Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 131

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty

“Damn, Boss,” Greg groaned as he picked up his mangled cafeteria tray. “I wasn’t done with my sandwich yet.”

Matteo gave Greg a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Greg threw his hands up in surrender before he went to grab napkins to wipe the blood from the table. Matteo clocked each guard as they grouped together to try to figure out how to handle this situation. Matteo had warned them all that he might need to take one man out to prove his dominance but what he hadn’t counted on was Frankie’s vendetta being so bloody. Which… was an oversight

on his part.

“I have to say I don’t think Michele has ever gotten his own hands dirty like that,” Philip observed, his eyes on the man laying lifeless on the floor.

Matteo flexed his knuckles. “I know he hasn’t. Some of us use our birthright like a shield. The Accardis like to lead by example. Now. Back to our

discussion.”

“What happened to my daughter?” Philip questioned, his eyes defiant but softening around the edges as if Matteo had cracked his resolve.

“I would tell you, but it was discussed in a meeting between the three families.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Son of a dead bitch, which is why I don’t give a fuck about your loyalty to Michele. Did you know? Did you know he had my mother killed?”

Philip sat back and tapped his knuckles against the table. “I knew he was thinking about it. He was trying to think of ways to break you. He needed the

money.”

“Chatty now?” Greg asked as he started wiping the blood away from Matteo’s side of the table.

“It’s nothing he doesn’t already know. Isn’t that right, Accardi?” Philip asked.

Matteo leaned forward. “I know he had my family killed. I know he’s broke. I know he’s trying everything in his power, even resorting to asking me for an apology, to try to get my business for himself. What I don’t know is why.”

Philip smiled. “Seems like you had a pretty good list right there.”

“We know none of that is enough to make a man throw away generations worth of loyalty.”

“Loyalty? To a family who split apart nearly two hundred years ago?”

“Yeah.”

Philip squirmed in his chair. He sighed and met Matteo’s eyes. “I want to know what happened to my daughter. I want to know she’s safe.”

Matteo sat back in his chair. “It’s admirable, what you want.” He looked around the room and observed the guards starting to clean up the mess Frankie had made. “Freedom for your family in exchange for your own. The only problem is, with you in here, who can you trust to protect them out there?”

Philip snorted. “You?”

Matteo shook his head. “Conor.”

“No. I don’t want him involved in my childrens’…”

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty

“He wouldn’t be. We both know how he feels for your daughter. We both know he’d do anything to protect her. This is my offer,” Matteo started, his eyes firm and his jaw set. “We have a plan in motion to wipe Michele off the planet thus leaving your family vulnerable. You tell me what’s gotten Michele so amped up and seeking power all the sudden and I can write up a contract stating that Conor will stay far from your family while also making sure no harm ever comes to them. They’ll still receive the massively over-drawn inheritance when you die. Your hot little wife can keep living her best life in Miami, I’ll make sure the twins get into whatever college they want. They’ll have a good, solid life.”

“And what if you get a sudden hankering for power, Accardi? Do I just wait for the next Mafia Don to come in and make a deal?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Matteo asked. He held up his left hand. “I’m a married man now. The only power I seek is over my woman and I’ll be fighting her for the

helm for decades.”

“And Conor? What about his need for power? As you said, I’d be signing the deal with him, right?”

Matteo sighed and tapped his knuckles against the table, leaving bloody prints behind. He clicked his tongue at the open wounds wondering if Gen would bring a first-aid kit whenever she was able to visit. “I can’t tell you specifics as of yet. They still need to be ironed out. But one thing I can assure you is

that Conor will never be Don.”

Matteo kept his eyes locked with Philip’s while the older man held an internal debate over this new information. A moment later Frankie plopped down into the seat beside Philip. Matteo raised an eyebrow at his second in command who looked as though he’d just received a massive release.

“Was all that really necessary?” Matteo asked.

Frankie dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “Yes, I think so.”

“You understand I’ll have to double the guards’ salaries and probably offer them jobs because there is no way in fuck their supervisors are going to buy

whatever story they spin?”

Frankie chuckled and smiled with sincerity for the first time in days. “Come on, we all know you have some spare pocket change.”

“Funny. Did you at least get what you needed?”

Frankie’s head fell forward and his smile turned into a grin. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” He held up a portion of a white shirt he’d probably ripped off the corpse lying in the custodial closet. There was an address written out in blood. “Illinois. The fucker’s got her in some compound outside of Chicago.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks!”

Matteo rolled his eyes and looked back at Philip who was watching their interaction with keen eyes. “So, Phil. What’s it going to be?”

“I want to see Conor. I want to speak with him myself and when or if I sign I want it to be his hand holding a pen. Not you.”

“Done.”

Philip sighed. “Tell me about my daughter.”

Matteo took in a deep breath and readjusted himself in his seat. “Michele got a package from one of the Irish families. In it there was a letter stating, *Family is everything. Enjoy never growing yours.” Philip shivered, his eyes locked with Matteo, knowing this letter was the least of it. “That wasn’t all he received. In the package, tied with a bow was…”

“Spit it out,” Philip whispered, all hostility gone to be replaced with a father’s worry. Matteo swallowed and started to think of the life growing within his wife’s womb. The fear of something like this happening to a daughter of his own gripped his heart in a vice and squeezed, making it difficult to get the

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty

words out. “Say it!” Philip yelled.

“Mira’s reproductive organs. Her uterus, ovaries, everything.”

Philip’s face whitened and his mouth hung open.

“Cristo,” Greg whispered, making the sign of the cross over his heart.

“Where is my daughter?” Philip asked.

“At school. She escaped the Irish, and managed to find her way to Scotland. Michele had her put up in a premier hospital there where she made a full recovery. She started attending Oxford as planned a few weeks ago,” Matteo explained, his voice soft now, filled with an understanding only achievable when you’re responsible for a life you have created.

Philip put his head in his hands. “She’ll never have a child.”

“No.”

“Who? Who did this?” Philip raised his head. “It’s the Phelans isn’t it?”

Matteo nodded. Philip took his tray and swiped it off the table.

“Fucking bitch!”

“Philip, I’ve told you what I know. Now it’s your turn. What has Michele up in arms? What is he afraid of?”

“The Phelans,” Philip answered, running his hand wildly through his hair.

“The Phelans? Why? His wife died years ago. I thought the issue was buried.”

“The issue with his wife was buried.”

“There was another issue?”

Philip sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands as if he was having to break a physical barrier to give out this information. At last he let out a long breath and settled his palms flat on the table. “It isn’t his wife that has the Phelans pissed off. It’s his child.”

“Conor?” Matteo and Frankie repeated at the same time.

Philip released a humorless laugh. “Yeah, no. After his wife died in childbirth, he met someone at her funeral. They started an affair that resulted in a

child.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know the child’s first name. I don’t even think he does. But I know what family the woman he had an affair with belonged to.”

“I’m waiting on bated breath,” Matteo hissed in annoyance.

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“O’Brien. The woman he fucked around with. She belonged to the Irish family O’Brien.”

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Accardi

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One

Geneveive walked through the entranceway to the track loving how the concrete tunnel caused the click of her heels to echo around her. It made her feel strong, powerful and she needed all she could get for her meeting with O’Brien. Leo followed closely behind her, having not left her side since the moment she’d touched back down on American soil.

It had been three days since she’d returned home and not a second of those days had been wasted… except by her husband. Two attempts to visit him had been denied. The first time was the afternoon in which Noah Bennett spent six hours interrogating him. The second visitation was denied because of some kind of incident between the convicts. It didn’t take much brain power to decipher who was the cause of said incident. Especially when the guards on duty came knocking, looking for a job they’d been promised.

The tunnel opened up and the bright sun bounced off her sunglasses as she walked along the railing to where she could see O’Brien waiting for her. Maisy sat on the bleachers, looking utterly annoyed as Mallory chatted animatedly beside her. Upon her approach Mallory surprised Gen with a beaming smile and

excited wave. Mallory jumped out of her seat earning an eye roll from Maisy and a step forward from Leo.

“Genevieve! It is so nice to see a familiar face,” Mallory expressed, gripping Gen in a tight hug that nearly snapped her bones.

“Uh, it’s nice to see you too, Mallory. I’m guessing the O’Brien’s are doing a good job in keeping you happy?” Gen asked, trying to reconcile the woman in

front of her with the one that had been so nasty to her from the start.

Mallory waved her hand. “They’re treating me wonderfully. The Royale was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“That’s nice. And you, Maisy? Did you find someone to hitch your wagon to?” Gen asked.

Maisy gave a tight smile. “Your husband ran off the only good prospect. Emmett here has never been one to campaign for me,” Maisy said, irritation lacing

her tone.

“There’s just never been anyone good enough for you, little sis,” O’Brien said with a mocking tone. “I need your talents elsewhere.”

“Where? All my talents are being squandered by you and Daddy,” Maisy hissed.

O’Brien rolled his eyes, looking very much like his sister in that moment, before he turned to face Gen and extended his hand. “Mrs. Accardi,” he greeted

with a few lifts of his eyebrows.

“Thanks for meeting me, Emmett,” Gen said, shaking his hand.

“Anything I can do for the Accardis, I’d be happy to help,” O’Brien confirmed.

“You mean anything you can do for the Accardis that gets you something in return?” Gen surmised, leaning against the railing beside him.

O’Brien chuckled. “You’ll do just fine in this business, Gen.”

“So people keep saying. I was told you have some information for me?”

O’Brien sighed, leaned over the railing and interlaced his fingers. “All pleasantries aside, Genevieve, I’m unhappy with how my men are being cared for at your tracks. We signed a contract that provides certain safety measures that are not being upheld.”

“I’ve familiarized myself with your contract, Emmett. While I can’t say I’m pleased with what Galante is trying to pull off, we’ve stationed two guards per one of your men as is stated in the ‘Times of Crisis’ clause as well as covered your losses for the disruptions in cash flow.”

“It’s not just Galante that’s causing us trouble, though, is it?” O’Brien pressed.

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One

Gen faced him more fully. “Our business is gambling, Mr. O’Brien, not drugs. That’s meant to be your forte. We’ve given you access to several of our tracks and whatever business you’re able to maintain through those tracks is solely up to you. Now, if you’d like a bit more insurance and cash flow that includes less risk, might I suggest going into food chain ownership or lawn care?”

O’Brien chuckled. “That sounds like something your husband would say.”

“You want to hear something else he would say? I’m very busy, Mr. O’Brien and this meeting has taken me two hours away from my office where I have a mountain of paper work to get through along with a few skulls I need to crack together… One of which belongs to my husband. I would like to hear what you want in return for the information you have so we can go back and forth for two minutes before agreeing to terms. Then you can divulge what you’ve learned and we can each go about our day with me being wiser and you being richer, hm?”

“Wish I had you on my team,” Maisy said from her seated position on the bleachers.

Gen sent her a wink before training her eyes back on her target.

“I’m guessing you want this track?” Gen asked, gesturing around the area.

“It’s Galantes’ turf,” O’Brien argued with an arched brow.

“You already know how we feel about Accardi’s cousin,” Gen answered.

“Pulls in millions each year.”

“To both parties. You want rights?”

“I want to own the whole damned thing.”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, Mrs. Accardi. You all have seven tracks? What’s one less?”

“Two less as we’ve already sold one to you this year and, from what I hear, you’re currently running it into the ground,” Gen clapped back.

“It’s not yours anymore so why do you care?”

“I care because our tracks make us millions, as you’ve so thoughtfully pointed out. I won’t hand over an impressive asset for information I don’t even know will help me,” Gen argued. “What do you really want?” Gen asked.

“Okay, okay, I want you to take Mallory back,” O’Brien suggested.

“What?!” Mallory shrieked, her voice edged with hurt.

Gen smirked, ignoring Mallory. “As Accardi already told you, no returns. Better luck next year.”

“Worth a shot.” O’Brien sighed and looked longingly out at the tracks. “Fine, I’ll settle for all of Michele’s current contracts with you.”

“No.”

“I want all of his track deals.”

“I can give you two.”

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One

“This one?” he asked eagerly.

“Florida and California,” Gen proposed.

“Why not this one?”

Gen looked out at the beautiful track and remembered the numerous times her father had brought her out here. Not to bet, her father never believed in betting, but to watch the horses. She rode in Georgia before they moved up north. The riding in New York City was too expensive and traveling far enough out of the city where it was cheaper wasn’t feasible. So, every few weeks she and her father would travel out to the track.

Gen would walk along the grounds, petting any horse she was given permission to touch. They would sit on the bleachers and cheer on the various horses

based solely on which ones she thought were the most beautiful. They were some of her favorite memories.

“For the same reason I wouldn’t give you the Georgia track,” Gen answered, refusing to give him anything more intimate than that.

O’Brien clicked his tongue and looked back out at the track. He dropped his head down. “Fine,” he said, spinning and holding his hand out to shake. “Sole rights to the Florida and California tracks,” he proposed.

“Deal,” Gen said, taking his hand and shaking it. Before he could pull away, she tightened her grip. “Before we pull out the pens, though, let’s hear what you have to say.”

O’Brien smiled and pried his hand from her grasp. “Alright, Mrs. Accardi. Alright. Well, as you know my guys have been getting approached by men seemingly unaffiliated with any major player. Not trying to poach them from me, but poking around to see how they’d feel about having someone other than

Accardi to work under.”

“Your men don’t work under Accardi,” Gen said with a tight smile.

“That they do not,” he agreed. “Seems something Galante would know too, wouldn’t it?”

“You think it’s a different Italian family?” she asked.

“No,” he drawled out, waiting for her to guess again.

“Bennett? The FBI?”

“No,” he drawled again.

“O’Brien.”

“You’re no fun. Must have been a boring wedding. Have you heard of the Phelans?” O’Brien asked.

Gen noticed Maisy stiffen out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, Galante’s late wife was a Phelan. He married her against both families’ wishes and it caused a big stink for a few years.”

Maisy snorted, drawing both Gen’s eyes and O’Brien’s. “Sorry,” she said, looking away.

“Anyway…” O’Brien continued. “It lasted for more than a few years. In fact the families have never stopped going after each other. Earlier this year the Phelans made a statement to the Galantes. One I think is too horrific for a lady such as yourself to hear.”

“You think Galante is trying to make the Phelans happy?” Gen guessed.

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One

O’Brien shrugged. “If he is, he’s not doing a good job. The Phelans are out for blood.”

“If it’s blood they want, they can have as much as they want from Galante,” Gen told him.

“If it’s blood they wanted, Mrs. Accardi, they’d have enough to supply the Red Cross for decades.”

“Am I missing something here? Are you a mediator?” Gen asked, her suspicions in the O’Brien’s growing by the second.

“I’m merely trying to educate a new family member on the decades of rifts cracking their way through the industry.”

“Well get some caulk and get to the point,” Gen hissed.

O’Brien chuckled. “The Phelans want justice. They want what they had taken away from them. You saw for yourself what a deal at the Royale can give a

family. Galante took the Phelans’ main bargaining chip: their only child. He took away incentive, money, possibilities, their entire future. Now his child

threatens to derail both of their organizations. My guess is the Phelans are trying to get ahead of Michele’s takeover. Fuck up his future, as it were.”

“Conor has no interest in family business. Michele’s future is already crumbling without their help.”

“Conor? You think I was referring to Conor?”

“Does Galante have a child no one else knows about?”

O’Brien glanced over at Maisy who was listening intently.

“So the rumor goes. And whoever it is, wants to take over what both families have to offer.”

“I still haven’t heard any useful information worthy of two tracks,” Gen said.

O’Brien smiled. “It’s all pertinent, I promise you. But maybe this will perk your interest. Galante gave me a call yesterday. The Phelans are getting to him. He wants a meeting. Tomorrow. Says I can bring a friend,” he answered, his friendly smile turning wicked. “Care to be my date?”

Gen arched a brow. “What’s the dress code?”

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Accardi

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Two

“Accardi! You got a visitor,” the pig-faced guard announced.

Matteo set his book down and looked up at the guard standing in his doorway. “My lawyer isn’t due for a few hours.”

“What can I say? They’ve come early. Get your ass up or do I need to drag you out?” the guard asked.

Matteo rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, someone isn’t in a good mood today.”

“You got all of my buddies fired, Asshole.”

Matteo stood in front of the guard. “Fired, hired, given much better benefits. It’s not too late for you, Piggy. The offer still stands.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “Turn the fuck around.”

Matteo held his hands up in surrender and pivoted on his heel.

“What’s going on?” Frankie asked from his doorway window.

Neither of them had been let out since the incident from the day before. They’d received their meals through a slat in the door and were only allowed an

hour in one of the solitary yards. Frankie was going stir crazy. He needed to get them out of there.

“Don’t worry, Donati, your buddy will be back soon. No one is picking this mutt up from the pound any time soon,” Pig-Face mocked.

“His insults are getting better,” Frankie noted.

“I noticed. Much more fun to play with now,” Matteo agreed.

Pig-Face shoved Matteo out of his cell with a growl. Matteo looked back and winked at Frankie before the guard pushed him forward again.

“Don’t be gone too long, Honey, you know how I worry!” Frankie called.

The guard at Matteo’s back continued to push him forward through the labyrinth of halls leading to the visitation rooms. He hoped Roman’s early meeting meant things had moved faster than expected and he could get out of this hole. He had exactly what he needed. He just had to relay it all to Gen so she could get everything in place. He couldn’t get out too early and tip anyone off though. They had to play it just right.

The guard stopped at a checkpoint and started chatting with some coworkers. He felt Pig-Face turn him over to a new guard who gripped the middle of his handcuffs and led him through a door operated by a man behind bulletproof glass. They walked down a long hallway, the sound of the chains around his

ankles and wrists echoed around him.

“Here,” the man behind him announced, pulling Matteo to a stop in front of one of the visitation rooms,

The guard led him inside the brightly lit room. Matteo glanced around the white-walled space and down to the metal table in the center with a bar to hook handcuffs to. The guard walked him to the table.

“Spread ’em,” the guard demanded a second before knocking Matteo’s feet wider.

The guard removed the shackles around Matteo’s ankles and proceeded to uncuff his left hand.