Molinaro’s jaw tensed, his discomfort obvious. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of a look like that from the patriarch of the family. But the scene in front of me made it clear Golden and I had made the right decision to let him know what his kid had been up to. One less piece of shit for me to worry about when the dust settled.
“You spend more time with Angelo and I hate it,” Molinaro gestured wildly with his hands, his voice getting louder and louder like he’d been uncorked. “We were out drinking and he was being a shit, saying things.”
“What sorts of things?”
I moved away from the door and leaned against the island beside Golden, who watched everything unravel in silence. Our shoulders pressed together, his body strong and solid, warm, reminding me I wasn’t in this alone. He tipped his head to the side, bumping against mine.
“That you were gonna hand things down to him.”
“Well, he’s not a fucking child, so…” Anthony snapped.
“We fought and he left, and I kept drinking. A chick started talking to me. Flirting with me.”
“This woman put ideas into your head?”
Molinaro pursed his lips and nodded once.
“What was her name?” Golden asked, clearing his throat.
“Cara? Carmel? Carmen? I don’t remember.”
Golden dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth and jerked his chin forward, indicating Molinaro should finish his story. He and I both knew it wasn’t Cara or Carmel, but the fact Molinaro didn’t remember her name meant she had been a passing thing. Planting ideas and letting the house crumble as it may. There was a lot more at play here than my family and Golden’s life.
“Let me guess,” Anthony said, rolling his eyes at his oldest son. “She said you’re too handsome, too strong to let your brother talk shit at you? That you needed to buck up, take what was yours?”
“Yeah,” he answered, clearly seeing the error of his ways now that he was breaths away from taking his last.
I barked out a laugh. “You really got tangled up by some woman filling your head with ideas, didn’t you?”
“This has been a lovely therapy session,” the one man who wasn’t in bed with the Molinaro family said from the end of the table, pushing back his chair.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told him.
“I’m not here for you.”
“Just me,” Golden said, his jaw working as he tried to piece things together. He was thinking so hard I could fucking see the wheels turning his head.
God, I wanted it to be the weekend so I could grind those gears to a halt.
“Were you coming for me before or after your brother died in my entryway?” Golden asked.
The man jumped up and Golden stood straight, a dangerous smile settling across his face. God, he was doing it again. He was a dangerous man, I knew it, but seeing him work and then seeing him bend and beg forme. I was a fucking king, a god. Golden had given me more power than I deserved and, fuck, I loved him for it.
“Was there a little birdie whispering in your ear too?” Golden asked, taking a step toward the table.
The man swallowed, his nostrils flaring, and that was enough answer for both of us.
Carmen Savino.
This was a disaster, only made worse by the speed in which Golden grabbed the man by his throat and slammed him into the wall. The guy’s head landed with so much force, a picture fell to the floor, glass shattering at their feet.
“I didn’t want to fuck her like that little runt in the corner,” the man gasped as Golden slammed him harder into the drywall. “She offered me money.”
“You said she’s not even after me,” Golden said.
“Plankton,” he grunted.
“What’s your name?”
