Page 33 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 30

NERO

I have never felt a fury like this. As I drive through the streets of Los Angeles, it’s almost an out-of-body experience, as though I’m observing my rage from afar. It’s coiled dark and cold in my chest—a snake ready to strike, as I suggested to Gabriel before I left the community garden.

His voice comes back to me. Please .

It’s not how I pictured him begging.

I get to my destination and pull up right at the front, ignoring all No Parking signs. Even at this time of night, the sandwich shop is open. But it’s not sandwiches I’m interested in. I move swiftly through to the back room, where Legs Liggari and a number of his men—my fellow crew members—are sitting around smoking cigars and playing poker.

“Where are the men who were supposed to be protecting those buildings down near the port?” I demand.

Liggari doesn’t even glance up from his cards. “You want to take a different tone with me, kid,” he growls.

I walk around the table, grab him by the back of the neck, and slam his face into the tabletop. “On the contrary,” I tell him coldly. “It is you who should mind your manners with me.”

All around me, Liggari’s men have leapt up from the table, guns out, pointed at me.

Legs looks dazed when I pull him up, but he still has enough in him to splutter, “Do you know who the fuck you’re dealing with? Do you know what I could do to you?—”

“Do you know what I could do to you? ” I hiss into his ear, bending close. “Because if not, I would be delighted to educate you.”

I straighten and smile around the room. “Lower your weapons, gentlemen. This disagreement does not concern you. I’d advise none of you to get involved.”

Some are slower than others, but they all holster their weapons, despite Legs berating them in between wiping the streaming blood from his nose. I take him by the back of the neck again and squeeze hard. “Stop mewling and listen to me before I turn your face into a crater. In the old country, you would have long ago been cut off as deadwood, and you’re lucky I don’t do that right now. When I tell you to do a thing, you do it. Jack and Sandro might allow you to keep your title, thanks to your fragile ego, but you must never forget who really holds the power between us. And it is not you, Liggari. It never has been you.” I keep hold of him as I look around the room once more. “I need as many men as I can get tonight. Who among you is willing to work with me?”

Some of them glance at each other, as they weigh their options. But one by one, they all step forward or nod their assent. “Good,” I say in satisfaction. “And each of you are to call your friends in the Family, and suggest to them it would be in their best interests to attend this event tonight as well.”

“What are we doing?” one of the younger crew members asks eagerly.

I like his attitude. “What’s your name?”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy. We are performing our duty tonight. The problem with your so-called Capo is that he seems to have forgotten the details of his role over the years. There is a symbiotic relationship between us and our clients. We do not take without giving back. That’s not how these relationships work. They pay us money to perform a service . And tonight, we’re doing a little gardening.”

Jimmy, who had begun to look excited, squints at me. “Gardening?”

“Gardening. And if I see that you know your way around a vegetable patch, Jimmy, there will be a nice little bonus for you at the end of the night. You can tell your friends that as well,” I say, looking around at the other men now. “I will personally pay out a bonus to all who take part, as long as the job is finished by dawn.” An excited murmur ripples around the group.

Only Legs is now protesting. “You can’t just take all my men,” he whines. “I’m gonna call Jacopo, and he’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks. Him and me go way back?—”

“I’ll save you the trouble, Liggari. I plan to call Jacopo myself. When I said the more hands the better, I meant it.” I look down at him with a sneer. “I’ll even give you that bonus I promised, if you come now. No?” I ask, as he pulls away at last from my hand on his neck and shakes his head firmly. “Have it your own way.”

I lead the men back out of the sandwich shop, the owner behind the counter giving us a look of surprise as we file out. I don’t think Liggari’s crew has seen this much action for quite some time.

A voice in the back of my head reminds me that what I’m doing is completely off-mission. Could even harm my mission. But I push it away, telling myself that becoming the hero of the hour will put me in a good position with Sandro as long as I play my cards right. I certainly can’t play them worse than Legs did tonight, judging by the pile of coins in front of every other man at that table.

Yes, the mission will be fine, and tonight can be part of it. I’m taking advantage of a situation to make myself look good to Sandro.

Not Gabriel Carstairs.

“Make your calls,” I tell the men as they mill around outside. “I need to make a few of my own.” I head around the corner for privacy and make the most urgent call first. And then I make the second, the one I promised to Liggari. Johnny Jacopo won’t thank me for waking him at this hour, especially after his boyfriend’s exhibition. But needs must.

“Yep,” comes the laconic voice of the Castellani Underboss.

“I am anguished to wake you, Jack?—”

“You didn’t. What is it?”

“We have a small issue. I’ve only just found out about it myself, but one of the staff members at Redwood has been conducting some charity work on the side that has come to the notice of our enemies.” That’s the best way to play it. And I won’t mention the flower planting; as far as silly ventures go, that’s the least of my concerns at the moment.

Jack sighs. “How long is this going to take?”

“All night, I’m afraid.”

“Then hang on a second.” The phone goes muffled as he puts his hand over it and I hear only a faint murmuring. He’s with Miller, I presume. “Alright,” he says. “I’m on my way. Where am I going?”

I consider for a moment. “You might want to bring your boyfriend, too.”

I have been in this city long enough to know where my targets are likely to be. And luckily for me, the nearby Port is a gathering place for many of them. I head over there and pay a visit to the Pacific Syndicate first, which seems like a safe bet. I’m relieved to discover that my guess was right, because had the Bernardis been behind the destruction of the garden, it could have required more finesse than I’m willing to show right now. Luckily, with PacSyn, I can stroll right in and explain to them at length why they will keep away from the community garden from now on.

The only irritation is that I really would prefer to leave them all unbreathing. In my experience, dead men leave a much clearer warning than wounded. And in fact, my intention when I first arrived was to leave a pile of corpses for their brothers to find the next day.

Two things stopped me. The first is, of course, my mission. If I color too far outside the lines, Sandro will exile me.

But the second, and perhaps more pressing reason, is that I keep seeing Gabriel Carstairs’ green eyes as he begged me not to kill anyone over these attacks.

I don’t know why I care so much. I’ve had plenty of lovers before who shied away from the violence of my work. I never cared. I only ever laughed when they suggested I live my life differently. Laughed, and then left. But there’s something about Gabriel that makes me hesitate…and so these members of PacSyn have him to thank for their worthless lives.

Just before I send the last of them into unconsciousness, he croaks through his broken teeth, “You’ll get yours, you fucking Italian bastard. You and all the Castellanis and the Bernardi traitors—you’ll get yours.”

“I look forward to it,” I tell him cordially, before it’s lights out for him.

Still, it is worrying that he felt so comfortable in leveling such a threat at the Castellanis. By this time, PacSyn really should be running scared. I make a mental note to let La Contessa know in my next report.

And Sandro, too. Sandro needs to know.

By the time I get back to the community garden buildings, it’s the early hours of the morning, and there is quite a conclave of Castellanis. I’m relieved to see, when I head inside, that the place is nearly back to how it was when Gabriel first showed me around—though lacking the mature crops, of course. They were beyond help.

And Gabriel is the first one I look for. He’s on the other side of the room, pointing and directing Miller and Jacopo, Nate and Freddy, and Raffi DeLuca. The butler Darian is also here, running around with refreshments for the workers.

Jack walks up to me slapping earth from his hands. “Looks like you’ve been busy tonight,” he comments laconically, looking at my knuckles, which are beginning to bruise and swell. “I really don’t want to have to tell Sandro that we have another problem on the horizon.”

“You don’t need to worry. I pulled my punches. The degenerates who made this mess kept their lives, against my own better judgment. But I understand that the situation is delicate and I have no desire to cause Sandro further problems.”

He gives me a searching look. “Who was it?”

“Pacific Syndicate.”

He nods slowly. “Small mercies, I guess. Still, I wish you hadn’t gone off and done that on your own. PacSyn has been getting rowdy lately.”

“Are you going to run to Sandro and tell tales about me?” I ask with a wide smile.

“I’ll do you the courtesy of letting you explain yourself to him without muddying the waters. But you should know?—”

“Let me guess. Legs Liggari gave you a call.”

“Look, I know better than anyone that the guy is an asshole, and doesn’t deserve that title he’s got. But sometimes it’s not about the best man for the job. Sometimes it’s about which chess pieces you have left on the board, and where they can be most useful. Anyway—next time you want to settle things with PacSyn, call for backup. There are a lot of us who’d enjoy the chance.”

“I’m afraid I let my emotions take over. If they had come after us , the Castellanis, that would be one thing, but this place serves a community.”

“Well that’s just the problem,” says a voice to my side, and I turn to see Yvonne standing there with her hands on her hips and a smudge of dirt on her nose. I can’t help smiling. She reminds me of Gabriel in that pose with the dirt all over her face. “It’s not that we don’t really appreciate what you’ve done here tonight, Nero,” she says carefully. “And we’ll be able to plant everything again, obviously, but?—”

“But you need to distribute food tomorrow—or today, I suppose. It is nearly dawn, after all. But I told you, bella , that I would take care of it, did I not?”

“That’s what you said,” comes a cold voice from behind me. I turn to look into those green eyes once more, and I try not to laugh at the scowl on Gabriel’s face. “But not even you can will plants to mature within hours, Nero. We’ll have to call off distribution day for this month, and see what we can?—”

He pauses, as the sound of trucks outside begins to echo through the building, along with horns beeping to warn of their arrival. “Don’t tell me they’re coming back to finish the job,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“On the contrary,” I tell him. “And as for calling off your distribution day, it is out of the question. Follow me.”

Gabriel is not the only one to follow me outside to see what’s going on. Yvonne and Jack come too, and eventually the entire crowd mills outside to watch three white refrigerated trucks pull up.

“You said you’d leave it to me to explain myself to Sandro,” I murmur to Jack, “but he was my first call. He is the Don ; of course I kept him informed. But he’s also my best friend, and I know him better than anyone.”

“Looks like maybe you do,” Jack mumbles back, eyebrows mounting in surprise as he catches sight of the logos on the trucks. “Well, I gotta hand it to you, Nero. You thought of everything.”

The Castellani Family is involved in many industries, but one of the most lucrative is their controlling share in a Californian grocery chain.

Gabriel and Yvonne are staring in shock as the trucks pull up, and the drivers all jump out and open the back. “Heard you needed an emergency delivery,” the first driver says with a grin.

I give Gabriel a gentle push in the back, since no one else seems inclined to step forward. He stumbles a little before catching himself and walking up to the driver. “What have you got in there?” he asks, and for the first time tonight, I hear hope in his voice.

It should not warm me like it does.

“We got enough to feed an army, bud,” the driver says cheerfully. “Tomatoes, salad leaves, avocado, corn, bell peppers, carrots, and then there’s potatoes and onions and—look, do I really need to go on? We should start unloading so you guys can get it all in place.”

“Of course,” Gabriel says, shaking off his shock. And for the next half hour, everyone present puts in the work to unload the trucks and restock the distribution center.

An hour later, Ray and I are the only two left there with Yvonne and Gabriel. We finally called time, as the sun began to inch higher in the sky. Although I’ve taught PacSyn where the boundaries around here lie, there’s no point drawing notice from any other opportunists either, so I wanted everyone gone as soon as possible.

“I don’t know how we can possibly repay you for the produce,” Yvonne says. “But we will, I swear.”

“You will not,” I tell her at once. “I won’t hear of it.”

I paid for it myself, of course. It was my sweetener to Sandro, since I also wanted his permission to go vandal-hunting.

“I can’t even begin to thank you,” Yvonne gushes. She throws herself at me, hugging me hard. I put my arms around her, too, since it seems the polite thing to do. “You really saved the whole community garden tonight, Nero. If it wasn’t for you?—”

“If it wasn’t for you, we probably wouldn’t have gotten trashed in the first place,” Gabriel says from the side. Yvonne lets go of me and gives him a warning look. “It wasn’t until you started sniffing around GreenSpace that any other organizations took notice of the place.”

“ Gabe ,” Yvonne hisses at him in a low voice. “That’s not true?—”

“Well, perhaps it is,” I say, waving aside Yvonne’s protest. “But will you give us a moment, bella ? I would like to speak to Gabriel alone.”