1
VINCENZO
The view from my penthouse suite at the DeLuca Casino and Hotel never gets old. The boardwalk, long sandy beach, and salty sea stretching in the distance below provides a sense of calm, bringing back childhood memories on the Atlantic City shore. This territory, the family struggles before us, this city, it is our legacy. It’s why we fight.
The burner in my desk drawer rings. I close the distance, quickly pulling it open to answer the inevitable call. The one I knew would eventually come but hoped would not. Fucking Sarones.
Nicolo is usually cool, calm, and collected, but not right now. “Vincenzo, we’ve got trouble.” Tonight, my brother and underboss of the DeLuca family sounds aggravated. His fingers rap on something hard in the background. “Word on the street is the hit is going down soon. They’re going for the strip club.”
That kinda trouble gets my blood pumping real fast. The Sarones are getting on my last fucking nerve. We knew they would come, just not when or where. Nicolo’s not going to let them get close without a plan. I know it, but still, I have to ask.“You have our soldiers in position? Making sure Gianni is safe until we get there?”
I check my weapon and tuck it into the waistband of my pants, preparing for the worst. I swear someone touches our little brother and they’re going in the ground tonight, in a bad, bad way.
I grab my jacket while listening to Nicolo. “They’re already in place watching the club, more moving inward. The hit could be tonight or tomorrow, the snitch we talked to didn’t know for certain. The Sarones are probably keeping details of the hit close to the vest. They probably know they’re infested with rats.”
Common fucking problem in our line of work. “Remember, we need information from those sorry bastards. If they hit us, you make a loud example out of most of those fuckers but keep three of them alive. We need information more than we need to bury them all.”
“Got it.”
“And have Terry bring the car around. I’m leaving now. I’ll meet you by the elevator.” There are a shit ton of advantages to the four of us boys living in the penthouse suites at the top of this tower. Close to the action, we can keep a personal eye on things, convene quickly and you gotta love that fucking Atlantic City view. And when shit heads south, we’re together fast. Except when they decide to hit my little brother’s club and we’re not fucking there. My jaw tightens.
Nicolo clears his throat. “You’re the boss now. You should stay put, let us take care of things on the street, Vincenzo. It’s how it’s always been. We take care of the boss.”
“Do what I ask, Nicolo.” I toss the burner into my suit jacket already aware that without a good strategy this could last all fucking night or two because no one is stupid enough to send in someone to hit the DeLucas with anything less than an army and no one gets away with a hit on any of our properties.
Especially not one of our strip clubs. Especially the one our little brother manages. Our enemies should fucking know better. This land, Atlantic City, everything in southeast Jersey, Absecon Island, it’s ours, DeLuca territory and we call the fucking shots. Nicolo better have a plan to end this fucking fast.
I’ve barely reached the elevator when Nicolo joins me, pocketing his phone as I place my finger on the security panel to let it read my print. The minute we’re inside and the doors close again his eyes meet mine. “They have some fucking nerve.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t help that Agosto got us embroiled with the shitstorm up north. Those territorial disputes are bound to head our way if they learned we were involved. Who knows who the Sarones are working with but it doesn’t matter one fuck.”
Nicolo is thoughtful for a moment. “You think it’s payback for the beating the guys in the north took from the Cassones? Word on the street is the…”
“Don’t know, don’t care. They step onto our side of the shore with the intent of taking what’s ours, and they go home in body bags. End of fucking story.” The minute we’re outside the sleek black Lincoln rolls up and waits for us at the curb. I slide into the backseat while Nicolo sits up front with Terry.
Terry takes the back exit and heads into town, easily navigating the growing congestion in the casino district as we make our way to one of our most lucrative strip clubs. He’s quiet, just the way I like it. I pull out my phone and get some work done during the ride.
Torro, one of our best men, acknowledges us with a short nod as we approach the club. The minute we walk in, the entire club goes silent. Even the topless dancing girls lose a beat on their sexy little heels. We walk past the patrons sitting at small square tables drinking and watching the show and move closer to the stage where the ladies are attempting to keep time with thesultry beat while trying not to show too much interest in what it is we’re here to do.
The darting eyes though, that’s the tell. Even when someone wants to stay out of shit, it’s human fucking nature to want to see what’s going on. That can get a person killed quick. I give Lenny, whose working behind the bar, a nod and one of the ladies on stage a cold glance and that’s enough to get her eyes back on the patrons and off of us. They may not know it but keeping them out of the know keeps them safe, less of a target for another family looking for a little info.
Gianni puts out a cigar as we walk through the door into his office. A shit ton of cash in plastic bags labeled with dollar amounts lays stacked on his desk. I gesture to the money. “Get it under the floor. Word is we’re gonna get hit.”
My younger brother by only a few years, born not even a full year after Nicolo doesn’t move slow. He’s got the wall at the side of his desk open, and the false floor lifted while Nicolo tosses him bundle after bundle to secure from anyone who walks through that door who isn’t us.
“Why didn’t you call?” Gianni growls.
I move my piece to my pocket and watch the door with a hand on the Glock. “Not sure what the fuckers put into place for surveillance, phones, and your dumbass refuses to carry a burner. That ends today. Going forward, it’s on you at all times, Gianni.”
Gianni rolls his eyes at me. Only for my brothers do I let that fucking slide. Nicolo beats a message into his cell. “Soldiers ready?” I ask.
Nicolo meets my eyes and gives me a solemn nod. “They’re getting into position. I want them surrounding us in layers with a one block perimeter between the next group. We’ll stay out of sight, let them through initially, they’ll think they’re in the clear and then we’ll close the fuckers off. We’ll end it sure and fast justlike you asked. Send the message that anyone coming for us gets shut down fast and loses the majority of who they send.”
I nod, in full agreement with the plan. Nicolo is the best underboss running the streets. I don’t question his strategy or tactics for a moment. “Good. They don’t get through those doors. You tell those soldiers to guard the people in our place with their fucking life. Coming to our club and getting whacked is not good for business. For them, for us, for nobody.”
Three fucking hours sitting around waiting for these clowns and I’m ready to lay down, to defend what’s ours and get rid of some of this pent-up frustration. Finally, the unmistakable sound of gunfire rings out, coming from every direction around us out in the streets.
I hear the frantic sounding commotion in the bar, but I also know Lenny’s behind the counter and Torro is by the door running point with his men. They’ll calm everyone down in a minute.