Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Vincenzo

Fred wanted to go find Richie and get to the bottom of things, but leaving Arnold alone wasn't a great idea. He'd absolutely tip off his grandson if he thought we were going to hurt him.

I met Fred's stare, hoping he'd understand what I was thinking…then quickly realized how stupid that was because he wouldn't know what I was asking and instead gestured toward Arnold, quietly asking if I could speak. Of course I didn't need permission, but Fred was like a feral cat—no reason to piss him off and risk a bite.

When he nodded, I stepped in front of the older man. "Arnold, could you please call your grandson and have him come here?"

"Are you gonna hurt him?"

"That is an answer I cannot give you. The fact that Fred here was almost killed and two of his family were, and the getaway vehicle was registered to you, who had no idea about that, raises more questions. We feel your grandson could shed some light on these."

"So you just want to ask him questions?"

"For now, yes."

"Richie's a good boy," Arnold pleaded.

"I'm sure he is, but we need answers."

He didn't have a choice here; we were simply trying to present ourselves as peaceful. But if he didn't make the call in the next twenty seconds, he'd soon find out how much we were holding back.

Fortunately, a moment later he started dialing.

"Hey, Richie. Yeah, I'm fine. Are you busy, could you stop by the house?" There was a pause, Arnold's gaze kept flicking around the room. "I'm okay, but I think it's best you get over here."

We should have demanded him to put it on Speaker, but Arnold wasn't saying anything too ominous. Just enough for Richie to come over.

"I'll see you in a bit." He disconnected the call and released a long breath. "He'll be here in a bit. He lives about fifteen minutes from here."

"He won't bolt when he sees my cars and the people, will he?" Fred asked.

Arnold shrugged. "I don't know."

Fred pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "If he runs, Arnold, that would be a very bad thing."

Arnold didn't say anything. He sat there clutching his phone, the sweat beading on his forehead making his dark skin glisten.

Through the window, I could see my people walking the yard. It was a quiet area and no doubt drew some attention from neighbors. I garnered many were at work so hopefully there weren't any authorities called, but I wasn't worried either way.

True to his word, Arnold's grandson arrived almost exactly fifteen minutes later…but he wasn't alone. Three other men stepped out of the car with him.

"I got this." Zion walked out of the house and approached the men. They spoke briefly, and I watched as two stayed outside while two followed behind Zion.

"What the hell is goin' on here? Grandpa, are you okay?" The man I assumed was Richie rushed over to Arnold, and they hugged briefly.

"I'm guessing you're Richie?" Fred never rose from his seat, merely quirked a brow, his petulance shining like a bright star.

"Yeah…" Richie looked as if he were going to shout but paused. "Wait, you're Mr. Brennan."

"I'm glad you're at least aware of who I am."

Richie glanced around the room, likely knowing who Aiden was, but the rest of us were probably a mystery to him.

"I don't understand—what's goin' on here?"

"Have you been keeping up with current events, Richie?" Fred asked.

"Some. I'm sorry about your family."

So Richie was aware of the hit, but there wasn't a lick of nervousness coming off him.

"That's why I'm here today." Fred relaxed more into the couch, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. "The SUV that was used in the drive-by was found near the restaurant where my uncle and cousin were murdered. An SUV registered to your grandfather."

"What?" Richie faced his grandfather. "What's he talking about?"

"I…I don't know, you know I don't own a car."

"It's true he doesn't, you gotta be mistaken."

Fred sighed loudly. "Thing is, Richie, I believe your grandfather has no idea what's going on, but I can't help but wonder if you do? Did you register a vehicle in his name?"

Richie jerked away. "Are you accusing me of killing your family? Do I seem suicidal?"

Fred lifted a shoulder. "Perhaps you are; I don't know you."

"Exactly." Richie stepped away from his grandfather. "If you did, you'd know I'm not stupid and I happen to like living. If I did what you're thinking I did, I'd be a hunted man. If not from you, from the rest of my crew."

"Unless the Bleeding Angels ordered the hit," Aiden added.

"No way. And if they did, they'd never set up my grandpa."

Fred laughed. "Right, because they're good-natured and honest criminals."

"Hold up." Richie took a deep breath. "The Bleeding Angels work with your family, Mr. Brennan. We got a good relationship—why would we ruin that?"

"Money?" I answered. "Territory? There are many reasons that make sense and many that don't. Why people do things is a question with no answer."

"Well, I didn't, and the Angels wouldn't. I don't know what you're talkin' about."

Zion stepped up, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Know what's interesting? I just got information sent to me stating that the casings trace back to your crew."

"What, how?" Richie was truly confused. Either he was telling the truth and the Bleeding Angels hadn't done this, or if they did, he wasn't aware.

"The Bleeding Angels' marking was on each shell."

Richie's eyes darted from Zion to Fred. "Mr. Brennan, I didn't do this and my crew has no beef with you. We have a great relationship."

"I won't deny this seems odd." Fred uncrossed his legs and stood. "You purchase your guns and bullets through me. I assume the markings are put on after they are in your possession."

"How are all of you not in jail?" I was exasperated. "That's sloppy to leave a calling card that is obviously you." Fred chuckled at me and yes, I saw the irony in what I said. Lex Talionis left behind a gold coin with our signature. Difference was, we weren't a street crew, and we were impossible to find.

"We aren't stupid. We don't mark our shit. Don't you see we're being set up?" Richie argued.

Zion was typing again, presumably researching something.

Fred took a few steps closer to Richie. "Who would want to set the Bleeding Angels up?"

Richie scoffed. "We have rivals, Mr. Brennan."

"How about you tell us who those rivals are?" I asked.

"I'll write you a fucking list."

List in hand, we were back in the car. Fred stared out the window, an expression of anger and sorrow adorning his face.

"He's right," Zion piped up from the front seat.

"About what?" I tilted my head at Zion.

"I had Eden look into any hits the Bleeding Angels have done in the past. All shell casings found, any evidence against them, not one brand was on any of it. I think Richie is telling the truth. Someone is setting the Bleeding Angels up."

"They're not just setting them up," Fred mumbled.

"What are you saying?"

His sad eyes met mine. "The hit on me and my family was legitimate. Obviously they weren't going to show their hand, so they used the Bleeding Angels as the fall guys, so to speak. Have me fight them, a war ensues, and when the dust settles, the most powerful street gang and mafia family in Westford would be annihilated. Whoever is behind this would have a shit-ton of territory and power."

"Are you saying the hit on you wasn't personal?" Zion wondered.

"Oh, I think it was. I also think opportunity knocked, and whoever is running this show answered the door."