“Fuck.”
I paced the floor, still remembering the asshole’s words. “Where are Javier’s children? His wife?”
“What? What do they have to do with this?”
“You heard me. Where the hell are they?”
Dartanian cocked his head. “They were threatened as well?”
“Hell, yes. The meeting was a goddamn ambush and I was stupid enough to fall into it.”
“Why would the Los Charlines do something like that? They have to know we’d retaliate,” he asked, his tone incredulous.
“I think that’s exactly what they want us to do. Retaliate quickly.”
“Then we need to cut them off at the knees,” he suggested.
I nodded, my heart racing. “Shit, I need a fucking drink.” I could hear the sound of several male voices. “Let me guess, Father called in reinforcements to help crush Calleja.”
He swung a gaze toward the door. “That I’m not certain of. They were already behind closed doors when I arrived. You know how this works with the Charlines scum. They have no intention of trying to take a portion of the business.”
“No. They want it all.”
Just then, the door opened. I certainly wasn’t surprised at the sight of the three men walking out of my father’s office, their stoic faces a clear indication that they were concerned about the decision I’d made in accepting the invitation. If so, my guess was that they’d already heard the news I’d taken out Peron, which would send a smoke signal straight to the Los Charlines.
War was on, the battle brewing for nearly a year.
The past several months had seen their share of turmoil for several Mafioso families. My father often consulted with heads of the other organizations from Spain, Italy, and Portugal, even considering them friends. The three Dons—Antonio Caruso, Leonardo Hugo, and Francesco Piero—were all powerful men, just as brutal as my father. Their alliance had always fascinated me, although I’d remained surprised my father would allow it given his background.
Sanchez Santiago was known as a fair and reputable man, respected amongst the various Dons for years. They valued his leadership capabilities and the majority of his decisions regarding business, violence in the streets unnecessary until threats had been made. This time, he was wrong. We would have to take out a significant portion of their organization if only to make a point to any of the other lowlifes who believed we were easy pickings.
There’d been rumors on the streets of Galicia for several weeks of a possible takeover attempt, the Los Charlines hungering to control not only the drug trade operation, but the even more lucrative cigarette industry. In my opinion, my father hadn’t taken the innuendos seriously enough. However, blood would rain in the streets before my family allowed them to usurp us.
While the three Dons might be unhappy with our family’s decision, they knew better than to cross my father. They also had to know that given the assassination attempt, all codes of honor should be pushed aside.
After all, Alviro Calleja was considered little more than an animal. He’d cut his mother into pieces if he believed her death would help him gain more power. Perhaps he’d meant for Peron to die.
“What the hell does all this mean?” Dartanian asked quietly.
“You know exactly what it means, brother.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. The last I heard, Gilly and the kids are on vacation in the United States. I think they’re visiting her mother in Georgia.”
I inhaled, holding my breath. Our other brother’s death had left his beautiful family so alone, his wife not wanting to move back to her native country. Gilly also hadn’t wanted to do anything with our family, even though she’d been offered protection. I was thankful she was spending time with her family. For now. Although if the threat was to be taken seriously, distance wouldn’t matter. “We need to keep them there until this bullshit blows over.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Pops has to say. You know as well as I do, he prefers his entire family close. He may require that she return.”
“Then I may refuse to allow that to happen,” I said under my breath, forcing another smug grin to cross my brother’s mouth.
My father dropped his smile as soon as the others were out of sight, motioning us into his office. It would seem the meeting had been heated. Within seconds, my father moved toward the set of open French doors, grabbing his usual glass of scotch from the edge of his desk. He tipped his face as the light breeze wafted across him and into the room, lifting the crystal tumbler as if toasting to the heavens.
“We need to protect our family and our people,” my father said with distinct conviction. “This shit is going to get violent.”
“And we will,” I stated, able to see how troubled he was. No one needed another bloody war, but we’d been pushed into a corner.
I glanced at Dartanian who lifted his eyebrows, shrugging slightly. While my brother was several years younger, only recently he’d made no bones about the fact he wanted a larger piece of the business, although I had serious reservations about what he could handle. It would seem the opportunity had presented itself. If the Los Charlines were forced out, he could inherit a significant portion of the coastal business. Maybe that would force him to grow the fuck up. When our father remained quiet, Dartanian walked toward the expansive bar, immediately grabbing two glasses. “Time for a drink. I know I could use one.”
I inched closer to the open doorway, the waning afternoon sun warm against my face. My father and I had never been particularly close, although he’d been a doting father. Since I’d been a teenager, our interactions had been strictly businesslike, devoid of any real emotions. Given the nature of the beast dwelling within me, that had always suited me just fine.
I had no room for feeding into emotional bullshit on any level. That only led to deadly mistakes.
“The shit is getting real, Father. Alviro has taken a stand.”
“Then the Dons’ concerns are justified. What happened?” my father asked quietly.
“A threat made to the entire family after offering a deal of taking only fifty percent,” I said, laughing. “There was a hired gun waiting for my departure. One of my enforcers is down.”
“Carlos?” My father never seemed troubled by any of these episodes. This time, he was shaken and only partially from anger.
“Yeah.”
“How is he?”
“The doctors aren’t certain. He has significant damage to his lungs.” I studied my father’s tired eyes. I wasn’t certain he could handle an open war, especially not on our own turf.
My father glanced into my eyes and I could see a hint of fear in them. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Just pissed I didn’t follow my instincts.”
“You did what you thought was right. The meeting had to occur,” my father stated firmly.
Dartanian huffed. “The bastard has some nerve. We need to deal with this immediately.”
“And we will but we will do so in our way, the Santiago way!” My father’s voice reverberated in the open space. He rubbed his forehead, cursing in Spanish.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not entirely certain the assassination attempt on my life was anything but another warning.”