Prologue

Dario Luciano

Capo dei capi, Kansas City

Leaning forward, I stared across my desk and around my office, taking in the famiglia’s colleagues. Dante, my consigliere and also my brother, stood by my side. While the famiglia and the cartel had come to trust one another, that didn’t mean we weren’t cautious. Dante was armed to the teeth and so was I. Undoubtedly, we weren’t the only ones. Our guests were equally prepared. The knives and guns in this office would set magnetometers off in a symphony of alarms.

While the ladies were out in the apartment preparing our holiday meal—the official reason for the cartel’s visit—there was urgent business that needed to be discussed.

“Your father?” I asked Aléjandro.

The second-in-command of the Roríguez cartel was married to my sister, Mia. He nodded as his dark stare briefly met his brother Reinaldo’s. “Our padre,” Aléjandro replied, sitting straighter, “is on his way.” He looked down at his gold watch and back at me. “There was a change of plans to help with security.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Andrés Ruiz, father of both my wife, Catalina, and Dante’s wife, Camila. With his arms crossed over his chest, the seams of his suit coat strained and his paunch hung over his belt. Visually, it was obvious that Andrés wasn’t in the same fighting condition as the rest of us. Yet his age and experience sought respect. Without saying a word, his disapproval regarding the Roríguez cartel’s newly declared hierarchy was evident in his narrowed eyes and the straight line of his pressed-together lips. His attention went to Aléjandro, the drug lord’s eldest son. “Change of plans? Our plane was waiting for him in San Diego.” His arms fell to his side. “I wasn’t informed of a change.”

My uncles Carmine and Salvatore were standing against the opposite wall, intently watching the exchange.

Clenching my teeth, the muscles in the side of my face tightened as trepidation squeezed my chest. “We are all working together, Andrés. That’s why you’re being informed.”

Andrés nodded, resuming his position leaning against the bookcase. It was difficult for a man like him to take orders from younger men and it showed. Nevertheless, I was capo dei capi of Kansas City and my word was law. Jorge, the drug lord of the cartel, made the decision to place Aléjandro as his second-in-command. Andrés could choose to disagree, but in our worlds, that would mean death.

For my wife’s and her siblings’ sake, we would try to keep things civil.

Taking in the people present, I couldn’t help but think about my father, the former capo dei capi. Vincent Luciano was no doubt rolling over in his grave. Fuck that. He was clawing his fingers bloody trying to escape the ravages of hell to deliver damnation to me for not only continuing but also nurturing the alliance with the Roríguez cartel. 

“Traveling in the States…” Aléjandro began, “…is difficult.” He looked at me. “Not only with your government but also with Herrera’s men. They’re watching.”

Dante stiffened at my side at the mention of Elizondro Herrera—our common enemy.

“Are you prepared to answer for Jorge?” I asked.

Aléjandro inhaled, straining the buttons on his shirt and bringing to life tendons and veins in his neck below his tawny skin. “For now. When he arrives, we’ll make final decisions.”

My brother-in-law’s expression emanated power and determination, the same resolution as his brother, Reinaldo, and my other brother-in-law, my wife’s brother, Emiliano, displayed.

“Dante,” I prompted, “bring everyone up-to-date on the Herrera cartel’s activities.”

He shifted, widening his stance and clutching his own hand in front of him. “As everyone here knows, in the last three months since Camila’s abduction, we’ve had eyes, ears, and most importantly, technology surveilling the senior officers in Herrera’s cartel.” He nodded toward Aléjandro. “I’ve kept you informed of their activities.”

Aléjandro nodded. “We have men on the inside. Unfortunately, they aren’t privy to information on the drug lord himself.”

Dante went on. “For the sake of everyone present, I’ll recap. From what we’ve been able to determine, Elizondro Herrera is still holed up in Mexico. He’s sent his men to the States. Their primary goal is to cause disruptions with the famiglia and Roríguez cartel. We believe he wants to make both organizations appear incompetent and weak.”

Carmine’s stance straightened, and Salvatore’s jaws clenched.

Since my ascension to capo dei capi, my uncles have managed to keep their disagreements with my decisions private. We’re family and they have my back, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it.

“Wanderland was raided,” Emiliano said, speaking of the cartel’s private club near San Diego. “The feds seized cash, but no drugs were found.” He turned to Aléjandro. “We were given advance notice by an informant. Since the whores have been living at the renovated school, Mia’s worked to ensure that each worker has the necessary paperwork. She’s tracked down birth certificates and encouraged those without an education to complete their GED. My uncle was worried this would encourage them to leave, but it’s done the opposite. They’re more content. I even heard a few talking about saving money. Every one of the whores interviewed passed the feds’ interrogation with flying colors.” He shook his head. “Besides confiscating a few Gs in cash, the feds walked away disappointed.”

My mind filled with problems we’d encountered at Emerald Club in Kansas City. It was the famiglia’s business similar to Wanderland. Our establishment catered to a higher clientele with our VIP lounges, but both clubs had alcohol, drugs, and sex on the menu.

“The bratvas,” I prompted.

“Goal number two,” Dante responded. “Lorenzo, our tech man, has captured communication between Herrera and Volkov.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Volkov ran the bratva on the West Coast. We’d known about their alliance for a while. The next bit of news would come as more of a shock.

“Herrera is also in contact with Myshkin,” Dante paused before adding, “the pakhan here in Kansas City and St. Louis.”

Aléjandro’s eyes widened. “You confirmed this information?”

“Yes,” I replied. “We just got the confirmation yesterday. I spoke to Myshkin myself.”

“Why?” Andrés said, suddenly coming to attention. “You think he’d tell you the truth?”

“I wasn’t sure. We made a deal.”

Aléjandro stood. “A deal with the bratva. You can’t trust them.”

I half grinned. “The same has been said about the cartel.”

“Dealing with the bratva makes the famiglia compromised,” Andrés said, his voice growing louder and his cheeks reddening. “We can’t risk two associations—”

Aléjandro lifted his hand, silencing Andrés. The old man may have stopped talking, but Aléjandro’s wordless command didn’t stop the crimson from growing brighter on Andrés’s neck and face. “What deal?” he asked me.

“I asked for information on Herrera.”

Aléjandro’s nostrils flared. “He had it?”

“He did.” My words were measured and calm. “I proposed a truce. The fighting between the famiglia and bratva is becoming a no-win for either side. If I agree to certain conditions, Myshkin and I believe we can work together to take out Herrera and Volkov.”

Aléjandro asked, “You enter into an alliance with Myshkin, what does that mean for us—the Roriguez cartel?”

“We’re still negotiating.”

“If he agreed to help you, you made some deal,” Aléjandro said.

“I did.” I inhaled. “As far as Myshkin’s territory here in Kansas City, we agreed on boundaries, stop the bloodshed on the streets.”

“And you went along?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“The fuck?” Andrés cursed.

“As I said, we’re still negotiating.” I nodded. “Once it’s done, we all benefit.”

“We can win this war,” Aléjandro said. “We will win.” Each phrase was louder than the last.

“We’ll get rid of Herrera for good,” I said. “Can we count on you?”

Aléjandro inhaled. “Sí. Nosotros somos familia.”

“With Myshkin, Roríguez, and the famiglia, we will win.”

We all turned toward the door at the sound of a knock. Each man instinctively reached for his weapon.

“No need,” I said. “Our soldiers are out there. No threat would make it to my door.” I raised my voice. “Enter.”

“Feliz Navidad,” Jorge Roríguez greeted as he entered, followed by Nicolas Ruiz, Andrés’s brother, and Nick, Nicolas’s son.

“Welcome to our home.”

Jorge came straight to me and shook my hand. “Do they know?”

“Yes, I just told them.”

He turned toward the rest of the room. “Tonight, we’ll celebrate with our growing family.” He laid a large hand on my shoulder. “All our family. Siete peces. Tomorrow, we strategize. We have a war to win.”

Aléjandro was the first to respond. “Papá, you knew about Myshkin?”

Jorge nodded. “How did you respond?”

“Capo and Dante are family. The famiglia is our family. I responded that we are one.”

Jorge’s cheeks rose in a smile. “Mi hijo. Estas listo.”

Andrés bristled as Aléjandro replied, “I have more to learn.”

I gestured toward the door. “This discussion stays in this room. The women don’t need to worry.” Everyone nodded. “Now, let’s celebrate before we take care of business.”

Dante remained at my side as the others filtered out of the office. “Thoughts?” he asked.

My forehead furrowed. “Jorge seemed pleased with Aléjandro. You know them better than I do. Thoughts on Reinaldo and Emiliano?”

Dante inhaled. “I thought Jasmine wasn’t an option.”

A scoff escaped my lips as I shook my head. “Who said anything about Jasmine?”

“You’ve been making deals. Jorge wasn’t upset about you involving Myshkin.”

“Jorge wants to defeat Herrera.”

Dante lowered his voice. “He also wants Rei married. He’s pushing Jano to make more decisions. If you ask me, he’s securing his legacy—his family.”

“Jasmine isn’t a Luciano,” I replied.

“I’m not blind and neither are you. Jasmine is beautiful, sweet, and smart. If Rei wants her, after what I did, it could help cement this alliance.”

“This alliance is cemented,” I growled. “We have a war to fight, one we have to win. Besides, Rei isn’t the only one with an interest in Jasmine.” I could hardly make myself force out the words. “Myshkin wants her for his son, Zhdan.”

“Fuck,” Dante murmured. “You can’t send her off to the bratva”

“We need a ceasefire with Myshkin.”