Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
I pull it open and my father’s standing there. “Son,” he says.
“What are you doing here?” He never comes here. He only visits when there’s a hit to be done. And that’s only because he’s reliant on me now.
“Come to check up on you. Gonna let me in or what?” he asks.
I nod and step aside. His heavy steps pause as he enters the hallway and looks at the mess of boxes and guns stacked in the living room.
“What’s this shit?”
“It’s from the gun room. I had to clean it out to make room for her.”
“I know, but you didn’t find a better place for it?”
“I’ve been busy,” I say and clench my jaw and look away. “What do you need?”
“The Romanos have been asking about you.” He walks into the kitchen as if it’s his and grabs a beer from the fridge. He peeks his head over the open door and asks, “Want one?”
“I’m good.”
He takes a seat at the table, making himself at home and takes a big swig.
“What do they want?” I ask. I lean against the wall with my arms crossed.
“They’re wondering why that bastard Toni isn’t dead yet.”
“I’ve been busy,” I say again.
“I get that. But he’s just one asshole.”
“He’s a well-guarded asshole. I’ve been scouting him, searching for weaknesses.” I set up surveillance to learn his routines, which are minimal. He has to know it’s coming. He’s not giving me an easy angle.
“What about the girl? She give you anything?”
“Not yet.” My blood heats at his question. She’s not a part of this. I haven’t asked her a damn thing, and I don’t plan on it. She’s not a tool to use. She’s mine.
“What’s taking so long?” he asks.
“You know how long it takes. They always want to rush this shit, but it takes time to plan it out.” I may be putting this off a bit longer than I should. But hits take time, and they know that.
“Yeah, I get it,” he grunts, drinking the beer. “Still, they’re getting on my ass about it. How much longer?”
I shake my head. “Hard to say. Weeks, maybe.”
“Fuck, Gio.” He finishes the beer and walks back to the fridge for another. I follow him, annoyed at this useless intrusion. I want to get back to my princess.
He knows better than this. Getting a little taste of the familia is fucking with his head. He knows how long it takes to research and plan a proper hit. He’s complained many, many times over the years that they always want us to rush into it and get fucked, and here he is doing that same thing to me.
“Listen, I’ve overheard some shit,” he says.
“What sort of shit?”
“There are some new meets going down. They’re starting to let us in.”
I raise an eyebrow. He seems excited, which is unlike him. The Bruno Luca I’ve known my whole life has been skeptical and quick to anger, but always patient when it comes to a kill.
I barely recognize this man. We’ve been growing apart for years, but now it feels like the break has finally come.
“I’m going to do it,” he says, cracking another beer. I cock a brow at him and he repeats himself, “I’ll do the hit.”
“No,” I say.
“I have a plan. You’re taking too long. They want this shit done.”
I ball my fists and have to take a deep breath before I clobber him to death. I almost want him to go forward with this hit and get himself killed. It would probably make my life easier if he just never fucking existed or suddenly disappeared.
Instantly I feel guilty about that thought. Although we’re growing apart, he’s still my father. I disagree with him over this situation, and there are a lot of things I hate about him, but he’s still my family. My only family. I can’t turn my back on him as much as I really want to. He's given me so much in my life already.
He fucked up as much as he gave, though. Maybe more.
“I can pull this off,” he says confidently.
“I’m not having this discussion.” I stare at him, and there must be something in the way I’m looking at him that makes him back off.
“Alright,” he mutters and takes another swig. After a second of silence, he grins at me. “Hey, let me see the girl.”
“What?”
“Yeah, let me see her.”
“You know I can’t do that.” My back straightens, and I feel a prickle of unease down my spine.
“Come on, son,” he says, leering at me. “I just wanna see the girl. I just want a little taste, you know what I mean?”
“No!” I say, more forceful than I expected. It surprises me and clearly surprises him, because his eyebrows instantly lift up in a questioning look.
I have to scramble to cover up my reaction. “You know how this goes,” I say. “I can’t have you going in there and fucking up my work. I need to build trust with her, make her want me above anything else.”