“Why the fuck would he try to kidnap or kill his own daughter?” Leo asks.
“I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” Fury simmers underneath my skin, and I can’t fathom how I’m supposed to tell Sierra this. There is little love lost between them, but he is still her father. This will devastate her.
If my assumptions are correct, I can’t kill Lawson despite how much my hands long to feel his blood coating my skin. Accardi made me promise not to touch him, and this is one tradition I can’t ignore.
For now.
At last, the pilot tells us to buckle up for landing, and I finish my drink, mapping out how to play this in my head.
However, I didn’t factor on a welcoming committee waiting for us on the tarmac.
“How the hell did he know we were coming?” Leo hisses in my ear as we step out of the plane right into an ambush. Three blacked-out SUVs are idling before us, and twelve armed men point guns at our chests.
“We have a mole,” I murmur, and the realization does not reassure me. My thoughts instantly flicker to Sierra and Rowan, and I’m regretting not going home first and moving them someplace. I have a real bad feeling about this now.
“Mr. Mazzone.” A surly guy with a shaved head and a mean expression steps toward me. “You’re to come with me.”
“On whose authority?” I ask.
“Mr. Lawson’s,” he replies, prodding me in the chest with his gun. “I will need all your weapons.” He jerks his head sideways. “Same goes for your men.”
I nod at my guys, letting them know it’s okay to relinquish their weapons. We can’t exactly have a shootout on the airfield with cameras around, and we are outnumbered two to one. Besides, Lawson clearly has an agenda, and he won’t risk that by killing my men and enraging me.
I follow Brutus to a sleek black Mercedes waiting behind the last SUV. He opens the back door, and I slide into the seat where my soon-to-be father-in-law is waiting for me. Gifoli is in the passenger seat, and he turns around, palming the gun on his hip. “Don’t try anything, Mazzone. I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull. Unlike the armored glass, the privacy screen isn’t bulletproof.” I guess The Outfit’s regard for traditions has truly flown out the window. He holds out his hand. “Cell phone.”
Removing my cell from my inside jacket pocket, I hand it over without argument.
Lawson clicks his fingers, and the privacy screen whirs into place as the driver reverses the car. Outside, my men are being herded into the three different SUVs. He turns to me, pinning me with hazel eyes that are more green today, reminding me of my beloved. “Bennett. How good of you to come to me. Saved me any more theatrics.”
I wet my lips, schooling my face into a neutral line. “Theatrics do run in your family, Lawson, and I’m not talking about my fiancée.” I shove my hands between my thighs to avoid the almost insurmountable urge to strangle the bastard beside me. “Or should I call you DeLuca now?”
He slowly claps his hands, grinning, and I want to slam his head against the window repeatedly until his brain leaks from his skull. “It’s about time, Bennett. It took you long enough to figure it out. What gave me away in the end?”
“We caught up with Lucille, and she identified you. I pieced the rest together myself.”
“I knew I should have shot that bitch after I fucked her.”
“How long have you been colluding with the Russians?”
“We began negotiations at the start of the year.”
“I don’t know how they do things in Sicily, but in the US, consorting with the enemy is an immediate death sentence.”
He pulls two cigars out of a tin in the center console, offering me one. I shake my head, uncaring if he feels slighted. “I am well aware of how they do things in the US, my boy. I have lived here most of my life.”
“Why conceal your identity? Why have everyone believe you were leading through Gifoli from your seat in Sicily?”
“Why do any of us make any decisions?” he says, flicking open an old silver lighter. “For power and control.”
“How have you managed to keep this a secret for so long?” I won’t show any admiration for the man because there is nothing I admire about him, but what he has achieved is no easy feat.
“By containing the knowledge of my true identity to a small handful of trusted people.” He lights his cigar, bringing it to his lips and inhaling.
“It’s why you took Georgia’s name when you married her.” I bark out a laugh as something occurs to me, and he eyes me curiously. “You dangled the truth in front of us. If I’m not mistaken, Joseph is the English version of Giuseppe. I bet you got a real kick out of that.”
“I did.” He smirks, continuing to puff on his cigar. “You all think you’re so clever in New York. That The Outfit is second to your organization, but you are wrong.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “Chicago is the true seat of power, and I am the Italian mafioso’s true natural leader. The Commission will answer to me, not the other way around.”
That power trip has clearly gone to his head. He might have fooled us all these years, but his business is inferior to ours. We have increased our soldati numbers two-fold in the past five years, and our net worth has quadrupled. DeLuca has been so busy patting himself on the back for pulling the wool over our eyes that he has missed the memo. Things are moving forward, and if The Outfit doesn’t catch up, they will soon be obsolete. In his twisted head, he might believe he holds all the cards, but he is the one who needs us more. “The Commission will never answer to you. All that you will achieve is a bloody internal war. Is that what you want? To see your men slaughtered? Your city ravaged? Your power in tatters?”
“Ben, Ben, Ben.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were the insightful one.”
I visualize slamming his face into the window this time with my hands around his neck, squeezing every last bit of oxygen from his lungs.
“Of course, they won’t answer to me. Those smug bastards think they are above everyone. No, the only way we can do this is to get rid of them.”
“We? You can’t seriously be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Disbelief radiates from my tone.
The car heads down the ramp, onto the highway, and I wonder where he is taking me.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t been on the ultimate power trip these past few years, Bennett. Own your achievements, son.”
Bile floods my mouth, and I bite hard on my cheek to ignore the urge to retaliate. “I know what I’ve achieved and what is still left to achieve. Killing the rest of the New York famiglia is not on my agenda.”
“I know you are loyal. It is our way, but think about it.” He finishes his cigar, leaving the butt in the ashtray, and grips my arm. “Together, you and I will be a formidable force. We will reorganize The Commission, and I will rule La Cosa Nostra as don, and you will be our underboss.”
I’m guessing Gifoli isn’t listening in on the conversation unless DeLuca is lying and he plans to use me to get the other dons out of the way and then dispose of me. I wouldn’t put it past him. “You are crazy if you think anyone would commit their allegiance to you after wiping out The Commission.”