The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

“And, working man to working man,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest, “you’ll understand that I have a job to do as well. It’s not personal. It’s business.

“But that shit with my girl, that’s personal. And I am itching to get those fuckers down in my little play room and doing snow angels in their blood as it drains from their veins.”

“Out of curiosity, do you always talk to them like they actually give a fuck about your problems?” a voice asked from behind me, making me turn since I was supposed to be alone. And no one but the Family would dare step foot in the butcher shop after hours.

But this was Family.

Just a face no one had seen in a while.

“Ay, yo, no shit!” I said, throwing my arms out wide. “The fuck you doing here?” I asked, walking toward him.

Cesare Costa was a second or third cousin to Lorenzo.

He had the Costa good looks—tall, built, sculpted jaw, stern brow.

But unlike Lorenzo, he had a lot of ink. Even a series of small ones on his face right down his cheek near his ear that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been around.

Cesare had gotten himself in a shitstorm of trouble years back when he’d taken one of the Lombardi capo’s wives to bed.

I mean, that shit was as serious as it could get.

He was lucky he made it out of the city alive, let alone kept breathing in whatever town Lorenzo’s old man had shipped him to for safety.

“Word on the street is the bounty on my head was rescinded,” Cesare explained, pulling me in for a one-arm hug.

“Rescinded why? Did you not fuck the wife?”

“Oh, no. I fucked the shit out of her,” he said, smiling with no regret, revealing a flash of his tongue ring as he did so. “But the way I hear it, he was talking to the feds.”

“Doesn’t change what you did,” I said, brows drawing together.

“No. But the Lombardis said I can make it right if I come back and take him out for them.”

“And Lorenzo agreed to that?” I asked, knowing how strained the relationship was between the Costa and Lombardi organization.

“Think he sees it as an opportunity to start some peace talks. We are all stronger if we get along,” he added, shrugging. “I hear we secured a treaty with the Esposito Family through a fucking arranged marriage. The fuck’s been going on since I left town?”

“Lot of shit, man. Lot of shit. Ant is in now. Got his guts nearly torn out by this fucker a little bit back,” I said, jerking my head to the guy who was rocking his body to and fro. It was useless. I wasn’t sure why anyone did it. But I guess your survival instincts weren’t exactly rational. “Salvatore is out of prison too. Santi joined the Family then married Alessa Morelli. Sure I’m forgetting some shit.”

“What’s been going on with you?” he asked. “Torture and murder aside,” he added, smirking because he knew me pretty well.

“Working on taking out the Polat family.”

“Aren’t they low-level extorters?” he asked, frowning.

“They were. But they’ve been scaling up. Some day, I’m going to wife up the widow of Eren Polat.”

“Who widowed her?” he asked, lips twitching because he always had good instincts about that kind of thing.

“Gave her the hands that used to beat her as a present,” I agreed.

“Oh, yes, the old severed hands as a present. What every woman truly wants. Not flowers or expensive jewelry,” he said, chuckling. “So, is that who you’re babbling to him about? The remaining Polats?”

“Yeah. Seems like we are dragging our feet. I could be done with this already.”

“Just a word to the wise, man,” Cesare said. “Don’t invite the widow to watch you make snow angels in blood. That might be a little much for a woman. Or, you know, a sane person,” he added.

Cesare had lucked out in getting one of the good types of fathers. One who gave a shit about him and raised him and his brothers and sister well.

In fact, when his Ma died from some kind of blood clot after surgery when Cesare was only eleven or so, his old man had raised the kids all by himself.

Well, as “by himself” as you could when you had a family full of Italian moms who wanted to help cook and clean and rear kids.

But, still, a far cry from what Lorenzo and I had gotten.

It was probably why Cesare had made it to adulthood with his sense of humor and laid-back attitude intact.

“Noted,” I agreed.

Though, I had to admit, there were times when I could swear I saw a bit of blood thirst in Ezzy’s eyes.

Not all the time.

But whenever she realize just how fucked she was getting by men who’d already taken so much from her? Yeah, she looked like she wanted to sink her teeth into their necks and rip out their throats.