American Dynasty

T H I R T Y - F O U R

Beppe normally was not a betting man. He liked being sure of himself and not taking unnecessary risks. What he didn't like were his odds of surviving as Joe Masseria's car pulled up to an all familiar house in the Bronx. 

"Salvatore will not help us," Beppe said flatly. 

"Why not?' Joe asked, adjusting his fedora so it sat crookedly on top of his chubby head. "He's an old friend of both yours and mine." 

"Yes, a friend that we've both tried to kill multiple times and who's returned the favour," Beppe retorted, his tone sour. "This is a bad idea, no matter how much you want to beat Flynn." 

"I don't just want to beat him, Beppe. I want to run him so far deep into the ground there's no chance of him getting back up. I want to make him regret ever being brought into this world," Joe said with a clenched jaw. "Besides, I have an ace up my sleeve." 

Joe opened the car door with a flourish and climbed out. Two of D'Aquila's enforcers were already waiting for them at the driveway, their Tommy guns poised to fire in an instant. "Gentlemen," Joe called out, a grin on his face. "Your boss is expecting me." 

Beppe slowly climbed out onto the street, eyeing the enforcers' guns warily. The biggest of the two scoffed. "You must have a death wish." 

Joe shrugged casually. "Perhaps, or I'm just confident I'll be going to a better place." 

The enforcer chuckled darkly but lowered his gun. "I think we both know that you're the last person who'd end up in Heaven." 

"Maybe not the last person, but it would be a close tie," said a voice from the door. Salvatore D'Aquila stood there, whiskey in one hand and gun dangling from the other. The way he was holding the firearm was loose, but Beppe had no doubt that quicker than either of them would be able to react, Salvatore would shoot them both dead. Salvatore was not an imposing man, but his icy cold demeanor made up for it. With a chill, Beppe realized that Flynn was the same way. Not the tallest, nor the loudest, but they both dominated the room and made those around them quiver with a single glare. How Stella had shackled herself up with someone like him, he could not understand. He thought he had raised her better. 

"Toto," Joe greeted him with a warm smile. 

"What do you want, Joe?" Salvatore spat. "

Come now, is that any way to treat an old friend?" Joe crooned. 

"Last I checked, you and I were in the middle of a war," Salvatore said dryly, his eyes trained on Beppe. "You've aged, Biancardi. I imagine it's the stress of picking the wrong side." 

"You're awfully confident of that," Joe remarked nonchalantly. 

Salvatore chuckled. "You act as if I have no idea what's going on. Do not forget, Joe, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know what happened with Dempsey and honestly, it serves you right for trusting him. That boy is as power-hungry as they come." 

"I know that now," Joe said with a forced smile. "We've since parted ways. That being said, I was hoping you were open to negotiations." 

Salvatore let out a hearty laugh. "What in God's name makes you think that I'd ever trust you again? If you had things your way, I would have been in a grave years ago." 

"While that may be true, we now have a common interest. May I come in?" 

Salvatore's eyes trailed along Joe's and Beppe's entourage. "Just you two," he said, motioning towards them with his gun. "The rest of them stay outside with your weapons." 

Joe bowed his head and handed his gun to one of his men before he climbed the stairs of the porch. Beppe followed behind him, but not without shooting Salvatore a meaningful look. "I'm sorry, Toto." 

Salvatore sniffed indifferently. "I'm sure you are." 

Joe had made himself comfy in the living room and was lighting up a cigar. "Dempsey is attempting to cement the supremacy of the Irish Mob with him as the boss in charge of it all. That means a lot of trouble for you and I," he said, thick smoke clouds escaping from his lips. 

Salvatore's bottom lip curled over his teeth. "Indeed, it does. What you might have not considered however, is that I have my own plans for this city." 

Joe let out a short laugh. "You always have plans, Toto, but they don't always work out now, do they?" 

Salvatore smiled grimly. "I do have an advantage this time, and it's quite a big one at that." 

"You've piqued my curiosity," Joe said casually, but Beppe could hear the note of apprehension in his voice. 

"Nothing wreaks havoc on a gang like a mole," Salvatore began, lighting up a cigarette. "I've known about your little partnership with Dempsey for some time now, thanks to my informant. I also know what he's had in store for you this whole time. Shame it didn't quite go the way you thought it would." Salvatore tilted his head and smiled. "Tell me, what is it like to be made a complete fool by a boy nearly half your age?" 

Joe sneered but held his tongue. Beppe cleared his throat. "Mole or no, you still need our help, Salvatore. Dempsey is mobilizing the Mob and...some other setbacks occurred tonight." 

"Setbacks?" Salvatore asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Dempsey's been bedding Beppe's daughter," Joe blurted out. 

Beppe was livid, but Salvatore simply smirked. "Oh, yes, I already knew about that too." 

Joe's eyes squinted suspiciously. "We only found out about that tonight. Who exactly is your mole?" 

"That would be me," said a voice from the stairs. A tall, blonde man descended from the steps, his cold blue eyes taking stock of the situation in the room. Aiden smirked and poured himself a drink from the bar cart. "It seems I'm just full of surprises tonight."