Accardi Chapter 35

“Does Conor know about this?” Alessio asked. “I’m assuming they did this to his…”

“No, he does not know. Nor will he,” Michele interrupted with a decisive fist to the table.

“What?” Matteo hissed, his voice clogged with something he refused to recognize as fear. 

“When Philip turned himself in I made promises to him. Vows that cannot be broken. One of those was to ensure the safety of his family. Conor was forced to push her out of his life and as far as he knows, or will ever know, she is studying in London as was the plan.”

“Where is she actually, Galante?” Alessio asked. 

“She escaped the Irish two days ago. She is currently being treated at a hospital in Edinburgh. Other than the obvious, she is doing fine. Once she is fully healed, we will make sure she returns to school and has nothing else to do with this life. That was my vow and I intend to keep it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Galante,” Matteo hissed between his teeth. 

“This was an act of war,” Michele continued. “This was in the box with her…” Michele shook his head again and laid down a note. 

*Family is everything. Enjoy never growing yours.*

Below the note was an emblem for the Phelan family, the family Michele’s wife had run from. Michele was right. It was a clear declaration. 

“What do you need from us?” Alessio asked. 

Matteo glared at his cousin. “You’re going to jump into this?”

Alessio returned his glare. “Don’t be blind. The man who killed your family was hired by these people, Matteo. They came after the Accardis, now the Galantes. It’s only a matter of time before…”

“They won’t go to Italy to wage war with you,” Matteo said with a roll of his eyes. 

Alessio scoffed. “Maybe not them but if my two cousins lose what they’ve built on top of the business connections I’ve demolished since taking over the family, someone else will think me weak. Whether it’s true or not, they’ll test me until it becomes so.”

“Don’t forget what I have to offer you in return,” Michele reminded Matteo. 

Matteo closed his eyes and leaned his head back. After a moment, he dropped his head down and dug for his cigarette packet. He lit it and blew smoke out of his nose as he considered all of his options. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and sighed. 

“I’m assuming you want my men.”

“They’re the best fighters between us,” Michele agreed. “I’ll need Palladino’s connections and my men will do the dirty work.”

“When do I get what I want?” Matteo asked.

Michele grinned his sinister smile again. “As soon as you say yes.”

Matteo blew another plume of smoke through his nose, relishing how the nicotine seeped into his blood stream both setting his nerve endings alight with adrenaline and calming his mind all at once. 

“I have a meeting with O’Brien on Tuesday,” Matteo divulged.

“About what?” Michele asked. 

Matteo shrugged and took another drag. “He wants one of my tracks.”

“He knows what the Phelans are up to. He wants to know where you stand,” Alessio guessed. Matteo shrugged.

“What are you going to do?” Michele prompted. 

“I suppose now I don’t have much of a choice. I’ll let him have it so he can push whatever drugs he wants. Keep him happy. Keep him on our side. I’m sure when the time comes we’ll be able to count on him.”

“Does this mean you’re in?” Michele asked.

Matteo looked up at Frankie. While Matteo was boss, Frankie kept his nose to the ground. He knew, better than anyone, how his men would react to them going up against the Irish. Frankie’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest. His expression was set and firm. He gave one decisive nod.

“I’m in,” Matteo said. He stood and shook hands with Michele who had a cheshire grin. “Now, where is he?”

Matteo walked down the dank hallway beneath Michele’s family compound near the Jersey border. Ahead of him, one of Michele’s men twirled a ring of keys around his finger as he led him deeper. 

“Here you go,” the man said, stepping up to a door. He unlocked it and pushed it open before stepping back and mock-bowing. 

Matteo walked inside and glimpsed for the first time the man who had murdered his mother and his brother. His fingers tightened in the fist he’d held for the past thirty minutes. The man was tied to a chair. His hands and feet were bound tightly. His head hung down. Blood dripped from every limb. He looked too comfortable. 

Matteo cleared his throat causing the man to jerk up. The man’s mouth was covered but his eyes widened at the sight of him which made him smile. He loved when people recognized him and knew what was coming. 

“They told me my mother drowned when her car careened off the road and into the lake. They told me she must have been drunk.” Matteo walked forward and glanced at the smears of blood along the wall. “My mom doesn’t drink. Nor is she able to leave finger bruising along her own neck.” 

Matteo spotted a chair near the wall. The metal scraping against the floor created a screeching noise loud enough to peel paint off the walls. He turned the chair around and sat so he could cross his arms over the back of it. 

“My brother… they told me he fell from a rooftop in Paris. The same rooftop where he was top of his class learning to be a pastry chef. The funny thing was no one could explain how the fall caused a perfect cut along the artery in his neck. You were good… just sloppy enough for us professionals to know what really happened. To see the warning in it. If only you’d chosen the right employer. We would have paid you better… and actually protected you.”

Matteo removed the fabric keeping the man from speaking. He held up a glass of water, allowing the man to drink and wet his lips. The man narrowed his eyes and then spat in Matteo’s face. Matteo set the water down and calmly wiped his face despite the tremor in his hand. 

“Why don’t you just kill me already you Italian maggot?” the man asked. 

Matteo turned with a pitying smile. “Kill you? You think I’m going to kill you?” He tsked and sat back in the chair. “I have no intention of killing you. No, instead I intend to have some fun, get my fill of the scent of your blood and the sound of your screams as my knife cuts away at your flesh. Then I’m going to pack you up and ship you off to Italy where my cousin has a friend with a twisted sense of pleasure. He’s going to make sure you spend the rest of your days wishing I *had* killed you.” Matteo leaned forward over him. “Instead, I promise you, for every day I feel the pain of what I’ve lost… so will you.”