3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Two weeks earlier…

"He's on a fucking rampage!" Remi slams his fist on the table, making his father frown. A few of the guys around the table widen their eyes, averting their gaze anywhere but at Remi so they aren't called out.

Remi has a bit of a temper. He also seems to have something wrong with his brain, because the guy makes the most ridiculous decisions I've ever witnessed.

Remington has recently taken over as head of the Bellanca family. His father, Reginald, seems less than happy with the way he's running things so far. Reginald has always been worried about the kid. As he should be. Remi is going to ruin this family when his father goes. Reginald does everything he can behind the scenes to make sure his legacy lives on and his son doesn't start a fucking war, but he won't be here forever to hold his hand.

The Bellanca days are coming to an end.

I have no idea why I stick around. I'm so tired of this life. I should leave. Doubt anyone would stop me, or care enough to come after me. Not that they could, anyway, with the protection I have from Reginald.

So why the fuck am I here?

It's a question I ask myself over and over again. Have for the last few months. There still isn't an answer. Yet here I stay. Because it's safe? Comfortable? Does that negate the stress it gives me? No, not really. But the safety is a good selling point…

Reginald made a deal with Ezriel Dreyer, a friend of my cousin's, a few years back. Ezriel gets protection from the Bellancas for him and anyone he names. I was put on that list because I did a favor for Ezra. Two-timing the head of a family isn't something you live through, but thanks to Ezra being blinded by rage, his current wife's life being on the line, and this deal with Reginald, here I am. Alive and well.

But I'm tired. So fucking tired of being someone's bitch boy.

Working for a mafia family is all I've ever known. It's all I've ever done. That's what happens when you're born into this life. Though, I wasn't technically born into it, considering I was adopted, but it's how I was raised. My uncle Charles currently holds the head position of the Lorenzetti family—my family—after the death of my father and my cousin Reese's father. Since my family stays neutral, a lot of us work with others thanks to alliances. For years, I worked for Lawrence Glassi as muscle, though really I was spying for my uncle. He used the information to make deals with other families and do what he needed to survive. Kept me busy for years. But when Lawrence Glassi fucked with the wrong person—Ezra—my job was gone, and here I am.

With Remington fucking Bellanca.

If the guy lasts a single year after his father goes, I'll eat my own shoe.

I really need to get the fuck out of here.

"He's killing whoever he wants, leaving a goddamn bloodbath behind. Yet no one can catch him. He's like a fucking ghost. He'll be on me next!" Remington bellows, spit flying everywhere. It's why I sit toward the back.

"Calm down, Remington." Reginald pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. The poor guy must be so fucking embarrassed. He's aged so much over these last few years, thanks to stress. His skin is gaunt, hair white as a sheet. "The man has no reason to come after you."

Remi whips his head in his father's direction. He hates being told what to do. Hates anyone even hinting that what he says is wrong.

"He has no reason to go after anyone, Father. Word is he's doing it for fun. For fun! Just to say that he can. To prove he's bigger and badder than the rest of us. He's gone through the Irish, other Italian families, and Russians—and he is Russian. The only bit of information anyone has on the guy is that—which gives us nothing. Nothing!"

"Maybe they did something to piss him off that we don't know about." Franky, one of the runners, adds with an encouraging nod.

Remi blinks, slowly turning his attention on Franky.

"Are you saying I don't know what I'm talking about?" Remi hisses, planting his palms on the table and glowering at Franky.

Remington is a little twat. Tall, thin, and with a face that reminds me of a sewer rat. If I didn't see women coming and going from his room, I wouldn't believe he was getting pussy at all. Though it's probably only because he has money. Honestly, they're all probably paid.

Someone needs to put a bullet in this kid's head and be done with it. Send Reginald an apology note. Not even sure he'd care at this point. His son is a fucking menace who is going to cause way more trouble than he's worth.

I need a new job.

"No, sir. Of course not." Franky shifts his gaze from Remington to out the window. The next words he says are much quieter. "I'm just saying that when other families fuck up, they don't like to talk about it. And since you haven't…"

I don't think anyone here is afraid of Remington. Anyone in here could take him and snap him like a twig. But we are worried about what he'll have done to us. The man is unhinged.

"He's right," Reginald adds, eyeing his son. Remi looks like he's about to explode. There's this thick vein in his forehead that protrudes and throbs when he's pissed. Would be nice if it just burst open and he bled out, right here for all to see. I'm sure we'd all erupt into cheers, even his father. "There could be things we don't know about. Things happening behind the scenes. We have no affiliation with anyone who's been killed so far. We're not even in the same state as any of them."

Considering the murders have taken place across multiple states, I'm not sure that's a point well made, but he's trying.

Remi forces a smile and straightens up. His entire demeanor changes, going from angry to calm. He raises his chin and says, "Well, before he has a chance to get me, I've come up with a solution."

The table falls silent. The solutions Remi comes up with are never good. They're dangerous and not thought through. Reckless and messy. I hate messy. I hate reckless. I fucking hate when someone has a plan with more holes than a sponge. I think the kid was dropped on his head one too many times as a child.

"You should have spoken to me about this first," Reginald adds quietly.

"What for, Father? I'm in charge now, remember? You handed this position over to me," Remi answers through gritted teeth.

They have a stare off for a few seconds before Reginald blows out a breath and brings his gaze toward the ground.

"Oh, son. Trust me, I remember very well."

Remington doesn't hear the regret in Reginald's voice, but everyone else does. Not a single person in this room respects Remi, but we respect Reginald which is why we're here. After he goes, though? Not sure how many will stick around. The few friends Remington brought in here will probably stay because they're as dumb as he is. They don't know a single thing about what they're doing, but they follow Remington because he has the three P's. Paper, parties, and pussies. Paper as in money. That had to be explained to me by one of Remi's friends and made me feel really fucking old.

The thought that they are the ones running this shit makes me nauseous. These young kids and their stupid priorities.

Hanging around after Reginald is gone will make us sitting ducks. I'm not going to be a fucking duck. I'm going to get out of here before this shit gets out of control. Move to SoCal with my cousin, Reese, his girl, and Ezriel and his family. It's the only thing that makes sense.

I've never been close with my family, choosing to be on my own and not deal with anyone else's bullshit and problems. Reese is a lot to deal with. He's like a golden retriever puppy. But he's the closest person I have to a friend. Closer than even my twin brother, who is evil incarnate. Which says a lot since I too kill people for a living, but Jackson is a whole other level of fucked up. It's been years since I've talked to him. Don't even know where he is. Don't care either.

"I'm putting a bounty on the Piano Man's head!" Remi shouts, slamming his fist on the table again. Maybe he should have gone into acting. I feel the eye rolls from everyone around the table.

"The Piano Man being…" Tommy, another runner, asks cautiously.

"Have you been listening to anything I've said?" Remi barks. "The one who is taking out all the heads of families!"

"Did you give him that name?" Gary asks, scratching his head.

"Do any of you have lives? Do you not pay attention to what is going on?" Remi asks.

Does he not realize that's his job and we just do what we're told?

"The guy has been dubbed the Piano Man for well over a month. Ever since we learned he was taking out the mafia heads with piano wire and carving notes into their palms!" There goes the spit again. Fucking gross.

I lean back in my chair, focusing my attention out the window across the room. The trees sway in the breeze, and as much as I don't want to, I force myself to listen to what is being said in the room.

"Hey, that makes sense," Tommy says with a chuckle.

He's one of Remi's friends who thinks he's cool shit for getting paid to break fingers and collect loans. I await the day one of them gets a gun down their throat and pisses their pants.

The Bellanca Family is on borrowed time. I need to get the fuck out of this place.

Remi places both palms flat on the table, and looks around the room, eyeing each of us like we're dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. "So this is how it's going to go. Five million to whoever brings me the Piano Man's head!"

The chatter around the table grows loud. Reginald covers his face with his hand, his shoulders sagging. The poor guy. He could probably live quite a while longer if his son wasn't causing him so much stress. He should retire on some tropical island and forget any of this shit exists. After a moment of feeling bad for him, what Remi said processes in my brain.

This is my way out. Five million? That's more than enough to get the fuck out of here. Plenty to buy a small house and live comfortably. This is the out I'm looking for.

All I have to do is hunt down the Piano Man and take him out.

How hard could that be?