humiliation, get a taste of the jeering crowd, the long hours in court. Maybe even glimpse prison. But Sebastiano didn’t think that scenario was very likely. They’d take care of a gay boss in their own way. They wouldn’t allow that kind of taint on their self-delusion of honor and uprightness.
Sebastiano was surprised he was actually rooting for Marino to choose life and dishonor over death and honor. Not that his own men would leave him any honor when they killed him. They wouldn’t understand that their boss had chosen that end over singing to the police.
Come on, Marino. You’re smart. Don’t be more honorable than clever.
“Let’s talk about the alternative.”
“That one’s easy. The whole organization, down to the last man, and you get a nice new identity and nobody’s going to bother you.”
“Witness Protection?”
“Yes, of course.”
“My wife?”
“If she’s jumping ship, absolutely.”
Marino looked at the photograph again. The expression on his face was hard to read. “What about him?”
“Is he part of the organization? Then you’ll have to make a call on his loyalties. Is he fucking you because you’re the boss, or is he fucking you because you’re Stefano Marino? And you better not be wrong when you do make that cal .”
Marino nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right. Hell.” He looked exhausted, but he was keeping it all together quite well. Maybe there were the beginnings of defeat, too, because Marino suddenly looked like a vast weight had lifted off his shoulders. Maybe he’d worked the alternatives through in his mind and was reaching the stage of acceptance.
“We should meet again, what do you think?”
Marino nodded. “Good idea. In case. I need to think about this.
Maybe discuss it with a lawyer.”
“Please, feel free.” Sebastiano offered a card with his phone number. “Call me any time. I understand you might need somebody to talk to. I’ll be there.”
Marino took the card and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket, then stood. The dog jumped to its feet and gave the puppy version of a bark. “You’re gambling high. There aren’t that many bosses who turn coat.”
“No, that’s true.” Sebastiano smiled. “We’re going to make history with this. Up to you to decide whether you’ll be around to see it happen.”
“Not that you have any preferences,” Marino hissed.
“Actually, I do. Just because I’m prepared to see you go down as col ateral damage doesn’t mean I’d prefer it.”
Marino bent down to pick up the dog. “I might not call you back.”
“I’ll give it a week,” Sebastiano called at Marino’s back.
Marino navigated the revolving door with the puppy on his arm, and Sebastiano dropped back in his seat, studying Marino’s coffee cup until it was cleared away, then looked at the photo again. A man who bought a puppy like that didn’t strike him as somebody who’d commit suicide by mob.
Sebastiano smiled. He thoroughly enjoyed watching Marino strangle himself in the noose he’d caught him in. It was very therapeutic.
Dark Lie
he thought of that slimy attorney congratulating himself on how Goddamned smart he was was still gnawing on TStefano’s mind when he reached the villa.
We’re going to make history with his.
Asshole had stepped right out of a John Grisham novel. Good-looking man, getting heavy around the middle (“So definitely heterosexual,” he could almost hear Silvio say), black hair, green eyes the color of glass shards worn soft by decades in saltwater. His smile was an actor’s, though: too bright, too pleasant. Still, he had that physical solidity that attracted the weak, the troubled, and most likely a fair amount of women on the hunt for a nice paycheck, a set of broad shoulders, and a good listener. He had that kind of “trust me” vibe. Fucking snake.
Trust me, that kind of scrutiny would make everybody look bad, probably even me.
That was an interesting thing to say, or should that
Sebastiano was surprised he was actually rooting for Marino to choose life and dishonor over death and honor. Not that his own men would leave him any honor when they killed him. They wouldn’t understand that their boss had chosen that end over singing to the police.
Come on, Marino. You’re smart. Don’t be more honorable than clever.
“Let’s talk about the alternative.”
“That one’s easy. The whole organization, down to the last man, and you get a nice new identity and nobody’s going to bother you.”
“Witness Protection?”
“Yes, of course.”
“My wife?”
“If she’s jumping ship, absolutely.”
Marino looked at the photograph again. The expression on his face was hard to read. “What about him?”
“Is he part of the organization? Then you’ll have to make a call on his loyalties. Is he fucking you because you’re the boss, or is he fucking you because you’re Stefano Marino? And you better not be wrong when you do make that cal .”
Marino nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right. Hell.” He looked exhausted, but he was keeping it all together quite well. Maybe there were the beginnings of defeat, too, because Marino suddenly looked like a vast weight had lifted off his shoulders. Maybe he’d worked the alternatives through in his mind and was reaching the stage of acceptance.
“We should meet again, what do you think?”
Marino nodded. “Good idea. In case. I need to think about this.
Maybe discuss it with a lawyer.”
“Please, feel free.” Sebastiano offered a card with his phone number. “Call me any time. I understand you might need somebody to talk to. I’ll be there.”
Marino took the card and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket, then stood. The dog jumped to its feet and gave the puppy version of a bark. “You’re gambling high. There aren’t that many bosses who turn coat.”
“No, that’s true.” Sebastiano smiled. “We’re going to make history with this. Up to you to decide whether you’ll be around to see it happen.”
“Not that you have any preferences,” Marino hissed.
“Actually, I do. Just because I’m prepared to see you go down as col ateral damage doesn’t mean I’d prefer it.”
Marino bent down to pick up the dog. “I might not call you back.”
“I’ll give it a week,” Sebastiano called at Marino’s back.
Marino navigated the revolving door with the puppy on his arm, and Sebastiano dropped back in his seat, studying Marino’s coffee cup until it was cleared away, then looked at the photo again. A man who bought a puppy like that didn’t strike him as somebody who’d commit suicide by mob.
Sebastiano smiled. He thoroughly enjoyed watching Marino strangle himself in the noose he’d caught him in. It was very therapeutic.
Dark Lie
he thought of that slimy attorney congratulating himself on how Goddamned smart he was was still gnawing on TStefano’s mind when he reached the villa.
We’re going to make history with his.
Asshole had stepped right out of a John Grisham novel. Good-looking man, getting heavy around the middle (“So definitely heterosexual,” he could almost hear Silvio say), black hair, green eyes the color of glass shards worn soft by decades in saltwater. His smile was an actor’s, though: too bright, too pleasant. Still, he had that physical solidity that attracted the weak, the troubled, and most likely a fair amount of women on the hunt for a nice paycheck, a set of broad shoulders, and a good listener. He had that kind of “trust me” vibe. Fucking snake.
Trust me, that kind of scrutiny would make everybody look bad, probably even me.
That was an interesting thing to say, or should that
Similar Books
