Page 106 of Unlock My Heart

“None of the above.” Angelo’s tone drips with amusement. “Congratulations on your nuptials. Too bad your new bride, Sienna, can’t be here with us to celebrate. Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of my sister-in-law. For now.”

My heart stops beating.

“You didn’t think I’d walk into this little trap without an ace up my sleeve, did you?” Angelo raises an eyebrow. “I’m the boss; you want to be the boss. In negotiations, we’re at what’s called a deadlock.”

“Fuck your business school terms. I’ll show you deadlock.” My gun is now pointed at Mr. Ivy League’s skull.

To Angelo’s credit, he doesn’t flinch. “Brute strength over brains; is that really all you’ve brought to the table? Kill me, and your wife is a dead woman, and you can explain my corpse to our baby sister,” he says calmly. “Let’s cut the shit and get down to what this is really about.” “Please, enlighten me.” It takes all my restraint, but I place my gun on the table. Giving it a spin, it comes to a stop with the barrel pointed at the empty chair to my right.

“Your fragile ego couldn’t accept that Vitto chose me to lead when you fucked up.”

I consider his words. God knows he’s not wrong.

“I would have never ordered your hit if you hadn’t tried to kill me first,” Angelo continues. “You’re such a lying prick.” My fist slams the table. “I would have never ordered your hit if you hadn’t tried to kill me first!”

“I have my former lawyer’s phone. Read the entire conversation between you and Bennett.” Angelo seethes. “You ordered the drive-by, and when that didn’t take me out, you tried to destroy me by turning the new mayor against me.”

“What bullshit are you spinning?” I cry incredulously. “I don’t know a Bennett. But yeah, I ordered the drive-by. After you tried to off me in prison.”

“No,” he says emphatically.

“Yes,” I say emphatically.

“Was your cellmate’s nickname Cornbread?” Angelo asks.

“Yeah. What the fuck does that have to do with any of it?”

“Were you communicating with my lawyer named Bennett?” Angelo continues.

“Already told you no. I got my own damn lawyer to keep you out of my business,” I say with a derisive snort.

“Did you try to kidnap Al at Lundi Gras?” Angelo presses.

I cross my arms. “No.”

A bitter laugh escapes my brother. “When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”

“What are you going on about?” I demand.

“We’ve been played, big brother.”

A slow clap of hands has us both snapping our necks to the stage.

My former cellie appears, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Kirksey, you little weasel.” I reach for my gun, but now all the weapons in the room are aimed at me. My hands raise in surrender.

For now.

“You asked to borrow a crew, Fabien; you didn’t ask for loyalty.” Kirksey takes a seat on the piano bench.

“How the fuck did you get out of prison?” I demand.

“Same way as you. Recalculation of time served.” His fingers bang on the keys, the sound as angry as I feel.

“You have our attention, Mr. Willis. What is it you want?” Angelo calls.

Kirksey fixes his smirk on my brother. “The great Angelo Calvani. Working so damn hard to launder the reputation of the Calvani family. Businessman. Philanthropist. Mr. New Orleans. King of Carnival.”