20. Vinnie

20

VINNIE

“W hat about Belinda McAllister?” Grandfather asks.

“I’d like to talk about…taking a more active role in her life.”

Grandfather raises one eyebrow. “Vincent, I didn’t know you had those inclinations.”

I feel sick. I could upchuck right now, right on my grandfather’s smug face.

I swallow it down. I won’t give this bastard the pleasure of a violent reaction. “I don’t have any such inclinations , Grandfather, and you’re disgusting to even think that. But if the woman is to be my wife, perhaps she should come live with Mom and me. In her own room, with her nanny.”

God, I sound like a first-class creep.

Grandfather’s eyebrows are still raised. “Declan will never go for that.”

I sink into my chair. “Which is why you need to convince him.”

“Convince him?” He scowls. “He’ll think you’re a fucking child molester, Vinnie. We’re lucky we have such a good alliance with the McAllisters at all, considering that your father killed one of them.”

I’m not sure what to say to my grandfather. If I tell him that Declan is hurting Belinda, he won’t care. It’s par for the course in his world.

“I think it would be good for my mother,” I say. “She’s very lonely.”

“And you don’t think Declan would be lonely without his daughter?”

I jump to my feet. “I don’t fucking care if Declan will be lonely. Right now he’s hurting her.”

Grandfather’s expression doesn’t change.

Just as I thought.

“And you know this how?”

I can’t tell him. I can’t tell him that Belinda gave me a note and that I talked to the nanny. If I do that, he’ll go straight to Declan, and both Belinda and the nanny will pay the price.

“Never mind.” I cross my arms. “I’m sure she’s fine where she is.”

“Yes, I’m sure she is as well.” He strokes his chin. “Do me a favor, Vincent.”

“What now?”

“Forget about what you think you might know about the child.” He leers over the desk. “And in return, I am going to forget you ever brought this up. Do we understand each other?”

I look into my grandfather’s cold, watery eyes. Yes, we understand each other perfectly. He knows what’s going on with Belinda, and he doesn’t care.

And he knows someone breached a confidence, which is how I know.

So he’ll keep quiet… As long as I let it lie.

“Yes, we understand each other.” I keep my expression noncommittal.

But inside I’m raging. How can he let a young girl suffer? And am I supposed to do that as well? She asked for my help.

No, she begged for it.

And Natalie is risking her job—and probably her life—by trying to protect her little charge.

That little girl should not be in this situation.

She should be working toward a scholarship to Juilliard. For a career as a concert pianist. All that talent will go to waste. She’s being raised to be a quiet child-rearing Mafia wife.

This life is not fair.

It’s not fair to anyone.

Even to my grandfather. I don’t feel sorry for the old bastard, but watching the love of his life suffer could not have been easy. No wonder he had to let his heart turn to stone.

I’ll have to find another way to help Belinda. Without my grandfather’s—or Declan’s—knowledge.

A plan begins to percolate in my mind.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off, but…

“If there’s nothing else, Grandfather…”

“There is, actually,” he says. “I need you to go to Colombia.”

I cock my head slowly. “What for?”

His lip twitches. “That will be made clear to you soon enough.”

My instinct is to push him on this. To tell him he’s insane if he thinks I’m going to fly off to Colombia without even knowing what my assignment will be when I get there.

But then I think of that poor little girl. And how the man in front of me might be my only shot at giving her the help she needs.

I nod slowly. “Not a problem. I’ll make arrangements.”

He slides a portfolio across the desk to me. “Arrangements are already made. You leave this evening.”

I pull out the portfolio. Inside is an itinerary and an e-ticket receipt. Everything looks to be in order, except?—

“I’m going to be gone for a month? ” I say.

“That’s what it says, Vincent.”

I shove the portfolio back at him. “No way. I’m not going to be gone that long. Especially if you’re not even telling me what I’m going to be doing there.”

Grandfather folds his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter, Vincent. With Puzo’s demise, there are some loose ends to take care of, and you being out of the country will serve you well while the investigation into his death is going on. You’re going to go to Columbia as a representative of this family. You’re going to take care of the business Giacomo Puzo no longer can.”

I frown. “Puzo didn’t work for our family.”

A small grin cracks across his face. “No, but I want the piece of the pie he was trying to take. Plus…”

I groan. “What?”

“There’s some…cargo I need you to take care of.”

“You can ship your own damned drugs, Grandpa. And your own damned coffee beans for that matter. At least that’s legal.”

“This cargo isn’t drugs. Or coffee.” His expression remains unchanged.

My breath catches in my throat. “No. No way.”

“It’s your job, Vincent.”

I shake my head. “How were you ever talked into this, Grandfather? After nearly a century of this family business. Sure, we’re criminals, but we drew the line at people.”

He narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying it’s moral to bring drugs over the border and get people hooked. Be responsible for overdoses, the deaths of thousands. But it’s not moral to bring people across the border? People who are only looking for a better life?”

“And what better life do you plan to give them? Life in servitude. Sexual servitude, most likely.”

“A life where they’ll be well fed and taken care of,” he says.

“You’re the devil,” I say.

“Don’t even begin to lecture me on morality, Vincent,” he says. “There are no degrees of morality. There’s just simply morality and immorality.”

No.

Just no.

There are degrees. I have to believe that or I can’t live with myself and what I’ve done.

But is he right?

Why was it easier for me to think about the business when it was only drugs? Despite all the damage drugs do to innocent people?

Is it all that different to just take the innocent people? Bring them into a better country from where they are, except that… I can’t stomach the thought…

But if I do this… If I get my hands dirty, I may get some contacts that I need.

And perhaps those contacts can get Belinda out of the McAllister house for me.

This whole thing is making me want to throw up.

I may never eat again.

One thing is for sure. I need to make sure Raven understands that she and I are through. For good this time.

She’s been through enough.

I can’t get her involved in this.