Those days are over. My plan’s coming into fruition. There’s nothing he can do.
He knows it.
He’s heaving for air as he reddens and grits his teeth. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
“Not before I say hello to my sweet mother. I think I’ll ask her about that traumatic day.”
Lucius launches himself toward the nearby console table and picks up a bust sculpture of Julius Caesar that he keeps as decoration, and he flings it at my head. Once again, I’m too fast for him, out of the way before the stone cracks into pieces when it collides with the wall behind me.
“Have a good day, Pop,” I taunt on my walk out.
His earsplitting rumble follows me the rest of the way through the house. The staff on shift must hear it, but they pretend otherwise as they decide not to risk his ire. I’m reentering the foyer when Stefania stumbles down the staircase, eyes glossy and hopeful, a large wine glass in her hand. The wine sloshes around with every sloppy step she takes.
She calls out to me and asks if I’m really staying for dinner. Too bad she never cared years ago when she chose to take luxury vacations while her husband beat her son to a pulp on the regular.
“Go to hell.”
I don’t spare her so much as a glance as I let the tall double doors swing shut behind me.
That felt good. Almost as good as making somebody bleed or busting a nut. Two of my favorite feelings in the world.
The street outside their house is as pristine and perfect as it was when I was sixteen and we moved to Westoria. Big houses and the vibe of even bigger egos in the air. Each rich family on the block believes they’re some kind of modern-day royalty. So many years later, nothing’s changed about the suburb. It’s just as fake as ever—dirty on the inside, clean and sparkling on the outside.
My cellphone vibrates in my pocket. I turn my attention from the polished streets around me to the text popping up on my phone screen. Francis “Stitches” Ferro, my right hand in my crew, has texted me.
Ive got a doozy for u
The muscle on the left side of my cheek twitches. I text back telling him to meet me at my place. He replies with the thumbs up emoji.
If Stitches is calling it a doozy, it can’t be anything good. He’d been tasked with ensuring the evidence was secured. Somebody must’ve fucked up.
I slide on my helmet and throw my leg over my sports bike. The engine growls as I rev it up and then I’m off, abandoning Westoria and its artificial perfection.
In no time, speeding on my bike, I cross the bridge and reach Northam.
The big city streets blur the faster I go, weaving in between cars and buildings.
Stitches doesn’t make it to my loft until I’m already upstairs waiting on him. Despite his slimmer size, he huffs and puffs his way through the door, clutching his side. Nicknamed Stitches because he’s a med school dropout who turned to the mafia, the irony isn’t lost on me.
I raise a brow. “What’s the matter? Stitch in your side?”
“Ha, ha. Real funny. You laugh but I’m reminded I’m no Olympic athlete anymore.”
“Or ever were. What’s the doozy, Stitches?”
He hauls himself over to my leather sofa and plops down. Originally, no othercapowanted him in their crew—he was kind of an outcast. That was exactly what caught my interest about him. I tend to appreciate when somebody is apart from the typical. Probably because I’m a brooding asshole myself who hates most people.
I took one look at him and knew he could be an asset in unconventional ways. He’s not much in terms of muscle power, which is what mostcaposlike in their soldiers, but he’s got plenty of brains to make up for it. Even wears the kind of wire-framed, Poindexter glasses you’d expect him to.
By how long he takes to answer me, it’s obvious he’s stalling.
“Do you want the good news first or the bad news?” he asks after some hesitation.
“If there’s bad news then there’s no good news.”
A slow sigh tumbles out of him. “Well, we’ve secured the evidence. You don’t have to worry about it ever going missing.”
I’m confused and I don’t refrain from showing it. My head tilts to the side as I peer at him. If he succeeded in ensuring my insurance against Lucius is safe and sound, then what the hell’s the problem? That was his biggest task of the day.