Page 51 of Black Sheep
My gut says that digging into the Casso-Rossetti feud and whatever sparked the resurgence twenty-five years ago is what got my father killed, and I’m not going to stop until I have the answers he wasn’t able to find.
Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not done digging yet.
A small voice inside me says that he would prefer I burn the file, leave New York, and never come back, but I silence it with a shiver.
30
Cannon
“Why is this punk-ass piece of shit following me?” I toss my phone on the desk in front of Dom, its screen displaying a grainy photo of Giancarlo Tyrol Rossetti Jr., also known asGTR, sitting in his car across the street from my apartment. “And why the fuck does he think he can be this blatant about it?”
Dom leans back in his leather chair and clasps his hands behind his neck. Twin revolvers hang from leather shoulder holsters wrapped around his still-broad shoulders.
“What were you doing that he thought would be interesting to watch?” Dom’s raised silver eyebrow punctuates the question he already knows the answer to.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something crude, likeeating my girl’s pussy on my desk while she creamed all over my face, but the words won’t come.
In this family, there’s never been much respect for women, but I refuse to drag Drew into that category. She’s better than that.
Dom’s lips form a smirk when I say nothing. “I guess I can figure that out for myself. I really didn’t think you had it in you, Canny Boy. But you manage to surprise me every once in a while. Good for you.”
“What’s going down with the Rossettis? I thought the truce was solid.”
The smirk fades and the old man’s gaze sharpens on me. “Since when do you want to know all the details of what’s happening in my business? Because last I checked, you’ve never been involved with anything that required you to get your hands dirty.”
He’s right. I’ve lived on the periphery my entire life. Never part of the family, never able to break free from it completely. It’s a line that’s razor-wire sharp and dangerous as fuck to walk, but it’s all I know.
“I’ve done every damn thing you’ve ever asked of me since I was fourteen fucking years old.” My hands tighten into fists at my sides.
Dom drops his hands to the padded leather arms of the chair and stares me down. “And you’ll keep doing every damn thing I ask you to do until the day I meet my Maker or hand over the reins. Won’t you, Cannon? Because that’s what you do. What everyone tells you to. If you showed even a hint of wanting to take over the family, I would give you a shot. But you don’t show me that. You look at everything I’ve built, with my own fucking bloody hands, with contempt.”
My teeth grind together as I force myself to stay silent, even when I want to tell him to go fuck himself, and walk out of this building and this city and never fucking come back. The idea of it—the sheer magnitude of the freedom just beyond my grasp—is seductive as hell.
Start over somewhere else.Besomeone else.
Why haven’t I done it already?I have money Dom knows nothing about. I have real estate he doesn’t know I own. Why am I still living under his rule?
Because he’s the only family I have left.Despite the fact that I want to hate him ... I can’t. He’s still my father, for good or for evil.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Nothing to say. That’s one thing you excel at—keeping your fucking mouth shut. At least until it mattered, and you had to blow shit with Creighton. Lucky for you, he’ll still talk to me. Real fucking lucky.” Dom rocks back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
“What do you want from me, Dom?” I bite out the question. “I’m running your club. It’s making a fuck-ton of money you don’t have to clean because I keep it on the up-and-up. Even the Feds aren’t watching closely anymore now that I’m in charge. If there’s something else you think I should be doing, you just let me know.”
I turn to walk out of his office without being dismissed because I just don’t give a fuck anymore, about him or getting an explanation about GTR, but Dom stops me as soon as I touch the door handle.
“There is one thing ...”
I look over my shoulder at him. “What?”
The harsh lines of his face deepen further as he glares at me. “The girl. If you’re not fucking her, she’s fair game. If last night was a charade, you really won’t like the consequences.”
With my jaw at risk of cracking, I speak through clenched teeth.
“If you even think about touching her, you’ll answer to me. I may not be the son you wanted under your thumb, but I’ve learned vengeance at your knee. Don’t fucking try me, because you’ll be meeting your Maker a hell of a lot sooner than you planned.”
Instead of rising to his feet and pulling a gun from his shoulder holster, Dom smirks at me, respect glinting in his eyes.
“Finally. Only took some sweet pussy to make you into a man. Bring her to my birthday party. I want to learn more about Miss Drew Carson.”
