“I’ve read Sun Tzu, and that ain’t never stopped me from offing a motherfucker who needed dead yet.” The others snorted, and I held back my laughter so as not to encourage him. His hothead is only one of the reasons it’s taken me this long to pass the reins over to him. That and the fact that he didn’t want to take the lead, even though he bosses the rest of us around when it suits him.
“That’s because you’ve read the Art of War from the warrior perspective; we’re talking about a kid who’s loyal to his mother with the teachings of Sun Tzu as his blueprint. Even if he’s not thinking of taking his own life, we have to stop him from going after the UnSub. He won’t be able to live with it for long. Even if he could, he could get caught, and that would be a waste of a good soldier.”
“I don’t know shit about fuck! All I know is that if some asshole did that shit to my mother, it’d take all three of you and a battalion to get me off his ass. As for me doing myself in afterward, fuck that, not gonna happen. Maybe we should leave this kid where he is if he’s so hot to cash it in. If he read Sun Tzu and that’s what he got, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Even Mengele would burn the whole island down and walk away, with her murdering ass.”
“We’re not all barbarians like you, Lyon.”
“And yet you’re telling me about the teachings of someone that died in four-ninety-six BCE, talk about barbaric.”
“Damn Lyon, you’re such a geek. You know when Sun died?”
“Piss off Law!” That started another round of laughter that brought the atmosphere back down a little.
“My gut tells me this kid is worth it.”
“Fine! But he better be able to do all that shit you said he could do.” He went off grumbling something under his breath.
“Where’re you going?”
“To take a nap. Kat and her annoying ass kids kept me up all night with their shit.”
We landed almost three and a half hours later on the dot, and I had about fifteen notifications waiting for me. I read through them all with haste before telling the others what had been found. “Alonzo Ricci. He was, and maybe still is, the leader of the pack.
“Apparently, the kid visited the Russo home sometime last year, around the holidays. The only connection is Alonzo’s name on that picture and the connection to Luna Fratelli.”
“Here’s some stuff on Ricci and why the guys think he might be our guy. His name has been mentioned more than once in similar situations, nothing concrete, just rumors, but where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. Take a look!” I sent them the information that had been forwarded to me so they could all read it on their own without having to wait.
We spent the time in the car on the way to Andros’ place going over strategy. “Lyon, you’re in charge; you wanna take point?”
“Nope, this Russo guy seems more your speed. You Italians speak a whole other language. Same school, but the language is a bit different, if you know what I mean.”
“Why? We don’t kill fast enough for you?”
“There is that. And besides, you know this Andros guy who set up the meet, I don’t. Just don’t fuck it up. And I’m not giving up my piece.”
“You’ve watched one too many mobster flicks.”
“Nope, I spent a lot of time around your Uncle Mallory when I was a kid.”
“Fair enough.”
DRACO
I spent two-plus hours at Andros’ place feeling unsettled. Because it was about Gabe, I didn’t take the necessary precautions. I just hopped on the plane and came here. Now that I’m here twiddling my thumbs, my mind was awhirl with questions. What could Hank Mancini have to do with my son? And what the hell does he know about Sicily?
Something tells me with a heavy hitter like Mancini involved; some shit had slipped by me. I never knew this guy to be anything other than a businessman though the press has a lot to say about his other dealings, which none of them could ever prove. And now I know he’s the nephew of one of the life’s most notorious members. Maybe there’s something to the rumors after all.
That might explain how he came across Gabe, but it’s still not gelling for me. I heard the commotion outside, and minutes later, four men walked into the room. He looks better in person, more imposing, and nothing at all like the jet setter I’ve seen on magazine covers. I stood up from my seat and walked forward with my hand outstretched.
“I’m Draco Russo, and you are?”
“Hank Mancini! These men are part of my team, Lyon, Logan, Law.” We shook hands like men; then, I looked around at the others he’d brought with him. One guy looked like he stepped out of a biker magazine, and I’m pretty sure the other two did time in the military.