Promised For Truce

Chapter 26

"Oh dear!" Serena exclaimed.

Nina followed the maid's line of eyesight, pushed the roller shades out of the way, and spotted her husband and Nero outside. The anger in Luciano's eyes was palpable enough to send chills along her spine.

Nero kept his distance as he talked to his Don. Apparently, Irish soldiers sauntered around at the horse race track. Grounds that unofficially belonged to The Outfit.

"Don't you fucking say they're not doing any funny business." Luciano dared Nero to speak against him.

"No, but this is not the time to do stupid things. Need I remind you that they are watching us even closer now." Nero said, knowing his cousin through and through.

Luciano shook his head, not wanting to listen to his consigliere, and opened the car door.

"What are you doing?" apprehension seeped into Nero's voice.

"Putting my foot down." Luciano slammed the door shut and drove away.

Luciano ripped his eyes off the rear-view mirror once he saw Nero was on his tail. Any other time, he would've at least listened to his advisor but lately, Luciano was high-strung – the smallest of inconveniences had him putting a strain on his vocal cords. It was one loss after another ever since that night. He stepped on the gas, wanting to get to the horse race track before any of the Irish soldiers were gone.

Those little shits think they're untouchable.

Once he reached his destination, he walked in strides toward the entrance and just then, the sound of screeching tires was heard in the background. Luciano didn't turn at it. He'd face his consigliere later on.

"Joe!" Luciano called out when he spotted one of his men.

The short soldier who informed him of the Irishmen hurried toward his boss. "They're right by the tracks, Don."

Luciano continued to walk down the shadowy hall while Joe was right behind him. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Joe fiddle with his fingers.

"Spit it out. What's wrong?" Luciano said.

"Uh...it's just that capo Orfeo and Paolo are already dealing with the situation. Won't we attract too much attention?"

The fierce scowl on Luciano caused the soldier to stitch his mouth shut and walk a few steps behind him.

"Joe," he said, making the soldier's ears perk up. "Nero will be here in a second and ask for me. I need you to lead him the other way."

"Yes, Don. What, uh, should I tell him?"

"Jesus Christ, make something up!"

Luciano stepped out into the sunlight, his eyes scanning the area before searching for his captains and the Irish soldiers. They were indeed right by the tracks. The group of four appeared to be in stalemate. The Irish soldiers their backs were unguarded as they were eye to eye with the Italian capos. One of the soldiers, Luciano knew all too well. The other one, not so much – comparatively speaking.

Luciano headed over to them, a look of delight veiling his face as if he was about to reunite with childhood friends.

Luciano slung his arms around the soldier and said, "I missed seeing you around, Dean. How is the hand?" Appal twisted into his features as he glimpsed at Dean's maimed hand. "That's not a pretty look. Did the doctors not help you out?" Luciano said in a mocking tone.

"We're not looking for a fight," the other Irish soldier said to Luciano.

Luciano eyed him. Hayden Banion, a nephew of Cillian. He remembered him as one of the more capricious men in the Irish Mob; as well as the man that kept sniffing around his mansion.