“Sir, we’re half a block from the feed store, watching her get on a helicopter. We thought you should make the call to track where she’s going, if it can be done.” When Anthony finished, a dial tone replaced the bellowing from the other end.
*
The pilot headed south, trying to keep his eyes on his instrument panel and not his quiet passenger. Their destination was a small airstrip right on the other side of the Illinois state line, which was all the information the man who had hired him said he needed.
When they landed, Cain sat with her eyes closed, obviously trying to ignore the cold weather that the cockpit didn’t protect them from, and didn’t open them until the whine of the arriving Lear engines came to a stop about forty feet from where the helicopter sat idle.
“I won’t be long,” Cain told the pilot before she stepped out and headed to the stairs that had been lowered when the Learjet’s door opened.
He was mildly disappointed he wouldn’t get to see who Cain was meeting.
Cain made the trip back to the chopper and scowled at the pilot. “I’ll be highly upset if you decide to use any of the radio equipment or a phone before I get back.”
The pilot nodded and held his shivering to a minimum until she left. His tremors had little to do with the dropping temperatures and everything to do with the icy blue eyes that had pinned him with their own silent threat.
Cain noticed a number of guards. She couldn’t imagine her guest leaving the city without them, but they only waved in her direction and didn’t attempt the normal pat-down. She knew their boss would have them beaten had they made a move toward her, except maybe to shake her hand.
Cain spoke to her host as if she were addressing a visiting dignitary.
“Vincent, you old dog, how are you feeling after your recent travails with the law?”
Vincent Carlotti laughed and stood from the plane’s sofa to embrace his longtime friend. His thick gray hair set off his dark eyes well, and after he’d turned sixty he’d started to lose a bit of his waistline but was still an attractive man. He had watched Cain grow into the brilliant leader she had become after her father’s death, and could only hope his own son would fare as well the day he departed. His only regret had been when he learned of Cain’s sexual preference. On the day of her christening, Vincent had spun for himself a vivid daydream of a day the two families would merge at the marriage altar with Cain and his son Vinny.
“Cain, come over here and give me a kiss. I’m old but I’m not dead.”
“The day you stop flirting will be the day I start worrying about your imminent demise.”
After a friendly embrace the two sat down, and the others in the area moved to the front of the plane to give them some privacy.
“I imagine my trip north means you were right?”
“Vincent, the one lesson my father beat into my head by sheer repetition was to always be prepared. He said he learned it from your father. The reason I asked you up was to offer you Bracato’s territory.”
Vincent arched a brow and pressed his fingers to his mouth. If Cain was offering, it was almost a done deal, but why not take over herself, he wondered. “That sounds, I don’t know, intriguing.”
“I only have an hour at most here, Vincent.”
“Why not do whatever you’re planning and take over his part of the city and be done with it?”
The don stopped talking when one of the plane’s crew stepped up and put a tray with coffee and cups on the table between them. He and Cain watched her pour and stir sugar into the espressos, then leave before they exchanged another word.
“I’m not interested in expansion. That was Billy’s forte, not mine.”
Vincent took a sip of the strong brew, leaned forward, and placed his hand over her knee. “You do realize, though, that whoever controls such a big section of real estate can become powerful enough to squash everyone else?”
Cain covered his hand with her own to acknowledge his concern for her. “Once this is over, everyone else will know who was gracious enough to give you this”—she paused as if trying to find the right word—“gift.”
“And I’ll owe you what in return?”
“Peace, that’s all I’m asking. I’ve spent years and then some fighting the feds on one front and Bracato on the other. The turf war and the bullshit with Kyle isn’t impossible, but it takes time away from my son, and I’m ready to be done with both nuisances.”
“Cain, you know I would’ve helped if you’d just picked up the phone and asked. We aren’t blood, but we’re family nonetheless.” He reached over and patted her hand.
“You’ve had your own problems, godfather, without having to worry about mine. What do you say?”
Vincent held out his hand to seal the deal. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
The two spent another thirty minutes going over plans and the information necessary to pull off what Cain had in mind. Nothing was written down, and no one bothered them as their heads drew closer together. Some of the old guards smiled at how many times Cain made the old man laugh.
Dalton, Cain’s father, and Vincent had grown up within two blocks of each other when New Orleans was a different and rougher town. Both their fathers had worked their way through their respective family ranks, and the underlings of both organizations knew it wouldn’t take long before each ran his own show. They were smart, loyal, and ruthless when the situation warranted—all the ingredients that would land them at the top and keep them there. In all that time the one thing they could count on was the bond they had forged as boys when they threw rocks at old buildings and rode their bikes along the docks.
The two men served for each other in their weddings and were godparents to more than one of each other’s children. Vincent had openly cried as he carried his friend’s casket and then again when Cain laid her mother and brother to rest. It was his muscle who kept her business intact and allowed her the time to mourn without any worry someone would try to usurp her position as the head of her family. He had been at the hospital the day Marie passed on and already had his underlings looking for the man responsible.
What Cain was doing now would give the old man tremendous power in the underworld. Enough so that, like he said, he could crush her if it came to a war. He would pass the gift to Vinny eventually, but Cain worried about neither of them. The friendship her father had shared with this man was the same bond she shared with his son. They had never thrown rocks together, but more than one can had died at the end of their pellet guns over the summers.
“Patrick,” Vincent called to one of the guards.
“Yes, sir?”
“Cain, you remember Patrick, don’t you?” Vincent pointed up to the wall of a man standing quietly for an order.
“He ate a truckload of food at my house last month, so he’s hard to forget,” Cain joked and held out her hands. “How’s life treating you, Paddy?”
“Hey, Cain, I’m all right. How’s my brother handling this shitty weather?”
“Mook’s a good kid. A good kid with a big-ass coat, but he’s hanging in.”
“Yeah, he loves Hayden like the little brother he wished he’d had, so you got no worries. I’ve always told him the big-brother gig is a good one, if you can get it.” Patrick put his game face back on and looked to Vincent. “What can I do for you, Mr. Carlotti?”
“You wanna go out and talk with Cain’s pilot before we fire up to leave?”
The man left, knowing already what the talk needed to be about.
Vincent didn’t like to intimidate any bystanders, but sometimes it was necessary, especially when the bystander was being watched from one of the plane’s windows doing something colossally stupid.