being one,” Frankie adds, with Carlo and Leo seeming to agree.
“No, this wasn’t her. She was too close to him.”
“Best guy, then?” Cristian muses.
Gunshots echo outside in the distance. I glance over to the large window. I can’t see shit in the city, but I can hear what’s going on.
“It’s carnage out there. Jamila must’ve changed tactics again because there’s been fighting between our sides all night,” Leo tells me, and I raise a single brow.
On rare occasions, like now, my brother surprises me. He’s more interested in partying and women, never taking an interest in family politics.
“Out there, were you? Fighting with the men under our protection?” I grunt, knowing full well he wasn’t.
“Hardly,” he snorts. “Tatiana told me.”
How nice, sharing pillow talk about violence and death.
“Regardless, we have to act now, Raphe,” Cristian near enough growls, his patience wearing thin.
Leaning back in my seat, I tap the table as I think. “Now that Michael is gone, she only has Trey and Father Antonio at her side. I want them both dead by morning. Call the Ghost.”
If Michael’s death has upset her to the point that she’s gone back on her vow of peace, I’m interested to see how it plays out, taking her priest and first in line.
Cristian looks hesitant. “The Ghost? Raphael, are you sure?”
The Ghost is simply that, a man as elusive as a spirit. One phone call, you pass on the job. Once he’s given his price, and you agree and pay up, before you know it, the person, or persons, you want dead, are.
I’ve never met the man, nor has anyone in this room. His contact information was passed down to me when I took control from my father.
Carlo, speaking for the first time, asks worriedly, “You want to hit a man of God?”
“We’re all men of God, we just don’t wear the robes. He’ll bleed out the same as we would,” Cristian snaps.
“But I don’t get it. Why the priest? I’m sure she’s close to her house staff. Are we going to take them out too?”
Sighing, I drum my fingertips against the tabletop.
“He’s more than a friend to her. He’s a part of her network,” I say, and Cristian zeroes in on me.
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“Because, dear cousin, I went to see her after the engagement dinner, and when I got to the church, I overheard them talking. I only caught the backend of their conversation, but he’s her contact to a gang out in Dermalen.”
Slamming his hand down on the table, he hisses, “You went to see her?”
“To what end? Because she’s clearly still alive after you had your chance to kill her,” Leo growls, but his disgust doesn’t hit me like he’d hoped.
“You shouldn’t have gone into Camarco territory alone.”
I look to my cousin, who I can’t bring myself to argue with. I’m Raphael fucking Marocchi. I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to go where I want.
I’ve been sneaking around Camarco territory since I was a boy. As a man, I’m more than capable of watching my own back. I’ve been doing it my whole life.
“Call the Ghost, and order it for as soon as possible,” I order, rising from my seat. “And find out who killed Michael.”
If it wasn’t us, and it wasn’t Mila, then someone out there has a lot of explaining to do.
Chapter Thirteen
Raphael
Every year, even before I can remember, my parents have thrown over-the-top parties for my birthday. I’ve heard stories about Mila’s mother doing the same for her daughter. The people in Vita throw their own parties to celebrate the day we were born because we’re the supposed two who will bring them peace. I guess it’s their way of showing they support us and want us to succeed.
This year, Giana Camarco is throwing her daughter a masquerade party, because next year, she believes there will be a wedding taking place. She’s right, of course, she’s just wrong on who the groom will be standing before Mila in the eyes of God.
“Come on, Cousin, drink. It’s your birthday!”
The theme this year is fancy dress. Cristian’s skeletal costume glows under the lights flashing around the back garden. My parents are staying in their wing of the house tonight, and while I have free rein to enjoy myself, my father has his men keeping an eye out for trouble.
“And what the fuck are you dressed as?” he yells out over the music.