Once Burned (Morelli Family 3)

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Turns out Castellanos was not there. Not Antonio, not Salvatore.

Didn’t stop us from taking down eight of their guys, but despite emerging the victors, all we won was a goddamn street fight. Worthless in the great scheme of things. At best, worthless—at worst, inflammatory.

My good mood subsides.

So does Mateo’s, when I have to report back to him.

Up until now, the Castellanos family didn’t want war with us—Antonio did. Now his family is likely to get on board, and Antonio is still out there somewhere, alive and calling the big-picture shots. And considering the level of his obsession with taking out Mateo up to this point, it seems likely he’ll take advantage of the turning tides and redouble his efforts.

Mateo stares pensively out the window. I’m not driving this time since I need to focus and strategize with him.

“We have to strike again,” he says. “Now, fast, as soon as we can. Don’t give them time to respond. Don’t give them time to regroup. We fired first; we have to keep at it. We have to finish this.”

I sigh, leaning back in the seat. I was already prepared for this—had our guys prepared for this—but it wasn’t how I wanted things to go. “Yeah, I know.”

“I need you to start preparing to fight dirty, too. I know you don’t want to, but you need to start putting the pieces in place. Maybe we get lucky, maybe we catch one of them skittering out from the woodwork, but just in case… I like the daughter.”

“I don’t like it,” I tell him, even though he already knows. “She’s not even important to him and it sets a bad precedent. Adds fuel to their fire. Give me a little more time.”

“I want to make a statement. They’re both hiding like cowards; I want it to be clear I’m not.”

“I understand that, but there is a target on your back right now. We can’t get to Antonio or Salvatore. My next move is the take out Rizzo, since he’s next in line. He’s not hiding; he’s calling the immediate shots right now. Let’s not take any unnecessary risks with you to prove a point.”

Mateo shakes his head, looking as tired of all this as I feel. “I just want it to be over. I don’t care what we have to do now; I just want it to end.”

I nod. “I’m working on it.”

Chapter Nineteen

The second strike is more successful than the first, in that we actually get the target we’re gunning for.

It’s less successful in that they had already prepared for us enough that they hurt a couple of our guys and killed one. Soldiers, no one crucial, but I don’t feel good about it. We’re fighting outside of our element here—this isn’t Mateo’s style. Mateo’s a thinker, a planner, a manipulator before he’s a fighter. He wins by outsmarting people more often than he wins by using muscle. Wars are won through that kind of thinking—not brute force. He knows in a lot of cases you don’t have to resort to this level of violence to get what you want—you fight smarter, not harder.

And I have a bad feeling that Salvatore Castellanos is fighting smarter.

Sure, he’s hiding right now, but even that’s not his style. Look at what it’s doing though—getting to Mateo, making him want to show himself, make a statement. He’s overreacting. We’re overreacting. Meanwhile Salvatore’s the one knowing his enemy, knowing how to play his enemy, and… well, winning.

It doesn’t look like he’s winning if you just look at the body count, but he’s fighting the way Mateo would usually fight—and he usually wins.

He’s pushed too many of Mateo’s buttons.

Now Mateo isn’t thinking straight, and that’s dangerous. We might be able to win with brute force, but we’re not doing things the smartest way, and that bothers me.

I need Mateo to dial it back. I need him to focus on being cunning and manipulative—they’re not the greatest traits within the family, but they make him a damn good opponent on the outside.

There’s too much on the line right now, though. And with this bullshit Matt just dropped in our laps, his trust in me is shaken.

I feel a little shaken myself when I realize we are poised to lose this war.

“You’re not even watching the movie.”

I anchor myself back in the moment and look over at Elise, curled up beside me in the sitting area in my room, watching me instead of the television.

“Sorry,” I murmur. My arm’s already around her, so I give her a little squeeze and focus on the screen.

“What’s going on up there?” she asks me.

“Just work stuff. Sorry.”

“Hey, if the Dread Pirate Roberts isn’t holding your attention, it must be big,” she says lightly. “Share your woes. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I just feel like we’re being outplayed.”