Tempted by the Sinner

I could understand why young men would be drawn to it.

And as I watched Vince drive, I thought back to that box, to the snake inside, and the note underneath it.

Join and die.

“The Jalisco don’t want you to go through with this alliance,” I said.

He smiled a little. “I knew you’d get there,” he said.

I glared at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

He laughed and gestured. “It’s simple. The Jalisco don’t want competition. They don’t want to do a deal with the Russians. They want our family to take over, and once we do, we’ll lose some negotiating leverage. But if we work together with the Russians, we’ll be able to squeeze the Jalisco, find sources of drugs elsewhere.”

“So they’re trying to block whatever you’re setting up,” she said.

“That’s my guess, anyway.” He slowed and stopped for a light then turned to me. “So now you know what you’re getting yourself into. One of the most volatile, dangerous times in the whole history of this damn city, and now a major cartel is getting involved.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and felt sweat trickle down my back.

“You’re really making me feel good here.”

He smiled and rolled forward as the light turned green.

“Just want you to understand,” he said. “That’s all.”

We lapsed into silence and I stared out the window. Every block that flashed past, every business, every street corner with young men hanging around on stoops, everything looked like it was connected, another root added to the pile.

And in my head, it all led back to Vince and his father.11VinceAfter driving Mona around the city, I headed toward South Philly and the heart of our territory. There was a little bakery run by a former Capo tucked in a quiet residential area that made good espresso and even better pastries. I parked out front, got out, and went to help Mona out, but she’d already climbed onto the sidewalk.

I gave her a look then nodded at the bakery.

“This place is owned by one of ours,” I said. “My former Capo, actually.”

“Looks nice,” she said. “Like a cute little hipster spot.”

I snorted. “Tell him that,” I said. “He’ll love it.”

“I have a feeling I shouldn’t ever criticize a mobster’s personal bakery.”

“That’s a very good feeling to have,” I said and turned to the door.

I walked inside with Mona on my heels. The bakery had changed a little since the last time I saw it. I’d only visited once or twice early on when it first opened, but I hadn’t been in the city in a little while. The counters were wooden, polished smooth, and the display case looked like it’d been updated. Otherwise, it felt like any other modern coffee place, with an industrial design mixed with natural wood accents. The lighting was low and there was nondescript indie rock playing through speakers hidden in the ceiling. There were baskets behind the counter filled to the brim with different types of bread, and the display case was packed full of pastries.

I half turned to say something to Mona when the table in the back right corner caught my eye. I stopped and stared at an old familiar face.

He was deep in conversation with an older white-haired woman in khaki slacks. He reached out and touched her hand, said something in a low whisper, and she nodded.

“Thank you, Dante,” she said and stood.

“Any time, Doris,” he said and saw me grinning at him.

He grinned back as the old woman turned and hobbled away. She slipped past me with a smile and I nodded to her before taking a few steps over toward Dante’s table.

He stayed standing and spread out his arms.

“You motherfucker,” he said.

I laughed and walked over. I shook his hand hard then pulled him in for a one-armed hug. He laughed and pushed me away, a hand on my shoulder.

“How long’s it been?” I asked.

“A couple years at least,” he said.

“Shit, can’t be that long.”

He shook his head. “Has to be. I haven’t seen you since I got together with Aida.”

“Oh, I heard about her,” I said. “How’s that going?”

“Not going too bad,” he said and his eyes drifted over my shoulder. “Looks like you got your own thing going.”

I turned back to look at pretty Mona and smirked. “Dante, this is Mona,” I said. “She’s a journalist.”

Dante hesitated then shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” she said.

“What’s a nice young woman like you doing with this guy?” he asked. “I mean, shit, you know who he is, right?”

“That’s the reason I’m here,” she said.

“She’s writing an article about me,” I said. “Thinks I’m a worthy subject.”

“No wonder newspapers are dying,” Dante said.

Mona laughed and looked up at me. “Oh, he’s not so bad,” she said. “I mean, he’s an arrogant jerk, but aren’t you all?”

Dante laughed at that and gave me a look. “I like her,” he said.