” Nycto sneers. “This, however, is my territory… my clubhouse.”
I roll my shoulders, hearing footsteps behind me. I peek over my shoulder and watch Eva chasing Ivy out of the clubhouse door. Eva tries to pull her back inside, but Ivy is having none of it as they both rush up the ramp toward us.
Fucking insolent damn woman!
Swinging back to Tony, I try not to bring any attention to the girls, but it’s too late. Tony’s eyes shift straight past me directly to them. His lip turns up crookedly. “Shall we get down to business, then?”
Nycto narrows his eyes. “Thing is, Tony, I have no idea what the hell kind of business you’re bringing to my club. I’m not even sure I want to do business with the likes of you.”
Tony signals his men. They begin to fan out, moving in front of us. I tense, not liking how this is going. Nycto grabs for his gun. I reach for mine at the same time, causing a chain reaction from all our brothers. We lift our weapons high, pointing directly at the Mafiosos. They halt their approach, each with their empty hands raised.
We have the upper hand.
They have to remember this is our turf, and what they don’t know is Ominous and Brass are hidden with sniper rifles aimed directly at these fuckers.
One false move, and it’s hunting season.
“What the hell do you want, Tony?” Nycto grunts, turning his gun to the side menacingly at the don.
Tony’s eyes drift past us toward the two women at the back, who are currently holding each other for comfort. “I want something of yours.”
“You couldn’t ask nicely first, asshole?” I scoff.
The blond capo steps forward, into my space, as if to test my patience. “You want to call him an asshole again, and see what I do to yours, you—”
“You think you can come into this clubhouse and throw your weight around? This is our place. These are our men, and you’re nothing but a damn menace!” Ivy yells, rushing to my side.
“Menace? You think I’m a menace, you little whor—”
“Matteo, enough!” Tony spits while placing his hand on his second in command.
“Call her a whore again, let’s see what happens,” I jab at the arrogant prick.
Blondie huffs, straightening out his ridiculously expensive suit. “I apologize. I let my anger get the better of me,” he mutters unconvincingly, then turns thrusting his hand into his hair.
Ivy shouldn’t even be out here, let alone trying to start a fight with a capo.
But I can’t say that I’m surprised.
She’s a damn firecracker.
“You think you can come in here demanding shit after that display of arrogance?” I scoff out a laugh while Ivy wraps her arms around my waist.
Tony’s eyes linger on Ivy a little longer than I like, then he turns to Nycto. “I wanna make a deal, Presidente.”
Nycto cracks his neck to the side, clicking the safety off on his gun. “Why should I make a deal with you, Tony?”
Tony exhales, his muscles relaxing as he softens his posture. “I wanna make a deal for the use of Ivy.”
A shudder runs deep in my very soul. My arm protectively loops around Ivy as I pull her to me.
How the fuck does this bastard even know her name?
I don’t even want to fathom what the fuck that means. “No.” I’m blunt, curt, my anger coming through like a raging tornado as Nycto creases his brow.