Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles 4)

I took my new Tesla sports car and drove over to Stefano’s apartment at the Strip. I rarely headed this way. The tourists and advertisements for cheap buffets and booze weren’t to my taste.

I got out of my car and dropped my key off with the bell boy then headed inside and past the concierge.

“Sir? Sir, you can’t come in here without registering with me first.”

I stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button, then turned toward the overweight concierge stumbling toward me, his face turning red and the alarm button in his hand. I’d been here only once before and there had been another concierge.

“I need to ask you to follow me to my desk and register with me,” he said, trying to sound authoritarian and failing miserably. His other hand moved to the pepper spray attached to his belt.

“If you pull that, I’ll break every single one of your fingers and empty that entire bottle in your face,” I said calmly. “My name is Nino Falcone. Now return to your desk and get back to work.”

The man took a step back. I stepped inside the elevator and rode up to the top floor. Arriving at Stefano’s door, I hammered my fist against the frame.

Steps rang out then stopped. He opened the door, dressed in only boxer shorts and holding a Glock. Surprise crossed his face. “Nino? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Stefano shoved his gun into his waistband and opened the door fully. I walked into his open living area. A girl scurried out of the room, clutching her clothes to her body.

“Looks young. Is she of age?”

Stefano frowned. “Of course. I always make sure they are. It’s rule number one.” He studied me with suspicious, dark eyes. “Usually a visit at home from one of you means nothing good. I didn’t break any rules, so I hope my Persian rugs stay clean.”

I nodded. “Cavallaro attacked Kansas City and killed your brother.”

Stefano stared at me as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right then walked over to the sofa and sank down. Slowly his hands curled to fists. I gave him a moment and found the girl in the bedroom. She had dressed.

“Leave, and don’t come back.”

She blinked. “What—”

“Leave. He only fucked you for his job,” I said. She grabbed her purse and ran past me without a word. Stefano didn’t even look up.

“Remo and Savio are heading over there now, dealing with the aftermath, but you’ll have to join them.”

Stefano looked around. “I guess I’ll have to move to Kansas City now.”

“Yes,” I said. “You are the next in line. Kansas City needs a new Underboss.”

“Dante will try to have me killed as well now that he’s tasted blood.”

“Dante will try, yes.”

Stefano chuckled and stood. “My father’s men won’t accept me easily. There’s a reason why I worked for you as Romancer. It’s what I’m good at.”

“Your father’s men accepted your brother.”

“Barely. I’m younger and not very popular over there for what I’ve done.”

“It doesn’t matter. The Camorra isn’t a democracy. If Remo declares you Underboss, his Captains and soldiers will accept it, and if they don’t they’ll pay the consequences. You only need to worry about making one man happy and that is Remo, and so far, you have done a good job.”

“Doing a good job of fucking girls and making them fall in love with you is a different thing than leading men.”

“It is, and you’ll excel at the latter because you don’t want to disappoint us.”

Stefano grimaced. “I’ll fly over to Kansas today.”

I gave a nod and left. This assassination would cause trouble. My brothers and I would have to keep it contained, show our Underbosses that this was a one-time thing. Most of them were loyal to the bone, to Remo at least, but our territory was vast and it was impossible to control everything absolutely, even if Remo wanted to. There were people amongst our men who might join a mutiny, men that had lain low when Remo had conquered our territory without mercy, who were scared to speak up back then. Maybe they’d get more daring now. It would give me the chance to weed them out.

Anyone who thought he could take our territory from us would be met with the full cruelty of our natures. The Camorra was ours. We were the Camorra. We were Las Vegas. We were even the West, and it would always remain that way.

CHAPTER 13

NINO

Savio, Remo and I were in our airplane on our way to save Adamo who’d been captured by the Outfit.

Maybe we should have expected another hit. Like Stefano had said: Dante had tasted blood. The successful killing of one of our Underbosses had made him daring. Ending the grand race in Kansas City despite the recent attack had been risky but also a necessary sign.