Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) (18 page)

There would be no walk. There would be no talk. There was nothing to be gained by a détente with Alvin Church, even if that, in fact, was what he was after—and it might well be, since the Council had hurt his business badly that day in Connecticut. Never would the Paganos entertain business or pleasure with a man like Alvin Church. Under any circumstances.

“You disrespect us by coming here, to this place, on this day. I won’t walk with you. If you want to concede, then you can do it from where you stand. If not, then I will pay you respect you don’t deserve and allow you to leave now. Those are your choices—concede or leave. The third is that I blow your head off where you stand.”

Church laughed. “I’m disappointed. I thought maybe you, Nick, would be a forward thinker. But you guineas think you’re better than everybody because you get invited to have lunch with the Mayor.” He dropped his hands, and Nick’s right hand twitched, ready. “You remember this day, Pagano. You remember this chance you missed.”

He turned his back on Nick and went back to his truck. His driver let him in, and then they drove away.

Matty, who’d been standing at the side of the Town Car, drawn on Church like all the rest, now came over to Nick. “You okay, boss?”

Nick buttoned his jacket. “I want the guard doubled on all family—my cousins, my mother, my aunt, and Beverly.”

“We don’t have that kind of manpower, Nick. We’re stretched too far already.”

“Then call up reinforcements from the clubs. Men we know we can trust—get Jake on it. We can backfill the club security with new civilian hires.”

Matty nodded. “On it.” He trotted off, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did. Nick went to the Town Car and got into the back seat, where Beverly was sitting.

“Are you okay?” She asked before he’d even closed the door.

He leaned over and picked the sun up off her chest. Then he kissed her lightly. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Nicky?” His mother looked over the front seat.

“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.”

“I know the reasoning. I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“Because you brought a woman to Brian’s funeral, and you held her hand all day. Because when you speak of family we need to keep safe, you say her name without hesitation. Because you reacted when J.J. called her your
comare
. She’s more than your mistress, isn’t she?”

His uncle’s powers of observation remained keen. Nick didn’t bother to think about his answer. “Yes.”

Ben sat forward and poured them both another drink. “She’s lovely. When things calm down, your aunt will call. We’ll have you both, and your mother, over for a nice dinner.”

~oOo~

Nick stood on his balcony, staring out to the sea. The surf was heavy, and the air resounded with crash after crash against the shore. He loved the ocean like this, roaring at the world, asserting its dominance, pulling even the earth under it. But he loved the silent stillness of the open sea on a calm day even better—glassy calm atop fathomless depths, hidden supremacy.

He stood and smoked, feeling the crashing surf echo inside him. Lately, he’d been fighting himself for calm almost constantly. Calm control was his greatest asset, his most powerful weapon. He was not reckless, ever. He did not make rash decisions, ever. That remained true. But he could feel his tether slipping in his hands. The damage Church had done was personal. There was no tether strong enough to keep that truth from his mind.

The door opened behind him, and he stubbed out his cigarette.

“I always forget that you smoke.” Beverly stepped up close behind him and circled her arms around his waist. “You don’t do it much.”

“It’s a private thing. I smoke when I need to think a certain kind of thought.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. “You did well today,
bella
. Thank you.”

She really had. He’d been concerned about how she’d do, surrounded by Pagano Brothers family, but he needn’t have been. She’d stayed calm after the Church encounter, and she had simply been absorbed into the women at his uncle’s house. He’d checked on her a few times and had found her talking with his aunt and mother and the other women, helping in the kitchen, seemingly perfectly at her ease. His mother had pulled him aside late in the afternoon and waxed euphoric about her—so pretty, so smart, so sweet, such a good girl. She’d even remarked that Beverly had ‘good hips for babies’—he had no idea what that meant, and he didn’t bother to inquire. He got enough of the gist.

“I like your mom a lot. She’s kind of a broad. Your aunt, too.”

He looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“They say what they mean. They don’t tell themselves or anybody else fairy tales. They’re…pragmatic, I guess. If that makes sense. They don’t pretend things aren’t bad when they are, but instead of wringing their hands, they roll up their sleeves. I admire that. I try to be like that. It’s hard.”

“You are like that, Beverly.” He turned to face her, the touch of her arms sliding around his waist as he did so making his cock fill out. Her hair was loose, and she’d washed her face clean of makeup. She didn’t seem to wear much anyway, but without it, she looked younger and more innocent.

She wore one of his t-shirts, and he plucked at the shoulder. “Didn’t you see what was on my bed?”

“I did.” Her eyes dropped, and her head along with it. “I didn’t know if it was for me.”

He lifted her chin. “A lingerie box, open on my bed. Who else would it be for?” He smiled, but he could feel irritation beginning to bubble. “You think maybe I bought it for myself?”

“I just…didn’t want to presume.”

That irritation surged. “We’ll have this conversation now, and never again. I don’t fuck around. I never fuck more than one woman at a time—and I mean that in any possible definition. I told you I want to be with you. I’m with you. If there’s lingerie on my bed, it’s because I bought it for you and expect you to wear it. Are we clear?”

Her eyes flashed in the moonlight, and she stepped away from him. “We’re clear. And good. I don’t cheat, either. But watch your tone. I don’t take orders. What if I don’t like what you buy me?”

Now his smile was sincere. As gentle as she was, she stood up for herself, always. “Then say that. Do you not like it?”

She smiled back, lighting up the night. “It’s pretty fancy. I’ve never worn anything like it. But it’s freaking beautiful.”