Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“My father’s an excellent resource,” I say. “He’s told me what I need to know.”
“Your father’s a fucking jailbird, Vinnie. A murderer.”
I can’t help it then. I let out a laughing scoff. “You know as well as I do that you’ve killed way more people than my father ever has. You also know that you could get him sprung in the next two minutes if you wanted to.”
He presses his lips together. “You think I have that kind of power?”
“I know you do.” I get to my feet. “You’ve told me yourself. The only reason my father’s rotting in a prison cell is because you’ve got some deal going with the McAllisters. Declan McAllister won’t give you peace unless my father’s rotting behind bars for killing his son. But how many people has he murdered? How many people did Miles McAllister murder before he was killed? It’s so fucking ironic.”
Grandfather frowns. “The thing about irony, Vincent, is that it often strikes when you least expect it, especially when you think you’ve gotten away with something. Just when you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security, the universe will crash down to remind you in the most surprising way that it never forgets.”
I’m quiet for a moment as I let my grandfather’s words sink in.
For a moment I’m not sure they even came out of his mouth.
“And has the universe forgotten everything you’ve done, Grandfather?” I ask.
Silence as I wait for him to respond.
Just when I think he’s going to completely ignore my question—
“I don’t concern myself with the universe.”
“Then why did you make the comment?”
“Because”—he clears his throat—“you need to be ready for whatever happens. Because you need to have a plan for every contingency, just in case the universe decides to bite you in the ass. The more people you involve in your mission, the better chance that something will go awry.”
“So when you say you don’t concern yourself with the universe, you’re saying that never happens to you?”
He leers over the desk at me. “I’m saying, Vincent, that when it does happen to me, I take care of it. I have a plan in place for every eventuality.”
I sit back down and think for a moment. What could go wrong? The clerk at the hotel. The maid. Perhaps a camera caught me checking things out early this morning.
That’s unlikely, as I kept my face shielded at all times from any surveillance.
The same clerk I paid to give me the room key was also instructed to erase any surveillance tape.
Those are my only loose ends, and I’ve paid handsomely to tie them up neatly.
“Everything’s been taken care of,” I say, my tone sounding more confident than I actually feel.
“For your sake,” he says, “I hope it is. Because if it’s not?” He shakes his head. “This is all on you, Vincent. You’ll need to take care of anything if the universe decides to come calling.”
I regard my grandfather. For a man in his eighth decade, he’s in excellent shape. But his eyes betray him. Not just the wrinkles around them but their color. Once nearly black, they’re now faded like old leather. They hold a depth of stories, secrets carried through the years. In them, I see the weight of wisdom and a trace of sadness, witness to all he has seen and perhaps lost. Yet they remain windows to a soul that refuses to bow to the years. He has an act put on. The tough Mafia leader.
But he’s getting old, and he and I both know it. His men know it.
“You can trust me. You can trust me to get things done my own way.”
“Only time will tell on that, Vincent.” He looks down for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “Don’t think for one second that I will ever forget your betrayal. That I’ll ever forget that you walked away from this family. That I’ll ever forget—”
I stand. “And don’t think for one moment, Grandfather, that I will ever forget what you did to me. What you did to Michael. What you wanted to do to Falcon Bellamy. And that you’re allowing my father to rot in prison when you could get him sprung tomorrow. Don’t think for a moment that I’ll forget that you sold your own daughter into marriage.”
He scoffs. “I sold her to your father. He turned out to be a big disappointment.”
His response rings odd to me. I expected him to state the obvious—that if he hadn’t sold my mother off to my father, I wouldn’t exist. Neither would Savannah.
“Because he killed Miles McAllister?” I say. “Because he tried to save Savannah from the same fate as your own daughter?”
“Because he’s weak,” Grandfather says. “My only consolation is that my blood—” He closes his mouth abruptly.
“That your blood what?”
“My blood flows through your veins, Vincent. Don’t ever forget that.”