Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three
Gen’s breathing was labored, strained as Matteo took the bat and threw it across the space. His hand reached out to touch her shoulder but she shoved him away. 

“You were late!” she screamed. 

Matteo held his hands up in surrender, his dark eyes flashing greenish-gold under the fluorescent lights of the warehouse. “I know, I’m so sorry.”

“What happened to the plan, huh? I chose Leo’s bat on purpose. It was supposed to be one hit and…”

Matteo gripped her face in his hands and brought their mouths together. Gen wanted to yell. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to collapse from sheer exhaustion. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders so he could support her weight as he tried to kiss her anger away. He pulled back but kept her face in his hands so he could inspect her injuries. His eyes held a dangerous glint and his jaw ticked as he gently touched the swollen part of her cheek. She hissed and pulled away, making him growl.

“What the fuck is going on?” Michele groaned, rolling to his back to hold his knee up. 

Matteo sighed as if he’d completely forgotten Michele was still alive and he didn’t want to have to go back to work. Matteo walked over to Michele and looked down at him with the annoyed glare of someone who was tired of teaching someone the same lesson over and over. 

“We outsmarted you, Galante. That’s what’s going on. You’ve lost.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s original. Did I miss the big speech?” Matteo asked, looking around for an answer. 

“Yeah, ‘fraid so,” Leo responded.

“Oh well, would you like to hear my speech, Galante?" Matteo squatted down. He placed a handgun to Michele’s forehead. “You took my mother. You took my brother. You tried to take an empire my family has spent generations building.” Matteo sneered and pressed the barrel of the gun further into Michele’s forehead. “Then you touched my fucking Donna and threatened my child. You thought yourself so smart, didn’t you? While you were planning this day, we were making plans of our own.”

“How’d you get out?” Michele couldn’t help but ask.

Matteo looked up at Gen with pride shining in his eyes. “I chose a hell of a Donna, that’s how. She got some information on the FBI agent who had me arrested. All of his cases pertaining to organized crime are being thrown out. I think I’ve made quite a few new friends over in LA. Right now the fucker has a fleet of agents up his ass, ready to haul him to prison. Want to know how Genevieve got the info? She made a few deals to some soon to be powerful individuals. You want to know what she gave them?” Matteo leaned forward. “Everything you own.”

“Just shut the fuck up and shoot me!” Michele yelled.

Matteo laughed through his nose and pulled the gun away. He let it dangle loosely between his legs. “I would. But I’ve promised someone else the honor.”

Matteo stood up and took a few steps back. He whistled sharp and long. The door to the warehouse opened and Conor stepped inside. He didn’t speak as he walked closer. His hands were in his pockets as he took in his bloodied and dead half-sister with disinterested eyes. He looked at Gen, at her face, and deciphered the bruises he saw there. Then his gaze cut to his father, who looked far too relaxed upon seeing it was his son who had come into the building.

“Conor, help me up,” Michele demanded. “Better yet, shoot this fucker in the face then help me up.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You really think I’ll listen to you? After what you’ve hidden from me?” Conor asked, gesturing toward Maisy. “After what you made me do to Mira?”

“We needed someone to take the fall for the cops, okay? Bennett was after us originally. We had to get ahead of it.”

“I don’t give a fuck! We are Galantes! We could have easily paid them off or…”

“With what?!” Michele barked. 

Conor shook his head in disgust. He closed his eyes, and turned his head away. “Your empire is crumbling. I’ve signed a new deal with Philip. Your best friend turned on you for nothing more than a promise of protection. Your companies are being split apart and given to the Russo family. As for your last surviving child?” Conor knelt down to meet his father’s eyes. “I’m leaving the business. For good. You tried to strengthen your hold on the city? Instead, you’ve destroyed everything your family ever built. Congratulations.”

“You had so much potential,” Michele spat. “I should have just killed her rather than send her away. That’s the one decision I fucked up in all this. I didn’t want to hurt my friend. I should have known better than to let my feelings win out over business. Maisy was right. I should have killed your precious Mira when I had the chance!”

Conor sighed as he stood to his full height. “Looks like you put your resources behind the wrong child then. You deserve each other.”

“Help me up, Conor. Now.”

“I have a deal to see through.”

“What deal are you…”

A single gunshot. Between the eyes. Conor stared down at his dead father with nothing but acceptance in his gaze. The barrel of his handgun was still smoking as he put it in his back pocket. Matteo was in front of her in a second, shielding her from the gruesome scene. He cupped her head and pressed it against his chest. The moment she inhaled his honey-tobacco scent, she broke.

“Weakness,” Matteo groaned, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to hold her tighter. “Don’t cry, please.”

“It’s the hormones!”

Matteo snickered and kissed the top of her head as he rocked her back and forth. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Just the hormones. Not the situation. You did fantastic, Weakness,” he told her, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

Gen hissed and pulled back, putting her own palm delicately against her swollen cheek. Matteo’s brow drew down as he inspected it closer with gentle fingers. 

“Your cheekbone is broken,” he whispered. His eyes flicked up to find Leo. The softness she’d just seen in them cooled to hardened steel. “You’re lucky this is all that happened.”

“Alessio held me back. You got a bone to pick, get it from him. Plus I saw the glint from Tracy,” Leo said, his voice angry at the accusation that her injury was in any way his fault.

“You did not see Tracy, Old Man” Frankie said, strolling casually towards them. “Tracy’s a good girl. Only flashes me.” 

Gen turned in Matteo’s arms enough to see the imposing man. While Frankie didn’t have the height Matteo or many of the other men possessed, his appearance was always enough to strike a bit of fear into someone… especially when he carried a large rifle propped on his shoulder like a character from a dystopian film.

“She is beautiful,” Gen said, eyeing the impressive rifle with admiration. “Thank you, Frankie."

He smiled. “You’re welcome. Can I go now?”

“Go?” Gen asked, looking between Matteo and Frankie.

“Yeah, go get her,” Matteo said with a dismissive nod toward the door.

“Her? You’re going after Gloria?” Gen asked, her spirits lifting. 

Frankie nodded and he sighed long as if he were a parent chasing after their toddler for the tenth time in ten minutes. “Yeah, someone’s got to.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t have to chase after her?” Gen mocked with a teasing smile.

“You really want to play this game, Donna? While I got Tracy over my shoulder?” he asked, nudging the rifle higher. 

Gen chuckled and rested the side of her head against Matteo’s chest. “Listen to your boss. Go get her.”

Frankie saluted and gave Leo a nod before he strode forward with new purpose. His job here was done.

“I was lucky to get him in the fucking car,” Matteo whispered to her. “He wanted to light out of that prison and head straight for her.”

“Do you think he’ll do something reckless?”

“I’d bet on it.” Matteo sighed and stepped back, leaving a valley of cold between their bodies. He looked around at the bloody scene surrounding them. “Well, this is quite the mess.”

Gen looked at Maisy’s body, drowning in blood. “We have to tell Emmett.”

“We will.”

“The Russos will want to make the transfers as soon as possible. I imagine there will be a rift in the Galante organization. I don’t think Conor is off the hook yet. He’ll have to convince the men to follow a whole new family.”

“Or they can join ours,” Matteo assured her, taking her hand. 

“We need to call the cleanup crew and make sure they get here asap. The fish deliveries usually start at four am. Now that you’re out, we can open all the clubs again maybe tomorrow night,” Gen said, rattling off the to-do list formulating in her head. “First I think we should hold a family meeting so everyone can see us as a strong united front. Leo can step in for Frankie while he’s gone…”

“What?” Leo asked, his eyes wide.

“And I want to talk to the Phelan family too. I don’t like how they crept in here and started all this shit but have remained in the shadows. They could pose a problem in the future if we don’t make sure they know we…”

Matteo pulled her against his chest, cupped her uninjured cheek and kissed her. The kiss was soft, steady. His lips smoothed against hers in a way that spoke of patience, surrender and a lifetime of devotion. Where his normal kisses were filled with possession, this one showed her how deeply his feelings cut into him, how much he cherished her, how he would rein back all of his desires to be who she needed in the moment. 

“Weakness,” Matteo whispered against her lips. 

“Hm?” she asked, her eyes fluttering open as if she’d been caught in a dream and he’d gently woken her up to experience the real thing.

“You’re covered in blood,” he reminded her. She blinked and looked down at her arms coated in sticky crimson liquid. “Your cheekbone is broken. You’re pregnant and the baby needs to be checked. All of that comes before anything else. Do you understand? You come before anything else.”

Gen smirked, the blush on her cheeks and the words on his lips standing in sharp contrast to the carnage surrounding them. “But… Getting the bodies out of here is pretty important too.”

Matteo smiled wide enough to pull the dimple out of his cheek. “Let’s start with yours then.”