Interlude (Rockstar #4) (2 page)

I shake my head. "I don't know."

Ruben doesn't say anything, and when Kal takes his seat I don’t hesitate to turn around.

"Who are they?"

"I caught a glimpse of their tickets when they were boarding. Luciana Russo and Serafina Manzini."

I nod.

"Traveling with Lucy's mom and brother I believe. He made a comment about Lucy needing to change her panties after seeing you," Kal tells me with a laugh.

I grin.

"She's not the only one," John mutters.

"Fuck off, man."

"Hey, she's hot. I don’t blame you."

I don't know why, but him talking about Lucy like that pisses me off. "Don’t fucking talk like that about her. She's not like the rest."

"And you know that how?" Ruben asks with a lift of his brow.

"I don't know how I know, I just know I do." I look out the window. "She's different." So fucking different. And too young. This life would eat her up—what the fuck am I thinking here? I'm not ready to settle down. Not right now. But when I am, it's going to be with someone exactly like Luciana Russo. Maybe she and I will get a chance to meet again some day. If there's a way to make that happen in a few years, I'm going to move heaven and earth to do it.

My vision blurs as I stare out the window, not seeing anything, just thinking about the gorgeous girl back in coach. I half wish she'd sneak up here, and the other half is grateful she's not going to. She won't. Not a girl like that. Not Lucy.

She's different and she's someone I won't ever forget.

“I’m telling you Gio,
it’s those fucking Manzinis.”

I knock on the door and hesitate before walking in. Ernesto waves me over, Giovanni looks pissed. He’s not sitting as he normally does. He’s standing behind the desk, hands balled into fists.

“What did they take this time?”

Ernesto doesn’t hesitate to answer his boss, and father. He rattles off a long list of weapons that were stolen from last night’s shipment.

Giovanni swears. “We need to stop these fuckers.”

Ernesto nods in agreement. Giovanni looks over.

“Do you know who was in charge last night?”

“It was Massimo, he was working with Cesare.”

Gio throws his hands in the air. “Cesare, always Cesare. I hate that prick.” Ernesto grunts in agreement. I stand here, wondering why I’m included in this conversation. Normally Ernesto gives me my assignment and I’m gone. But I know better than to say anything so I just stay quiet.

Ernesto steps forward. “Do you want me to take a couple guys and handle this?”

Giovanni hesitates. “You know what it will mean if we do. If we kill him, it’ll be more than stealing. It’ll be about more than territory. It’ll be about blood.”

“It already is,” Ernesto says. “And now they’re making it about money.”

Giovanni nods.

“You know as well as I do Gio, they’re overstepping their bounds, and if we don’t stop them they’ll just keep stepping further.”

Giovanni sits down in the chair. Elbow resting on the arm, his hand coming up to his mouth where he absently runs a finger across his lip. Contemplating, thinking, weighing all angles of what he’s about to do. I’ve seen him do this before and it ended very badly for the Manzinis.

Giovanni leans forward. “You take the best men with you and get this done tonight. They won’t be expecting it, not this soon.”

Ernesto nods. “I want to take the kid with me.”

Giovanni stares me down with those dark, dark eyes. It feels like he can almost see through me. “Are you ready for this Nickels?”

I shrug.

“You know this will be more than a fight. There’ll be blood and there’ll be death. It won’t be quick. Ernesto will teach you how we deal with thieves and our enemies. You’ll go with him tonight and you will help do what needs to be done.”

He wants me to kill, he wants me to torture. I have enough anger to do both. All I need to remember is my father was friends with the Manzinis. And when my mother was sick, they didn’t give a fuck either. What is it that they say? An eye for an eye.

I stand taller. “Yes sir, I’m ready.”

Giovanni nods his approval. “Good, you help Ernesto get everything done and then we’ll talk.”

Just like that we’re dismissed.

I follow Ernesto out the door and into the lounge where some of the men are hanging out. He singles out three or four of them and everybody knows something’s going down tonight. None of them look at me in question as I would expect them to. But then again, who would dare second-guess what Giovanni Russo says.

No one, if they value their lives.

We head to a private room where Ernesto lays out the plan for tonight.

When we get to
the Manzini warehouse, the gun tucked into my waistband weighs me down. I know what's going to happen. I'm ready for it. I'm just really fucking scared. These aren't some street punks we're shaking down. These are the enemy. The Manzinis. This is our declaration of war.

"Massimo," Ernesto says by way of greeting, then shakes the man's hand. I watch closely for physical cues since there won't be any verbal ones. It didn't take me long to catch on to how messages are relayed. A turn of a head, scratching of a chin, or lift of an eyebrow is a signal of some kind, and if you miss it, you're as good as dead.

"Ernesto," the other man replies. He's in his late twenties, like Ernesto.

"Well, look who we have here, boys." Cesare Manzini. Ernesto stiffens, but holds his fingers rigid, signaling to hold… for now.

No one says anything as Cesare swaggers over to where Ernesto and Massimo are standing. Massimo looks as unhappy about his cousin's appearance as Ernesto. Interesting, that.

"What's the meeting about?" Cesare asks.

"He's here to talk to me, cousin. It's personal."

Cesare continues to stare at Ernesto and Ernesto meets his gaze, never wavering.

"Nah," Cesare says, "there's nothing too personal family can't share. Isn't that right, cousin?"

Massimo looks to Ernesto, who nods slightly, and on the inside we brace ourselves—outside there's no hint of anticipation or anxiety.

"So why are you here, Ernesto?" Cesare smirks.

Ernesto shifts his weight and we all settle in. Next signal is go time.

"I'm here to meet with Massimo. My business is not with you."

Cesare nods. "So it
is
business."

"Why else would I be here?" Ernesto asks.

"I was wondering that very thing," Cesare mutters.

"Cesare, leave us. This has been discussed with Salvatore. You'll be filled in at the meeting later tonight," Massimo tells him, but Cesare remains still, gaze still locked on to Ernesto's.

"I think I'd rather stay."

"And I just told you to
leave
. You will do as you're told, Cesare, or you'll suffer the consequences," Massimo tells his cousin through clenched teeth.

Cesare grunts. "Calm down, cousin. I'll go. I can't really stand the stench of the Russos anyway. They always smell like… what is that smell?" he asks one of the Manzini men, who makes no move to answer.

"It's the smell of bullshit and it wafted over me when you entered into the room. So I'm afraid, Cesare, that smell is
you
," Ernesto tells him, straightening, and it's go time.

We all shift our weight and stand at the ready, Cesare lets out a mirthless laugh.

"Ah, Ernesto, you always were a prick."

Ernesto nods. "Run along, Cesare, or you'll get a spanking later."

Cesare reaches for his gun and before he gets it out of his waistband, Ernesto has his gun pressed to Cesare's temple. Cesare remains frozen, hand close, but oh, so far away from his weapon.

His eyes bounce around the room and he notices that not only does he have Russo guns aimed at him, but also Manzini.

"Looks to me,
cousin,
" Massimo begins, "you're going to get more than a spanking. Vinny, if you could please relieve Cesare of his weapon."

The other man steps forward slowly and carefully, so as not to set anyone off, and takes the gun from Cesare's waistband, then tucks it into his own.

"You're making a big mistake here, Massimo," Cesare begins.

"I don't think so," Massimo replies. "Vinny and Angelo are going to escort you to see the boss."

"Cousin—" Cesare begins.

Massimo smirks. "Too little too late. Now you'll face the consequences of disregarding the request I gave you. Salvatore hates insubordination."

No one relaxes. All guns are still trained on Cesare as he stares down his cousin this time, hatred evident in his expression.

"Your time has come," Cesare tells him and Massimo raises a brow.

"I think you're reading the situation wrong. It is
your
time that has come. And," Massimo tells him, taking a step forward, "don't you
ever
threaten me again or I'll put a bullet through your brain before you even blink."

Cesare clenches his fists in anger, frustration, and hate. The hate radiating off of him is palpable, and I can't help but wonder just what the hell is going on with the Manzinis, and does Salvatore Manzini know about it. Likely if he did, Cesare would already be dead.

"Let's go," Vinny tells him and they turn, heading toward the door. When the door closes behind them, everyone lowers their weapons at Massimo's and Ernesto's commands—but they aren't put away.

The tension in this room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back and hope like hell we can get the fuck out of here before it starts popping out on my forehead.
Show no sign of weakness
. That's what Ernesto and Giovanni taught me, and it's a lesson I learned quickly and very, very well. There's no room for trial and error out on the street, where your life depends on your reaction and quick thinking, which also means there is no room for anxiety, panic, or any of the telltale signs signaling either.

"I apologize for Cesare," Massimo tells Ernesto, who nods. "He's out of control and tonight is the meeting where Salvatore will determine his fate."

"Seems like a good decision. He's making mistakes, Massimo. Mistakes that are going to have our families back at war. None of us want that," Ernesto admits.

"No, we do not."

A door slams and all weapons raise and train on the two men who enter. Giovanni and Salvatore. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Sworn enemies. Holy shit.

"Lower your weapons, Russos," Gio orders.

"You as well Manzinis," Salvatore agrees.

All weapons lower.

"Cesare has been dealt with," Mr. Manzini announces.

"Fuck. I was hoping I'd get to handle that," Massimo says.

Ernesto smirks. "I'd have fought you to carry out that task."

"Get in line," another of the Manzinis says.

"Men," Salvatore commands, and everyone quiets down. "You will deliver and unload the weapons Cesare took from the Russos, without direction or permission, at Giovanni Russo's choice of location."

They all nod in agreement.

"Ernesto," Giovanni states, "I need you and Nickels to come with me."

Ernesto directs me over with a tilt of his head and we follow Giovanni out the door. I don't tuck the gun away and neither does Ernesto. Now we're not only responsible for our lives, we're also responsible for our boss's. Christ on a crutch.

When I enter the limo, I'm not really all that surprised by the scene before me. Cesare Manzini, being held at gunpoint by one of our men. Ernesto smirks and rubs his hands together.

"Here's your present," Giovanni tells Ernesto.

"Best present ever," he replies.

"I would love to kill you," Cesare seethes.

Ernesto snorts.

"You'll never get that chance," Giovanni tells him coldly.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Cesare tells Giovanni, and I lift my gun and point it at his temple.

"You might want to rethink how you speak to Mr. Russo," I tell him. "You will show some respect."

Ernesto smirks again.

"Who the fuck are you,
boy
?" Cesare asks.

"The
boy
who's going to kill you," I respond flatly.

Ernesto leans back in his seat. "He's no boy, I can assure you that."

Cesare looks me up and down, just his eyes roaming over my body while my weapon continues to press into his temple.

"Ah, we are here," Giovanni announces. I lower my gun, but my gaze doesn't waver from Cesare. Something's wrong. I feel it. I can't pinpoint it, I just know it in my gut.

We make our way into the empty warehouse.

"Are you ready to die?" Ernesto taunts.

Cesare sneezes, then whispers, "Are you?" He bends over and in a flash he pulls a small gun from an ankle holster. I don't hesitate. I pull the trigger before he gets a chance. I watch as blood and brain matter spray across the concrete floor and then, as if in slow motion, Cesare's lifeless body crumples to the floor.

"Holy fuck, Nickels," Ernesto exclaims.

I stand there, arm in the air, finger on the trigger and I wait for remorse to set in. It doesn't. Why should it? The asshole was going to kill Giovanni. That just can't happen. I made sure it didn't.