Lucian Read Free Page A

sinners.”
    Well, money did give them that.
    Lucian still didn’t feel like he was getting the whole story. “What am I missing?”
    “They’ve gone too far this time.” Antony sighed, a weariness reflecting in his green eyes. “This war they’ve declared on the NYPD has certainly kept the police off our backs for a little while. But it’s bad, Lucian. A young couple was picking up a friend at the casino. They had a baby in the back seat of the sedan. The young family was killed, as were three police officers, and one MC member.”
    Oh, shit. Lucian felt a sickness rise in his gut like a poison. “Dad, you can’t blame your—”
    “They aren’t the first innocents to be killed in this mess the MC created,” Antony continued, unaffected. “And while we all understand that collateral damage happens, they clearly don’t know when to quit. I will not have my businesses and family affected from their mess.”
    “We’re going to make them quit,” Dante said, coming to stand beside his brother’s chair.
    “What, pull a Montreal?”
    A couple of decades earlier, an Italian crime family in Montreal, Canada stepped in during turf wars between rival gangs to put a stop to the bloodshed and violence. Oddly enough, it worked.
    Antony gave him an unhappy look. “I wouldn’t say that. This isn’t a couple of kiddy gangs tossing lead at one another. This is the police, and a well-known, well-organized motorcycle gang that has over one-hundred-fifty clubs all across the United States and some in Canada. It’s not exactly going to be an easy thing, but it needs to stop.”
    Fear was a great motivator.
    The Marcello family was surely big enough to pull weight here.
    “No, probably not easy,” Lucian agreed. “But what is?”
    “I want it finished,” his father said finally, a sadness coloring up his tone. “Let’s sit down and make a list of names—important ones. We can easily set something up to meet with the President of the club and whoever else he wants there.”
    “And if they don’t take your … advice … seriously?” Lucian asked.
    “We’ll start crossing off names until they do,” Dante finished for their father.
    Sounded simple enough, didn’t it?
    It rarely ever was.

Chapter Two
     
     
    Church was always a fucking spectacle.
    Lucian understood the importance his mother and father held for religion, respected them for it even, but that didn’t mean he particularly liked it. Mass on Sundays was a four hour—at least—event because the congregation of their church was massive. It never ended.
    But, why Lucian disliked the event the most, was because he felt like a flea under a microscope. The Marcello family had attended this church ever since Antony’s great-grandfather stepped off the boat from Sicily ninety-something odd years earlier. They were big donators to the church, not to mention the many charities it funded.
    After all, they had so much money when others had so damned little. Apparently the church didn’t give a crap where the money came from, or how it was made, so long as pockets were always filled.
    The congregation knew, though. Or it sure seemed like it.
    It probably didn’t help that without question or prompting, the very front pew was reserved only for Antony’s family. No one ever took their place. By the time they arrived to the church, it was nearly filled. Walking past row after row of people who couldn’t help but stare and whisper was annoying.
    They were recognizable faces. Each Marcello son toted a fortune behind his name and an aura of danger mixed in with a heavy dose of charisma and charm. It didn’t seem to matter their name also carried the weight of organized crime and a Cosa Nostra legacy. Good looks, a cocky as hell smirk, and a nice car fixed all the concern right up. They were a handsome bunch; fit, and tall. Always with fitted suits that cost more than what most people who attended the church made in a month.
    Socialite magazines labeled them all