Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I don’t answer. I won’t need to. I watch the brothers.
“Jet, I told you to fucking stay out of it,” Severin snaps.
“Yeah, Jet, stay out of it.” I lean toward him. “Keep your hands clean. Oh wait, too late.” I shift my gaze to Severin. “They got dirty the minute you took our money to save your necks.”
Severin’s gaze shifts from me to Jet. He pushes his chair back loudly and stands. “I’m here to tell you I don’t want fucking Feds near the casino so handle your shit however you fucking need to handle it or else—”
“Or else what?” I ask with a smirk. He wants a fight. Severin always wants a fucking fight. And sometimes I really want to give it to him. He’s not stupid though. I can read his hate in his glare, his fisted hands.
“Jethro. Let’s go,” he barks as he turns to leave.
“I’ll catch up,” Jet says casually. He enjoys watching Severin get all riled up.
Severin pauses, opens his mouth to say something to his younger brother but Jet raises his hand to stop him.
I know what Severin was about to say. I’ve heard it a hundred times before. Jet’s curiosity in the Trevino family business makes him nervous. I get it. We are mafia, after all. Severin doesn’t want his kid brother to be a part of our dirty, blood-soaked world, but he’s fine to take our money. To wash it clean and shave off a little for himself. Hell, they all are. Fucking hypocrites. All but Jet, I suppose, to some extent at least.
Jet raises his hand to signal the waitress who refills our glasses.
“Was he surprised?” he asks. He’s referring to Michael Moretti.
“Your brother doesn’t want you involved.”
“Well, I’m old enough to make my own decisions, aren’t I? Besides, I’m entitled to know, considering.”
“I suppose you are,” I say because he was the one who brought me the identity of the caller who tipped off the Feds. Jet has an informant on the inside. “You sure it was Michael and not Malek Lombardi?” I ask because I know about Malek Lombardi. I’ve known about him for a long time. He was Alaric Moretti’s consigliere, but there was tension. I wonder if Alaric kept him close more to keep his enemy close than as trusted advisor. Alaric was smart and he was as careful as he was brutal. I’m still not sure if the car accident that killed him was an accident at all. It wouldn’t be the first time the knife in your back came from someone you trusted. Malek Lombardi was quick to move himself and his family into the Moretti house just weeks after Alaric’s death. He's close to Michael. Always has been. Michael is easier to manipulate than his father was.
Jet’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m sure. Why? Lombardi’s not involved outside of the role of advisor as far as I know.”
“That may have been the case when Alaric was alive. I’m not convinced it still is.” I take another sip of my drink and check my watch, anxious to get home. Anxious to get to her. “How is my father?” I ask Jet because that’s the only reason I stopped at the club at all.
“Same,” Jet says, watching me.
My father is only sixty years old, but over the last few years, he’s been declining. Early onset dementia. It started when he was about fifty-three. It was small things at first, something I could blame on a busy life or middle age, but as it progressed, it became harder to deny it. My grandfather had the same, so it runs in the family.
I finish my drink and stand. “I’m going up. Have your contact do a little more digging, will you? I have a gut feeling.”
He nods once.
“Goodnight,” I say and walk back out of the restaurant. I see Severin and Sybil commiserating just beyond the glass doors of the entrance as she puffs away at her cigarette. She’s pissed. It should give me some joy, but it doesn’t. Hell, not much gives me joy these days. That’s maybe why I took Allegra. It’s the first time in a long, long time, I’ve felt anything at all. Any excitement. Any anticipation.
Any want.
Used to be when I saw something I wanted, I took it. It was my mantra once upon a time. Before Seth. Before my father. When life was simpler. When life was good. But with her, I feel something stirring again. A glimpse of the old me. It’s inconvenient she happens to be a Moretti, but I’ll take it.
I ride the elevator up to the top floor where my father lives with Sybil. Severin and Jet have their own apartments here in the building. I keep an office I don’t use, but that’s it.
A soldier greets me just as Dad’s nurse, Maria, walks out of his bedroom.