As they walked down the street, River had to suppress the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. On the one hand, she didn’t want to see Nico again, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before she did something stupid. On the other hand, there was some small, soft voice in the back of her mind encouraging her to do something stupid—and probably amazing—in her life for a change.
That voice told her it was time to loosen up, damn the consequences, and let herself have a little fun for once in her life.
2
“This is your route,” Nico said. “You’re to follow it to the letter. No stops, no calls, and no deviations. Nobody is to know your route. Do you understand?”
“Yes, capo. I understand.”
“I mean it, Terzo. If you have to piss, you piss in a cup. You stop for nothing and nobody,” he said.
“I get it, capo.”
“You better because the man you’re replacing got careless about his route. He got sloppy,” Nico said. “He’s dead now. He was sloppy and paid the price.”
Terzo’s face blanched but he quickly covered it with a nod. He put a grim-faced expression on, doing his best to look tough. It was true that the last driver was killed but Nico was embellishing the reasons why he was dead. It had nothing to do with him being sloppy. It had everything to do with somebody clocking their shipments and then hijacking them when they were on the road.
It was the fourth hijacking they’d had over the last year. It was the first time one of their drivers had been killed though and Nico was pretty sure whoever was behind it, killed their man simply to send a message. And that message was that they were coming for the Santonelli family and their territory. Nico’s father, Aldo Santonelli, had ruled Venice for the last thirty years. Any and all illicit activity was regulated by Nico’s family and had been for decades.
Aldo though, was dying. Cancer. And he was prepping Nico to take the crown. A Santonelli had sat on the throne of Venice’s underworld for more than a century. But with Nico's father dying, the other families obviously viewed him as a weak and unworthy heir to the throne. They thought it was their time to make a move and stake their claim to the crown. It was why somebody was hijacking their shipments. They were trying to prove how weak the Santonelli family was—and how weak they believed Nico was. It was the ultimate show of disrespect.
Nico handed a GPS unit and a burner phone to his driver. “You are to check in every hour on the hour. Is this clear?”
“It’s clear, capo.”
“Good. Now finish getting yourself ready for your trip.”
“Yes, capo,” Terzo replied and scurried away.
Nico stood in the warehouse surrounded by crates filled with guns and other munitions as well as crates that were filled with stolen art and other valuables. The Santonelli family had a finger in plenty of high-end pies. At the moment, he watched as crates of weapons were being loaded into the back of the cargo truck. He looked down at the tablet in his hand, going over all the logistics of the route in his head again. He was sure he had everything covered. He needed to make sure everything went off without a hitch. His father was trusting him to organize the logistics of the shipment and he didn’t want to fail… for a number of reasons.
“Is this shipment ready to go?”
Nico nodded as his father stepped up beside him. As always, he was dressed in a dark, three-piece, pinstriped suit. His shirt was a deep purple, and he had a matching pocket square and metallic purple tie. His father believed in formality and traditions. It was something he tried to impress upon Nico, but it never fully took. He usually always dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, but vests, ties, and jackets weren’t part of his usual attire. He would dress up when he needed to but, much to his father’s chagrin, opted for a more casual look when he didn’t.
Nico was a few inches taller than his father, but Aldo somehow always seemed larger to him. He had a stocky build, and a full head of iron-gray hair, and even though he was sick and dying, his father's dark eyes still seemed very present. You could tell he was a man who didn’t miss much. And though the cancer was ravaging his body, his father was still very energetic and hands-on in the operation of the family empire. Nico honestly wasn’t fully convinced that his father was dying. He figured if anybody could beat the disease, it would be his father. He was certainly mean enough.
“Six dozen AR-15s packed and ready to go,” Nico said. “Terzo will be driving them to the port in Genoa. He’ll make sure the crates are loaded onto our client’s boat. I’ve also got two men in a trail car to keep an eye on the shipment.”
“And you trust these men to get the shipment to Genoa?”
“I wouldn’t have put them on this job if I didn’t think they could do it.”
“You were sure the last man you assigned to deliver could do the job,” his father replied sharply. “And we know how that turned out.”
“I guess we’re not going to talk about the three shipments that were hijacked before you turned logistics over to me, huh?”
“Don’t push me today, Nico,” he growled. “Not today.”
"Uh-huh."
His father turned to him, his expression stern. “You are going to be taking my place sooner than later, Nico. It’s well past time you start taking this seriously.”
“I think you take it seriously enough for the both of us,” Nico muttered.
“This is no laughing matter, son,” Aldo said.
“Do you hear me laughing?”