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24

MONTE

O ne by one, the four of them have prowled into the room. If anyone ever wants to know how it feels to be hunted by a wolf pack I can make some good guesses.

And all the wolf pack rules apply; if you pick a fight with one of them, you fight them all.

Eight years have passed since I was in this room and nothing has changed other than a few more trophy heads added to the walls. The heavy smell of Uncle Cass’s pipe smoke must be baked into the dark paneling. A reminder that this is his domain and he’s never far off. Even when he’s physically elsewhere, his four clones can be counted on to do his bidding.

Julian works a toothpick in his mouth and sits behind his father’s desk. He was the first one to follow me in here, cutting short my request for a few minutes of privacy. His dark eyes bore into me with the intensity of a wild predator. Unlike his brothers, there’s a deliberate manner to his words and actions. Even if I didn’t know these men, I’d still pick him out as the eldest. Maybe because one firstborn son recognizes another. Julian expects to be in charge because that’s the way it’s always been.

“Did you get your business squared away?” he says.

Cursing him in silence, I press the send button on my text to Sabrina.

I love you too, cupcake. Miss you more than you know.

Her voice was shaky just now. She’d been crying. I’ll forever be haunted by the image of her peacefully sleeping with no clue that she’ll soon wake up to an empty bed.

Sabrina is right; she deserved far better than a fucking note. Nonetheless, I’d make the same choice again and again if that’s what it takes to keep her out of this snake pit.

My one big regret is not telling Sabrina that I love her before I left. I’m furious with myself for overlooking this. I’ve known that I love her since the night of the card game at Gino’s, when my murderous streak was ignited at the sight of her in danger. The words just took time to come together because they aren’t words I’m used to using.

Now I’m stuck here in my uncle’s lair and being stared at by his deranged offspring when I should be with my girl, holding her and telling her those words over and over.

I shove the phone in my back pocket and delete all emotions from my face before meeting Julian’s flat stare. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Julian nods. “Good to hear.”

On my right, his brother Tye is sprawled in a black leather armchair. The chair is set in the reclining position and he pretends to snore with boredom. Tye reached the pinnacle of the hockey world and spent three seasons playing pro in Toronto before an injury sidelined him for good. While hockey fights are far from unusual, Tye took the trend to the extreme and plenty of people attended his games for the guarantee of seeing blood on the ice.

But even Tye’s fighting attitude can’t beat his psycho younger brother. Gaetano, who only answers to Getty, leans against the wall at my back and plays with a knife. The blade is curved and looks sharp enough to slice off his dick but that doesn’t stop him from twirling it by the handle and flipping it around nonstop. So far he’s caught it with neat precision every time but I won’t be too bothered if he misses and loses a few fingers.

Fortunato, the youngest, is the least troublesome brother. He leans against another wall and fixes a dent in his hat. If left on his own, Fort would probably be happy being left alone to ride his horses endlessly through the hills surrounding Storm’s Eye Ranch. However, when he’s called to side with his brothers for any reason, he’s as tough to take down as the rest of them.

“I already let Dad know you’re finally here,” Julian says. The chair creaks when he shifts his weight. His heavily scuffed cowboy boots are propped up on the desk. “He said you sure took your time. He couldn’t wait around to find out when your ass would roll in.”

All bullshit. I didn’t ‘take my time’ at all. I left before dawn and drove seven hours straight to get here. I have no doubt my uncle would have been gone no matter what time I showed up. He’s in San Francisco at some big gathering of western mafia bosses. I’m told he won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.

“But,” Julian says, switching the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, “he was glad to know you’re coming with us. It’ll be just like old times, Monte. You can meet with Dad when you get back.”

Tye pretends to wake up from his slumber. “Are we going yet or should I take another fucking nap?”

“Pipe down, Rip Van Winkle,” Julian grumbles.

“Fuck you.” Tye flips both middle fingers but doesn’t leap from his chair to throttle his big brother. The Tempesta boys are always willing to tackle each other when the occasion arises but Julian shoots a warning glare that says this isn’t the time.

“The horses are saddled,” Fort cuts in. “Supplies are packed. We can leave anytime.”

Getty continues to twirl his knife with a savage grin. Tye cracks a wide yawn.

The official story is that a section of perimeter fencing was knocked down in a thunderstorm last night. A few members of the ranch’s prized cattle herd are now loose and assumed to be roaming the surrounding hills.

This might be true. But it’s also true that there’s plenty of staff here at the ranch who could be sent to retrieve them. The job definitely doesn’t require all four brothers plus their visiting cousin. Cass Tempesta orchestrated this outcome for a reason.

If he wanted a bullet in my head, he didn’t need to get nearly this imaginative. I don’t know what my uncle is up to but as long as nobody speaks Sabrina’s name I’m willing to join my cousins on this bonding mission or whatever the fuck it is.

Julian pulls his boots off the huge desk and stands. “Pay your respects, boys.” He gestures to the opposite wall.

The rest of them stand at attention and face the wall so I do the same. This is a familiar ritual. The vast study with its high vaulted ceilings is where my uncle tends to spend most of his time when he’s home. His desk is positioned to face the shrine to his dead wife. No one can leave without gazing at the painted image of Teresa Castelli Tempesta, saying a silent prayer, and making the sign of the cross.

Above the black stone fireplace hangs a painting that’s larger than the woman it depicts ever was in life. Teresa Castelli married Cassio Tempesta when she was only twenty years old. The painting, like the photo of her on the wall at Gino’s, is from her wedding day. Her young, radiant face smiles shyly and the painter must have been told to add a halo effect to make her look angelic.

At the time, my aunt must have thought she was in a fairy tale. One minute she’s taking orders behind the counter of her father’s pizzeria and then the next she’s being swept off her feet by the heir to the Tempesta family and carried off to his castle sitting on thirty thousand acres.

Four sons later, she was well on her way to living happily ever after when she was killed in her own house by one of her husband’s many enemies. Cass had taken Julian and Tye on a camping trip but the two youngest, Getty and Fort, were home. They weren’t harmed and Fort was only a baby. Getty was a toddler, too young to remember anything. But three years passed before he spoke another word.

Getty has put his knife away for the moment. His face is abnormally solemn as he gazes at his mother’s portrait. He makes the sign of the cross first and waits for his brothers to finish their private moment of silence in honor of the mother they all lost so brutally.

My father never did get over the murder of his only sister. He still gets emotional when he speaks her name. She was also my godmother. The cross that hangs around my neck was a gift from her and I don’t even remember the sound of her voice.

After a silent prayer, I cross myself the same way my cousins do. Julian is watching me and seems satisfied with my effort.

When we file out of the house, they keep me in the middle. This, I know, is intentional. I won’t be allowed to stray very far until I fulfill my obligation to sit down with their father.

Though my dad had grave misgivings about Cassio Tempesta, he wanted me and Nico to know our four cousins. They were still Teresa’s boys, no matter who their father was. That’s why we spent a chunk of our summers here from the time I was ten and Nico was eight.

Back then, my brother and I would wait all year for our visits to Storm’s Eye Ranch. To a kid, the vast, open land with the promise of a million separate adventures was downright magical and we envied our cousins for having the privilege of living here all the time.

Back in the eighties, Cass Tempesta’s father saw the writing on the wall when the feds were cracking down hard on the New York mafia families. He moved his whole operation all the way out here and began investing heavily in western real estate and Vegas casinos. I’ve heard he obtained the ranch through less than savory means but no one was ever willing to share the details.

Uncle Cass never married again. At a young age, I was in awe of my uncle. And both Nico and I enjoyed being around our cousins. Sure, they were a tough bunch but so were we. The fights we got into were always playful with no real injuries and everyone was always ready to be friends again by dinner.

The summer when I was seventeen and Nico was fifteen was the last good summer. Julian found a tattoo artist who was willing to ink some underage arms and we all received matching tattoos.

Famiglia è tutto . Family is everything.

My dad raised an eyebrow when we came home like that but he didn’t complain. He approved of the message and he was glad we were close with our cousins.

But the following summer was our last visit to Storm’s Eye Ranch.

I’d just graduated from high school and my uncle pulled me aside to offer me a place in the family. His family. My status would be up there right alongside his own sons. As the nephew and godson of his beloved Teresa, he considered this honor to be my birthright. He promised that in two years, when Nico reached eighteen, he would get the same offer.

I never saw this coming and I turned him down as politely as I could. Nico and I should have figured out it was wise to leave right then and there but we didn’t. Needless to say, my uncle didn’t take too kindly to being refused.

My brother and I finally realized our future health depended on maintaining permanent distance with the Tempestas the night Tye and Getty tried to drown him in the creek.

I’ll never know if they really would have held him underwater for too long. After five seconds I barreled straight into Tye’s chest and then broke his cheekbone with my fist. Nico was able to get free of Getty on his own but then Julian and Fort jumped into the fight and the scene turned into a full blown bloody brawl. It’s a miracle no one was killed. Nico and I held our own, but the battle was still four against two.

Uncle Cass’s way of handling the matter was to dump me and my brother on the next plane back to New York. My father took one horrified look at us hobbling through the airport with blood still on our clothes and said, “No more”. Then he drove us to the hospital to get our broken fingers set and monitor our concussions.

From the Tempestas, there was no apology, no attempt to make things right. They were finished with us and we were finished with them.

Now here I am again, but without my brother at my side.

And instead of four against two, it’s four against one.