“Hmm,” he ponders, enjoying his smoke like we’re not mid-conversation. His gaze strays off and then he says, “I know about Tommy Lescaro. About your little fights.” My tongue finds my cheek. I don’t know why I’m surprised by this, but it rubs me the wrong way. How he knows so much about me, yet I know jackshit about his affairs. “That motherfucker robbed me blind eight years ago. Couldn’t do fuck all about it at the time because he was involved with too many people. Had fucking dreams about cutting his fingers off one by one and slicing his eyelids off with one of those miniature craft knives.”
My lips form into a frown. Christ, cutting his eyelids off? What kind of sick bastard would do such a thing?
“What’d he do?” I dare ask.
“Stole money right out of my goddamn hands by poaching my best dealer. Lured him over to The Battleground by telling him he’d make double the amount of money fighting than he was making with me by pushing drugs.”
I can see how that would be a betrayal for a man like Clyde.
“Killing him back then would’ve brought too much attention. Would’ve given me motive, so I hung back, always knowing the day would come that I’d get the chance to retaliate.”
Acid rolls in my gut. “You want me tokillhim?” Because that’s where I draw the line. I’d do a lot to keep my childhood home, but murder is not on that list. I’m not risking the chance of going away for twenty plus for this man.
Clyde’s dark eyes find mine. “That would be the best-case scenario but no. You’re going to do what he did to me. You’re going to give him a taste of his own medicine and steal back from him what he took from me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, unsure how I feel about this. When I drove over here, I knew I’d have to do some shady shit in order to get Clyde to agree to give me the house, but betraying Tommy isn’t at all how I figured it’d happen. I thought, worst case, he’d have me do a drug run or collect money from some deadbeat who owes him some. Something similar to what I’ve always done for Mom, but this?
I think back to my first conversation with Tommy. How he harped on loyalty. How he has a hard-on for money just likethe Lincolns do. How he warned me about the beast spitting me back out, but if it did, I wouldn’t be the same as when I went in.
Doing this would mean war but not necessarily between Tommy and Clyde.
“If Tommy finds out that I stole from him…” He’ll go ape shit. He’ll have a fucking field day, and it’ll be my head that’s on the chopping block if he gets a whiff of it.
“You saying you don’t have what it takes?” Clyde taunts. “No balls under that dick of yours?”
“I’m saying, is this the only way?”
“Once in a lifetime deal, boy. You want your dopehead mother’s house, it’s yours, but only after you replenish what Lescaro took from me.” He wipes his hands off each other, then around his cigarette says, “Easy as pie.”
“Not exactly. I have no fucking clue where Tommy lives. He’s always got a dude with him that drives him around and his fighters are always circling him.” I don’t think the guy has a weak spot.
“That’s the problem with idiots like you. Always think you need aweakpoint to infiltrate when the best way is always right through the front door.”
Did he not just hear me when I said I don’t know where he lives? Mom’s face materializes in my head, but when I reach for her memory, it falls away. Like sand through my fingers. Water through a colander.
Clyde didn’t need to go in through the back with her. He manipulated Mom and took advantage of her from where he stood directly in front of her. He might’ve used her weakness as a way in, but it wasn’t just that to her. It was her obsession.
And Tommy’s passion is his fighters.
I look at him, and once again I catch on to what he isn’t saying. “You want me to lose a fight.”
“That’d be the easy way of getting the job done, but if you got something else planned, clue your old man in.”
I grimace at his father-son innuendo, my expression morphing into disgust.
He snubs his cigarette out and comes to a stand. “It’ll be real simple. I’ll show up, place my bets. Everyone will think you’ll win because you’re one of Tommy’s guys, right? That prick always had to be one of the top dogs. His minions were always his fucking rottweilers.” He walks around the table and approaches me. “You’re going to play a little game of possum, except you’ll go one step further and take a dive.”
“You want me to pretend to be knocked out,” I conclude.
He tilts his head, so nonchalant. “I’ll win my bet, get what I’m owed, and you’ll live to see another day in that house. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Staying in Mom’s houseiswhat I want, but is this the way to go about making sure that happens? Calling Aunt Bess and having her go through Stewart to work out a deal is probably best, but I’m still pissed over what she did.
Besides, I always handled Mom’s deals without issue—most of the time. What’s one more between me and the Lincolns if it means I’ll get what I want and never have to deal with them again?
I extend my palm, waiting for him to shake on it. “I’ll lose a fight so you earn big on the bets, but you’re not going to let me stay in the house longer, you’re going to sign it over to me.”
His brow raises like he’s impressed and clasps his hand in mine. His shake is firm and unyielding, on the brink of crushing my fingers if he squeezes any tighter. “You get me my money and the house is yours,” he agrees on the spot.
