Last Man Standing. Wendy Rosnau

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СКАЧАТЬ food and gifts to their families. I have heard that you also believe in rewarding loyalty this way. That your men follow you out of love, as well as fear. A true mafioso knows that respect and honor is his responsibility, not his choice.

      “Some say you enjoy watching a man bleed, Lucky. And it is true you honor the old ways and do what many have no stomach to do. But you are about more than spilling blood. You are feared because you know what it means to be a un’ uomo d’onore. A man of honor. Your loyalty to your brother and Jackson Ward at age fifteen will never be forgotten.”

      “I did not know the price I would pay that night, old man. I assure you, I wasn’t thinking about the old ways in that alley. I went only to—”

      “Protect your brother and friend from being killed by the local cricca,” Vito finished. “Yes, I know the story. Three against a gang of ten, wasn’t it?” One thick finger pointed to a scar half-hidden on Lucky’s neck by his collar-length black hair. “I am told that the scar on your back stretches four feet in length.”

      “An exaggeration,” Lucky disputed, knowing for a fact that the scar fell short by only two inches.

      “The story claims they held you down and cut you while your brother and friend were made to watch. Is it true that you shot three of the cricca after the fact, or is that an exaggeration, too?”

      That part wasn’t an exaggeration. Lucky, however, wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d caused three mothers to grieve and wail at their sons’ funerals. Still, he had done what he had to do to save his brother and best friend.

      The cricca thought they had killed him. Lucky had believed it, too. In what he thought were his last seconds on earth, he’d made one last stand to give Joey and Jackson a chance to survive.

      He leaned back and slid his hand into the waistband of his jeans; inside his shorts, past his scarred belly to palm the second .22 he carried—the one responsible for saving all their lives that night in the alley. The gun that now permanently rode snug against him as comfortably as his wallet did in his back pocket.

      Lucky pulled the .22 from his jeans and aimed it at Vito. “Only a fool surrenders all his weapons, old man. A dead fool.”

      “Grande buono!” Vito shouted, then leaned his head back and roared in laughter until he began to cough. “This is why no one will ever forget that day. Why my men call you the guerriero. The warrior who is unafraid to bleed. It is true. You are the American Armanno.”

      Lucky had grown up with the story about how the Cosa Nostra had been born and why the words this thing between us had been chosen as the bond that would forever unite the fathers of Sicily. Dante Armanno had been one of those fathers. A young man in Palermo who had fought like a lion the day the French soldiers had invaded the city and killed his three sons and raped his daughters.

      As much as Lucky rejected the idea that he and Vito were a lot alike, they had similar views on family and work ethic. He suspected it was why thirty years ago Vito had paid twice what Dante Armanno was worth—the American estate built in tribute to the legend—when it had gone to auction.

      Unable to stay in the chair a minute longer without a drink in his hand, Lucky shoved himself to his feet. He was worth 2.4 million, and yet he wore what he always wore—jeans, leather boots and his seasoned leather jacket, a testimony to where he had been and what he had seen over the years in Chicago.

      At the narrow mullioned windows, he returned his gun to his jeans. It had started to snow again. His thoughts briefly returned to the warm Florida sunshine he’d enjoyed a week ago. The sunshine and the sea witch—as he’d come to think of her.

      He turned from the window. “Does Vincent D’Lano know that you have decided to replace Moody as your heir?”

      “Not yet. But when he finds out—” Vito grinned “—he’ll want to take a meat cleaver to both our necks. Since your brother rejected his daughter Sophia, Vincent has promised to tear down Masado Towers a brick at a time. I wonder what his threat will be once he learns you have stolen his ride to the top of the famiglia.”

      “I have heard there are witnesses who are saying Vinnie masterminded my sister-in-law’s kidnapping. If that’s true, he’ll be sitting in jail a long time.” Lucky asked, “When you agreed that Moody would become your heir, did you ever speak to Vinnie about it? Or was it all arranged through Carlo?”

      “Vincent came with Carlo once to gloat. But I never spoke to him or agreed to anything. Because I have no heir, Carlo decided I should turn over everything to his man of choice. A few weeks later in a letter, he warned me that if I took too long to die, he would have me carted off to a nursing home. It’s true Vinnie will want what Carlo promised him, but it’s not what I promised him.”

      “And if the changes in the will aren’t what I requested and I decide to withdraw?” Lucky asked.

      Vito pulled the will from his drawer. “It is done. My lawyer thinks a secret trust fund is suspect and I should demand to know whose name is on it, but I don’t intend to.”

      Good, Lucky thought, because he had no intention of explaining his actions to anyone.

      “I want the American Armanno as my heir. That is all I care about. That my men will be taken care of for their years of loyalty. I’m restocking the wine cellar with Macallan,” Vito reminded him. “I’ve asked Summ to remove my things from the master bedroom so you can take control even before I die. I’m stepping down the minute your signature is on the papers. Tonight you will become CEO of Tandi Inc. and sole owner of Dante Armanno.”

      “I don’t want your bed, old man.”

      “Since you have toured my house on your own, you’re aware that the master bedroom has a warm-water pool. It will be of use to you when you start your recovery.”

      “My recovery?” Lucky’s black eyebrows arched.

      “I’ve had a discussion with your doctor. He’s concerned about your continued delays in having the back surgery he recommended. He is afraid there may already be permanent nerve damage. As I said, I want the America Armanno as my heir, the toughest soldato in the city. But I wonder if that were tested today, if we would find it true.”

      Lucky never made promises he couldn’t keep or claims that weren’t within his power to guarantee. In truth, he knew he wasn’t a hundred percent. Hadn’t been for months.

      “If your memory fails you, I will refresh it. Days ago I offered my assistance to you and your brother. Joey was able to rescue his wife from that bastard, Stud Williams, because of my generosity. For this you agreed to repay me with a favor of my choice. I have made my choice. You as my son. At least on paper.”

      A soft knock at the door sent Lucky back to the chair, licking his lips.

      “Come in, Summ,” Vito said. “I believe you met my housekeeper days ago.”

      When the door opened, a small Japanese woman entered the study with a bright blue parrot riding on her shoulder. Anxious for his requested Scotch, Lucky was disappointed to see the woman carrying a teapot and two stone cups on a bamboo tray.

      “It looks like the wax in your ears is again causing you a hearing problem, Summ,” Vito grumbled. “We ordered Scotch, not tea.”

      “Hear fine. Drink Matcha tonight.” Her gaze found Lucky. “Tea in honor of wise decision to СКАЧАТЬ