"It's important," VINCENT DANZA clips. "And the truth? You're one of the few I can trust until I know more." He hesitates for a fraction of a second. "My instincts are telling me the problem is being caused by one of our own."
His statement causes ISAAC to waver. When his father was in charge, the KASH MANCHESTER was like a well-oiled machine. It was unheard of to hear of a person going rogue and turning against family. And while VINCENT DANZA's words are ominous, they are hardly surprising. ISAAC has no quarrel that members are doubting him purely because he's younger and still getting his sea legs as Capo, but he was destined for this terrible fate. As much as he does not want to put his foot into New York, he knows he has to put aside his own selfish crap for this.
"How soon do you need me there?" ISAAC asks with a breath. It's already late here.
"I'll fly in and get you. I'll have you brought to me," VINCENT DANZA memorizes. "It'll be like the good old days before you decided to walk away and head off to SUDAN."
ISAAC grits his teeth as memories try to come to the forefront of his mind. "You know I had my reasons, Christian," he tightens his voice.
"I know. Well, at least this work will give you a distraction with your birthday looming and all. I get how you feel about celebrating it."
ISAAC clenches his jaw so tightly that it aches, a jagged burst of half-forgotten recollections splintering open and clawing along the edge of his mind.
The gunshots.
The screams.
The blood.
So much fucking blood. It's still warm and tacky between his fingers. He can still feel it…
"ISAAC?" VINCENT DANZA bellows, his yell a liferaft that keeps him above the raging waves of memory that would otherwise engulf him.
"Yeah." ISAAC breathes a sigh as he focuses on trying to calm the runaway drum of his heart.
"I'll see you soon."
ISAAC rubs a hand through his black hair, hoping he might be able to deny, but denying the Capo is something he cannot do. He's not asking as cousin; he's asking as employer. At the end of it all, ISAAC still has work to do. "Yeah," he growls.
"Good," VINCENT DANZA says and hangs up.
There are no farewells as VINCENT DANZA and ISAAC part ways. Only the haunting emptiness in ISAAC's stomach.
Clenching his jaw, ISAAC revs up the vehicle, the engine purring to soothe some of the tension within him. Speeding off the villa, he calls the clean-up crew along with a subdued smoothness on the descent down the curves, trusting the growl of the car to ease the increasing tension at the nape of his neck.
He takes the long route back home to the apartment that he keeps in Italy. He is in complete silence, wanting to be alone with his thoughts before he goes back to the one place that he does not want to.
Can't keep going on forever, he reminds himself with a bitterness more than a trace, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Even as he knows the consideration to be so, it still doesn't keep him from hoping it not to be.
It takes him long enough, but he eventually arrives at his house before continuing on to pick up his two dogs from the dogsitter.
The moment he rings the doorbell, he hears the recognition of familiar scratching paws on the floor. His heart rate accelerates. He's only been gone a few days, but it may as well have been an eternity.
The door swings open, and in a whirlwind of fur and excitement, his two Huskies almost knock him off his feet. Their black and white coats flow together as they jump up, thudding tails and braced paws knocking into him. He drops to his knees, laughing and letting them engulf him in their own unique way. "Hey, I missed you too," he says softly, scratching behind their ears. They nuzzle into his hand, their icy blue eyes sparkling and their soft noses nudging against him. And the weight in his chest eases a little.
When he arrives at his apartment, he takes a bag with some clothes and his laptop and a spare gun. As he packs, his mind runs through all the scenarios he might face when he arrives in New York.
Has VINCENT DANZA uncovered a mole among them? Is someone cutting dirty deals that compromise their operations? Do they have a rat?
"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," he mutters under his breath. He knows it must be grave, or VINCENT DANZA would not have called him all the way to New York. But it definitely unnerves him, at least, to realize that among them is one who is not to be trusted.
Once he's got his bag loaded, he stops in the living room to grab a phone charger. His gaze falls on the photo that sits on the shelf, the broad smiles cutting a knife into his heart.
It is something of a wonder that he even still has the photo at all. The fact that it does exist is a reminder and a source of pain every time he sees it, one that has become mundane through repetition.
He swallows the rising bump in his throat and moves his eyes out of the way. Cutting beelines to the front door, he goes made man as he flicks off the light and prepares to confront whatever in New York.
"Fuck me," he says with his breath. Guess he's going back to New York. Home fucking sweet home.
* *
The moment ISAAC sets foot in New York, VINCENT DANZA has a soldier take him an SUV to use, with instructions to head straight to his casino.
ISAAC is already fatigued. Ever since VINCENT DANZA became Capo, it's been one fucking issue after another with all the power struggles that are now taking place within the KASH MANCHESTER.
He's behind the wheel and his phone goes off. He looks at the screen, and his heart drops when he sees that it's a video call from one of his dumbsville cousins, TENZ JER'SEY.
The problem with their family is that they have so many fucking cousins. ISAAC is at least fourth cousins with this dude, although he can't even remember how they're related exactly.
He would definitely not pick it up if it were some random family member, but TENZ JER'SEY is a member of the KASH MANCHESTER, so that is bound to be work. He does seem to remember TENZ JER'SEY is one of their younger members; he must be about twenty.
"Yeah?" ISAAC responds.
"Oh, um, hi there. My name's TENZ JER'SEY?"
"I can read, you know," ISAAC clips. "Your name flashed up on my screen."
"Good, good, okay. Well, I'm just calling you because you're my sixth cousin twice removed through Great Aunt Edna?"
"I don't care how we're goddamn related," ISAAC snaps, already regretting answering his call. "What do you want?"
"I'm with VINCENT DANZA right now, and he's telling you that you're near MANCHESTER LED." He widens his screen so ISAAC can see their Capo standing just behind him.
"Yeah, so?"
"Will you do me a favor and pick up my girlfriend who is nearby? She's KYOLINE DIEGO, and she should be arriving at the casino shortly."
ISAAC gasps and tells himself to count to ten, but he only gets to two before answering. "Do I look like a fucking Uber to you, TENZ JER'SEY? Why the hell would I think you'd ever consider me a chauffeur for your girlfriend?"
Before TENZ JER'SEY can answer, ISAAC hears him slightly louder. "Hey VINCENT DANZA, is this guy serious?"
VINCENT DANZA glances over to his side on the screen. "He needs her picked up, and I told him you're in the area."
"I'm not here to be a babysitter or play fucking taxi driver for teens," ISAAC spits out.
We just got a call from one of our informants that the Feds are going to have a warrant out on MANCHESTER LED, VINCENT DANZA replies. "KYOLINE DIEGO is heading to work there, so we'd like her intercepted by one of our people before she is caught up in any raid and taken away by the Feds."
Staring at the screen, ISAAC gives him a cold-eyed glare.
"Can you just not be such a grumpy asshole for once in your life?" VINCENT DANZA requests. "KYOLINE DIEGO is essentially family. She and PELLA get along." PELLA is VINCENT DANZA's niece.
"One time, and that's it," ISAAC complains. He's got work to do and can't be driving around carpooling some obnoxious fuck's girlfriend. "Well? What does she look like?"
TENZ JER'SEY recites by heart a description. "Uh, she's really pretty, slim, dark hair, and she's got these amazing green eyes…"
ISAAC pinches the bridge of his nose. He could be describing any of hundreds of women in this huge city. It'll just be easier to look her photo up through the background checks that the KASH MANCHESTER runs on all its members' girlfriends and mistresses.
"And where exactly am I supposed to find her?"
"Her location app on her phone says she's on the subway right now, so she'll be coming in and out of the station by the casino in roughly twenty minutes."
"Okay, okay," ISAAC complains.
"Tell her—"