Chapter 9 - The BrotherThe New York Botanical Garden was filled with families.
That was the first thing Nora hated.
Children moved between winter exhibitions wearing bright coats.
Parents carried paper cups of coffee.
Tourists photographed orchids inside the conservatory.
Normal life.
Creed chose the location deliberately.
Lorenzo could not surround it with armed men without attracting attention.
He could not close the building.
He could not transform the area into a battlefield.
For once, power became inconvenient.
Nora entered the glass conservatory at noon.
She wore a cream wool coat.
No firearm.
At least not technically.
Carmine placed a ceramic blade inside the lining near her wrist.
Lorenzo objected to the entire operation.
His objection lasted from midnight until 9:30 a.m.
It included threats.
Arguments.
Silence.
Another argument.
And eventually a compromise involving fourteen surveillance positions, three medical teams, hidden trackers inside Nora’s shoes, coat, watch, and handbag, and a statement from Nora that if he placed anything else on her body without permission she would resign for real.
Now she walked alone.
Her earpiece remained silent.
That had been Creed’s condition.
No active communications.
Lorenzo’s people could watch.
They could not speak to her.
Nora moved toward the central palm gallery.
A man stood beside the reflecting pool.
Forty-one.
Maybe forty-two.
Dark hair touched by silver.
Tailored navy coat.
Tall.
Controlled.
Nora stopped.
The resemblance was not immediate.
Then he turned.
The eyes.
Not color.
Expression.
The same stillness Lorenzo possessed before violence.
Samuel Creed smiled.
“Nora.”
She approached.
“You look less dramatic than expected.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You expected horns?”
“Maybe a cape.”
“You disappoint me.”
“I receive that frequently.”
Creed gestured toward a bench.
Nora remained standing.
“I prefer exits.”
His smile deepened.
“I understand what he sees in you.”
“You understand very little about Lorenzo.”
“I understand him better than anyone.”
“You have apparently spent years proving that.”
Creed looked toward the glass roof.
“He built a beautiful prison.”
“You mean the organization?”
“I mean himself.”
Nora said nothing.
Creed continued.
“My brother believes fear is respect.”
“He believes possession is love.”
“He believes killing a problem solves it.”
Nora folded her hands.
“And yet you used Russians to abduct a disabled woman.”
His expression changed slightly.
“I did not order Victor to harm her.”
“Comforting.”
“I needed Lorenzo emotionally compromised.”
“You nearly killed him.”
“That was Victor.”
“You handed Victor the information.”
“Yes.”
“So save the distinction for someone stupid.”
Creed studied her.
“You hate me.”
“I do not know you well enough.”
“That sounds like him.”
“No.”
Nora looked directly at him.
“That sounds like me.”
For the first time, irritation crossed Creed’s face.
Good.
Nora continued.
“What do you want?”
“My inheritance.”
“Be specific.”
“The Conti organization.”
“Then you lied to Adrian.”
Creed became still.
Nora smiled faintly.
“He said you want Lorenzo to destroy it.”
“You spoke with Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“He is alive?”
“Currently.”
Creed looked toward the orchids.
“Then Carmine is becoming sentimental.”
“Age.”
A quiet laugh escaped Creed.
He looked back.
“I do not want the organization as it exists.”
“What do you want?”
“To dismantle Lorenzo.”
“Those are different things.”
“Not to me.”
Creed approached the pool.
“My mother spent years hiding because of his father.”
“Antonio protected her.”
“That is what his confession says.”
Nora’s pulse changed.
He knew about the confession.
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Because my mother told me another story.”
Creed’s voice hardened.
“She said Antonio refused to leave Palermo when Giancarlo became dangerous.”
“She begged.”
“He stayed.”
“He wanted his shop.”
“His pride.”
“His ordinary life.”
“By the time he finally helped her escape, it was too late.”
Nora listened.
“She loved Antonio?”
Creed looked surprised by the question.
“Yes.”
“Did she love Giancarlo?”
“No.”
“Then why do you serve him?”
“I do not.”
“You inherited his network.”
“I inherited tools.”
Creed’s jaw tightened.
“My father was a monster.”
“So was Pietro.”
“So were half the men around Lorenzo.”
Nora tilted her head.
“And yet Lorenzo is the only one you are punishing.”
“Because Lorenzo won.”
There.
The truth.
Not justice.
Not inheritance.
Not family.
Resentment.
Creed saw Nora understand.
His expression cooled.
“He received the name.”
“He received Antonio.”
“He received America.”
“He received an empire.”
“I received hiding.”
“My mother dying terrified.”
“And Giancarlo.”
Nora’s voice softened slightly.
“You were a child.”
Creed’s face changed.
Barely.
“Yes.”
“So was Lorenzo.”
“He became what hurt us.”
“And you did not?”
Silence.
Around them, children laughed beside tropical plants.
Creed looked toward her.
“You think you can save him.”
“No.”
Nora shook her head.
“I think he decides what kind of man he becomes every day.”
“Sometimes he chooses badly.”
Creed smiled.
“Badly?”
“He kills people.”
“I am aware.”
“And you accept that?”
“No.”
Nora’s answer came immediately.
“I understand it.”
“There is a difference.”
Creed studied her.
“Then leave him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Nora thought of Lorenzo sitting beside a hospital bed.
Lorenzo buying a pharmacy because he could not tolerate a problem he could not intimidate.
Lorenzo learning to ask instead of order.
Failing.
Trying again.
The man and the monster sharing one body.
“Because love is not approval.”
She looked at Creed.
“It is not blindness either.”
“I know exactly who he is.”
Creed’s eyes became cold.
“That certainty will kill you.”
“Perhaps.”
Nora looked toward his left hand.
A wedding ring.
Interesting.
“You have a family.”
Creed’s hand instinctively moved.
He noticed.
Too late.
Nora continued.
“Wife?”
“No.”
“Widower?”
His face closed.
“Not relevant.”
“Children?”
“Nora.”
“You threatened six captains through their families.”
“You used Matteo’s son.”
“You used my mother.”
She stepped closer.
“And you have spent this entire war assuming other people love more weakly than you do.”
Creed’s jaw tightened.
“You know nothing about my family.”
“Correct.”
“But Lorenzo will.”
Creed smiled without warmth.
“Threatening me?”
“No.”
Nora’s voice became flat.
“Explaining the problem with creating enemies who specialize in information.”
For the first time, Creed looked around the conservatory.
Not frightened.
Assessing.
Nora saw it.
“You thought Lorenzo would follow.”
“He did.”
“You thought Carmine would surround the building.”
“He did.”
“You thought Matteo would remain home grieving.”
Creed’s attention sharpened.
Nora continued.
“You forgot Frankie.”
A man carrying an enormous camera moved past them dressed like a tourist.
Frankie Russo.
His Hawaiian shirt beneath the winter coat was appalling.
Creed recognized him one second too late.
Frankie stopped beside a doorway.
The exit closed.
Another man appeared near the west corridor.
Then another.
Creed looked at Nora.
“You violated the agreement.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You said no Lorenzo and no Carmine.”
Frankie waved.
“You did not mention him.”
Frankie appeared delighted.
“I feel valued.”
Creed moved.
Fast.
A small blade entered his hand.
Nora stepped backward.
Frankie reached beneath the camera bag.
Then glass exploded above them.
A gunshot.
People screamed.
Nora dropped.
Creed did too.
The bullet struck a steel support.
Frankie shouted.
“That is not ours!”
Chaos filled the conservatory.
Families ran.
Security alarms activated.
Another shot shattered the reflecting pool.
Creed looked upward.
His expression carried genuine surprise.
Nora understood.
Someone else was shooting.
“Your people?”
She shouted.
“No.”
Creed grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a concrete planter as another bullet struck.
Frankie returned fire toward the upper gallery.
Nora looked at Creed.
“You protected me.”
He released her immediately.
“Instinct.”
“Whose sniper?”
“I do not know.”
A third shot came.
Creed’s shoulder jerked.
Blood appeared.
Nora caught him before he fell.
Frankie crossed toward them.
“We need to move.”
Creed looked toward the upper glass corridor.
Then understanding entered his face.
“Giancarlo.”
Nora froze.
“Your father?”
“He found me.”
“I thought he was dying.”
“He is.”
Creed pressed one hand against his wound.
“And he believes I failed.”
Lorenzo appeared through the east doors.
Nora had never been happier to see someone furious.
He crossed the distance.
“Nora.”
“I am fine.”
His eyes moved to Creed.
The world seemed to narrow.
Two brothers looked at each other for the first time.
Lorenzo stopped.
Creed laughed weakly.
“So.”
Lorenzo stared.
“You.”
“Yes.”
Nora felt blood moving between her fingers where she held Creed’s shoulder.
Lorenzo saw it.
His expression hardened.
“Why are you touching him?”
Nora stared.
“He has been shot.”
“That was not my question.”
“Your jealousy has extraordinary timing.”
Another gunshot struck nearby.
Carmine shouted from the entrance.
“Family reunion later.”
They moved.
Conti security evacuated them through a maintenance tunnel beneath the conservatory.
Creed lost consciousness inside the armored vehicle.
Lorenzo sat opposite him.
Nora beside Lorenzo.
Carmine drove.
Frankie occupied the passenger seat, still wearing the ridiculous tourist hat.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Then Lorenzo looked at Nora.
“You used Frankie.”
“Yes.”
“You deliberately interpreted my instruction literally.”
“Yes.”
“You knew exactly what I meant.”
“Yes.”
Frankie turned.
“For the record, I thought it was brilliant.”
Lorenzo stared.
Frankie faced forward again.
Nora leaned against Lorenzo.
“Someone tried to kill Creed.”
“My uncle.”
“Apparently.”
Lorenzo looked toward the unconscious man.
“My brother.”
The word sounded unfamiliar.
Nora placed her hand over his.
He did not pull away.
At the private medical facility, Bennett removed the bullet.
Creed survived.
When he awakened, Lorenzo stood beside the bed.
Nora remained near the doorway.
Creed opened his eyes.
“You should have let me die.”
“No.”
Lorenzo’s voice remained flat.
Creed laughed weakly.
“Mercy?”
“No.”
Lorenzo moved closer.
“You know where Giancarlo is.”
Creed’s smile disappeared.
“He will kill everyone around you.”
“He already tried.”
“You do not understand him.”
“Then explain.”
Creed looked toward Nora.
Then back toward Lorenzo.
“He has cancer.”
“Months.”
“Maybe weeks.”
“He wants one thing before he dies.”
“What?”
Creed’s face became pale beneath the hospital light.
“To see which son deserves the Conti name.”
Lorenzo stared.
Creed continued.
“He built this war to force us against each other.”
“The money.”
“The threats.”
“The Russians.”
“The lies.”
“He wanted me to destroy your empire.”
“He wanted you to kill me.”
A bitter smile crossed Creed’s face.
“He believes the survivor proves himself.”
Nora felt disgust rise inside her.
Lorenzo’s expression became completely empty.
“Where is he?”
Creed closed his eyes.
“Palermo.”
Lorenzo did not move.
“At the butcher shop.”
The old butcher shop.
Antonio’s shop.
The place where the hammer first fell.
Creed opened his eyes again.
“He rebuilt it.”
“He has been waiting.”
Nora looked toward Lorenzo.
She knew before he spoke.
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“You are not going.”
“I did not say I was.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The one before you become unreasonable.”
Nora folded her arms.
“My face is resting.”
Creed actually laughed.
Lorenzo ignored him.
“This ends in Palermo.”
“Yes.”
Nora looked directly at him.
“And we end it correctly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you do not walk into another building alone wearing tactical armor and a martyr complex.”
Lorenzo’s mouth tightened.
Nora took his hand.
“We go together.”
Creed looked between them.
“You really believe this ends with conversation?”
Nora turned toward him.
“No.”
“But I intend to make certain it does not end the way Giancarlo designed.”
For thirty years, Giancarlo Conti had built a test around violence.
Brother against brother.
Blood proving blood.
What he had not planned for was Nora Davies.
A woman with no respect for Mafia tradition.
May you like
No interest in inheritance.
And a remarkable talent for ruining carefully organized plans.
