Code of Silence: Cosa Nostra #2 (3 page)

Home Again

“My son, the traitor.” Dante Marcano hovered in the doorway of the holding cell. It was about the size of a utility closet, with no windows. As expected, he’d been seized the second he stepped onto his father’s property. Captured and tossed into the cell without a second’s thought. There were bloodstains on the cement floor. Vincent wondered how many people lost their lives in this room…and if he was going to be one of them.

“As if it didn’t break my heart enough to watch you walk away, you have to go and join my sworn enemy?”

With his hands cuffed behind his back, he struggled to push himself to his feet. “If you’re gonna kill me, then do it. Save me the speeches about my betrayal and just get on with it.”

“You think I’d kill you?” he asked. “My own flesh and blood?”

“You put a bounty on my head,” he said.

“With orders to bring you in alive.” Shaking his head, Dante entered the room. “You’ve been spending too much time with DeLuca if you think I’d kill you. As it turns out, your betrayal could benefit me.”

“Benefit you?” Vincent repeated, confused. “How?”

“I want you to give DeLuca a message for me,” he said. “Agree to do that, and I’ll let you walk out of here today a free man. No one will ever hunt you down again.”

There had to be more to it. Vincent knew his father well enough to know he never let anybody go. Still, if it got him out of this room—if it meant no longer needing to hide, it was worth a shot. “What’s the message?”

“I want to meet with him,” he said. “I want a truce.”

He stared at his father with skepticism. “A truce.”

“This rivalry has gone on far too long, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but—”

Dante took a set of keys out of his pocket and then walked behind Vincent. The hairs on his arm rose as his father reached behind him and unlocked the cuffs.

“Tell him for this one time only I’m extending a dinner invitation. We’ll meet some place nice and public and discuss the terms of a peace treaty.”

With his hands freed, Vincent stood. He studied his father a moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“If this is some kind of trick…he’ll kill me,” he said. “You know that.”

“It’s not a trick,” he said. “This is exactly what it appears to be.”

Vincent knew his father well enough to know when he wasn’t showing all of his cards, and suspected he was playing a much bigger game. He also knew no amount of questioning would make his father reveal his true motives, so he could do nothing about his suspicions right now. The tension in the room was thick as he walked away, slow and braced and ready for the mood to shift at a moment’s notice.

Knowing he was likely followed, he went straight to the DeLuca mansion. He didn’t have the clearance to go straight to Sal, so he had to report the message to Trey and wait in the hallway for his Capo to return.

Down the hall, the doors opened and Bela entered, carrying a couple of bags from Macy’s and Bloomingdales. Gio followed behind her, always on vigilant duty.

At the sight of his blood-stained clothes and disheveled appearance, Bela gave him a questioning look. Catching her gaze, he gave her a small, reassuring smile to let her know he was all right.

Just then, the door to Sal’s office opened and Trey motioned him inside. To his surprise, Sal wanted him to set up the meeting. As he made the phone call to arrange the time and place, he couldn’t help but feel like he was straddling a fence with razor-wire on each side. One wrong slip and it was slice and dice time.

~~~

Sitting at the patio table, Bela was buried in a mountain of homework for her psychology thesis. Though she was trying to focus, she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to Vincent. Why was he beaten up? Had the Marcanos caught him, or was this a run-of-the-mill beating all mobsters endured from time to time? She hated not knowing.

Trey walked out into the garden from the open glass doors. “You’re not gonna believe what just happened.”

She looked up from her textbook with a raised eyebrow.

“Marcano senior wants a sit-down,” he said. “With all the important members of both families. Can you believe that?”

For a moment, she could only stare at him in confusion. No, she couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

Trey shrugged and pulled out one of the chairs for himself. “He claims he wants a peace treaty.”

“Is that what Vincent was doing outside dad’s office earlier?” she asked. “Did they catch him or something?”

He nodded. “The sit-down is tomorrow night at six.” He stood and headed away. “Wear something pretty.”

“Wait, I have to go?” she asked. “Why?”

“Do I even have to answer that question?” he asked, looking annoyed. “Because—”

“Family business is family business,” she recited from the memory of the dozen speeches she’d received over the years. “Right.”

Giving her a satisfied nod, he continued to walk away.

The idea of meeting Vincent’s family was unsettling. And the thought of doing it in the same room as her family was even worse. Especially since they would all be carrying guns.

Merger

Dante had rented out the entire back room of the restaurant so they could talk in private. The long dinner table was packed with members from both families. Sal, Nik and Trey sat at the far end of the table with a select crew. Dante, Rafe and a few others were to the left. Among the mobsters, Bela felt as out of place as a snowman on the beach, but it helped to have Vincent right next to her, within arm’s reach.

She still wasn’t sure why her father had insisted she come, but meeting Vincent’s father was intimidating. Dante Marcano looked so scary and cold…and he carried himself in a manner that showed he’d ruled the streets for a very long time. She doubted much would make him hesitate and wondered why he would want to call a truce. Hadn’t he been the one to start this war?

“This feud between our families has lasted ten years,” Dante began. “A decade. And considering our lifespan, that’s a long time.” He looked toward Bela and Vincent when he added, “But I’ve come to realize if our own children can manage to find common ground, then why can’t we?”

Sal didn’t respond yet, he continued to sip his scotch and listen.

“I propose we join forces…unite our clans and run the city together,” he said. “No more threats of war. No more casualties. We’ll still have our own territories, but we’ll rule them together—in peace.”

“It sounds like a nice idea,” Sal said. “But how do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”

“Because in addition to my word, I’m also offering you my son. My first born.” He motioned to Rafe, sitting next to him. “If he married your daughter, it would unite both of our families in law and under God.”

Bela felt her mouth drop in shock. She exchanged a worried glance with Vincent—who looked just as thrown by this as she was—and then her gaze darted down the table to her father. To her horror, he seemed like he was
considering
it.

“I know it will require a sacrifice for the both of you.” Dante’s gaze drifted to Vincent, then Bela and back again. “But peace never comes without a price, and I think it’s a fair one.”

“Oh,
you
do?” Bela shot back. “You think it’s fair for me to leave the man I love and marry his brother just because you two can’t shake hands and make-up? This can’t be the only way to seal the truce. You’re just doing this to be a dic—”

“Bela,” Trey’s voice called her down. When she looked at him, he just shook his head, signaling for her to be quiet.

Was she just supposed to shut up and be still while they bartered her freedom as if they lived in medieval times and not the 21
st
century? Why couldn’t she throw her glass of wine in that jerk’s face if she wanted? What he was proposing was ridiculous!

Under the table, Vincent stretched his hand out and placed it on Bela’s hand, resting on her lap. Without looking at her and instead using those dark eyes to analyze the faces at the dinner table, he gave her hand a squeeze. She placed her other hand on top of his, clutching it tight.

Sal spoke up, “Give me a few days to consider your offer.”

Her eyes bulged at her father, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Aside from that one mention of marriage, she might as well have been invisible to them.

“Of course,” Dante said. “I’ll give you 48 hours.”

Pushing his chair back, he stood and left the small dining room, his men following him. Alone with her family, Bela turned to look at her dad. “Tell me you’re not actually considering this.”

“You’ve always talked about making peace with them,” Sal replied. “Now you want to walk away from an opportunity to do just that?”

“Yes,” she said. “Especially since making peace means I have to marry Vincent’s
brother
. You can’t do this to me.”

“This isn’t about you,” Trey said when her father didn’t respond. “This is about ending a feud that’s lasted a decade.”

She gave him a betrayed, disbelieving glare. He was in support of this crazy idea? Her own brother? “But—”

“Gio,” Sal said, looking to the bodyguard on her right. “Take her home.”

Gio stood on command.

“Dad, wait,” she pleaded. “Can we just talk about this a minute?”

“Later,” Sal said. He gave Gio another nod.

Gio reached for her arm, but she jerked it away. “Come on,” he whispered.

“No! Dad, you can’t just—”

“Bela, go home.” Sal’s eyes locked with hers in an unmistakable warning.

Knowing any attempts to argue would just remain futile, she resigned and stood up, yanking her arm from Gio’s grasp in the process. She shot Vincent a worried look over her shoulder as she left.

In the car, she was quiet while Gio drove her home. Then she planted herself by the front door and waited for her father to come home. Sitting on the steps of the foyer, her body faced the door. This gave her a clear view of the circular driveway outside. She planned to unleash her temper and her tongue the second she saw him again.

Gio sat a few steps down, angled toward her and using the step between them as a surface to play Solitaire. “You sure you’re not up for a game of Blackjack?” he asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head, keeping her gaze focused on the door.

“War, then?”

This time, she angled her head at him just long enough to give him a dirty look.

“Right,” he said. “Bad idea.”

It took two hours of waiting, but finally Sal and Trey entered. Right away, she noticed Vincent wasn’t with them, and it made her worry even more.

“Where is Vincent?” she asked as she stood from her seat on the staircase.

“Setting up another meeting,” Sal said.

“Already?” she asked, the nervous pit in her stomach growing. “You must’ve decided.”

She looked past him to Trey, and her suspicions were confirmed. It took one glance at the remorseful expression on his face for her to know what decision they had made.

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “No way.”

He motioned for her to follow him inside his office. Once he’d shut the door, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “I won’t do it. I’ll run away first.”

“No, you won’t.”

“
Yes
,” she said, emphasizing each word. “
I will
.”

“No,” he said, his tone matching hers. “You won’t. Because I know something you don’t want me to know. Something about Vincent.”

Beads of sweat gathered around her brow and hairline. Still, she struggled to keep her voice steady and convincing. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” He locked the door and then walked toward her. “And I haven’t done anything about it because it doesn’t worry me. But I bet Trey would feel differently.”

She kept her gaze on her father—so cold and so ruthless. It baffled her how they could even be related.

“In fact, if Trey were to discover this information, I’d bet he would fly off the handle and kill him without even asking me first.”

She felt her eyes narrow into a defensive scowl.

“What we’re about to discuss stays in this room,” he said, taking on his order-giving tone. “Understood?”

She nodded, listening.

“You’re not going to run. You won’t try to get out of it. You will marry Rafe,” he said, emphasizing the name. “Or I’ll make sure Vincent is dead before dawn.”

She felt her body sway. Grabbing onto the back of a chair, she steadied herself.

“If you tell Vincent I’m onto him, I’ll kill him anyway.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Nobody likes a rat, but even rodents can be useful. Tonight, Dante held out an olive branch. An opportunity I plan to seize. And I won’t let anything—not even you—get in the way.”

“You don’t even want peace, do you?” she asked in bewilderment. “You just want them to trust you. And once they do, you’ll kill them all, won’t you?”

He smirked. “My long-term plan is none of your business.”

“How can you call yourself my father?” she asked in disbelief. “You don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t ask me to do this!”

“We all make sacrifices for the family, Bela,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re not even giving me a choice—”

“You have a choice,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can lose Vincent forever and we end up going to war with the Marcanos. A lot of people will die, families will lose fathers and civilians could get caught in the crossfire, and you’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing it was all because of you.”

Something in her gut twisted. She was sure she would throw up at the thought of innocent blood shed by a mob war.

“Or you can marry Rafe,” he said. “Vincent will survive, peace will thrive. And you’ll know it’s all because of your sacrifice.”

She sank into a nearby chair as the weight of this decision settled over her.

“Tell me,” he said. “Which is it going to be?”