He was still shaking off Rikers and I was starting to doubt he’d ever be completely rid of it. The man had the look of a captain—the suit was good, though now it was wrinkled, and the hair on point, despite being windblown. He’d cleaned up, gotten his shit together enough that he didn’t look like he’d spook easy if that redhead gave him shit about not complying with our rules. The woman had only been back for a few weeks and already she was back to disrupting the small peace in our town.
But the confidence I used to see from him, the Dario whose swagger had women biting their lips when he shot winks at them?
That shit was gone.
“The problem is the woman isn’t budging and with you fucking around with your bullshit…” He waved a hand, his thumb shooting over his shoulder, toward the center of town where our folks’ restaurant was, where my business and…Maggie’s old apartment was, “…I’m fucking treading water.” My brother’s jaw tightened, and he sat on the hood of my car, hand on the back of his neck like he was about to lose his shit.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?”
He shot a look at me, eyebrows wrinkling together. “Dimitri…”
“No, I wanna know, little brother.” I looked down at him, unbuttoning my jacket, pulling it off before I tossed it on my hood. “Because I’ve had a shitty fucking day and if you’re looking for a tussle, I gotta tell you, I’m down for it.”
“Man…” He started to walk away, waving his hand behind him as he went, then turned around, pulling out of the grip I had on his arm. “Dimitri, back the fuck up.”
I let him push me.
Once.
A little spark fired in his eyes, like a flash had been lit. Something wild and flickering.
It was fucking beautiful.
I missed seeing that shit from the man.
“There you go,” I told him, getting in his face. His gaze shot to my hands as I rolled up my sleeves, to the black ink on my forearms. He’d been out months and still hadn’t asked when I’d gotten tatted. He’d missed a hell of a lot being on the inside. “Seems to me we’re due for a few rounds.”
“I can’t take you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Back in the day, I’d been the New York Golden Gloves champion. Not like I’d let myself go soft. That wouldn’t stand being the man I was, doing the shifty shit I did.
Dario wouldn’t last two rounds.
Still, I’d never done a day at Rikers. I hadn’t spent the past five years looking over my shoulder, waiting for some asshole to ice me because of shit my little brother had pulled.
“I’ll go easy on you, baby bro.” I moved my chin, giving him the mean smirk I knew he’d hate, bringing my fists up. “Unless you got something you wanna tell me. Maybe shit really did change on the inside.” I lowered my fists, when my brother’s jaw tensed so that his bottom lip curved at the side.
Good. This shit was working.
“Maybe…that place did you in and maybe there is no Dario Carelli left anymore.” He flared his nostrils, and I slipped a glance at his fists, spotting them closed and shaking. “Maybe all that’s left of you now is some mama’s boy pussy.”
“Fuck you!” he shouted, taking a swing, his face red, breath shooting out in a heavy wheeze as he came right at me.
It was fucking glorious, seeing all that fire shooting from the man, hearing the raging scream lifting from his mouth.
He pivoted, inhaling, pissed when I blocked him, full of fire and venom when I tapped him on the chin. “You son of a…”
“Watch what you say about…” I jabbed, he ducked, then I caught him on the side of the cheek, “our folks.”
“Fuck you, asshole!” Dario took another sloppy swing, using too much of his upper body, not enough of his lower body.
He was off balance and I took advantage, catching him with a body shot that brought my kid brother right to his knees.
“Shit!” He curled over, holding his stomach, waving me off when I knelt in front of him. “Get off me.”
“Stop bitching and let me see your face,” I said, moving him off the ground to lean against my car.
He didn’t fight me, but kept his stomach covered, taking deep breaths, keeping his eyes squinted like the pain was getting worse.
There was a cut on his lower lip and a purple bruise already forming below his eye.
Not too bad for ten years out of the ring.
“Here.” It took Dario a few long breaths before he opened his eyes and took the handkerchief I offered him. He rubbed his lip, not slapping my hand away when I turned his face toward me, giving him a once over. “You’ll do. Ice that lip when you get home.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, I am.”
He watched me, not speaking, like he expected me to elaborate. He wanted a reason for the little exorcism I’d just forced him into. Dario wasn’t thick. He was a smart guy, but so much time away from us had clouded who he was. His head was muddled with how his life had been. He needed reminding that things on the outside weren’t the same.
“Dimitri,” he started, but went quiet when I glared at him.
I inhaled, scratching at the stubble on my chin as I looked toward town, wondering how long I’d have to wait to get my brother back, hoping that this shook some sense into all the fucking fog in his head. “I am an asshole because I have to be.” I glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “Pop is out. Johnny…he wants out too.”
“What’s our cousin got to do with…”
When I tilted my head, letting loose one humorless laugh, Dario dropped his mouth open, his eyes rounding.
“No. Fuck that. You can’t take over for him. Ma would lose her shit.”
“He has a family now. A wife, a child and no one that he trusts. Who else will do it?” I stood, tired of the look my kid brother gave me, sick when I thought about the complaining I knew he’d start in with.
“The shit here, in this town, D, this is nothing like Johnny’s business. This is…” He waved a hand toward the small buildings and lights illuminated near the town square. “It’s a few hot shipments and slipping dock managers thick envelopes to get cheap shit for good store owners. But Johnny’s shit…that’s not…that’s…”
“It’s not that big of a leap.”
My cousin wasn’t a don.
None of us were.
But he had connections, obligations that had made him rich. If I took over for him, like he kept asking me to do, it would free up any worries about anyone working over my dock managers or shooting up my men. It would give me leverage I didn’t have here.
“You’d be a different man in the city.” Dario stood, stuffing the handkerchief in his pocket. “We…probably wouldn’t recognize you anymore.”
“Yeah,” I told him, pulling my attention away from the town and back to my brother’s bruised face. “Think I know what that’s like.”
“There’s a difference. You aren’t going to prison.”
I moved up the right side of my mouth and Dario seemed to understand what I didn’t say. There would be no guards, no warden, but taking on our cousin’s business would put me in a place I didn’t want to be. The spotlight.