Correction. They were.
They’re all dead now.
A memory of my little sister flashes in my mind. The blood of her secret boyfriend, Tony, clinging to her cheeks. Tears rolling down her face because he’d betrayed her, thrown her away like some rotten piece of meat. Because he’d hoped to use her to get to us.
Heat simmers beneath my skin. I bite down on the candy, splintering it into several pieces in my mouth.
Humiliating the DeAngelo woman would be too simple a revenge. That family deserves more.
And they’ll get it.
“I’m not a horny teenager, Alexander. You can put away your scowl. We need this truce to be permanent. You’re right. We took them out, and if we want to be sure something worse doesn’t take their place we need a seat at this table.”
“Still.” Ivan unbuckles his seatbelt now that we’re parked. “I’m sure we can find another way.”
“I already said I’d do it.” I let my belt snap into the dispenser. “Let’s get this over with.”
“All right.” Alexander’s the first out of the car, buttoning his jacket as a breeze blows at him.
I expected more ornamental designs on the house; gold trim and half naked statues rising from the gardens. But the entire place has a subdued beauty.
Rose bushes line the front of the house, some still holding onto their ruby red blooms even with the late fall air chilling their petals. A large pot of dark red and orange flowers sits on the top step of the stairs. Simple and elegant.
The door opens the moment we all reach the top of the steps. A man, one of the DeAngelo crew, greets us with a steely gaze and a tense jaw.
“We’re here to see Vicente,” I say, keeping my hands at my sides.
“He’s expecting you.” He steps out of the way, giving us room to enter.
Inside, there’s more simple elegance. Where I expected harsh coloring and gaudy decor, I find soft creams and browns. It’s modern and comfortable. Like a home.
“Ah! They’re here.” An old man hurries, as best as his aged body will allow him, into the foyer.
He finds me in our little entourage and puts out his hand. His smile is too friendly. Too welcoming.
“Kaz Volkov. I am honored to have you in our home.”
Reluctantly, I grab his hand for a firm, quick handshake. He drops his arm to his side and shakes his hand out slightly.
“Vicente.” I give a firm nod. “My brothers, Alexander and Ivan.”
“Yes. Yes.” He pumps their hands as though he’s meeting some form of royalty.
It turns my stomach.
Has he forgotten so quickly why this is all taking place? We shot his nephews. Killed them in cold blood. Does he really have no ill will toward us?
“Well, we don’t need to stand here in the hall. Let’s go into my office.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Alexander says as we follow the old man down the hall.
“I understand. I have business myself shortly. The contracts are all drawn up, we only need to agree and sign.”
As we step into the office, it feels as though we’ve entered into a whole different world. Dark wood paneling lines the walls. Gold trim runs along the edge of each. The ceiling is filled with swirling designs of gold. Each lamp fixture is also gold.
It’s as awful as I thought the house would be. But it only seems to be in here.
“As we discussed, the territories will remain as they were, and you’ll allow our business to flow without disturbance.” Vicente places an envelope on the desk blotter.
