Page 37 of Perfect Vengeance

Tino’s lips compressed as he took a deep breath through his nose. “I ordered my guys to beef up their security systems. My shore house is tighter than Fort Knox. Psycho’s latest security enhancement is something extra special. When he told me about it, I nearly pissed my pants. Whoever tries ripping Psycho off is going to end up really rattled.” He snickered. “And dead.”

Franco held up his hand. “I don’t want to know. If that guy wasn’t such a motivated enforcer, I’d have him committed for being one sick motherfucker.”

“The man does love to kill.” Tino chuckled. “Good thing he’s on our side. Whoever these guys are, I’ll get them.”

“It’s taking too long.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Make this your priority. Work with Rocco. The Commission won’t respect a boss who can’t safeguard his own assets.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m not gonna say it again.” He stared into his son’s dark, emotionless eyes. “Bring Rocco more into the loop. The man gets things done.”

“Fine,” he gritted out.

Franco breathed in the briny smell of the bay, thoroughly disgusted. Slapping his own son went against the most important thing he believed in. Family. Family values and protecting the people he loved most meant everything.

“Your mother and I will be attending a society event this Saturday night, and as a member of this family, you and your lovely wife will join us. Maria needs to get out more. You keep her so locked up, she’s as pale as these rocks.” He kicked at the white stones, sending several flying against the wall.

Tino’s lip curled. “I hate those stupid charity things.”

“I don’t care.” His patience was tanking fast. “You will go, and you’ll exercise decorum while you’re there, particularly toward your wife. Are we clear on this?”

Tino’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yes.”

Another gust of wind bit through Franco’s shirt, and he indicated for Tino to follow him inside. “Dinner should be ready. About that business yesterday, everything go okay?”

They headed to the front of the mansion Franco had specially built to mimic deceased Gambino crime boss Paul Castellano’s Todt Hill estate on Staten Island not a quarter mile away. Fluted white columns flanked the entryway to the enormous stucco structure.

“It’s done.” He took the few steps to the massive, carved oak door and reached for the knob.

Franco placed his hand on Tino’s arm, stopping him. “So he got my message?”

“Yeah.” Tino smirked. “Loud and clear.”

“Excellent.” Knowing precisely how Tino had delivered the message, he smiled at the obvious quip and clapped his son on the shoulder. “There’s been far too much trouble with bookies lately, and we can’t afford to have any more bodies show up right now.”

That thought brought to mind a bookie he’d taken out a long, long time ago. One he never would have suspected of crossing him. Trust no one. That was how he’d survived three attempted hits on his life and avoided going to jail for more than a few days.

Tino opened the door, and they stepped inside onto the pink marble floor separating the hallway from the dining room.

“Dinner is ready, Mister Franco,” Chita called out.

“Wonderful.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them. “What are we having?”

“Roast pork and orriechiette,” Chita answered, giving the name of the pasta that, in Italian, meant little ears.

Franco laughed. “How appropriate.”

Despite his warning not to, Tino threw Chita a derisive look behind her back. With each passing day, he was behaving less like his son and more like a rival. In this line of business, an all-out power struggle was something one of them would not walk away from. It was clear Tino no longer had his father’s back.

Son or no son, it was time to activate Franco’s watchdog.

Chapter Nine

Jack strode through the elegant hallway to Gina’s apartment. He still couldn’t believe he was going through with this. For every reason that tonight should go off without a hitch there were twice as many reasons why it could bite him in the ass. Gina Perot being one of them.

The database queries on her social security number only covered the last twelve years. Thanks to the flu sweeping through his office, the analyst he’d assigned to conduct a more in-depth query was out on sick leave. Other than piquing his curiosity, that one oddity in her lookup raised no real red flags. Besides, by the time he got the full lookup, his association with her would be history.

He glanced at his watch. Eight sharp. Gina had better be ready. The risk of what he was doing was astronomical. If something went wrong tonight, he’d lose his job. If it didn’t, and he got that bug planted in time, it would all be worth it. Especially with the latest intel he’d received this morning from Meat about the Commission convening as early as next week.