A little extortion ring I'd already told him was not going to fly.
"We already discussed this, Dario," I reminded him. "And we came to the conclusion that it was a bad idea."
"If New York is breathing down our necks, wouldn't it be smart to bring in more money to keep them from bringing in the guns?"
"By getting the cops on our asses because you threaten law-abiding and tax-paying citizens?"
"I didn't say anything about threats, Luca."
"Dario, how the fuck do you think you get those shop owners down in 3rd Street territory," I started, meaning our local street gang with a revolving door of different leaders, none of who proved capable of holding onto the position for long, creating all the issues the shop owners did deal with on a regular basis, "to agree to your 'protection'?"
"Because they want protection."
"It's not exactly a wealthy area. They don't have it to spare. So the only way you'd get money out of them would be to threaten them, saying shit about how you hope nothing happens to their kids or daughters. We don't do that shit. I know New York does, but this isn't New York. We have the docks."
"And when that's not enough anymore?" he asked. And, to be fair, it was a valid question.
"We will deal with it when it comes to that."
"This is a good gig, Luca, mark my words."
"It's a gig. And it might pay. But that doesn't mean it's good."
"Your old man—"
"Would lose his fucking mind if you brought that to him. Let it drop. Think of something else. Then come back to us with it."
Dario's jaw was tight, a muscle ticking there. He'd always wanted to prove himself. He wanted to step in at my side like his father did at my father's side. He wanted to leverage his position of power for the day when I became boss.
Dario was always quick with a scheme, but had never been a good earner the way Lucky was without having to work half as hard. It ate at him to know he would likely never rise above a soldier, no matter how hard he tried.
"What about the other kind of extortion?"
"Blackmail backfires just as much as it works. But if you can find a way to do it with minimal blowback, we can talk. But don't bring it to me until it is a job that is ready to go."
"Got it," he agreed, nodding. "I'll see you in a few hours," I added, climbing in my car, heading across town to check in with some of the other men. Collecting money, stashing it somewhere safe, my usual rounds most days of the week consisted of making sure everything was going smoothly, that all the soldiers and associates were doing what they were supposed to be doing, were giving us the cut they owed us.
It sounded like a hassle, but it meant I spent most of my time in and out of the pizza shops run by Lucky, a car wash run by some of our other guys, a couple bars, and a laundromat franchise—shooting the shit with friends and family, getting something to eat, and securing college educations for my great-great grandchildren.
The media liked to claim the mafia lost its stride in the eighties and had been on the decline ever since. But there were capos in New York making eight mill a week in profits. We weren't at that level, but not a single one of us would be hurting for m
oney for a long time.
Even if New York got greedy.
If we had to, we could hold them off with some money from our coffers. But our best bet was to impress Lorenzo when he showed up, to reason with him, so that he could attempt to reason with his father.
And to impress him, we had to get control over our operation.
I should have felt determination when I made my way to the docks later that afternoon to work on a new plan to catch Romy should she show up.
But what was coursing through me was a hell of a lot more like anticipation, like excitement.
Maybe even a bit like hope.
Chapter Four
Romy