Code of Silence: Cosa Nostra #2 (8 page)

Untouchable?

Trey was standing in front of the yellow rose bush when his father stepped out onto the patio.

“Is it done?” Sal asked.

“Do you remember when we got these?” Trey asked, ignoring his father’s question.

It was a quiet night, especially a New York summer night. Only the sounds of a few cars, some distant traffic. A frog croaked somewhere in the garden, a low throaty sound.

“The roses?” Sal asked. “No.”

“Mom did it,” he said. “With her own two hands. It was the summer I was…thirteen, I think. She had me help—I didn’t want to, it was too girly, but she made me. The thorns cut my hands all to hell.”

“Sounds like her.”

“She loved yellow roses. Said they could brighten up any room, no matter how dark it was.”

“That’s right,” Sal said. “She did love them.”

“And I loved her,” he said, turning to his father. “So why’d you have her killed?”

Something in Sal’s dark eyes flickered—the smallest signs of admission. His lips tried to spin a different story. “How can you even ask me that? You know I would never—”

“Don’t lie to me, Dad,” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore.”

“Did Bela fill your head with this?” he asked. “You know that Marcano kid’s poisoned her against us. You can’t trust a word that comes out of her mouth anymore.”

“I think you’re the one I can’t trust.” Trey took a step closer to his dad, holding his arms out to gesture around them. “It’s just you and me out here, Dad. No one to impress, no one to fool. You can tell me the truth. Why’d you do it?”

It seemed like Sal waited an eternity before he said, “She made a fool out of me.”

Trey felt a knot drop into the pit of his stomach. He’d suspected Bela’s accusation was true, he’d even assumed it was, but for most of this conversation he’d been bluffing. Hearing his father admit to it—admit to why—sealed his rage. Now he knew there was no going back. No chance of recapturing that blissfully ignorant period where he idolized his father and obeyed every command. “You son of a bitch,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked me to do,” he said, his tone full of hatred. “Everything! And you were lying to me the entire time.”

“Trey—”

“Save your breath,” he said. “I’m not listening.”

“You will listen,” Sal said. “Like it or not, you’re my son. You can’t change that. As long as I live, you’ll answer to me. It’d serve you well to just get past this now.”

As his dad spoke, Trey felt something inside him snap. Whatever moral compass he used to possess was now gone. Vanished. Leaving only the cold-blooded mobster so many people feared. Reaching behind his back, he pulled his gun out of his holster. “Maybe you shouldn’t live any longer.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” Sal said without even flinching. “You don’t have it in you.”

“Are you sure?” Trey looked down at the gun in his hands. A shiny, deadly weapon he’d wielded many times before. “You’ve taught me well. I can do what needs to be done.”

“Maybe you can, but you shouldn’t,” he said. “The men will turn on you. They’ll retaliate.”

“They can try,” he said. “But, then again, most of them have been answering to me for years and you’re hardly ever around. I think you can rest assured knowing your legacy will be just fine after you’re gone.”

“You’re my son,” Sal said, a touch of panic to his voice now.

“And this is the way you taught me,” Trey said, lifting the gun. He took aim, right in the center of Sal’s chest. “A life for a life. Blood for blood.”

He shook his head in denial.

“You always said the Cosa Nostra is a way of life. You can’t pick and choose which laws you follow—you must obey the code.”

Sal grinned. “By the code, I’m untouchable.”  

“You stopped being untouchable when you killed my mother.” Then he pulled the trigger.

He didn’t see Bela stepping out onto the patio until it was too late. The sound exploded in the silent night, a blast that made his ears ring. Bela and Sal jumped in unison. In seconds, the bullet pierced Sal’s chest and released gushes of blood.

Everything faded into slow motion. Sal’s body collapsed. Bela screamed, loud terrible cries that sounded so far away. The hot stench of gun smoke and the metallic smell of blood engraved themselves into his sense-memory, marking it with this moment. He was stunned—paralyzed for the first time in his life. He could do nothing but stare as the tragedy played out before him.

Bela dropped to her knees at Sal’s side, sobbing incoherent words as she tried to put her hands over his wound to stop the bleeding. He was coughing up blood, trying to speak but unable to form sounds.

Why was Bela trying to help him? Trey wondered in complete awe as he watched his sister try to save their father. After everything Sal had done to her? He’d stolen her childhood when he murdered their mom right in front of her, and then he’d stolen her freedom by forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want. He’d thought Bela hated their father, so why was she crying? And if she was crying…then why wasn’t
he
? What was wrong with him, that he could shoot his own father and then just stand there and watch him die?

Sal’s body went limp. Bela cried out in denial and tried to shake him, pressed her ear against his chest and listened, smearing blood on her face as she did. Her tear-filled eyes lifted to his in a look of hatred and confusion.

“He’s dead,” she said as she stood on wobbling legs. “He’s…he’s dead and you…”

He stumbled on his words. He wanted to apologize, to justify this, to try to convince her this was the right thing for both of them, but none of those thoughts would mold into a coherent sentence.

Her face still distraught with horror, she turned on her heel and walked away from him. He wanted to go after her, to talk to her, but he let her go instead.

Looking down at his father’s still bleeding corpse sent him into autopilot. The body needed to be dealt with. More importantly, the people needed to be notified.

After taking some time to debate on if he should cover this murder up or just cop to it, he decided to make the exact opposite decision his father would’ve done. First, he called his most trusted soldiers. Geo, Tony, Victor and anyone else he knew would stand behind him without question. After confirming they were on his side, he called for an emergency meeting—this time, he requested the presence of all of the capos and the underboss. The higher ranking Cosa Nostra members started to show up in fifteen minutes, most of them arriving at the same time.

As the men filed out onto the patio, they looked down on their fallen leader with saddened and angered expressions. “What happened?” Nik asked.

With twenty already-informed soldiers standing behind him, he turned to explain. “You deserve to know the truth,” he began. “And the truth is Sal DeLuca wasn’t the man we thought he was.”

A crowd of confused faces looked back at him.

“Not only did he murder my mother—igniting the feud between us and the Marcanos intentionally, but he was never sincere with his plans to enter the truce,” he said. “It was all just a ploy to get closer to them so he could kill Dante, just like he killed my mom. And he would’ve let any one of us die if we’d gotten in his way.”

“Trey, what happened here?” Nik repeated, his voice louder this time.

“He killed my mom, so I retaliated.” He shot Nik a threatening gaze. “I’m his son, it was within my rights to challenge him and I won. Now my question to all of you is this.” Turning back to the crowd, he continued his speech, “Will you fall in line and follow me to a peaceful future, one without the weight of past grudges and without the threat of war? Or will you fall with your boss?”

The crowd went utterly silent, everyone looking to the other for guidance. He saw fear in the eyes of most of the men. Then, one by one, they began to kneel. Bowing down before him, announcing him as their new leader.

Nik was the only one still standing. He looked at Trey with a look of disbelief. “You’re voting yourself in as boss?”

“Do you want to challenge me for it?” he offered.

Nik thought about this a moment. Looking to the sea of kneeling men, to the bloody body of his boss on the ground. Then he bowed with the rest of them.

After he dismissed the men, he took care of his father’s body himself. He dug the hole beside his mother’s grave in the furthest corner of the grounds. He carried the body out there himself and then dropped it in. As he shoveled dirt back into the hole, his heart pounded harder and harder. Only after his father’s body was covered did the reality of what had just happened sink in. He fell back against the ground, sweating, hyperventilating.

An hour later, he walked into his bedroom. Mandi was propped up in bed, reading a book. She looked up from the page when she saw him.

She took one look at him—covered in blood and dirt, and she knew. He could see the horror in her eyes. Without a word, he stumbled through the room to the bathroom and closed himself inside.

Deal with the Devil

The next day, Trey knocked on Bela’s door. He wasn’t even sure she was in there, but according to the security footage he’d viewed, she hadn’t come out all day. Finally, he went inside and found the room dark.

The drapes were drawn shut, blocking out all of the sunlight. The dim glow from a lamp in the corner lit the room enough for him to see Bela sitting on the bed. With her back against the headboard and her knees drawn in to her chest, she looked so small and fragile. Her head was lowered to her knees, with the cascade of her long dark hair blocking any view of her face.

“What do you want?” she asked without looking up.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, studying her. Shocked by this expression of grief, he wasn’t sure how to begin. “Bela,” he managed to whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

She made a sound—something like a sniffle or a small sob.

“I never meant for you to see that,” he said.

“But you did mean to kill him?” Finally, she lifted her head to look at him. Her hazelnut colored eyes filled with tears and anger. “Just admit it. You let Vincent and me go, intending to come back here and kill dad. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But he’s a bad guy and he’s gone. Isn’t that what matters?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “This isn’t the way he was supposed to go down,” she whispered. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

He wondered what she meant by that, but a more pressing question came first. “What are you even doing back here? You’re supposed to be on a bus by now.”

She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Rafe caught us before we could even get on a bus. He threatened to kill Vincent if I didn’t come home.” A worried look lingered in her eyes. “Have you seen him? Is he okay?”

“Vincent’s fine,” he said. “He asked to see you but I wouldn’t let him up.”

“Why not?” she demanded, once again sounding angry.

“Because we need to talk first.”

Exhausted and weary, she leaned back against the headboard and stared at him with numbed eyes. “About what?”

He didn’t want to bring this up today, not now. She already looked so angry, tired and depressed all at once, and he was about to make it ten times worse. Even though he hated himself for what he was about to say, he didn’t have the time left to break it to her gently. “You won’t care about any of this,” he began with a sigh. “But the family is rocky right now. They agreed to follow me out of fear, with the hope I can solidify this truce with the Marcanos and lead in a way Dad couldn’t.”

“You’re right.” Jumping off the bed, she headed toward her bedroom door. “I don’t care about any of this.”

“Bela, I need you right now.” He stepped into her path, but she weaved around him, her gaze focused on the exit. “I need you to go through with the arrangement.”

Bela froze with her back to her brother. For a second, she just stood there, completely silent and immobile. Slowly she turned to face him, those stunning eyes of hers now narrowed on him in disbelief and distrust. Her voice was a venomous whisper. “You
what
?”

“These are Dante’s terms, not mine. He won’t join with us unless you marry Rafe, and everybody is counting on me to get them to join us. If I can’t, I’ll be taken out—no doubts about it.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” The disbelief turned to fury. “You murdered my father right before my eyes, and now you expect me to enter an arranged marriage to save your life?”

“It’s despicable, I know.” His gaze didn’t waiver as he looked at her. “I hate myself for it. But I need you to marry him.”

“He’s Vincent’s brother,” she hissed. “This would break his heart. And
mine
. Does that mean anything to you?”

“I’m
your
brother.” Stepping forward, he kept his eyes locked on hers in a silent plea. “Your flesh and blood. I taught you to swim, to ride a bike. I held you at Mom’s funeral while Dad gave that big speech about what a wonderful woman she was. I know I’m not perfect, but when it counts—when you
really
need me—I’m there.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me now?”

“No, but if you care so much about Vincent then you should have a fraction of that loyalty for me,” he said. “At least enough of it to want to keep me from being fed to the fish.”

“It’s not like I
want
you to die. Of course I don’t,” she said. “But…you got yourself into this. Now you want me to get you out and the price is so high…”

“It’s just an arrangement,” he said. “Just a piece of paper. You don’t have to love him, you don’t even have to be faithful to him. I’ll cover for you when you want to see Vincent or I’ll keep Rafe so busy there are plenty of opportunities—whatever it takes. Once the merger is complete and the Marcanos see we can all work together in peace, I’ll get you away from him, I promise. I’ll give you all the money the two of you need to disappear and I’ll make sure nobody comes after you.”

Keeping her arms crossed, she shook her head from side to side as he rambled.

“Without my protection, the two of you will get caught,” he said.

“Then why won’t you just help us now?”

“Because I need this alliance,” he said. “And you need mine.”

It was true. She’d hated to admit it, but it was true. Last time, they’d tried to disappear with the help of a Capo. But with the help of a reigning mob boss…maybe they could escape for good. “You swear you’ll get us both out of town alive before Rafe and I reach our first anniversary?”

“I swear,” he said, without hesitation.

“Swear it like you took your mob oath,” she said.

“What do you want me to do, burn a saint? You have my
word
, Bela. I won’t leave you out to dry. This is temporary.”

“And after that,” she said, “Nobody will come after us? Ever. We’ll be completely free?”

“Free as birds,” he said.

Turning from him, she walked a couple paces so she could think. What if news about Vincent’s alliance with the feds came out before she was finished with her end of the deal? Before she agreed to anything, she wanted to make sure Vincent would survive. “There’s one more condition,” she said as she turned around.

“Name it,” he said.

“From this moment on, Vincent is untouchable,” she said. “No matter what happens, what code he breaks, he stays alive.
No matter what
.”

He looked concerned as he nodded. “No matter what.”

“Give me your knife,” she said, holding her hand out.

“What?”

“I know you have one,” she said. “Hand it over.”

He pulled a six inch blade from a strap around his ankle and handed it to her. Using the tip of it, she cut a small slash in her palm. It stung as the skin separated and blood festered. Then she took his hand and did the same. She had to admit slicing his hand did give her the smallest feeling of satisfaction considering everything he’d put her through in the last few days. Trey didn’t flinch; he didn’t even blink as she made the cut on his palm.

“Do you, Trey DeLuca, solemnly swear to uphold the oath you make to me?” When they had done this ritual as children, it had been full of giggles and wincing in pain and at the sight of blood. Now, standing before each other as adults, they were completely somber.

Though a hint of amusement lit his long darkened eyes, he remained serious as he said, “I swear never to betray you. I will uphold the promises I made today.”

She took his hand in hers, pressing their wounded palms together in a handshake. Together, they both finished the oath, “Sealed in blood. And if we break this vow, our blood will spill.”

~~~

A few moments later Vincent entered her room. As the door shut behind him, he rushed to pull her into his arms. It was the first time they’d seen each other since the airport, and the first time they’d held each other since their passionate, uninhibited night together. She gave herself a moment—just one, precious moment—to enjoy this embrace and memorize everything about it. The strong, safe feel of his arms around her body, the soothing scent of leather and cologne, the shudder of relief that came from his lips. Only after she’d managed to remember everything about him did she make a move to pull away.

He didn’t let her go far, just far enough so he could look down at her. “I heard what happened to Sal,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

“I can’t talk about that,” she whispered, feeling tears of grief creeping up on her again. “I can’t even let myself think about it.”

He nodded in understanding, his eyes searching hers to see if he could discern how she was doing. “I’m so sorry, Bela.”

The longer she stood there in his arms, looking into those sensitive, soulful eyes of his, the harder it was to say what needed to be said. It took every bit of self-control she possessed, but she managed to step back enough to break out of his grip. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

His expression fell and she could see his body tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “What is it?
Who’s
making you do
what
?”

How would she explain this to him in a way he could understand? She’d made a promise to Trey—and that promise would keep Vincent alive, even if his badge was discovered. But if Trey was expected to uphold his end of the deal, then she was, too. Even if doing so meant breaking his heart. “I’m going to marry Rafe.”

He shook his head in denial. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his tone pleading with her to listen. “Whatever they’re saying to make you do this, don’t listen to it, okay?”

“Trey’s promised to keep us safe,” she said, and he began to shake his head again. “He’s made you untouchable. He’s going to get us out of here before the year is over—”

“No, Bela. No! This is the same thing we’ve been telling ourselves for months,” he said. “It’s always we’ll leave ‘before my family finds me’ or ‘after Sal’s gone’. It never works out and this won’t either, so let’s just go. Please.” He held his hand out for hers. “Come with me.”

She looked longingly at his outstretched palm, yearning to place her own in it. “If I do, my brother dies. He’s the only family I have left.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of denial and heartache. There was clarity in them, too, though. He knew her decision had been made, and he knew she wasn’t going to change it.

“The only way people will forgive him for killing dad is if he makes the merger happen. Once they get used to working together, we’re free and we don’t ever have to worry about any of this again.”

“This cycle never ends, Bela,” he said. “It’ll never end.”

“I trusted you all of these months.” Stepping closer to him, she reached out and touched her palm to the side of his face. “Now trust me. Trust I’m doing this for us.”