My Don Married My Pregnant Sister So I Choose His Mafia Rival novel · Chapter 24 of 32

Chapter 24: Relaunch

"Then I'll bring mine," I said.

The Bay Ridge boss was quiet on the line.

"How many have you got left, Mrs. Sarno?"

"One."

"Is it a good one?"

"It's the last one."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Ettore had stopped laughing.

"Saturday," he said.

"Four days."

"He knows you've got the card."

"He knows Angelina recanted. He doesn't know what else she gave me." I pushed my eggs away. "He's moving before the feds do. If the vote's done and the chair's his, he sits on the Cardone piers with two votes and a federal handler's phone number. Nobody touches him."

"The handler's done. They took his badge."

"Then he'll find another. Men like Cosimo always have a number."

Ettore turned his cup on the table again.

"Give the card to the supervisor," he said. "Today. Let them pick him up in his own driveway."

"And then what?"

"Then he's in a cell."

"For a week." I shook my head. "He's their informant, Ettore. Three years of Bay Ridge boys and longshoremen. He walks into that federal building, sits down with a lawyer and trades a dozen names for a new one of his own. They put him in a house in Arizona with a lawn, and the families never even hear the word murder."

Ettore said nothing.

He knew I was right.

"The table first," I said. "Every family sees that frame before any badge does. After that, they can't hide him."

The supervisor called me that afternoon.

"Mrs. Sarno. Your sister's statement is very thorough."

"Is my brother-in-law in custody?"

A pause.

"We're building a case. A recanting wife's word isn't enough to arrest a Don."

"I know," I said. "That's why I didn't bring you more."

She was quiet for a long moment.

"If you have evidence, I'd strongly advise…"

"Saturday," I said, and hung up.

On Friday morning the night launch came home.

The yard in Bayonne had had her since July.

My dock hands had gone across the Kill every weekend to rebuild her wheelhouse with the Sarno men.

They'd paid the yard in labor instead of money.

Now she came around the point on the high tide, towed by a yard tug.

I stood on my pier and forgot how to breathe.

New glass.

New white paint on the wheelhouse, still smelling of it from fifty feet away.

The black scorch marks on her hull were gone, sanded and faired and painted over.

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