smell the pumpernickel baking next.

“You know how it is. Life as a Capo.” I screwed the top on the milk container, put the jug back in the refrigerator, then began on the creamer.

“You got soldiers for a reason, you know,” Sergio said. He put the tray under his arm and looked at me, his other fist on his hip. “You work too goddamn hard. Micromanage too much.”

“Shit, Serg,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was getting a lecture this morning.”

Sergio laughed. “Guess I’m still annoyed about a couple nights ago.”

“Ah, come on,” I said. “I told you, that was important.”

“I know.” He frowned. “Did Vlas get the message?”

I shrugged. “Hoped you heard something.”

He shook his head and looked worried. He adjusted the string on his apron and looked at the floor. “Haven’t heard a peep, which makes me nervous. You know the Russians, they love to talk shit. But when they stop talking, then there’s a problem.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Vlas got the message. He doesn’t want war as much as I don’t. Just not profitable.”

Sergio grunted. “I don’t know. There are other rumors going around, rumors about Maksim himself.”

I raised an eyebrow as I finished with the creamer. I put the container back in the refrigerator, screwed on the lid, and carried the milk and the creamer pitchers back to their spot next to the wooden stirrers and to-go sleeves. “There are always rumors about the Russian boss.”

“Rumors about bad health this time. Could be Vlas is looking to gain some power before the succession.”

I shrugged and tried not to let that worry me. “He’s still not dumb enough to come at me, even with good pretext.”

“Yeah, true, true. I can’t deny that.” Sergio laughed. “When I was a Capo, you know how many soldiers I had?”

“Twelve,” I said.

“Twelve!” he repeated. “And you got how many?”

“Thirty,” I said.

“Thirty!” he repeated. “How the fuck did you get thirty guys to pledge their undying loyalty to you? Thirty fuckin’ made men. All sworn omerta.” He shook his head.

“Vlas has thirty-five,” I said, absently adjusting the to-go sleeves before I turned to him. “Look, I’m sorry I dropped a body on you. I really am. If I have another option next time, I’ll take it.”

He sighed and waved me off. “It’s fine, kid. I get it. I’m happy to help where I can, I just sometimes forget that I’m retired.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Look, kid. You want my advice? You don’t wait to hear from Vlas. You send word to him, show him some respect, make sure he knows what went down was beyond your control, but you’re making it right. Make it harder for him to have pretext.”

I clenched my jaw for a moment. “The idea of showing that piece of shit respect—”

“I know,” Sergio said, shaking his head. “He’s a wild animal. He’s sick. But you want to avoid war, right?”

“I do,” I grunted, though sometimes I wasn’t so sure. I knew it wasn’t profitable, and I know the Leones would be pissed, but sometimes I just wanted to roll up on Vlas with my full crew of loyal soldiers and let the chips fall as they may.

“Then send him a message.” Sergio picked his tray back up and held it in both hands. “But first, come get this door for me.”

I grinned, walked over, and held the kitchen door for him. I got a glimpse of a shining stainless steel kitchen with bowls in perfect rows, everything shining and bright. The smell of cooking bread blasted me in the face and I breathed it in like a sweet elixir. Sergio slipped past me and headed over to a row of dough.

I let the door shut and leaned up against the counter for a moment. I looked at the small bakery, at the tables and their gleaming metal legs, and I knew he was right. I should reach out to Vlas and make sure things were square. I was getting anxious, and I couldn’t risk fucking this up, not with so much at stake.

I walked to the front door and stepped outside. The bell rang and the CLOSED sign clattered as I let it shut behind me. I got out my phone and called Steven.

“Boss,” he grunted.

“Get your lazy ass up.”

He sighed into the receiver. “I’m up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Some of us sleep,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you’re a made man. Sleep when you’re—”

“What do you want, Dante?”

I grinned and looked down the street. The sun was coming up over the Philly rowhomes an I saw a few people starting to head to work. A guy in a suit moved past me with a backpack on, only letting his eyes drift over me for a moment. I was wearing my own suit, black jacket and black pants with my white shirt tucked in. It was my uniform, and I liked to always play the part.

Besides, the jacket covered the bulge of my gun, tucked into its holster at the center of my back.

“Need you to send Vlas’s people a message for me,” I said.

“Really?” He sounded a little more awake now.

“Really. Reach out and check in. See if they got our little apology present. See what they say.”

“Huh.” He was quiet for a moment.

“You think that’s a bad idea?”

“It’s just not like you,” he said. “The idea of showing a little extra respect seems like it’d be foreign.”

“It is,” I snapped. “Sergio told me to do it, so I’m doing it. Now you gonna obey your Capo or what?”

“Sure thing, boss,” he said with a laugh. “Should’ve known that was Sergio.”

I sighed and rubbed my cheek. “Get your ass to the bakery in an hour,” I grunted. “And wake up the others. I want double guys on the streets today. I got a bad fucking feeling.”

“I will,” Steven said, tone serious again.

“Good.” I hung up then slipped my phone back into my pocket. My eyes moved down the street, past the trees growing from their dirt patches on the edge

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