Chapter 19
There was an old coat factory on Staten Island that used to be famous for its stylish and edgy fashion trends. It was owned by the Bertolli family, one of the most dangerous families in New York City, and was said to be their headquarters. Although the Bertolli family was forced to do all business dealings on Staten Island, they counted many riches. When Benzino Bertolli died, he rightfully passed the torch to his son, Bosco, who took over with ease. He ran things differently than his father, and business seemed to be going great . . . until it wasn’t.
A silver Wraith parked inside the garage that was connected to the coat factory, and a black SUV parked next to it. Namir Lucas’s door was opened for him, and he got out to begin his journey into the factory. Three men walked in front of him, and three walked behind him. There was a little bit of a pep in Namir’s step, and it was mainly because he wanted to know what the problem was. He hadn’t heard from Bosco in months, and not only that, but no shipments had come in or out . . . for anything. No drugs, no weapons, nothing. It was something that had never happened before, and it was something Namir never anticipated. He was used to the business working for him, not the other way around.
Once inside, Namir and his entourage walked past the customers inside the business, ignoring their curious eyes. They went through a set of doors that led them to the warehouse of the business, which was also where the offices were. As he suspected, the hallway that led to the offices was blocked off by four Italian men. However, upon seeing Namir, they cleared a path for him without a word. He recognized their faces, but he never had been good with names, especially of those beneath him. They were like worker ants who did what they were told, except it was apparent that nobody was working.
“Where’s Bosco?” Namir asked before he passed them.
“Bosco?” one of the men asked. He was the shorter one of the group and stared up at the six-foot-tall black man in front of him. “Did you just ask where Bosco is?”
“What’s your name?” Namir asked him.
“H . . . Henry.”
“Well, Henry, I hate when people hear exactly what the fuck I said but ask me to clarify what I said. It’s stupid and a waste of my time.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again,” Henry said, and Namir contemplated making a quick example out of him.
“Namir!” a voice boomed, and Namir turned his attention to the owner of it.
He was expecting to see Bosco, but it wasn’t him. Instead, it was Matteo, Bosco’s younger brother and a man Namir hadn’t laid eyes on in years. Matteo hated living in his brother’s shadow, so he moved out of state and started a new life, one he could call his own, which was why Namir was even more confused to see him.
“Matteo, what are you doing here? And where the hell is Bosco?”
Matteo glanced quickly at his men and cleared his throat. There was something going on, but Namir couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t help thinking about the worst-case scenario, and that was Bosco running off with his money. What if Bosco woke up one day and decided to undermine the Lucas name by going against them? It was a less likely possibility, but still it was a possibility.
“How about you come into my office and we discuss everything?” Matteo suggested and led Namir inside the first office space.
Their men stayed put, and Matteo closed the door on them. Namir sat down in a comfortable chair, and Matteo took a seat on top of the desk. There was an uncomfortable look on his face, but that didn’t stop him from starting the conversation.
“If I had been expecting you, then I would have been more prepared, and for that I apologize, Namir.”
“It seems you might have a lot to apologize for. Money hasn’t been flowing properly. Nothing has been moved in or out of Staten Island for months. So you should have been expecting me.” Namir raised a brow at him. “And actually, not you. Your brother. He’s been handling my affairs here for the last year while I’ve been gone. I want to speak to him.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be able to happen.”
“And why not? Where’s Bosco?”
“Dead,” Matteo told him, and Namir paused for a moment to register that.
“And Eduardo?”
“Dead.”
“Stefano too?”
“No, he’s alive. He’s the one who talked me into coming back. Since we’re under new management.”
Namir was too stuck on the fact that Bosco was dead and he hadn’t heard anything about it until that very second. It was true that Namir had been country hopping, but still, normally news like that traveled fast. He ran a frustrated hand down his face.
“How did Bosco die?”
“He was murdered.”
“Fucking murdered? And nobody sent word to me about this?”
“There was no time. Things happened so fast.”
“Who would do something so stupid? Don’t these motherfuckas know that we’re protected?”
“Not anymore. A lot has changed since you decided to go off and explore the world,” Matteo sighed. “A war broke out within the families. The pact that so-called kept everything running smoothly on all sides is over. Bosco was just one of the casualties. Caesar killed him.”
“Caesar King?”
“The one and only.”
“Okay.” Namir put praying hands to his lips and processed the information. “I can catch up on all that later. Bosco’s dead, fine. What does that have to do with my money?”
“I think it would be best to catch up on everything now. Because . . . then you’ll understand why there is no money.”
“What the hell do you mean there is no money?” Namir sat up straight in his seat. “How is that even possible?”
“One name. Boogie Tolliver. When all the fighting was going on, the Chinese pulled away from the table when he killed Li.”
“Wait,” Namir interrupted. “Tolliver as in Barry Tolliver’s son?”
“Yes. Barry who’s dead, by the way.”
“All these motherfuckas dying while I’m gone. Great.”
“Barry’s death was what ignited the war.”
Namir’s head was starting to hurt. He’d been gone a single year, and so much had drastically changed. If Matteo weren’t telling the story with a straight face, he wouldn’t have believed him.
“Okay, continue telling me about this Boogie character.”
“When he went to war with the other families, he needed a bigger army. So with Bosco dead—”
“He came to Staten Island to set up shop.”
“More than that. He completely took over everything. And he had the manpower to do it.”
“You let him?”
“You don’t know Boogie. He didn’t give Stefano much choice.”
“And what did he do to earn your loyalty that quickly? They killed your brother.”
“And now I have other family to think about. Boogie did what nobody dared to do. He went to war with every family at the same time, and I think he would have won. That motherfucka isn’t somebody you want to cross. He’s a monster in human form. I thought he was gonna kill everybody, but then the fighting just seemed to stop.”
“So they aren’t feuding anymore?”
“No, but like I said, the Chinese pulled away from the table. And with the fifth seat open, I’m sure it’s not hard for you to guess what happened next.”
“He converted the Romano family.”
“Yes, he did. Which means all our money goes that way.”
“And what if I just kill you right now for your disloyalty?”
“You could, but that wouldn’t change the fact that you won’t be making another dime from us.” Matteo shrugged. “My advice to you is that maybe you should be more hands-on in business. And a second piece of advice would be to go to the head honcho himself.”
Namir wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in the middle of Matteo’s eyes, but he didn’t. If what Matteo said was true, it wouldn’t solve anything. But there was more to it than that. From the moment Namir stepped inside the office, he’d noticed a carelessness about the Italian man. Even while Matteo was explaining, there was no regret in his voice, no fear of consequence. It was almost like he was untouchable. No . . . protected. He couldn’t help but think that Matteo even explaining anything was more out of respect than duty.
Namir glared at him and stood. He didn’t say a word when he left the office. The moment he stepped out, his men knew to assume the same formation to lead him back to his vehicle. Once he was safely in the back seat of the Wraith, Namir pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Son! Did you get that handled on Staten Island?” Nasir Lucas’s voice sounded on the other end.
“Dad,” Namir sighed, knowing that what he had to say his father wouldn’t want to hear. “I’ma tell you what was just told to me. And it’s bad.”
There’s no order in chaos.