was a myth, an urban legend. That kind of love didn't exist for him.
He'd always been glad for that.
Because that was the kind of love that had taken down Romeo and Juliet.
It was the kind of love that destroyed lives.
He'd watched his father grieve that kind of love, refusing to step foot in his bedroom or sleep in his bed again after losing his wife. He'd watched his sister lose herself in guys until one took her down. 'It's like my insides are too big for my body and I'm going to burst.' Genna had told him that, how she'd described it to him sitting in the café in Little Italy. He thought she was fucking crazy.
Until last night.
Dante knew what his sister had meant, because maybe he wasn't in love, yet, but goddamn if it wasn't happening to him. If he wasn't careful, Gabriella would claw her way beneath his skin and she'd stay there.
"So who was it? Who'd you nail last night?"
"None of your business."
"Come on…"
"Ask me again and next time it'll be your sister."
"Ah, man, that's foul."
Umberto's sister was young, barely legal. He was protective over her, wouldn't even let Dante talk to her because of his hit-it-and-quit-it reputation. The threat worked, because Umberto dropped the subject, rambling about how he'd spent his night with the woman he met at the bar, filling the air with his incessant chatter.
They drove to a small suburb down near the city of Elizabeth, deep in the heart of Brazzi territory. They'd entered their terrain the second they crossed the state line, something they didn't do often, being as they never had reason. Brazzi stayed out of their affairs as much as possible, choosing to stay out of New York as long as New York respected their territory. You needed something there—you called, you asked, you negotiated, and they made it happen.
But as Umberto pulled the car into a small neighborhood after nightfall, blacking out the headlights, visibly nervous, Dante realized that hadn't gone down this time. "I'm guessing the Brazzis don't know we're here."
"Primo didn't want to risk letting them in on it," he replied, parking the car along the curb in the first spot he came to. "Since Matteo was living out here, you know, they must've been protecting the kid. Can't trust nobody these days."
Tell me about it.
The house was in a cul-de-sac just down the street, tucked in between similar cookie-cutter houses, a typical suburban neighborhood. The place was dark with blinds covering the windows. The grass hadn't been mowed in weeks. A sprinkler ran on the lawn across the street, a few lights peeking out from neighboring houses. Dante was on edge, his gaze darting around for signs of trouble, as Umberto fiddled with the front door, attempting to break into the house. He was dressed in all black, carrying a black bag, while Dante hadn't been prepared for this kind of work, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that glowed under the moonlight.
Dante grew impatient, shoving him out of the way to take over before the guy resorted to violently kicking the door in. "How many times do I have to show you how to do this?"
Sighing, Umberto stood back, watching as Dante picked the lock on the front door. When Dante got it open, he held his breath, expecting an alarm to go off.
Nothing.
Umberto slipped around him, heading inside. Dante followed, closing the front door. A beam of light cut through the front room as Umberto retrieved a flash light from his bag, handing it to Dante, before pulling out one for himself.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Dante asked, his flashlight glossing over the furniture. Plain. There was no other way to describe it. No pictures hung on the walls, nothing personal around the room.
Dust tickled Dante's nose.
"Positive," Umberto said.
"How'd you find it?"
They'd sought Matteo for years. While they suspected he could've been in New Jersey, suspicion was far from having an actual address.
"Tracked it down using GPS," he answered. "These new phones, you know, they have that feature enabled, in case you ever lose it or someone steals it, so you can track it down, see where it went. I told your father about it a while back, told him that's why I use burners. I don't want anything linked to me that can be monitored."
"So, what, he found a way to track Matteo's phone?"
"No, he tracked your sister's."
Dante pointed the flashlight at Umberto, illuminating him.