14. Vinnie

14

VINNIE

M y phone rings the next morning right as I'm about to leave to see Grandfather.

"Yeah?"

"It's Falcon Bellamy."

"Hell, I didn't even look. I was just going to call you."

"I just wanted to thank you," he says. "Dad got served with the EPA papers early this morning. He can't do anything until the EPA comes out and assesses the situation, and then they'll decide whether he needs to do an Environment Assessment or an Environmental Impact Statement."

Fuck. Do I tell him it wasn't me? Or do I let him think I worked a damned miracle?

This is Savannah's fiancé. I can't lie to him.

"I got the name of an EPA chief from my grandfather, one Myra Pearson. I had instructions to text her at a number from a burner phone, which I did."

"Whatever you did, it sure worked."

"Listen," I say. "I don't want to be presumptuous or anything, but can I come over to your house for dinner?"

"Well, sure, if you want. You're always welcome here, Vinnie."

"I don't want to talk about this over the phone, not until… Let's just talk tonight."

"Savannah already invited Raven for dinner."

"That's no problem. She knows everything anyway."

Plus my heart is racing at the thought of seeing her again.

Man… I haven't had a reaction like that to a woman in a long time.

I need to nip it in the bud, though. I can't drag Raven Bellamy—or anyone else—into the hell that is my life right now.

"Six thirty then," Falcon says.

"I'll be there."

Driving to Summer Creek, when I was just there two days ago, wasn't something I'd planned on, but I can't get it out of my head that someone is watching. Hell, I know my grandfather is watching me. That's a given. But someone else is as well. Someone's watching me. Or Falcon and Savannah. Or all of us.

I can feel it.

Who would be that interested in Falcon and Savannah? We've already made peace with the McAllisters after I agreed to marry Declan McAllister's daughter Belinda when she comes of age. Of course, they lost their son, but my father's rotting in prison for the deed. Miles McAllister was also about to shoot Falcon in the head when my father took things into his own hands, so I'm certainly not mourning his loss.

I'm thankful that he's dead. Savannah's happiness means more to me than my own.

If only I'd been thinking about her and Mikey instead of myself when I abandoned them. Savannah was only ten years old when I left.

When I left the family at eighteen, we were still living on Long Island. But as I drive through these Texas roads for the second time in forty-eight hours—again without Fred and Elmo—I realize how beautiful it is here.

The colors of the setting sun streak across the sky, their hues reflected in the mirror-like surface of the creeks dotting the landscape. The marsh-green grasslands stretch out like an unending blanket.

A few lone ranches break up the rustic landscape, nestled among groves of Texan live oak. The air smells clean, fresh and earthy—a far cry from the heavy industrial scent that clung to Long Island.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss the turnoff to Falcon's place. I pull into his driveway, a gravel path leading up to a ranch-style house with big windows overlooking the creek behind it. As I step out of my vehicle, I hear laughter echoing from inside.

Savannah's voice. And the voice of Raven, a beautiful tone that has somehow become ingrained into my mind.

They're laughing.

They're happy because they think I did the impossible.

When in fact I had nothing to do with it. A fact I need to tell them all now.

I walk up the pathway and knock on the door, and their two dogs, Sydney and Sammy, bark, tails wagging.

Savannah opens the door, shooing them away. "Vinnie!" She throws her arms around me.

"Hey, Sav."

"Falcon's down in the family room. Go on down and he'll get you a drink. Raven's just helping me in the kitchen."

"Hi, Vinnie!" Raven calls from the large kitchen.

"Hi there," I say, my voice cracking a bit.

For the love of God. I'm thirty-five years old. Why is my voice cracking when I talk to a woman?

I certainly wasn't celibate when I was in Europe. A small portion of that time I spent in a Buddhist temple. The rest? I fucked my way around Europe…and did a few other things I'm not proud of.

Savannah walks back to the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at me. "I hope you like lasagna, Vinnie."

Wow. I really have been gone a long time. How could Savannah not remember that lasagna is my favorite?

We had a housekeeper while we were growing up—I think her name was Serafina—and she made the most amazing lasagna. Nothing I had in Italy was as good.

"Love it," I reply, and then I make my way through the hallway and down the few stairs into

Falcon and Savannah's family room.

This family room, where only two days ago, I learned the whole story.

Falcon smiles from behind the bar. "Bourbon?"

"Got anything stronger?"

"Scotch?"

Scotch isn't exactly stronger than bourbon, but it burns my throat like nothing else. I don't care if it's my grandfather's favorite. It's what I need at the moment. "Scotch sounds great."

Falcon pours me a couple fingers, and I down them in one swallow. The smoky, peaty taste claws down my throat like acid.

Perfect.

But Falcon is eyeing me. "You doing okay?"

I wipe a few drops of Scotch off my lips. "I need to talk to you."

"Do I need another drink?"

I shake my head. "I think you need your wits about you, and so do I. But I'll take another Scotch, this time with a touch of soda."

Falcon mixes my drink, his jaw rigid and tense. "Do I need to call the ladies down here?"

"No." I look back toward the kitchen and lower my voice. "Not that we need to have any secrets from them. I mean, they both know everything anyway. But I don't want to worry them if there's no need to."

Falcon narrows his eyes. "But you're worried about something."

"I'm not sure if I need to be worried yet," I tell him.

"Lay your cards on the table, Vinnie. It's always best that way."

I nod and take a sip of my drink. "I got a name from my grandfather, like I told you. One of the EPA chiefs who has worked with our family in the past. I texted her, following the instructions from my grandfather, told her what we needed." I lean toward Falcon. "And get this. It was already in the works."

Falcon drops his jaw. "I guess we don't need a plan B after all."

"Yeah. I was as surprised as you are." I look directly into his eyes. "Think hard, Falcon. Does anybody else know about this?"

"No." He rubs at his forehead. "Well… There were those two goons. We were all really surprised that Diego Vega himself showed up."

"Yeah, I thought that was weird myself," I say. "He must have gotten demoted. The first time I met him, he was a major crime lord. A kingpin." I take another drink. "But a major crime lord wouldn't concern himself with a paltry million bucks and a kid who got in over his head."

"I wouldn't know if he was demoted." Falcon presses his lips together. "But your grandfather would."

"Yeah, he probably would." I sigh out a deep breath. "I haven't had the presence of mind to ask him. I don't want to bring up Diego Vega to him. I don't want to implicate you in any way."

"I didn't go to prison for killing Diego Vega, Vinnie. I went to prison for killing that young cop, Jaden Perez."

I nod, taking another drink. "Yeah, I know that. But hasn't anyone put two and two together? That Diego Vega disappeared right around that same time?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"And the two goons." I scratch the side of my head. "You say they got stopped at the border and no one ever heard from them again."

Falcon nods.

"I think those might be what we call loose ends, Falcon."

Falcon widens his eyes. "You think they're still around? And are looking for Vega?"

"Hell, no. My guess is Vega probably treated them like pieces of shit and they're happy he's gone. But they are loose ends. Do you happen to remember their names?"

Falcon shakes his head, scowling. "Never got their names. Never wanted their names."

"Would anybody know?"

"Maybe Eagle. I mean, he was working with them." Falcon rakes his fingers through his hair. "But damn. He's already a fucked-up mess."

I want to tell him that I agree, but I'm not going to talk shit about someone in his family. I simply nod. "Got it. But we need to get him back over here."

"Savannah was looking forward to having a nice dinner with Raven tonight." He glances back toward the kitchen, frowning. "The two of them think this is all taken care of."

"It may be," I say. "The fact of the matter is that I don't know, Falcon. But someone alerted this woman—someone who no doubt knows she's on the take—that we needed someone to intervene on your father digging up that property. Who else would have any interest?"

"I don't know… The EPA itself? Maybe there really are wetlands there?"

I take one more drink, letting it soothe my throat. "That's a possibility. But only a possibility. Certainly not a probability. Are you sure no one else knows that Vega was there that night?"

"No one could, other than the two goons."

"Then it's got to be them. If it's not? We've got an even bigger problem."

"Yeah," he says.

"I'll try to find them," I tell him. "I've got all my grandfather's resources, and they can be found. But it won't happen quickly. And if it's someone other than those two? We'll be looking for a fucking needle in a haystack."