Library

24. Vinnie

24

VINNIE

I sit in my grandfather's office, looking him straight in his bloodshot brown eyes.

I've seen pictures of my grandfather when he was younger.

He's nearly a dead ringer for me.

I always hated that, especially after he brutally violated me when I was eighteen.

He and I have the same olive skin, the same dark hair. His eyes are the same color as mine, but even in his youth, his held a dark coldness that no picture of mine can match. Even after everything I've been through—and I've been through a lot, especially during my time abroad—I still see a little life, a little goodness, in my eyes every morning when I look in the mirror. I'm determined not to let that die out like my grandfather did.

Mikey always looked more like my father. Savannah favors him as well. Hair that's not quite as dark, eyes not quite as brown, fairer skin.

But me?

Except for my eyes—God willing—I'm looking in a mirror at myself in fifty years.

And I don't like what I see.

"Grandfather," I say, "do you remember when I was seventeen and I walked in on you and Dad meeting with some drug kingpin named Diego Vega?"

"Of course I do." Grandfather chuckles. "Vega."

I furrow my brow. "Do you find that amusing?"

He strokes his chin. "Not amusing so much as a bit nostalgic. Your father and I considered him an ally at one point, but he turned out to be a bad seed."

"Oh?" I cock my head.

"He ended up fucking up a huge deal, and his men mutinied on him. He got demoted to overseeing a bunch of lowlife pushers." His eyes sparkle deviously. "His work got sloppy, so we had him taken care of."

I hold my jaw in place, but it wants to drop.

My grandfather took credit for Vega's demise?

Motherfucker…

I keep my face noncommittal.

"I see. What did he do to piss you off?"

"This happened eight years ago," Grandfather says. "What does it matter?"

"If I'm going to take over for you," I say, "don't I need to know what someone did to earn your disfavor?"

Grandfather looks up at me and a small grin spreads over his face. A grin reeking of malice, of sadism, of…pride, perhaps?

"He was a hothead," Grandfather says. "He could no longer be trusted." He slowly returns his gaze to me. "Why the sudden interest in this man, Vincent?"

Hothead? Seems accurate. Only a hothead would give a damn about a low-level pusher like Eagle Bellamy. A true boss would leave it to his minions. Something about Eagle Bellamy irked Vega and he couldn't stay out of it. If he had, he might still be alive today.

Or maybe not, if my grandfather wanted him gone.

Hothead. If there's one thing I can say about my grandfather, it's that he's not a hothead. He's cool and calculating.

Which is how I need to play him now.

"It matters to me," I say. "If you expect me to take care of people when they screw us over, I need to know why you took care of Vega."

"Why Vega?"

I comb my brain for a believable lie. "He's just a man I remember from the past," I say. "He called me ‘little cobra.' I never understood that."

"Because it's what I called you," Grandfather says.

I furrow my brow once more. "Never in your life did you call me ‘little cobra.'"

He chuckles. "Not to your face. But that's how I referred to you in the organization. The little cobra. The one who would take over for me eventually. The one who would one day lead the family in my absence." His gaze darkens. "I had a lot of clean-up to do when you disappeared. All I heard from Vega was ‘the cobra didn't grow up. Where's your pride and joy? Little cobra is more like little garter snake.'"

I didn't think I could possibly hate a dead man, but I absently feel my hands curl into fists. And I'm damned glad Vega is cold and dead in the ground, put there by Eagle Bellamy, because I'd like to wring his neck.

I never understood Vega's cobra comment, but I did look up the traditional traits of the snake when I was overseas. I wanted to know what Vega saw in me. According to what I read, cobras are intelligent and territorial, certainly a good trait for the heir to our unseemly dynasty. Above all, they project confidence when threatened by expanding the ribs in their necks to create a hood. In a business where appearances can be everything, that matters a lot.

I'll admit, I am a poster child for each of those traits. But I will use every single cobra attribute I possess not to lead this organization, but to burn it all to the fucking ground.

Grandfather is lying to me. If he had ever referred to me as "little cobra," I would know it. He's also lying about who killed Vega. And I have a feeling that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Damn it all. Did Eagle Bellamy do my grandfather a huge favor years ago without even knowing it?

"What did Vega do to merit his demise?" I ask.

Grandfather folds his hands together. "He made a costly mistake."

"What was that mistake?"

Grandfather shakes his head. "You expect me to remember every little mistake somebody I work with has made? I could fill a couple volumes."

"Does every mistake merit being"—air quote—" taken care of? "

He burns me with his gaze. "Don't take this lightly, Vincent."

"Who's taking anything lightly?"

"When you use that tone and make air quotes, you're taking it lightly. What we do is business, pure and simple. And it's never to be taken lightly." Grandfather darts his gaze—just his eyes—to the left and back. So quickly that I may not have noticed if I hadn't been staring at him so tightly.

He's lying. I already know that. I know that because he didn't have Vega taken care of.

Unless…

Unless he knew…

No.

My grandfather has no interest in the names of the scumbags selling drugs on the street.

There's no way he knows about Eagle Bellamy.

But somehow Myra at the EPA already knew…

"Enough about this shit," Grandfather says. "Where are we on Puzo?"

"Working on it," I say.

"Are you? Because I looked into it last evening, and Giacomo Puzo and his wife were both at home, their two children tucked into bed."

"Did you want me to just march right into his house and shoot him?" I ask.

Grandfather shrugs. "I gave you the fucking gun, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." I stare him down. "But I'll do this my way. I'll prove to you once and for all, Grandfather, that I'm as loyal to this family as I've ever been."

He stares me straight in the eye. "You're not scared, are you, Vinnie? You can walk right into his home and shoot him dead. I'll have everything fixed for you."

"I know that." I keep my voice steady, looking him straight in the eye.

But the truth of the matter is that I don't know that. And I'm not going to off Puzo until I'm convinced of one thing.

My grandfather's so concerned about whether he can trust me.

I'm a hundred times more concerned about trusting him .

I've seen what he is capable of.

I'm not convinced he didn't have a hand in Mikey's death.

So yeah, I don't trust that he'll have everything fixed.

And the fact that he's taking credit for Diego Vega?

He proved to me what I've always known.

He's a fucking criminal and a fucking liar.

And I'm taking him out.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.