“Tell me,” she demanded.
“In Chicago, the drugs come from one place. And there is an unspoken rule for all dealers.” Even after all this time, it still felt odd talking to her about this.
“An unspoken rule?” she repeated.
“Either you pay back the merchandise, or the Callahans will come for your family,” Austin finished for me. However, when her hands froze, I glanced up at her.
“The Callahans … I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
I snorted and kissed her hands. “They’re like royalty in Chicago. Hell, they basically own it—”
“No. I mean I know that name. Is one of them named Melody? Melody Giovanni Callahan? I know her.”
“You know a Callahan?” Austin grunted, but from the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t joking about this. Why would she if she didn’t even know who they were?
“Amelia,” I said, “how do you know her?”
“She helped me,” she said, not at all making sense. Melody Callahan. Though I had never met her, I knew she did not help people. Used them, broke them, killed them, yeah—but helped? “When you were arrested for the whole Mallory thing, I tried to get proof that it wasn’t your fault. I failed miserably. Then out of nowhere, Melody Callahan picked me up and said she would give me what I needed if I gave up Sheldon Worcester. She needed his help and promised she wouldn’t do anything to him, so I told her. I didn’t know she had anything to do with drugs!”
“You sold your friend out to the head of the Italian mob,” Austin chimed in, not at all fucking helping.
“What?” she panicked. I didn’t give a damn about Sheldon Worcester. My biggest concern was the ripple effect this would have—
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Austin pulled out his phone, stared at it, and shaking his head, he answered.
“Bo. We just saw. I’ll get—He’s busy—We will get back to you—Yes, I understand how serious this—No, don’t. Bo. Bo!” He glanced back at me, shaking his head. “He’s spooked. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s packing to run now.”
The floodgates of hell were opening up, and all I could do was laugh.
“Noah?” Amelia sounded concerned.
Shaking my head at her, I couldn’t help it. “Amelia, my father is now a wanted man with $265 million of debt over his head. Both he and Bo will be hung out to dry. Who do you think is left holding the shit? I can’t catch a fucking break. It’s always one thing after another.”
Every time I felt like I escaped Chicago, the Southbend, I was being dragged back in. If this weren’t my life, I would have thought it was one shitty movie.
“I’m worth $73 million,” Amelia whispered beside me, squeezing my hand. I looked at her, and she just brightly smiled at me. “Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out—with the help of our trusty manager, that is.”
We both looked to Austin. Frowning, he started to dial.
“I hate you both,” he said, walking toward the kitchen.
Sometimes God fucks up with our families and has to make it up with other people in our lives. Amelia and Austin—they are my family.
Chapter Four
Amelia
I called.
I texted.
I emailed.