appearances still left a bitter taste on the back of Anton’s tongue. This kind of nastiness screamed guilty with ten fingers pointing straight at her. Because he still didn’t have any proof about whatever plans the Jersey bitch might have had, Anton wasn’t comfortable bringing it up and causing issues that might not be there. He hated feeling out of the loop.
“Why the fuck would somebody do this?” Anton asked as he surveyed the damage.
The tires were completely ruined but he had two spare sets in a warehouse not far from his club in Brighton, and a set of rims. He knew he had to get the tires changed before his wife noticed what happened. Anton couldn’t have Viviana worried and frightened while she was pregnant. This would definitely do that to her, but it was also seriously screwing with his head, too.
What with the unknown photographer and his suspicions about Tatiana, this act screamed with alarm bells that it was probably related. Anton had to put a stop to this shit before it escalated anymore. Slashing tires wasn’t as irksome as a photographer, but it was just as personal and twice as threatening.
He also had to consider what Boris said during their private meeting. Maybe this did have something to do with the Italians. The Cosa Nostra crime family in Long Island was known to drop dangerous hints until someone got the point and called a sit down to resolve the issue. Anton couldn’t figure out what the issue would be, though, if there even was one.
After all, Anton killing their old boss wasn’t just to his benefit. The cousin of Sonny Carducci—Conrad—the man who helped them and gave them information on the side had taken over the family’s head without much trouble at all. So, Sonny’s murder at Anton’s hand had been a win-win all the way around for Conrad.
Regardless, Anton needed to find out if the Italians were involved and why. If they weren’t, which he thought was more likely, maybe they’d have some information he didn’t as to who possibly was.
“Boss, I’m so so—”
“Shut up,” Anton barked, glaring at Joe. “You know the rules. You don’t ever leave her car unattended. Remember what happened the last time?”
Joe averted his eyes and dipped his chin down. “Yeah.”
“Call that tow company we use. You know where the extra tires are, so get on it. I want her car back in our driveway within the next two hours. Don’t say a goddamned thing to Vine about it. Understood?”
“Yeah. I’ll call Rory right now. Get him down here to help.”
Anton frowned. Hadn’t Joe said Rory’s phone was dead?
Not important , he thought.
What was important was keeping his wife calm. Anton turned and left the bull without another word. If he stayed in the man’s presence for too much longer, he might blow his fucking top. It wouldn’t be unusual for Anton to pick up Viviana somewhere and get her bulls to drive her car home, so she wouldn’t question his sudden presence. Keeping what happened away from her was an easy feat.
He wondered if that had been the perpetrator’s point.
Again, he considered the Italians. With the cell phone in his hand, Anton dialed Ivan’s number. The lawyer picked up on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“Call the Italians,” Anton said immediately. There was no point in pleasantries. “Request a meeting with the Don as soon as we can get it.”
*
“What in the actual fuck , Anton? Where do you get off—”
Viviana’s rant stopped short at the sight staring back at her. Dread washed the color from her face as the silence answering back only seemed to grow, making her even more uncomfortable than she was.
She hadn’t bothered to knock before entering her husband’s office at Seven Lights. Maybe she should have, considering there were four other men inside the room, two of which she didn’t recognize at all. The other two, Ivan and Erik, sported matching expressions of shock and amusement.
Anton’s eyes flitted over to her spot,
“Why the fuck would somebody do this?” Anton asked as he surveyed the damage.
The tires were completely ruined but he had two spare sets in a warehouse not far from his club in Brighton, and a set of rims. He knew he had to get the tires changed before his wife noticed what happened. Anton couldn’t have Viviana worried and frightened while she was pregnant. This would definitely do that to her, but it was also seriously screwing with his head, too.
What with the unknown photographer and his suspicions about Tatiana, this act screamed with alarm bells that it was probably related. Anton had to put a stop to this shit before it escalated anymore. Slashing tires wasn’t as irksome as a photographer, but it was just as personal and twice as threatening.
He also had to consider what Boris said during their private meeting. Maybe this did have something to do with the Italians. The Cosa Nostra crime family in Long Island was known to drop dangerous hints until someone got the point and called a sit down to resolve the issue. Anton couldn’t figure out what the issue would be, though, if there even was one.
After all, Anton killing their old boss wasn’t just to his benefit. The cousin of Sonny Carducci—Conrad—the man who helped them and gave them information on the side had taken over the family’s head without much trouble at all. So, Sonny’s murder at Anton’s hand had been a win-win all the way around for Conrad.
Regardless, Anton needed to find out if the Italians were involved and why. If they weren’t, which he thought was more likely, maybe they’d have some information he didn’t as to who possibly was.
“Boss, I’m so so—”
“Shut up,” Anton barked, glaring at Joe. “You know the rules. You don’t ever leave her car unattended. Remember what happened the last time?”
Joe averted his eyes and dipped his chin down. “Yeah.”
“Call that tow company we use. You know where the extra tires are, so get on it. I want her car back in our driveway within the next two hours. Don’t say a goddamned thing to Vine about it. Understood?”
“Yeah. I’ll call Rory right now. Get him down here to help.”
Anton frowned. Hadn’t Joe said Rory’s phone was dead?
Not important , he thought.
What was important was keeping his wife calm. Anton turned and left the bull without another word. If he stayed in the man’s presence for too much longer, he might blow his fucking top. It wouldn’t be unusual for Anton to pick up Viviana somewhere and get her bulls to drive her car home, so she wouldn’t question his sudden presence. Keeping what happened away from her was an easy feat.
He wondered if that had been the perpetrator’s point.
Again, he considered the Italians. With the cell phone in his hand, Anton dialed Ivan’s number. The lawyer picked up on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“Call the Italians,” Anton said immediately. There was no point in pleasantries. “Request a meeting with the Don as soon as we can get it.”
*
“What in the actual fuck , Anton? Where do you get off—”
Viviana’s rant stopped short at the sight staring back at her. Dread washed the color from her face as the silence answering back only seemed to grow, making her even more uncomfortable than she was.
She hadn’t bothered to knock before entering her husband’s office at Seven Lights. Maybe she should have, considering there were four other men inside the room, two of which she didn’t recognize at all. The other two, Ivan and Erik, sported matching expressions of shock and amusement.
Anton’s eyes flitted over to her spot,
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