The line was silent. A test.
“I see we need to have another lesson, boy,” he said, his voice similar to the chill of death. I knew this was coming; it seemed I would need multiple lessons by the time he returned state side.
I was just about fed up with mylessons.
“Yes, sir,” I pushed out, even though my tongue wanted to tell him to fuck off. I pinched the bridge of my nose as he began rattling off orders.
The secrets I'd been keeping from the man who taught me everything I knew were piling up, and soon, the dam would burst. It was getting harder and harder to avoid them. He was speaking to me, but my ears didn’t want to listen. Instead, all I heard was my erratic heartbeat.
My kinghad been keeping secrets from me too.
First, it was the fact that Dean Connors wasn’t rotting on a riverbank somewhere. Instead, the snake worked his way into some of the mafia’s most trusted circles, and in turn, earned the respect of Romano—respect that was owed tome.
My lip curled up in disgust at the thought. Ray Romano saw Dean Connors as his son,the favorite.Meanwhile, I was the onewho had been doing all his dirty work for the last five fucking years. Not to mention that, before the dinner, Ray couldn’t even bother to give a shit about his actual son, Tony.
But there was another secret that dug a hole into my soul, one darker than the rest.
Sex trafficking.
My jaw tightened at the thought. I may kill mercilessly and enjoy hearing the cries of pleading men, but never awoman.Never achild. I knew that Romano was evil, but to harm a child…that was a line I refused to cross. I refused to cross it three weeks ago as I looked down at that hazel eyed little boy. The boy thought I was a hero.
I wasn't a hero.
I was a monster.
I was the villain.
I was the devil’s right-hand demon. His errand boy. His executioner.
Not for long. Careful. Bide your time.
My fist clenched on the surface of my desk as I tried to remember my place, the orders of Ray Romano coming through the phone.
Kill. Take. Kill. No mercy. For anyone.
“Our dear friend Charles Tipponi is missing,” he said, his smooth voice full of contempt.Thatcaught my attention. Another one of his regional leaders striking out, another friend to say—
Ray Romano didn’t have any fucking friends.
“How long?”
“His daughter said he hasn’t been home for some time. Look into it.”
Charles’ daughter, Emily, was set to marry Tony Romano before he was killed by Dean Connors weeks ago. The baseball player showed no mercy as he unloaded a full clip into the mafiaprince’s face while staring into the eyes of my master, just as he was taught. We did have the same teacher, after all.
“Yes, sir,” I said through my teeth. “What are we doing about St. Louis?”
“Lay low. Sullie Jones is a bug I've been meaning to squash for years. I let his influence over that city slide in hopes that Cal would do what needed to be done.”
I remained silent at the mention of my old mentor. Cal Matthews saved my life, pulling me from the streets. He gave me shelter and in turn, I ran with his men, did his bidding, spilled blood in his name, kept Kevin in line for him as he taught me the ins and outs of his business. My life had been full of darkness, aside from Karina Jones, and only twice in my life had I felt pride from someone. Cal Matthews was proud of me…for a time.
“Is that clear?”
No, because I didn’t hear a fucking word. “Yes, sir,” I deadpanned, my jaw jumping.
He is keeping shit from you. Ask him about the numbers.
Fuck it. “Sir, I've been looking at the numbers for the West branch, and things aren’t adding up.”
