Love And War - Mallory Monroe Page 0,15

“Machine Gun” Vazzano, were waiting in his office. No other visitors to GCI Vegas ever got the privilege of waiting for the boss in his own office, but Fat Frank and Vinnie Vazzano weren’t ordinary visitors. Although they were Sal’s underbosses, they had reputations from here to Montreal that evoked fear in every man who knew them. They were ruthless. They stood on their own two feet.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t worried. Vinnie stood up twice, paced the floor, and sat down again: he was that worried. An attempted hit took place last night. Sal’s wife and son could have been killed. He knew better than anyone that somebody had to pay. Since Fat Frank had seniority (he’d been with Sal the longest), Vinnie figured he would bear the brunt. But even Frank, who knew what Sal was capable of, wasn’t exactly cooling it either.

And when the door finally opened, and Sal finally walked in with Robby Yale, his consigliere, both men rose to their feet in respect. This was going to be a tough meeting. They could see it all over Sal’s face.

“Hey, Sal Luca, how you doing?” Vinnie had a big smile on his face. A smile Sal didn’t return.

“What’s up, Boss?” Frank asked.

“Sit down,” Sal said to both men as he walked over to his desk and leaned against it, facing the two men that now sat in front of the desk. Robby folded his big, muscular arms and stood beside him.

“How’s everybody doing?” Fat Frank asked. “How’s Gemma and Luck holding up?”

Sal frowned. “How do you think, motherfucker? They nearly got wasted last night. Does that tell you how they’re holding up? Now you tell me what the fuck happened. How did some small-ass hood nearly take out my entire family? You tell me how that shit went down, Fat, that’s what I need you to tell me.”

Frank leaned forward. He was a man who spoke with his hands and in a hard Brooklyn accent. He needed the room. “They’re a bunch of nobodies, Sal,” Frank said. “Zeros to mankind, know what I’m saying? But they think they’re invincible. They think they’re above you. You don’t scare people like that, because they only know you as this Vegas businessman who supposedly have ties to the mob or whatever. They don’t know who you really are. They heard rumors, but they never experienced it themselves, hear what I’m saying? They don’t believe that shit is real.”

“Where are they?” Sal asked. “Those motherfuckers will see how real it is real soon. Where are they?”

“We’re on it, Boss,” Vinnie said. “It’s going to take time, but we’re doing everything we possibly can to smoke them out.”

“How do they make their living?” Sal asked.

“Shylocking,” Vinnie said. “Forcing poor people to pay high-ass interest rates on loans that they know will keep those people under their control for life. Blackmail is another big racket they’re into. Underhanded shit like that.”

But his response only continued to fuel Sal’s anger. “You mean to tell me that a bunch of bullshit shakedown artists tried to take me and my family out? And you haven’t found their sorry asses?”

“We’re on it, Boss,” Frank said. “But it goes deeper than them.”

Sal looked at Fat Frank. They’d been friends since childhood. He trusted him with his life. But right now, he didn’t understand a word he was saying. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How the hell can it go deeper than them?”

Frank knew he was taking a risk. He and Vinnie had already discussed it, and Vinnie ruled against trying. But Frank wasn’t made like that. He believed their boss, in the end, would do what was smart. “You’ve got to make a decision, Sal Luca.”

Sal stared at him. “A decision about what?”

“Who are you going to be,” Frank responded. “Are you going to be a full-time businessman, or a full-time boss? You can’t be both. This part-time shit ain’t working so well no-more.”

Vinnie was stunned that Fat Frank would be so bold. He was ready for the gun to come out and for Sal to kill them both. Mick the Tick Sinatra took out his underbosses that way when they fucked up, and he was Sal’s uncle. Why wouldn’t Sal take them out that way too?

But instead of pulling out a gun, Sal continued to stare at Frank. And Frank did not back down. “You can’t run the Gabrini Crime Family, and that’s what we are, let’s face it. But you can’t run the

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