“Already done.”
“Did you get any more out of the Sarone fucks at the warehouse?”
Nicolo exhales a breath. “Yeah, about that. They’re getting backed by someone. They aren’t large enough to wage a full-scale attack the way they did by themselves. It’s someone from the north, but we haven’t gotten that out of them yet. Vincenzo, there’s a very real possibility it could be the Rosellis. Just because you saved his sister-in-law doesn’t mean they don’t want this territory. Every fucking body in the state wants this territory.”
My jaw tightens. “Massimo Roselli is good for his word. We may not see eye to eye on everything, but you remember who cut us a deal when Agosto fucked up real bad. Massimo kept his end of the bargain, and we got our money back. A rival’s mercy after a botch that bad is no small thing. I trust his word until I have reason not to.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, we paid our dues. It cost you risking your life, using our soldiers to go into a war zone with Barcelo Gallini to save his sister-in-law. Maybe it’s fucking Gallini coming after us. We always knew it could be a possibility.”
My little brother is not wrong. In this world, it could be anyone. “Find out, Nicolo. We need to know and the faster we know who we’re dealing with the better for everyone.”
“I’m on it, but the three bastards in the warehouse are loyal as fuck. Not like they have a choice, they take the pain here or whoever they’re protecting kills them for squealing.”
It’s not an easy life or world that we live in. “Keep me posted, and thanks Nicolo. There’s no one else I’d rather have running our streets than you. And let Gianni and Agosto know that I want everyone at dinner Thursday night. Mamma’s making spaghetti.”
I disconnect, my thoughts muddled with this fucking war suddenly at the DeLuca family door, and the fucking timing of Anna showing up in our club and what Nicolo said.
The smellof Mamma’s homemade sauce makes my stomach growl as I walk in the back door to the estate. She smiles wide and wipes her hands on her apron before opening her arms for a hug. “Vincenzo!”
“Good to see you, Mamma.”
Mamma smiles up at me. “You doing okay after last week?”
My eyes narrow as I step back looking at her lightly pinkened lips and dark tied back hair. “You aren’t supposed to be worrying about anything these days.”
She raises her hands in the air. “I have four boys, all bound and determined to follow in their dead father’s footsteps and I’m not to worry?”
“I’m taking care of things, Ma. You leave the worrying to me and Nicolo. We’re not going to let anything happen to the family, capisce?”
She nods. “Come and try this.”
“I don’t need to try it Ma, your sauce is smelling up the entire kitchen. I could smell it before I walked in the door.” Thatdoesn’t get me out of tasting a ladle full of burning tomato sauce that almost spills down my white shirt and suit. “It’s delicious, I told you.” I kiss her on the cheeks as the doorbell rings, and the loud voices of my brothers fill the house as they make their way into the kitchen.
Mamma’s eyes lit up like this. No matter what we’re doing, meals at home, they need to be more often. I glance at Nicolo who gives me a nod. It’s what we do, we take care of the family.
Our baby sister wanders into the large kitchen carrying three bottles of wine from the basement. I take them from her, set them on the counter, and pull her into my arms.
“You’re squeezing the life out of me,” she grumps, but she’s still got three brothers left who are all in line for a hug.
Lanah good naturedly complains to each of her big brothers as they try to squeeze the life out of her and Mamma. I gesture to the wine. “Go and help Mamma. We’ll open these and pass the glasses around.”
“Thanks, Vincenzo.” She joins Mamma at the stove while the rest of us move into the large formal dining room.
I point to the china plates on the end of the long mahogany table passed down from at least three generations ago. “Pass those out,” I tell Agosto.
He rolls his eyes at me, but it’s in fun or I’d put him on the floor. I open the wine and let it breathe while moving things around on the table to make room for the enormous plate of spaghetti and bread that is about ten minutes from coming out.
Nicolo catches my eye as I settle in at the head of the table, and he sits next to me. “You give me a ride home? I rode with Gianni,” he asks.
I nod. “I’ve got my car here.” I pour wine for each of the brothers and pass the glasses down. Gianni looks at me, then Nicolo, and then Agosto. I put my wine glass down and sigh. “Should we have had a meeting before dinner?”
Nicolo glares at the other two. “It’ll wait until later, capisce?”
I lower my voice, but they all know when I’m pissed. “I’ll go check dinner. Drink some wine. Socialize. Like a normal fucking family.” I walk out, irritated that not one night can we have a meal together without tension in the room. Mamma wasn’t born yesterday. She’s been through it all a hundred times before. She doesn’t need a night of it every time we decide to visit her and Lanah.
She and our baby sister hover over the platters in the kitchen, making everything perfect with basil garnish. I give Mamma a big smile. “You take the bread and salad. I’ll carry the spaghetti, Ma.”
I get a nod and smile of her approval which brings back memories of many a day spent this way when Papa was alive.More evenings like thisI silently vow.