“Sorry.” Tex shook his head. “Not that I mind going down memory lane, but what the hell does this have to do with the fact that Luca looks ready to run for the hills?”
Tex had reasons for hating that memory. When he should have been initiated as a Campisi, he’d been initiated as a made man, initiated into a family who, even though we’d said was his blood, was nothing like it.
Luca looked at the wine in his glass. He swirled it around and sighed. Some liquid dripped off the edge of the glass; it reminded me of blood, of the blood that would continue to spill if we didn’t fix what was happening.
“Each man takes this very oath. Each man is given a saint during the initiation ceremony. Some men may tattoo the symbol somewhere private, or they may build a type of shrine in their home, lighting candles next to the picture of their saint, in thanks for making it through another day without being killed, or worse, becoming marked.
“One man, in particular, made his very own symbol of the saint. He used it as a way to mark people. As a way to remind that person and anyone else who comes into contact with them that they are a marked man, meant for dead, cursed.”
“What does the mark look like?” Mil asked in a small voice.
Luca reached across the table and grabbed her wrist then flipped it over. “This. It looks like this.”
Mil tried to jerk her arm away, but Luca held it captive as his trigger finger traced the outline of the scar. It almost looked like pentagram minus the circle; instead there was a small triangle toward the top and really long sides.
“The Albatross,” Frank whispered, gripping the same hand and flipping it to the side. The scar made an A-shape with an N where the triangle had been. “He’s branded you.”
“My father,” Mil whispered, her lips trembling. “He said I was meant for him.”
“You remember nothing of The Cave, Mil?” Luca asked, a touch of tenderness inflected, as if he actually did give a rat’s ass what she did or didn’t remember.
“It was dark.” Mil shifted in her seat and jerked her arm back. “And there were lots of men.”
“But only one that mattered.” Luca swore. “Did you ever see him?”
“Who is him?” Chase asked slowly.
“The Capo,” Luca said slowly. “Vito Campisi. He is the only one who makes the mark of the Albatross. If you were meant for him, it means only one thing.”
Mil began rocking back and forth in her seat.
“What the hell?” Chase pulled her to his chest as Mil started whimpering nonsense about it being cold.
“What are you doing to her?” Chase swore again and pulled out his gun, aiming it at Luca’s head.
“Chase,” I growled. “Put the gun away. I’ll shoot Luca myself if he doesn’t start talking.”
“Her virginity.” Luca laughed humorously. “That bastard must have bid on her.”
“Bid?” I swallowed the bile in my throat.
“The prostitution ring was very illegal, even by our standards.” Luca nodded. “I visited twice. Both times I was witness to things I can only assume are reserved for the darkest deepest circles of hell.”
“You were there?” I whispered.
Mil nodded. “Once that I remember. My dad, he forgot his phone and—”
“I was there that day.” Luca sighed, interrupting her. “The minute your father auctioned you off, I walked out the door, not caring that I could be shot where I stood. I was banished to Sicily anyway, thanks to the Abandonatos and Alferos thinking my family had overstayed their welcome.” He shot a glare to Frank. “At any rate, it was too dark to see faces. The De Langes were good about keeping identities a secret. One could be in The Cave with the President of the United States and still not know who was standing next to him.”
“Because of the lighting?” I asked.
“No,” Luca said slowly, his eyes flickering from mine to Mil’s. “Because of the masks.”
“No!” Mil screamed.
Chase stood, knocking over some of his water, and reached for his gun. I grabbed his hand, to keep him from doing something stupid, and swore.
“Luca — this isn’t helping.”
“She needs to remember.”
“And if she dies in the process? Loses her freaking mind because she wasn’t ever supposed to remember in the first place?” I shouted.
“Nixon.” Trace shook her head slowly. “I think it will help.”
“Mo?” I was grasping at straws, waiting for one of the girls to say something, waiting for one of them to say it would be too hard for a girl to talk about things that were better left buried in the ground.
“His voice sounded like gravel,” Mil whispered against Chase’s chest. “He was really big. And his mask…” She shuddered. “I saw his eyes.”
“What color?” Frank asked.
“Blue. Like ice.”
Sergio swore.
“Dead.” Luca lifted his glass into the air as if cheering our demise.
“Why does that make us dead?”
“Because it seems our Capo has decided that he doesn’t want the sins of his past to come out. Seems he’s hell-bent on destroying anyone close to the girl, including us. And believe me, he’s good at what he does.”
“He’s been in retirement,” Frank offered.
Luca snorted. “We retire when we’re dead and buried.”
“Something’s not adding up,” I said. “Why not kill her? Why keep her alive all this time?”
“Oh, Nixon.” Luca swore. “Sometimes I wonder about you, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“You are a child.” He spat. “And the Capo knows you’d do anything to protect your love, as well as your family, including Chase and his new bride. By default, that means I must protect my family, which now includes all of you as well as Frank, the bastard, and Tex.” He swore again. “Perhaps he’ll bury us together.”
“That won’t happen,” Tex said in a quiet voice. “I won’t let him.”
“You won’t let him?” Mo all but shouted. “What are you going to do, Tex? Waltz into the airport, fly your way over to Sicily, and kill him?”
“I won’t have to.” Tex licked his lips. “My bet’s on him being here.”
“So you plan on doing what? Putting his number in your phone and tracking him with GPS?” Mo was all up in his face, her lips trembling as she waited for his response.
“I won’t have to.”
Luca raised his hands to his temples and massaged. “He has yet to find us. But he will. The best we can do is be ready.”
“Ready?” Trace repeated.
“For war.” Luca nodded. “Many lives will be lost. If we survive, and that’s a giant if, I plan on leaving you crazy Americans and going back to Sicily. I’ve had enough inter-family drama to last me a lifetime.”
I listened as everyone began talking at once. And then an idea hit me.
“How much money do we have altogether?”
Frank laughed. “You must be joking? We could buy the US outright, pay off the debts, and still be sitting nicely.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “While I wouldn’t go that far, we are quite nicely settled, why?”
“We order a hit.”
Luca began choking on his wine while Frank patted his back. “You’ve lost your damn mind!”
“No.” I grinned. “We offer twenty million.”
“Twenty million?” Trace sputtered. “Dollars?”
“No. Goats,” Tex interjected. “What else would we give them?”
I sucked on my lip ring and laughed. “Tell me his own right-hand man won’t be jumping at the chance to shoot that bastard in the face. Tell me his wife won’t try to kill him before the week’s up. Tell me we won’t have half the mafia after him.” I leaned in. “Hell. Tell me the half of Sicily won’t fly into New York by Friday and take care of it for us.”