Giovanni (26 page)

“The commandments a Mafioso lives by are in place to protect our families and organizations while forcing us all to extend to higher morals,” Max explained, slicing a deep cut across Cody’s palm. Bright crimson flowed instantly, but Cody didn’t flinch. The knife was tossed to the desk, forgotten. “They are obeyed and trusted to keep our core principles of respect, honor, and loyalty at the forefront of all our actions. When they fail to be followed by even one man, the structure of a family can crumble. Will you always trust and obey these commandments, Cody?”

“Always,” Cody echoed.

“The scar that will remain once this wound heals will serve as a reminder to you of who you are, and where you now belong,” Maximo said. He turned Cody’s palm over so the thick blood could pool down onto the face of the Saint in his free hand. Droplets splattered to the hardwood. “Every hand you shake, any woman you touch, and all the guns you hold, this scar will always be there. You will feel it constantly. Let it keep you on the path of only Cosa Nostra. Speak the Omertà oath if this is what you truly want and we’ll watch the Saint burn.”

Maximo passed Cody the picture of Saint Helena and then proceeded to light the corner on fire with a Zippo he pulled from his pocket. “Speak, Cody.”

“From this moment, I swear my breath, blood, and being to Cosa Nostra,
la famiglia
—our thing,” Cody said, holding the card steady as it quickly burned in his palm. Flicks of flames licked around his hand, but he didn’t drop it. “Cosa Nostra holds my loyalty, faith, and all deeds until the day I am put into the ground to finally rest. My reputation is my life and my family’s trust. Should I betray
la famiglia
by speaking against or disgracing them, or of telling our secrets, my flesh and bones will burn like the face of this Saint. As I should want them to for the burden of my offenses.

“
Cu è surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent'anni 'mpaci
. He who is deaf, blind and silent will live a hundred years in peace,” Cody finished, crumpling his hands into a fist around the ashes of the Saint. “I am Mafioso.”

Blood and dust mixed, falling to the small puddle on the floor.

“Franco?” Maximo asked, his hand out again. The gun was passed from son to father; Gio held firm in his spot. “Do as Cosa Nostra would demand, Cody.”

“Don’t even try to run,” one of the men behind Gio said.

Why would he? “I won’t.”

Gio didn’t turn to face the barrel of the black handgun as it was aimed at his temple. Cody had to do what he had to do, and Gio wouldn’t beg for his life and make it harder on the kid. Not that Gio would beg a soul for anything.

Instead, Gio faced Franco, determined to get his words out so the ball would begin to roll in his favor. “Did you feel powerful when you hurt her, Franco?”

Franco’s jaw ticked. “She deserved that and much more.”

“It was before you knew. The least you could do is admit it. You’ve been a blink away from beating the hell out of her from day one. Tell me, did it make you feel like a king to slap her down and mark her for your insecurities; to hurt her for your failures? Because that’s the only reason I can find for why a man would put his hands on a woman.”

Maximo sighed, the first sign of his irritation coming through. “All right, I’ve had enough. Cody?”

The hammer clicked back, echoing straight to Gio’s nerves beginning to snap like live wires. Fucking around was over. It was time to get serious and get the hell out.

“My father didn’t send me to Vegas to scope out the cars, Maximo,” Gio informed soft but sure. “I will answer for my misdeeds however you see fit, but there are things you should know first because you have been nothing but good to me and my family. Without a doubt, I disrespected Franco. I refuse to apologize for that. You, however, deserve my remorse in the best way I can give it.”

Maximo’s brow furrowed as he rested back to the corner of his desk. “If you’re rambling to save time …”

“I’m not.”

“Dad—”

“Shut up, Franco,” Maximo snapped without even glancing back. “Talk, Giovanni. Your father, you said. Start from there.”

Gio nodded, but this tongue felt thick in his mouth. Somehow, he forced the sensation threatening to keep him quiet back. “My father overheard something that bothered him, leading him to send me here to oversee your son and his men through their dealings and interactions.”

“Does he have no faith in me?” Maximo asked. “He has no business interfering because he is the leader of a dominating family.”

“According to your son, my family is failing and losing their power. Haven’t you heard? The Sorrentos are more than ready to step up to the plate when the time comes for the Marcellos to fall.”

Briefly, Maximo’s gaze narrowed before he shot a look over his shoulder. “You said that?”

“I did not,” Franco hissed.

“You’re a goddamn liar, Franco. You can call Antony, Maximo. Most of the things I say may be construed as speculation, but with a few phone calls, and a little pressing from the Don, mouths will run like they always do. On this, Antony was less than ten feet away. He heard it himself and because of that, sent me here.”

“To see if my family was planning on coming in on him,” Maximo said, the heat of anger coloring his tone. “He has no trust in me, then.”

“No,” Gio replied swift and sharp. “Why should we be afraid when our numbers are bigger, stronger, and better? He sent me to weed through the nonsense of Franco’s bullshit for you, Max.”

Maximo didn’t catch Gio’s slip of his name or the man just didn’t care. “For me.”

“Friendships are important to my father. He protects them even when the other half doesn’t know he’s doing it. Besides, if there was nothing to find, I would go home with you none the wiser and no suspicions plaguing you about your family. All respect in the ranks would remain intact.”

“And if you had found something?”

“Consider it a token of his friendship,” Gio said.

“Did you find something?” Maximo asked, tipping his chin up and surveying Gio closely. 

“He’s rambling,” Franco interjected, a rage filled stare glazing over Gio. “Be done with it, Cody. Hurry up. I’m sick of hearing this fucking asshole speak.”

“Of course you are, Franco. And remember what I said about calling names.” Gio didn’t look away from Franco as he said, “Cody, who have you been working for these last few months?”

Cody hesitated.

Gio knew he had to walk carefully for Cody’s sake. He had no intention of getting the kid in trouble, but he still needed his honesty for his plan to work.

“Me,” Maximo answered for his newest recruit. “Under Franco directly, but inadvertently he’s been working for me.”

“That’s not all, though,” Gio said. “Cody, when asked, you must always tell the truth. We protect Cosa Nostra first and foremost. Who else have you been working for?”

Cody swallowed audibly. “My father.”

“Your point?” Franco demanded, beginning to look like a pissed off bull with his huffing and puffing. “He’s his father’s son. Yes, he works for his father.”

“Doing what exactly?” Maximo asked Cody. “I’ve had you running for months, as has Franco. I don’t see how you have time to be jumping between families to do business with both.”

Cody had yet to lower his weapon, but Gio didn’t fault him for that. He hadn’t been told to, after all.

“Does it matter?” Franco asked, slamming his palm on the desk. “Right now, is it really important?”

“What is your problem?” Maximo turned on his heel, leaving his back to the rest of the room. “If you don’t shut up, I will have you removed for the rest of this, Franco. Sit down and be quiet like I know you can do, even if it does take every bit of strength and effort you possess.”

“The cars,” Cody said before Maximo had faced them again. “I’ve been working the car scheme for my father.”

That had Maximo spinning back, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Because he had to,” Gio added quickly, wanting to simmer the negative attention on Cody. “It was Cody’s plot to begin with, but Nunz didn’t have the means that the Sorrento family did to bring it to fruition. However, Nunz did have the contacts to get the right means in. Isn’t that right, Franco?”

“Explain,” Maximo thundered.

“
Papà
—” Franco started to say.

“Explain!”

Franco fell into the chair, silent and refusing to speak.

“Cody?” Gio asked.

The younger man grimaced. “You can’t blame me for wanting into a bigger, better family. I did what I had to, and I stayed true to my loyalties while I did it. Franco gave my father the men, space, and contacts to get it rolling. I did my part—including giving my father his proper dues for having his hand in the pot.”

“
Dues
…” Maximo’s face reddened. “It’s my business!”

“No, it was Nunz’s,” Gio stated calmly. “Franco has handled everything, right? That’s what you said at the Commission. You’ve given him space; you’re letting him learn to fill his own boots and walk without holding someone’s hand. This was how he did that. By using someone else outside his family and Cosa Nostra. All the while, he’s kept the actual figures hidden from you so the money due to Nunz could be paid like it needed to be. Without you knowing, of course.

“I would like to think he did that only for the money. Because he’s greedy and a liar. But given the things he told my wife when he slapped her to the floor like she was a dog, I think there’s a lot more to it,” Gio finished.

Maximo took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “What things did he tell her?”

Franco stood, his pulse showing at the throbbing vein in his temple. “If you won’t kill that fucker, I will.”

“Move, and I will have Stephan slit your throat,” Maximo replied coldly.

There it was. The nerve Gio was looking to hit. He decided to pull on those taut strings a little bit more. “It’s clear now Franco was watching Kim for longer than he let on. The casino incident was shitty choices and bad circumstance, but his knowledge of her—her life, friends, even the kinds of clothes she preferred—was something it would have taken time to learn. And sure, he could have learned it after, except for the fact he screamed at her that he’d been watching for a long while. Who were the men at your house when you hit my wife, Franco?”

Franco wouldn’t answer, but Maximo did for him. “Two of my capos discussing business. They brought the incident to my attention and I planned on handling it privately so it wouldn’t happen again. Why?”

Gio nodded. “Another two witnesses alongside Cody who heard the things Franco said, then. Another phone call for you to make, Maximo. Verify it and look deeper. I didn’t realize you were sick. My condolences.”

Maximo’s brow crinkled. “Sick?”

“What was it Franco said to Kim when she was spitting blood to the floor, Cody?” Gio asked.

From the corner of his eye, Gio watched the finger let go of the trigger as Cody said, “Marrying my sister would guarantee his seat as Don with his father gone. Basically that’s what it was, anyway.”

“What else?”

“That he planned to end her. The sooner, the better.”

“Slips of the tongue in anger seem innocent enough,” Gio drawled, keeping his stare locked on Maximo’s. “Except that was far too specific to be thought of as ambiguous. The only thing his statement to my wife leads me to believe is that he thinks you’re going to be gone soon, for whatever reason. You’re seem like a healthy man, and in no way tired of this life to step down. So, you must be sick and hiding it well. I didn’t realize. Again, my condolences.”

“I’m not sick,” Maximo said, sounding distant.

“Were you demanding Franco settle down and marry?” Gio asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Franco barked.

“No,” Maximo said, ignoring his son. “It was entirely his choice to marry Kimberlynn, and not one I particularly agreed with or supported.”

“Because you knew it was forced.”

“That, and I’m not exactly fond of her father. I didn’t want the man thinking he could edge in on my business because our bloods were mixing.”

“Yet he already was before the engagement even happened,” Gio explained, filling in the blanks. “Kim was simply the glue for everything, right, Franco? She gave you a viable excuse that Maximo would trust for your communication with Nunz and the work with Cody. One he wouldn’t question you on because you were doing well. But he wasn’t, was he, Maximo?”

Maximo’s jaw clenched, but Gio continued on saying, “That’s why you asked me to stay here longer because inside, you don’t trust him.”

“Stay?” Franco asked, his voice turning weaker.

Gio didn’t pay him any mind. “He’s your son, sure, but blood doesn’t make a difference to Cosa Nostra. You didn’t understand why you felt something was off, and you were marking it down to his childish tantrums and spoiled nature, but it was more than that. Like my father did when he heard him going on in New York. You know, Maximo. I’m just giving you a reason to dig a little deeper.”

“Cody,” Maximo said quietly, drawing in the younger man’s attention.

“Yeah, boss?”