Stefano’s six-foot-plus frame blocked our way. Dark eyes that spoke of death warned us to tread carefully. “This isn’t the time. You’ll administer something to knock Guido out for several hours when requested, Trey. That’s the only contact either of you will have—for now.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, mirroring what Luc was doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marco glance at his phone before he stood. “Dante’s here.”
The Verretti boss had arrived to cue us in on the New York syndicate drama and take Guido off our hands. It was time to get that shit show on the road.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TREY
Dante Verretti was in our family’s home, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, but I told myself to make the best of it. The goal was to take care of Guido so that he was six feet under, sooner rather than later. Stefano had said Dante had a plan.
It had better be a damn good one.
The other bosses, Nico, and I were scattered on the overly large leather sectional when Marco came downstairs with Dante in tow. I sized up the New York boss. His tailored suit was Armani—nice clothes to shield the monster that lurked beneath. Unusual eyes, more gray than green, observed the room, and the way he moved gave the impression that no detail was too small to escape his notice. I caught a glimpse of tats creeping past his collar. Violence radiated from him, despite his outer calm—Dante fit in with us. He had the same predatory, ruthless demeanor encased in a pretty package that could also be wielded as a weapon. I had yet to dissect his personality, although he lacked Guido’s smarmy air, so there was hope.
When he joined us on the couch, Marco handed him a drink—none of us wanted to stray far from where we held Guido captive. Introductions were made. Even though we all knew who he was, not everyone had met face-to-face before.
“Why keep Guido alive?” I wasn’t wasting time, even though I was out of line speaking before the bosses. They let it slide—though I refused to let my gaze dart to Stefano. He was the only one I really had to worry about.
Luc tensed beside me. A faint crack sounded before he set his glass down. I didn’t bother to check to see whether there was a hairline fracture. We all knew there was. “I’m with Trey,” he said, his deep voice layered with barely contained violence.
It wouldn’t take much to tip him over the edge. The longer we stayed there with Guido on the other side of the door while Summer and Hailey—two targets on Guido’s list—were upstairs, the closer we both came to busting into the other room and ending the underboss.
“You could kill him.” Dante shrugged. “But his fate will be far worse if I dump him on his father’s doorstep.”
“We’ve already delivered proof to Leo Amato. What’s to say he won’t let this latest infraction slide?” Marco asked.
I knew what the bosses—not Luc, but the rest—were doing. Dante had to be tested. They may have respected him, to a degree, but he needed to prove that his plan was worthwhile for us to go along with it. New York was his city, even if there wasn’t an official ruling Mafia family there, and Guido had slipped past his nose as well as all the others’. That didn’t fill me with confidence.
“It’s simple,” Dante said. “Leo knows his place. Once I dump his son on his doorstep with a message that if Guido ever goes to Chicago again, the Five Families will kill him in a way that will go down in history and he will receive the same treatment. He’ll have to listen. Leo will have no choice but to put a short leash on Guido.”
“There’s unrest in the Amato household,” Stefano said. “With Ben’s betrayal, Leo would be smart not to test the loyalty of those in his employ.”
“Is he smart?” I had my doubts.
Dante grinned, but the gesture lacked warmth. “Smarter than his son. Let them crumble from within.”
“We need to help it along. Guido’s returned to his family once before after a visit with us. The torture and injury to his hands weren’t enough,” Nico pointed out.
“Let’s deliver another permanent message,” Max said. “We’ll shave his head and tattoo ‘rat’ on the side of it.”
I laughed. “That’ll make a statement. And until his hair grows back, it’ll be a constant reminder to Leo about what his son’s intentions are to the family.”
“Just as a warning”—Enzo rested his arm across the back of the couch—“Guido mentioned something about Mia.”
“Mia Tucci?” Dante’s brows furrowed.
“Yes,” Enzo answered. “He wasn’t clear about what he wanted from her, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.”
“With him, it rarely is.”
“Have you found her?” Nico asked.
Dante shoved a hand through his hair, worry pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“No. But we’re looking.”
The subject was dropped, and the focus returned to our guest just beyond the door. Marco went to the locked closet behind the bar, where we kept instruments and weapons specific to the room Guido was enjoying. He returned with the tattoo machine and supplies, including a folding table with straps. We would have to strap him down and secure his hands, legs, and head so that the process would go smoothly. Rather than sit around and waste time, we filed into the room where Guido was held, and Max got to work.