Deep (Pagano Family #4)(50)
“It’s fine, Ma. Nothing to worry about.” She nodded and faced front again. She’d been living this life a very long time.
Beverly, however, had not. Her hand clamped down on his fingers. “Nick.”
“Trust me, bella. Trust me.”
Her blue eyes burned into his. And then she relaxed and gave him a small smile. “I do.”
oOo
Almost immediately upon their arrival at Ben and Angie’s, Nick’s mother swept Beverly off to the kitchen with her. Nick kissed her hand and let her go, then found his uncle. As on the night of his father’s death, and again the night of his funeral, the Pagano Brothers administration set aside the rituals of mourning and sequestered themselves in Ben’s study.
Though Dom, Julie, and J.J. had all still been at the cemetery when Church visited, all three had been in their vehicles already and had not gotten out. So Nick briefed them all on his short exchange with Church, the threat with which it ended, and Nick’s order for increased security.
When he was finished, he looked straight at Ben. “We’ve hurt him, Uncle. We took out his primary associate. We cancelled supply on his primary product. We flushed out his attempt to buy out our shylocks. We have his perimeter. That was the plan. And he’s worried enough to come face to face with us. We have to strike now, before he gets with Ortega and fills the gaps we’ve made.”
The don was quiet for several seconds, and Nick felt the steady ticking of the mantle clock knocking at the base of his skull. He recognized the feeling as agitation, and he fought to reinforce the walls in his mind that kept him in control. He couldn’t think about his mother, or Beverly, or his father, or Brian, or what Janet had said at the side of his open grave. He could only think about the business. The fight. Strategy.
“You handled today well, Nick. You were right to send Church away, and you were right to take his threat seriously. But we need to close Ortega off before we take Church down. We have good intel from New York, but we have to tread carefully there. Our New York brothers don’t feel about drugs as we do. They have relationships of their own to protect, with Ortega, even. We can exploit that to our advantage, if we’re careful. But if we strike too soon, then we could end up replacing a demon with the Devil himself. A few days, a couple of weeks at the most, and we can make our move.”
Nick clenched his fists and said nothing. Until he had this thrumming in his head under control, he wouldn’t speak.
Ben sat forward and folded his hands together on the desk blotter. “But we take his threat seriously, vague as it was. It was good to double security. I think we should—”
“Actually, don,” J.J. cut in, “we don’t have the men. With you and Nick and us, and Donna Pagano, and your brother’s children and their families, and the construction company, and Nick’s mother, and now his new comare, too, we’re stretched too far with one guard each. We don’t have the bodies to double it.”
The room had gone quiet. Nick turned and stared hard at J.J. “Never interrupt the don, you piece of shit.”
The youngest capo went to his feet, but Julie, his father, said, “Sit, son. Nick’s right.”
J.J. sat and made the anger clear from his face. “My apologies, Don Pagano. I meant no disrespect.”
Ben nodded at him and turned to Nick. “Do you have a solution to our manpower need?”
“Yes. I’ve got Matty on it. We’ll pull men from the clubs. They’re not all cugines, looking to be made.” He turned to Dom and Julie. “And most of them aren’t Italian. But they’re loyal and good at the job. They know the score. We’ll hire new to replace them in the clubs. Brian’s—”
Nick stopped short, remembering suddenly that the present tense did not apply to Brian. He cleared his throat. “Brian saw the need for more personnel already, and he was doing some recruiting.”
“Excellent. Good. We five stay focused on New York. Nick is right that we need a solution soon. But now, enough business. Business should have no place here, especially now. Brian was a good and loyal soldier. He deserves better than to be ignored today by the people he served.”
The capos stood and headed toward the door. At Nick’s side, his uncle said, “Wait. You and I will toast Brian here, alone, first.”
When they were alone, Ben poured two glasses of his best scotch and handed one to Nick. “You should have the honor.”
Nick lifted his glass and said, simply, “To a good friend.”
“Un buon amico,” Ben echoed. They drank. When Ben set his glass down, he said. “You know, Brian would have made a fine capo.”
“Uncle, with respect, don’t.” Nick wasn’t in a state of mind to deal calmly with that topic.
“Listen to what I have to say, Nicolo.” He sat on one of the sofas and indicated that Nick should do the same. “It’s not a tardy change of heart I’m having. I’m telling you that I know how loyal and smart he was. But our ways have a purpose. It’s not just tradition that insists that our leaders be full-blooded. It’s the blood itself, without conflict, families united behind the men who make the choice for this life. Who understand. You’ve never dated an Italian woman, and I don’t meddle with your choices. But should you marry outside the blood, should you have sons in such a union, they would not be your legacy in this life.” He paused. “Maybe that’s for the best.”