Page 35 of By Blade, I Love
“Thanks, baby.” I gave her ass a playful smack before I headed back outside.
Santino sat on one of the stone benches and smoked a cigar as he stared out at the gate in the distance to keep watch. Everyone else started to settle while they waited for Leo to contact me. Because we didn’t know how long we’d be here, Don Russo had stayed behind because he had to run other things. For all we knew, Leo might not text for a week…or at all.
I took a seat beside Santino.
He reached into his pocket and wordlessly offered me a cigar.
I shook my head.
“Your woman wants you to quit?”
“Just trying to cut back.”
He returned it to his pocket.
He crossed his arms and let the cigar rest between his lips, smoke rising from the tip and into the evening air.
“Francesca is going to make dinner for everyone.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “She a good cook?”
“Oh yeah.” I wasn’t sure if she was a better cook or a better fuck, but I didn’t tell him that.
“Good. Makes the trip worth it.”
“So what have the guys been saying about me since I’ve come back?”
He shrugged before he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and let the smoke escape in a hazy cloud. “At first, they were merely receptive. But after the shit with Icarus, they think it’s time for the boss to retire.”
“Don Russo didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yeah, but you did everything right.” He brought the cigar back to his mouth, took a puff, and then blew the smoke out of his mouth. “Not only would we be dead, but Cosa Nostra would probably be overrun right now. I watched the whole thing, Wolfe. I’m not sure if Don Russo would have faced Icarus.”
“You’re saying he would have just continued to hide?”
He shrugged. “Or tried to get into the car and take off and leave us behind.”
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t have done that.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have let you take his place. He’s in charge, not you.”
“We would all be dead if it hadn’t been me.”
“Exactly,” he said. “You were supposed to succeed him before you left, and now that you’re back, perhaps you should take over now instead of waiting for him to die or retire or whatever.”
“Be careful, Santino,” I said, even though no one was in earshot. “What you’re talking about is treasonous.”
“Well, then everyone’s about to be executed for treason.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to turn your back on Don Russo over one incident.”
“But it’s not one incident.” He angled his head to look at me, his cigar between his fingertips. “We lost you for months because of his stupidity. You’re the best guy we have, and he threw you out like trash.”
That still stung a bit. “We’ve squashed it.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that his decision-making has become questionable,” he said. “I don’t consider him old by any means, but his mentality seems to have aged decades recently. The guys were joking that he might have a brain tumor, but it doesn’t seem like a joke anymore.”
I shouldn’t feel bad that Don Russo was losing the respect of his men after what he’d done to me, but I did. Maybe his logic was faulty, but I knew he would bleed for Cosa Nostra without hesitation. “The threat we’re facing is unprecedented. I think everyone should cut him some slack.”
