Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 93

Chapter Ninety–Three

Matteo kept a firm hand on Genevieve’s shoulder as the priest read from the Bible. His eyes scanned the crowd of people who had shown up to give their respects to Joe and Willy. While not brothers by blood, the two had always been close: taking on assignments together, working as a single unit as if they’d been conjoined twins separated at birth. It was destined for the two to die together… but not with two bullets in the back of the head execution style.

As the priest read from the Old Testament, Matteo stared at the two caskets perched above the perfectly rectangular holes. It had only been three months since he’d been in this same cemetery watching a similarly morbid scene. Except in that situation, he’d been the one standing up front vowing revenge. He felt Genevieve’s hand slide up over his and wrap around his wrist for support. Without thinking about it, he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Touching her was already muscle memory. Her hand squeezed and she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief he’d brought for her: a handkerchief his mother had given to him at his father’s funeral.

Matteo sighed and looked at the two families sitting in the front rows torn apart because of the nasty way his own family made money. Willy had two daughters, a wife, siblings, a loving mother and a stern father. All of whom stared at the casket with hatred, as if they knew exactly who was responsible and would get their justice in time. Joe… the only member of his family who showed was his sister, Amelia.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she had no strength to wipe them. Joe had been homeless, a heroin addict when Frankie found him and brought him

into the fold. Joining a mafia family after everything else he’d put his family through didn’t lead to any miraculous reconciliation, only more anger and fear.

Amelia was the only one who never abandoned him. She’d be the one receiving compensation for his death… not that it ever made the family feel any

better.

Frankie sighed and shifted on his feet beside him. Matteo gave him a sideways glance and watched him pull at the collar of his dress shirt. He was Matteo’s

second, the liaison between himself and the men who followed them, their biggest advocate. That’s why when Frankie showed up to escort Gen and himself

to the funeral the two had hugged, given each other a slap on the back, and continued on as if Matteo hadn’t plowed his fist into Frankie’s skull hard

enough to give him a concussion.

Feeling his gaze, Frankie glanced over at him and gave him a questioning look then winced when it caused the cut in his cheek to reopen. Matteo shook his

head. He was lucky to not be in a coma after what he’d said. But he wasn’t wrong. About any of it.

The priest went silent and clutched his bible to his chest as the process of lowering the caskets began. Matteo nudged Frankie and the two of them split

apart: one moving to the left of the crowd, one to the right. They both carried a bouquet of red and white roses. As the caskets lowered, Matteo and Frankie

threw one rose of each color on top of the dark wood. Then they turned and handed the bouquet to the grieving family. Matteo looked into the eyes of the

man who had raised Willy. His jaw was set firm, his eyes were glassy.

Matteo felt his own eyes sting as he lowered himself to one knee. “The sacrifice your son made will forever be remembered by everyone here… by me. I

promise you I will find the ones responsible. I’ll make sure they suffer and feel as much pain as your entire family does at this singular moment. Mr.

Costanza… I am truly and deeply sorry,” Matteo said, his voice low.

Willy’s father gave one sharp nod and took the bouquet. His wife clung to his arm like a lifeline as he rose from his seat and walked toward his son’s casket.

He and his wife took turns throwing roses into the hole about to consume their son. Matteo looked toward Frankie who was supporting most of Amelia’s

weight. She stared down at the grave and in one fluid motion threw all of the roses at once, scattering them over her brother’s casket. It was done.

Matteo returned to Gen’s side and placed his hand on her shoulder again as everyone began giving their condolences to the families. Gen tried to stand but

Matteo kept his hand firm. She’d fallen asleep in the car the night before on the way home and woken up in pain due to her implant.

“Matteo,” Gen whispered. “I need to give my sympathies.”

Matteo leaned down close to her ear. “And you will… once the line dies down. There’s no need for you to stand for thirty minutes while you wait.”

Just then Matteo noticed a man lurking by the trees near the road. Their eyes locked and the man waved. Matteo stood and sighed just as Frankie appeared

beside him.

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Chapter Ninety–Three

“O’Brien’s here,” Frankie informed him.

“I know.”

“O’Brien?” Gen asked. “Matteo, this is a funeral.”

“Some things can’t wait, Genevieve,” Matteo told her. “What were the doctor’s orders?”

Gen let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t put weight on my leg.”

Matteo leaned down again. “And mine?”

Gen crossed her arms in defiance. “If you’re not next to me I better be next to Leo.”

Leo gave a nod while he caressed Lucy’s stomach. Lucy was not a fan of Matteo, made even less so by having to attend yet another funeral of men in the same organization as her husband. She hadn’t looked at or spoken to Matteo since the hospital. He was fine with that, he had his hands full with his own

woman.

“I’ll be right back,” Matteo told Gen, kissing the top of her head.

As he walked away he could hear her muttering behind him. Then, “Leo, I’m just going to…”

Matteo swiveled around. “Genevieve Sinclair, if your ass leaves that chair I’ll turn it redder than your cheeks are about to be,” he warned loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear.

Gen’s mouth hung open in shock and, just as expected, her cheeks flooded with color. He ignored the snickering of people nearby as he turned on his heel and continued on with his mission. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and fumbled with the lighter as he made his way toward O’Brien.

“Beautiful service,” O’Brien observed as Matteo reached him.

“Thanks for coming,” Matteo said, blowing a plume of smoke above their heads.

“Happy to. Especially after all that I’ve heard through the grapevine this morning. You have quite a fearless woman. From a fuck in the elevator to confronting a Don on her own?” O’Brien whistled. “I need me one of those.”

“I want to talk to you about Galante,” Matteo said, ignoring his comments about Gen. He wasn’t ready to dwell on that. He wasn’t ready to deal with his anger… his fear.

“I figured. Is he the fucker going after my men?”

tracks.”

“I don’t think so. I had a woman in Galante’s inner circle. There was never mention of any attacks on the tracks.”

“What makes you think Galante would tell her?” O’Brien asked. Matteo took another pull. “Ahh, I see.” He chuckled. “One of those kind of plants. You’ll have to tell me where you find these women. Mine are always a disappointment.”

“She’s smart. She wouldn’t have outed herself. She’s a professional. There’s nothing linking her to my family. But, someone told Galante. Someone in my own ranks. Plus Genevive got a read on Galante. He’s not the one putting out hits on the tracks. He doesn’t have the resources to run that kind of operation. The last thing he’d want to do is damage any partnerships I may have. He thinks he can just pick up the paton and keep running after he takes me out.”

“Ah, family. At least we have them to lean on.”

Chapter Ninety–Three

“I think I know who’s going after our tracks,” Matteo said, finishing off his cigarette and taking out another. He noticed Genevieve glancing around while

she tried to stand. He shook his head. Their eyes met and even from this distance he could see hers roll to the back of her head. He pointed downward and she sat back down in a huff that quickly turned to a look of pain as she forgot her incision site. “You have informants in the FBI, right?”

“One.”

“I am looking into Luca Guerra.”

“Hot shot, up and comer in LA?”

“The very one. I can’t get a lead on him. I found his connections to the LAPD but the trail went cold quick.”

“You think he’s connected to a higher organization?”

“He has to be.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Under one condition,” O’Brien said.

Matteo sighed and took a drag before he turned his attention from Gen to O’Brien. “What?”

“I want Bella back,” O’Brien stated.

Matteo snorted. “She came to me, remember?”

O’Brien shrugged. “Came to you, was ordered to, tom–ay–to, tom–ah–to.”

“You think I didn’t know? Come on O’Brien,” Matteo said with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.

“Is that why you never went to bed with her? See, I need your help finding me some better infiltrators.”

Matteo chuckled at that. “Family secrets, I’m afraid. Besides, I didn’t go to bed with her because I don’t dip my dick in company ink. You miscalculated there,”

“Oh, really?” O’Brien asked, his eyes going back to the woman Leo was currently helping to stand so they could meet with the family. Gen stuck her tongue out at Matteo and he found himself rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

“I dipped my dick in that ink before it belonged to the company,” Matteo explained.

“Well, we both know Bella won’t come back on her own. She’s gotten too comfy where she’s at.”

Matteo took a moment to think… or pretend to. He knew O’Brien would ask for Bella back. He’d hoped for it, even. She was a nuisance, an annoying obstacle Gen was constantly nervous about. But he couldn’t make it seem like he was too eager, O’Brien would merely ask for more.

“Give me a real name on Guerra. I’ll fire Bella and make her unhirable. She’ll have no choice but to go running back into your pervy arms,” Matteo agreed, stalking off before O’Brien could ask for more.

He watched Genevieve lower herself into the chair beside Amelia and wrap her in a hug. Tears slid down Gen’s cheeks as she closed her eyes. She held

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Chapter Ninety–Three

Amelia in a fierce grip that said she would do anything if she could take away her pain, even if it meant taking it on herself. Matteo stumbled to the nearest

chair and sat down hard.