Page 74 of The Devil We Crave
I grin. “Love you too, Mom. I will. Oh, and tell Iris to return my texts from time to time, or I’ll make sure she’s a pariah by the time she sets foot on campus.”
Mom laughs. “Only if next time you call, you tell me something more concrete about this girl.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll see what I caninvent.”
When she’s gone and my dad has the phone again, his smile fades.
“Thanks for covering for me,” I mutter.
“No problem,” he grunts. “But…this cabin…”
“Who squealed?”
He chuckles. “No one. Ezio Adamos has trackers in all his cars, which Leo clearly forgot when he was up in Hawthorne Hollowdoing somethingfor you.”
“Huh,” I say.
“Yeah,huh,” Dad growls. His brow furrows. “It was the funniest thing. First, Ezio’s SUVs were up at this off-grid cabin which is apparently owned by a shipping business that does no shipping, underyourname.”
“Really…” I grin.
Dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah,otherfunny thing: these SUVs left this cabin and then went to a scrapyard in the Bronx that, would you believe, Iown.”
I clear my throat. “Wow, Dad, didn’t know you were in the scrap?—”
“Achilles.”
I lose the smile.
“Let’s not pretend we both don’t know that scrapyard is where our family and Ezio’s disposes of…problems.”
This isn’t the big emotional moment where my dad realizes that his son followed in his footsteps and has blood on his hands.
We crossed that bridgeyearsago.
It’s not like Dad or I are out there running around mass murdering motherfuckers for fun, but… It’s the mafia.
Sometimes people die. And they often need to be hidden when they do.
Hence: the scrapyard.
“I’m going to ask you a straightforward question, Achilles,” Dad murmurs. “And I need a straightforward answer. Who’d Leonidas get rid of for you?”
Dad’s always been a straight shooter with me, so I’ve always been the same with him. Which is why I am categorically about to tell him that it was those two guys working for Angelo Santoro.
…Until he keeps talking.
“Look, I just…” He sighs. “I don’t want you starting any shit about this thing with Ya-ya’s house.”
Fuck. “Dad, Santoro?—”
“Is a prick, I know,” he growls. “And believe me, ifyou’refucking angry, you can imagine how angryIam.” He makes a face. “Andhow hard I’m working to keep your uncles and my damn sister from going off the rails about this.”
My jaw tenses. “Why shouldn’t they? It’s an act of war?—”
“Because Angelo’s ego is making him write checks on his own, and that’s muddying the waters of his business relationship with Nero De Luca. If that business relationship were to fall apart…”
I nod. “Don’t interrupt your enemy when he’s busy making a mistake.”
