"It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning."
- Seamus Heaney
I had received an invitation from Frankie for a small dinner celebration at her place. She mentioned that it was a little party to celebrate her men's recovery as well as the successful operation that led to the destruction of Sergei's shipment. Though the invite was touching, I knew deep down that she wanted to appreciate my little input and the assistance that my men had given her during the hit that night.
As I arrived at her house, my men, Goat and Zane accompanied me as we made our way past the gate. When we arrived, Frankie was already waiting for us at the door, a warm and welcoming smile lit her beautiful face.
"I'm glad you guys could make it," she warmly greeted us.
"We wouldn't have missed it!" Goat chimed in eagerly, grinning as he bounded past her into the inviting living room with Zane, while I held back a bit.
I offered Frankie a bottle of her favorite Rosé wine as a small gesture of gratitude for the invitation.
"You really didn't need to, but thank you," she graciously accepted the wine. "Please, make yourselves at home," she ushered me further into the house.
I followed her into the dining room, where her men had assembled around a robust dinner table. The room buzzed with conversation and the atmosphere was comfortable. Andy and Steve were among the crowd and it was quite relieving to see them well and recovered. I made a point to acknowledge their presence.
"Andy, Steve, good to see you guys are doing well," I addressed them.
They responded enthusiastically in unison, "Thank you!"
Steve nodded at me in acknowledgment, "Thank you for helping our men."
"My pleasure," I returned his nod.
She ushered me towards the head of the table, suggesting I take the seat. The warm, familiar chatter filled the room, creating a pleasant atmosphere.
After dinner was served, we raised our glasses for a toast.
"First of all," Frankie started, standing and holding her wine high. "Thank you all for being here, but more importantly, for all you did. Your efforts saved my men's lives and crippled Sergei. To that, I am immensely grateful."
The room echoed with the sound of clinking glasses, but it soon died down as I rose to my feet.
"I'd just like to say a few words," I started. "None of us did this expecting gratitude. We saw a chance to help up a friend and we took it, and we would do it again in a heartbeat."
The room was filled with the sounds of cheering. Looking around, I was amazed by the closeness among the group. As I settled back in my seat, Frankie locked her eyes with mine and gave a slight nod.
"Thank you," she whispered, almost inaudibly, just for me.
It felt like, just for a moment, we were the only two people in the room.
"I'll drink to that," I replied, raising my glass again.
"Ma'am, the housekeeper came over to Frankie at the dinner table, "Scott's arrived."
Following a brief pause, Frankie commanded, "Let him in."
Within moments, her assistant made his way into the bustling room, clutching a black leather briefcase, a look of surprise marked across his face.
"Good evening," he offered somewhat nervously.
Frankie immediately stood up and approached him. "What's up?" she asked.
"I have this for you," he responded, reaching into his case and retrieving a blue folder, which he then handed over to her.
Accepting the file, she scanned its contents before her gaze met Scott's again. "Excellent work," she praised him.
As he moved to leave, I saw Scott hesitating at the edge of the cheerful atmosphere permeating the room. The look on his face indicated he wanted nothing more than to be part of our celebration.
Frankie too seemed to notice. "You want to join us?" she proposed.
He perked up instantly, clearly excited. "Really? I can?"
Frankie chuckled at his eagerness, it was one of the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard. She directed him towards the table, where he found an open seat between Goat and Zane.
While I wasn't aware of how much her assistant was clued in about our business, I trusted that if Frankie trusted him, then we could too.
"Goat?" Noah questioned, clear curiosity coloring his words. "Odd name, why are you called that?"
"Like Goat, G.O.A.T, as in the greatest of all time?" Scott jumped in, his interest equal to Noah's.
"No, just Goat," I intervened, laughing at their innocent confusion.
I glanced at Goat, knowing he was going to retell the hilarious backstory that I knew by heart.
"Tell the story!" Zane pushed.
Wearing a mischievous grin, Goat asked, "Should I?"
"Oh please do," Frankie confirmed, with a bright smile on her face.
Goat cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. "Most of you know me as Goat," he began, "But my actual name is Ryker McKenna. The Goat nickname started around five years ago after this one crazy mission I had in Tijuana, Mexico. The Tijuana cartel's boss was definitely not an easygoing dude and my subpar Spanish skills didn't help the situation at all. In no time, I had to beat a hasty retreat, seeking refuge on a local farm and bunking with the goats for a solid week while the hunt for me was intensifying in the area," he paused, taking a sip of his wine.
Everyone was captivated by the story, completely fascinated. Goat had a knack for storytelling, and this one, in particular, was the funniest.
He continued, "After making my escape, I felt I needed to make a point, and get a little payback to save my reputation, or what's left of it for that matter. So, about a month later, I decided to go back to Tijuana and give them a life lesson they'd never be able to shake off."
I watched Frankie lean her head on her hand, listening intently to the story, her eyes shining like a thousand stars, rendering me speechless to her ethereal beauty.
"When I arrived back in Tijuana," Goat pressed on, "I took one look at the rough-and-tumble goat market and immediately set my sights on a stubborn-looking old billy goat. With a wink and a nod, I traded a few pesos for the tough old critter, slung a red bandana around its neck and walked it back to my motel room with the sort of casual nonchalance that said, 'Sure, I'm an American with a goat on a leash in Mexico. You got beef with that?'"
Andy burst out laughing at Goat's amusing recollection. "No way, you didn't!"
But Goat only nodded, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Believe me, I did. My first challenge was how to rig the goat with explosives without getting myself killed in the process. After some strenuous scuffle in the bathtub, I finally managed to wrap the dynamite-packed rig around the goat's belly. Sweating like a stuck pig, I tipped my hat at the less than impressed goat and was like, 'Not exactly the Texas rodeo, is it, pal?'"
"That's nuts, you realize that?" Sawyer teased, amazed by Goat's tale.
Goat shrugged nonchalantly and carried on. "Once I was sure the device was secure, the next task was to somehow lead this beast into the cartel leader's mansion without arousing suspicion. A shopping run netted me a box of apples, a can of glitzy gold paint, and a sombrero. I doll this goat up like a golden statue as a token of surrender. At the mansion's door, the goons eyeball this 'Golden Goat of Guanajuato', considered some fairytale treasure around here, and they wave me on in. The goat, seems like he's kinda enjoying this flashy look, strutted through the mansion's gate with as much grace as a goat loaded with explosives can muster."
The entire table had already burst into laughter, though the story wasn't even over yet.
"Once I'm inside, I excused myself to 'meditate' and watched from the corner as the golden goat moved with its grizzled nonchalance through the mansion. One explosive-loaded step at a time. As the ticking inside my head got louder and louder. Then KABOOM! And like that, Tijuana is down one cartel leader, along with several unfortunate henchmen." Goat explained.
"You've got to be kidding me! That poor old goat!" Frankie giggled, her laughter joining the chorus of laughter at the table.
"What came after that?" Noah questioned, barely suppressing his own laughter.
"Not much," Goat replied. "Later that night, at some dive, tossing one back to celebrate, I catch some chatter from the regulars, yakking about the whacko Gringo, his golden goat, and the craziest day their town's ever seen."
"You're blowing smoke!" Steve couldn't help but chuckle. "I heard the story, but this? This is the nuttiest thing, but I'll be damned if it ain't the funniest."
Zane thumped Goat's back a bit too enthusiastically. "The moral of the story? Never mess with a man named Goat. Cause he just might come atcha with a real deal goat. And lemme tell ya, in Tijuana, that's still some serious business."
Napoli, Italia.
Two days later.
The plane had just landed in Naples, the sunset starting to peek beneath the horizon. Ronan was there to greet me at the airport, accompanied by his men. As I got off the plane, I saw the angst in his gaze.
"Hey, how was your flight?" Ronan asked as I eased into his Maybach S-Class.
"Long." My weary eyes said it all. "Any updates?"
"Yeah, Sergei's here," he informed me.
"Good," I breathed a sigh of relief, the plan was in motion.
"You gonna let me in on why this meeting's so urgent?" He questioned, not quite managing to hide his unease. "You rarely summon meetings, Conor, and even more rarely with such haste. You're clearly holding something back!"
I longed to tell him, to explain the situation, but words eluded me. Silence fell between us.
"Has something happened to Frankie?" His anxiety was mounting.
"He found out everything about her, I don't know how. He ordered a hit on her home. Noah was held at gunpoint. Had it not been for Frankie's timely interference, we would've lost Noah."
"That son of a... I'm going to end him, Conor, I swear!"
His anger was raw, simmering beneath his skin.
"And what do you suppose I'm here for?" My tone left no room for doubt.
With just an hour until the meeting started, there was barely enough time to freshen up at the hotel, change, and drive over to Big Solly's mansion in Sorrento.
──●◎●──
We reached Sorrento just in the nick of time for our conference. As we entered the mansion, we were greeted by Big Solly's vigilant men, who had their weapons securely fastened to their sides.
Gathered around the long mahogany table was Salvatore Lombardi, otherwise known as Big Solly, son of the infamous Sergio The Don Lombardi and current head of the Napolitano mafia, Camorra. His right-hand man, Carlo De Luca was seated next to him. Also in attendance was Allegra Capano, daughter of Giuseppe The Blacksmith/Il Fabbro Capano and the boss of the Capano family, Theodore Pierce, and lastly, Sergei fucking Ivanov.
Anger coursed like fiery rivers through my veins as I directed a deathly glare at Sergei. It was an achievement to suppress the urge to gun him down then and there.
"Benvenuti a tutti, (Welcome everyone)" Big Solly greeted us. "Conor here requested an immediate gathering, and I appreciate you all making it."
Wasting no time, I took the floor, locking gazes with each of them. "I'm aware of the misguided beliefs floating around about the recent attacks carried out in my district. However, I'm here to put those rumors to rest."
Sergei shifted restlessly in his seat, his eyes meeting mine as he interrupted my speech. "My warehouse was attacked, and my shipment was lost! As the person in charge of the safety of our business and deliveries, Conor, you should answer for this!" His words echoed around the room.
I bristled, not fooled by his attempt to deflect blame. I gritted my teeth, struggling to control my temper.
"I ordered the attack on your warehouse," I revealed, well aware of the repercussions.
The room erupted in shock, and Big Solly slammed his fists onto the table, enraged.
"Conor, why wasn't I informed of this beforehand? What led you to make such an impulsive move?" Big Solly grumbled.
"I had reason to believe that Sergei posed a threat to the safety of my loved ones," I said bluntly, without elaborating further.
Sergei snorted derisively, squirming in his seat. "That's absurd, Conor! We've been doing business together for years, why would I harm you?" he sneered.
The truth was, Sergei was a scumbag who I'd been forced to deal with for too long. I couldn't stomach his lies any longer.
"And what about framing Ronan? What about your drug dealings with the Colombian and Sinaloa cartels?" I seethed, my fury boiling over.
Predictably, he denied everything. Lies spilled from his mouth whenever he was pinned in a corner.
"That's a lie, Big Solly! None of that is true! Why don't you tell them about your dirty little secret? The woman who does all your dirty work?' he began, but I wasn't about to let him go on. I cut him off with a single bullet aimed right between his eyes.
He slumped over the table, dead.
As Sergei's motionless body lay before me, a sense of release consumed me. I calmly laid the gun down on the table while their eyes met mine, faces awash with shock.
"Cos'hai fatto?! Non ne avevi il diritto! (What have you done?! You had no right!)" Big Solly's booming voice echoed through the room, his rage felt by all.
Rising unhurriedly from my seat, I expelled a breath I'd been holding in.
"Forgive me for acting on impulse, but I acted in the best interest of my loved ones. The evidence we have proves that Sergei was involved in underhanded drug dealings with the Colombians and Mexicans. If you see my actions as unwarranted, then punish me as you see fit." Without waiting for his reply, I made my exit from the conference room.
Stepping out of the mansion, Ronan raced over, his face riddled with terror and anxiety. "A gunshot echoed, and my heart dropped fearing it was you!" he stammered, "Is he...?"
"Gone," I clarified, slipping into the car.
"Couldn't have happened to a better person," he muttered, just as the car roared to life. "How did Big Solly handle it?"
"Well, I'm not six feet under, am I?" I retorted, attempting a weak smile of comfort.
"I'm still upset with you, but I'm relieved you're safe," Ronan muttered, annoyance flickering in his tone.
"Upset? With me? Why?" I questioned, puzzled.
"For keeping me in the dark about all this, Conor! For crying out loud, you and Hector both lied to me!" He fired back.
"You were a world away, Ronan! Why would I involve you when you couldn't do anything?" I defended.
He sighed heavily, realizing that my motives had been well-meaning, and that I had only sought his best interests.
"We're okay?" I probed, hoping for reassurance.
"We're okay," he responded. 'How is Frankie doing? I can only imagine how scared she must have been for Noah, and I can't bear the thought of it."
"She was petrified," I revealed. "She blamed herself relentlessly. Noah is her biggest weak point, just as much as she is ours, and that night tested her resolve."
"Do you remember the first time you brought her home? She was just sixteen, fragile and without a home or family to lean on. The way she looked up to us, to me, completely melted my heart. Conor, I don't have a blood family, but she's the only kin I know. After losing Camilla and Ava, Frankie has been the one bright spot in my life. If you hadn't dealt with Sergei tonight, I would have crashed that meeting and taken him down myself, even if it cost me my life! I won't stand by and let anything happen to her or Noah," Ronan declared, overcome with emotion.
"We won't," I assured.
──●◎●──
Anxiety gnawed at my gut as I sat waiting for Big Solly's verdict. Would he have me killed? Or even worse disown me from the legacy I had helped build? A part of me could hardly muster the strength to care what he'd decide, the sole thing that mattered was that Frankie and Noah were safe.
The first signs of dawn revealed that I hadn't blinked all night. To keep Frankie from fretting over Big Solly's fatal call, I had requested Ronan to keep it under wraps.
Clutching my espresso and puffing my Cuban cigar, I stepped onto my Romeo Napoli suite balcony to soak in the calm of the early morning.
The peace was cut short by the trill of my phone. I eyed the display before lifting it to my ear. "Big Solly, good morning," I answered.
"Buongiorno, (good morning)" Came the response. "Posso salire? (May I come up?)"
"Sei già qui? (You're already here?)" I asked, caught off guard.
"SÌ, (yes)" he confirmed.
"Va bene, aspetterò, (fine, I'll be waiting)"I assured him.
The arrival of Big Solly in my personal space was unexpected. Usually, I was the one being summoned. But not today.
I gave him a warm welcome. "Per favore, mettiti comodo, (Please make yourself comfortable)" I said.
"Grazie, (thanks)" he replied.
We both enjoyed a moment of peaceful silence by the fireplace. I then offered him an espresso and a cigar, watching as his eyes sparkled at the sight. He relished in the cigar's flavor.
"Questo è carino, (This is nice)" he commented. "A Cohiba Behike, great choice."
"The rarest," I responded.
Sitting back on the soft couch cushions, he took another puff and turned his attention towards me. "Have you been in touch with The Don?" His voice carried a question that his face masked.
"I haven't," I denied, baffled. "We haven't been in touch since you became the Capo."
There was an unsettling quiet as he studied my reaction, his eyes probing for some clue. "So why is he stepping up for you?" His question hit me off guard.
"I don't know what you mean," I replied nonchalantly, genuinely puzzled.
"Mi piaci, Conor, (I like you, Conor)" he began with a stern tone. "But it's important that we communicate. You had issues with Sergei and you didn't include me. I'm in a fix now."
"I understand, I really do. No excuses from me. You have to do what's necessary."
After throwing his cigar into the ashtray, he rose and paced the room. "Non è importante adesso, (It's not important now)" he said after a long pause. "The Don insisted on your safety. His orders are very clear, I cannot hurt you."
"The Don?" The surprise was clear in my voice.
"Sì, (yes)" he confirmed before checking his watch and motioning towards the remaining cigar, "Posso averne un altro? (May I have another?)"
"Sempre, (always)" I smirked.
"You and your bloody cigars," he chortled, relishing the taste of his coffee.
"As the saying goes, a good cigar is like good company, minus the chit-chat," I took a drag from my third cigar of the morning.
"Well said," he nodded. "Who coined that phrase?"
"That would be me," I laughed.
We laughed together, reveling in our each other's company, yet I was left wondering why The Don had come to my rescue. It was as baffling as it was sudden.
Later on, we were joined by Ronan in my luxurious suite where we delved into business matters over mellow coffee and quality tobacco.