Miles Away (Carrion #1)(31)
As Miles and Knox followed Michael and Dustin up the staircase, Sasha and Landon followed quickly behind, giving each other looks of trepidation. As Miles passed through, the guards closed the gap, preventing Sasha and Landon from following. Landon Capadonno was not a sworn associate. Although all men with Capadonno blood flowing through their veins were considered full members at birth, Landon had escaped the same fate as his brothers. Sasha enjoyed the protection that her father’s men provided, and as a result, was kept out from the dialogue and activities that occurred in the war room.
I know exactly what I’m walking into. It might not be tonight, but eventually… a blood bath would ensue.
Climbing the back staircase, Miles’s head pounded as they alighted to the second floor.
“Pops! Do ya gotta do this now?” Landon yelled up the stairwell past the men. One of the men took out a gun, and pressed his hand firmly onto Landon’s chest.
Landon ignored the man and yelled, “I wanted to take Miles out. For some fun!”
The kid isn’t dumb. His eyes had seen more than his lips would ever admit. He knows the type of activities that take place inside the war room. Landon Capadonno could be a formidable ally or a treacherous foe. It’s a good thing I know which side of the fence his loyalties fall on.
Turning around, Miles gave the kid a nod.
“Raincheck, bud. Okay?” Miles said with a kind smile. He didn’t want Landon to worry.
“But, Miles…” he began to protest.
Turning around and extending his hand over the guards’ shoulders, Miles grabbed Landon’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“It’s gon’ be all right, buddy. Relax.”
Knox glared at Miles a few steps up. Miles returned the gaze. They seemed to be coming to an understanding without even speaking a syllable.
The trouble with knowing someone too well, is that you can understand them without them uttering a word.
Miles’s stomach dropped as they reached the top step, leaving Landon and Sasha standing in confusion at the bottom of the stairs as they watched their father and brothers enter the secured chamber just outside of the war room. The men stepped over a line that was just begging to be crossed. Michael unlocked the door with a long silver key that he kept in his robe. Dustin followed close behind, dragging his feet into the large chamber as if he was heading in for a long day at the office. Just as Miles was about to follow suit, Knox gripped up the back of Miles’s shirt, slamming him into the wall. Looking down at his brother, Miles threw daggers at him with just his gaze. Looking up at Miles with a pissed off expression on his face, but with a look of trepidation in his eyes, Knox spat at him in nothing more than a whisper, “Stick to the f*cking plan!”
Raising his eyebrows at Knox, Miles replied calmly, “I have no idea what the f*ck you’re talking about.”
An amused laugh choked from Knox’s throat as he unclenched Miles’s shirt. Not breaking his gaze, Knox walked away and crossed over the threshold of the room. Rolling his eyes, Miles grabbed the bronze handle and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Take a seat, fellas,” Michael suggested as he pointed to the three chairs that sat before his antique oak desk. Michael sank down into a vintage leather chair as he waited for his sons to take a seat.
The war room was a windowless chamber, with only one way in, and two ways out: through the door you walked in or by the gun you lived by. The walls were painted a vibrant shade of red and lining the walls were photographs of associates, family functions and “family functions.” The frames showcased a who’s who of the Capadonno crime family. It was a treasure trove for the feds and something of a twisted scrapbook for Michael Capadonno and his associates.
Miles lowered himself into the center chair, his brothers, Knox and Dustin, taking the other chairs, crowding him in like oversized book ends. The three of them stared up at Michael, each of them discontent in their own special way, at the man they served in one capacity or another.
The men that served my father took an oath. They signed up for this shit. That was not so for the Capadonno men. The king’s blood flows through our veins. La Cosa Nostra was my father’s version of a nursery rhyme. Our initiation was our birth. Our education was growing up with Michael Capadonno as our father. My mother tried to protect us as best as she could, but let’s face it, as strong as she was, Michael Capadonno’s presence was much stronger.
Michael cleared his throat as he threw his cell phone face up on the desk, next to the gold-plated frame that showcased a photograph of Michael, Sonny and Gino Rigatti, former boss of the Rigatti crime family in New York.
“In case you carognas didn’t get the memo, I’m not exactly a spring f*ckin’ chicken,” Michael spat.
Miles lifted an eyebrow at his father’s tongue in cheek comment.
“No kidding…” Dustin said with a sly smile growing on his face. “I had no clue.”
Knox let out a snide chuckle, while Miles just stared at the man that was called the Butcher with a bored expression on his face. The old man rolled his eyes as he watched the range of amusement on his three sons’ faces.
“I’ve got some fight left in me, but I like to be prepared. The docs say I’ve got two months. Tops,” Michael explained. His fingers rested on the desktop, the edge of his fingernails gently scratching at the wood.
“Maybe you should sit your old ass down then,” Knox suggested as he still held his handkerchief to his nose.