Blind Trust with the Don

Chapter 8: Falling in Line.

Marcell's POV.

“The place has good bones," Stew commented, his wide brown eyes scanned the entire building.

James, or as most of us called him, Stew, didn't fit into the fold as well as the rest of the new recruits, and as hard as Ren tried to get me to turn the boy away, there was something in me that just couldn't tell him no. Instead, I kept him close. Pulled him beside me and carted him around town, educating him on s**t that no one needed an education on.

It was the worst contradiction. The need to give him a better life all while proving that a better life could be given inside this world, where at any given moment you could find yourself in the middle of a war where your friends could hug you, all while sticking a blade in your gut.

Red called it me paying a penance, a retributive justice for a life I was never given or whatever poetic brush of the pen to explain why I needed to give this nineteen-year-old kid a chance at a better life. Even if that meant that I was dragging him dead set in the center of the life that stripped me of any chances of authentic happiness.

“It needs a good cleaning is what it needs," Ren replied, brushing his hand across the banister of the staircase leading up to an impressive loft.

“It is good bones," I agreed with Stew. His head spun around, his eyes lit up with my agreement, the sun highlight his copper hair.

Stew had been nothing but skin and bones when he first came to me a year ago, begging for a spot in the new group that I was gathering. The boy had no natural skills that I was looking for, other than blending in with a crowd. All he wanted was a dry place to stay and a warm meal. Even now, a year later, with all of his meals provided and an apartment paid for, Stew was still a wisp of a kid.

“It's a good location," Ren said, pulling up a wooden stool left over by the last occupants that had owned the building before I purchased it with cash a few weeks ago.

“What are your plans for the building, Boss?" Stew said, walking back from digging through a mess of trash in the corner.

“The warehouse district is considered neutral territory in the new divisions. Don Marcell's plans for the building are to—"

Before Ren could finish his explanation to Stew, the single green metal door to building twenty-two opened. We all reached for our weapons instinctively while we waited for the bright sun to fade behind the man, who closed it tightly behind him.

“Sorry I'm late," Pauly apologized as he walked back from the closed door.

I inspected my girl's guard, appraising him for any sign of distress, for some type of clue how her first day at the firm had gone. Besides an all too short phone call as promised at lunch, I hadn't heard from her, and though I would never admit it to anyone Though, I'm sure that Pauly knew the consequences of bringing her uninvited, I was saddened that he was able to leave her behind safely in her apartment.

“She's home," Pauly said quietly, pulling a low stool up next to me. “Hals with her. Her first day went well. She's safe. Tired. But safe."

“Whose first day?" Stew asked.

“No one," Pauly and I said at the same time.

I nodded my thanks to Pauly, taking a full breath and closing my eyes briefly to try and release the panic I had been holding onto all day. The turmoil of thoughts distracted me terribly as I tried to focus on the ever-growing tension.

“Fulton Market, other known as the warehouse district, sits in the middle of the neutral territories as it now sits." Ren started again explaining the history of where we sat.

He noticed that I had needed a moment to collect myself before I slipped my mask back on, even though I trusted these men, even though they would understand why I worried about the woman I cared about.

“As the new territories have been divided, there's about a four-block radius that are considered neutral—"

“Who knows of this knowledge?" Pauly asked.

“No one yet," I responded. “I needed to ensure that I had acquired the correct location and that we had a good footing in the community before I opened it up to the other men."

“So, this is like base?" Stew asked.

“No…" Ren's face was marred with confusion as he missed Stew's reference.

“Yes. This is base. No one will be allowed to touch us here. Tell those who are important to you about this place. If you or they ever find yourselves in any sticky situations, don't call until you're safely here."

“What's the concern," Pauly asked, sitting up straighter on his stool.

I suddenly noticed under his normal faded red hoody he was wearing the blue pinstripe dress shirt I had given him for the first day at the office with Olivia. The button-down didn't fit him as well as I had thought. His shoulders were the same size as mine, but his arms were double my size. I made a mental note to give him my card and have him go purchase more comfortable work attire.

“There's building tension in the syndicate," Rend vaguely explained.

“How deep is the concern?"

Pauly's weirdly worded question wouldn't have made sense to most people, but it made complete sense to all of us in the room. Pauly wanted to know if the tension had a chance of reaching those in our exterior lives. People like Olivia.

“Right now, it's internal," I replied, and even though I heard my words, I didn't fully believe them.

“For now. But unless we start growing the numbers of those who are allegiant to you then we will find ourselves in the middle of this tension more often than not." Ren wasn't challenging me; he was merely voicing the truth.

“Ren is right. The era of those in power being of old blood is coming to an end. It's time to openly recruit those who will be loyal, to not only our investments but to the Russo family name."

“So, you want us to start recruiting?" Pauly asked.

I looked at Stew before I replied to Pauly. Stew was watching us all. I was positive he hadn't blinked since we had started talking about the brewing tension in the syndicate. Boys like Stew were no different than boys like me, dreaming of the day they could be legitimate members of the society that would offer them a chance at surviving. I had to put a bullet in the head of the man who stood in my way. I just hoped I could save Stew from that choice.

“Quietly. Yes. Our numbers are nothing in comparison to the other four families. But we don't want to lend to anyone's growing suspicion."

“What are you going to do about him, Marcell? He's not going to be appeased by the expansion of his territories," Ren remarked.

“Who?" Pauly asked Ren but his eyes burrowed a hole in the side of my face.

“Shamus Kelly," I sighed, rubbing my hands across my face.

“That old crow should be satisfied you didn't end his sad attempt at a life alongside Aldo," Pauly growled.

Pauly had his own reasons to despise Shamus Kelly. His practical exploitation of the guy on the fighting circuit had cost Pauly everything, including almost his life.

“His growing even bolder recently, Marcell," Ren leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What are you implying?"

“He feels too confident, Marcell There's something or someone causing the sudden burst of entitlement."

“He was not too pleased by Ren being named my second. He assumed that he could place his son in that position," I explained to Pauly.

“That sniveling brat?" Pauly laughed.

“We need to know who he's working with, Marcell. The more information we have, the better we can get ahead of it."

I nodded my head, a sudden headache pressed behind my eyes. The heavy burden of expectations weighed on me threatened to suffocate me from the pressure, and I was tempted to let it.

“Stew? Feel like hiding in the shadows?"

Stew's eyes lit up again as a slow smile crept up his lips. He sat straighter in his seat before rubbing his hands on his jeans that had holes in the knees.

“It's what I do best."