Deep (Pagano Family #4)(79)
J.J., being the least senior capo, was last to report. His crew, which now included Matty, was in charge of enforcement and security. With the Church organization gutted and the survivors having paid their tribute, they’d had less to do lately, other than the normal guarding and driving that had always been the case. A few stragglers had rebelled against the Pagano rule. They’d been corrected.
Matty had reported to Nick that J.J. was becoming fairly competent. ‘Fairly competent’ was no ringing endorsement, but this time of peace was a good time for him to learn. Nick was reserving judgment, but he was prepared to handle a problem should one arise.
The biggest thing on J.J.’s plate was Chris Mills—and that was a significant job. Nick had wanted to handle it himself, but it was no longer his place to do so. He was the man who gave the orders, not the man who pulled the trigger. Not any longer.
J.J. refreshed his glass of moscato and took a long drink. He looked directly at Nick. “We got confirmation on that pest problem.”
Ben responded. “Confirmation?”
“Steve did a trace. Right place, right time, right guy. Should I call it in?”
Though Dominic’s was a safe zone and protections had been built in to prevent surveillance, they all knew careful was better than not. Nick nodded. “Yes. As we discussed.”
He felt no qualms about ending Mills. Letting him continue breathing put people Nick cared about at real risk. But he still had not decided whether to tell Beverly the truth about what would soon happen. He almost had—he’d brought her to the lighthouse to explain—but then his uncle’s words had trumpeted in his ear. His world was a world of secrets, of things better left unsaid. Knowing the truth would only hurt her, and it wouldn’t change the outcome for Mills. So, then, what would be the point of telling her?
It shouldn’t have been a difficult decision. It should have been one Nick could make in a blink and with certainty. She had no need of this truth. She would grieve, and he would console her, and he would know the truth.
His conscience would eat at him. And that was new.
In response to Nick’s confirmation of his order, J.J. nodded. “Same timeframe?”
Nick cut the last piece of steak off the bone and ate it. “Yes. Report to me when it’s done. And J.J., be on top of this. This is not B-team work.”
“Got it, boss. I’m on it.”
Nick hoped to f*ck he was.
The capos left before dessert, and Ben, Nick, and Fred compared notes on the various reports. Business as usual—there was something calm and yet surreal in returning to normalcy after so many months of cycling turmoil.
Fred reported on his work backing Agent Amy Cavanaugh down and smoothing over any feathers she’d ruffled while she was digging around. Nick wasn’t sure they’d heard the last of Miss Cavanaugh, but she’d been muzzled, and they knew to keep an eye on her. As Ben and Fred indulged in dessert, and Nick stuck to coffee, Ben gave him an appraising look. “You’ve handed off an important job to J.J.”
“It’s his job. And I told you I’d fasten my cuffs when Church was no longer a problem.”
Ben waved his hand. “Don’t mistake me, nephew. I think you made the right choice. But it’s not the choice of a man with reservations. You’re feeling better about J.J., I take it.”
“I think he’s arrogant and inexperienced, and those are dangerous traits, especially in combination. But I’ve seen some competence, too. Some learning. So I’m willing to give him a job in his purview and expect him to do it well. But if he f*cks it up, I will handle the job and J.J. both.”
“Fair enough.” Ben smiled and had a spoonful of spumoni. “You know, when you were made capo, you weren’t much older than J.J. I heard the same kind of protests about you.”
“I wasn’t inexperienced.”
“No. You’d made your bones. But you were young for a capo. And you were thought of as arrogant.”
Fred laughed, and Nick turned a cold eye on the consigliere. “You have something to say, Fred?”
Grinning, Fred answered, “Only that the difference between arrogant and confident is success.”
“Then let’s see which one J.J. is.”
oOo
Two days later, it was done.
The scene had been set for the story to be that on his way home after closing his shop for the night, during a light rain, Chris Mills hit a turn on the coast road, not far from the lighthouse, and went through the guardrail and over the side to the rocks below.
He was reported dead at the scene.
Nick got the call from J.J. while he and Beverly were watching a movie, sitting together on her white sofa against her magenta wall. Used to Nick getting calls throughout the day and evening, Beverly made no note of the interruption at all, and Nick settled back with her without comment, pulling her close.
He took what closeness she could give him.
The next morning, he stood on her balcony and watched her swim her laps. She was a strong, lithe swimmer, her lines perfectly straight, her rhythm like clockwork. Watching her body in its strength made him hard. He missed that body, the way it felt in his hands. The way he felt inside her.
Her return to the routines of her life gave Nick hope that she would someday reclaim her bright peace. He saw signs that she was getting better. She was eating better, working out, filling back out. She was freer with physical contact than she had been in the first weeks after the attack. She no longer hid her body from him—though that made some things more difficult for him, he was glad to see her trust strengthening again.