Chapter 39
Lucas
We pulled out of the wharf toward the city before Emil let out a heavy sigh. “She’s too good for you.”
“And your mouth is about to land you in a world of hurt,” I shot back, my words lacking any real heat to them. “But yeah, she is.”
“I want to find her father and Adrian,” he continued. “You deserve a future with her.”
I looked over at him. “Since when do you care about my future?”
My words were meant to be a joke, but when Emil met my eyes, there was no laughter in them. “You have been through some shit, Don,” he stated softly. “You deserve to be happy. Leda makes you happy.”
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it. “She does make me happy.”
He chuckled. “Goddamn does she have you by the balls. And that’s got nothing to do with the fact that she’s carrying your kid.”
I shared a grin with him, knowing what he was saying was the truth. I also knew it wouldn’t go any further than this SUV or than this conversation either. When I stepped out again, I would be the ruthless former Don, hell bent on revenge. I couldn’t afford for those outside our inner circle to see how much Leda affected me, especially not my enemies. The other capos and soldiers knew that Leda was heavily involved in the raids that were going on, but my feelings for her…I liked to keep that private for now.
Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see how much I cared about her, anyway.
It didn’t take us long to reach the butcher shop on 42nd street, and I wasn’t at all surprised that the storefront was dark. It was well past three at night, so the shop had been closed for hours.
I knew based on my previous visits that the business we were looking for happened in the basement, well away from prying eyes. Moving large sums of money was a red flag immediately, and that had to be kept away from the public eye.
Not that anyone didn’t already know what they did here.
Used to be, someone in the NYPD station down the street on 42nd was always in my back pocket, keeping the lines of payments open so that they would turn the other way whenever needed. Any time there was a new guy, I would have to go through the motions or have someone inside do it for me.
Now that I didn’t necessarily own this right now, I had to be extra cautious because there was no doubt in my mind that Adrian was running the same kind of operation.
Hell, I was surprised I hadn’t been visited by the police already. It wasn’t like it was hidden all that well. I mean, Nico had found it.
The SUV pulled into the alley around back, and I climbed out with Emil, feeling the blood starting to pump through my body rapidly. I knew what was in that basement, and even if they had been tipped off earlier about this raid, there was no way they could move the stacks of money quickly.
We were bound to find some remnants of Adrian’s business, no doubt about it.
True to my promise, I hung back as the first wave broke into the basement, clearing it, and sure enough, it was devoid of people. The lights were on, and it was clear that they had left in a hurry, leaving behind large sums of cash.
“That felt almost too easy,” I told Emil, gazing throughout the space.
“A day late and a dollar short,” Emil murmured, lowering his weapon. “Think it’s a trap?”
“It might be.” I didn’t like the look of this.
Walking over to the table, I moved some of the papers around, and found a blueprint of some neighborhood banks in the area. Fucking Adrian. He was hitting up banks? Either he was real ballsy, or real fucking stupid.
Were they Carmine’s plans or his?
Surely not Carmine’s. He had been a Mafia Don for decades. Bank robbery was usually a new Don’s mistake, thinking he could take power and money at the same time. There were other ways of stealing money that didn’t bring attention. After all, it was best to stay a blue-collar criminal.
Wall Street was supposed to launder your money. You weren’t supposed to steal from them.
Smirking, I pulled out another piece of paper that was scattered about the table and frowned as I saw the strikethroughs, the numbers not making sense at first. But then, realization plunged through me like a cold knife.
“Emil,” I called out. “What does this look like to you?”
He walked over, looked over my shoulder, and confirmed my fears. “Looks like coordinates.”
I fished out my phone, pulled up Google Maps, and typed the first one in. It came back as a former house of mine, one that I hadn’t owned in a number of years.
The next one was one of my many warehouses across the city, this one on the Upper East Side and far away from our current location.
But I started to get a funny feeling inside as I checked the next few, realizing that it was a list of all my holdings in the city.
Fuck.
Crushing the paper in my fist, I turned to Emil. “We have to go, now.”