Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he croons softly. “I didn’t expect a call from my future wife.”
“Carmine. Someone just came to my apartment and banged on the door and threatened to hurt me if I didn’t pay him back all the money my father stole from him, and I don’t know what to do.” I can feel the panic rising up into my throat. I’ve never had to deal with something like this before and now I’m terrified more people are going to show up at my door, hundreds of them, thousands, all the people my father ripped off. “I’m afraid they’re going to hurt me, and I’m freaking out.”
“Wait, slow down. Who showed up?”
“Panagos. He said he works for a guy named Stephen Panagos.”
There’s a short silence. Then: “Deadbolt your door. Don’t fucking move until I get there.”
“Carmine? Who the hell is Panagos?”
“Don’t. Fucking. Move. Do you understand me, Brice? Deadbolt your goddamn door. I’ll be there soon. Your father is a real piece of shit.”
He hangs up. I stare at the phone. I’m too bewildered to know what the hell to make of that, but Carmine’s on his way and a strange sense of relief floods through my body. Cassidy comes over and rubs my back, and I stay there staring at the door until I work up the nerve to click the deadbolt into place. I expect that guy to start banging and yelling again, but when I look out the peephole, the hallway is empty.
We refill our wine glasses and by the time my hands stop shaking, Carmine’s knocking. “Open up, it’s me,” he growls through the door.
I let him inside. He sweeps in, slams the door behind him, and locks it again. Without so much as a greeting, he stomps into the living room and checks every window, making sure they’re all closed and locked, and even sticks his head in the closet and in the bathroom.
“What the hell are you looking for?” I ask him, exasperated and anxious all over again. “There are no freaking gremlins hiding in my room, at least none that my father ripped off.”
“Making sure you’re safe.” He stomps into the living room, nods at Cassidy, and paces back and forth. Cassidy stares at him like she can barely understand what’s happening. Not that I can blame her—Carmine’s like a thunderstorm right now. I’m shocked there isn’t lightning crackling off his skin. He’s giving off heavy angry vibes and prowling like a protective lion, glaring around him like he might start breaking things to try to release some of his pent-up rage. But finally, he stops pacing long enough to accept a glass of wine from Cassidy.
“You haven’t told me who Stephen Panagos is yet,” I say and sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me. Cassidy sits on my right side, close enough that my foot touches her knee. “And you’re looking around like you want to burn the place down.”
“Panagos is a family.” He looks at me meaningfully. “Like mine.”
I let that slowly sink in. We all drink our wine and the silence is thick and heavy with uncertainty. “Mafia,” I whisper.
He glares at me. “They’re a family.” He gives Cassidy a meaningful stare.
I wave that off. “Cassidy is fine, she knows who you are already.”
“Rumors get around,” she says sheepishly.
He takes a long breath through his nose and lets it out his mouth. When he’s marginally calmer, he looks at me again. “Tell me everything that guy said. In detail. Every word.”
I play him the video. He watches and it only stokes his anger even more. He paces for another five minutes before he’s together enough to speak, and when he does, he glares at me like he wants to rip my head off.
“Your father is a stupid piece of human shit,” he says slowly with a snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’re into right now?”
“No, I don’t, because you’re not telling me.”
“Panagos is a family, Brice. A very dangerous, very connected, very violent fucking family.”
“Mobsters,” Cassidy says like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Greek crime lords, to be specific. They call themselves crime lords, I guess it makes more sense in their language, but it’s all very fucking melodramatic if you ask me. The fact is, the Panagos are very trigger happy, and if your father took money from them and lost it then he is very much fucked no matter what happens. Prison or not, he’s a dead man.”
I feel sick. The idea of my father getting hurt in prison is hellish, and I suddenly want to get out of here, run to the jail where they’re keeping him, and make sure he’s still okay. But that’s the child in me reacting. Daddy’s a grown man, he can handle himself, and I’ve got my own problems now, thanks to him.