Page 6 of Tommy
“Theft?” I nod at Vinny, and he does the same. “That much is obvious. But I doubt he’s smart enough to think of that on his own.”
Something I agree with as well. “So, let the fish of the Hudson deal with him and move on.”
Vinny lets out a sigh and takes a sip of his drink before looking around his office, taking it all in as he speaks.
“When we let Carl stay on, we knew to only give him enough rope to hang himself with. He’s a pawn, not the master puppeteer. Someone wants to put the blame on him. I’ve got no issues with removing this pawn, but”—he looks at me—“I want the one pulling his strings. Someone is stealing from the family, but right now there’s nothing that tells me who.”
“Problems on Capitol Hill?”
D.C. isn’t the only place that can turn that phrase. My brothers and I took it up years before when Dad would talk about the politics of trying to make all the members of the family and those we’re connected with happy. No one is all the time, but the job is to make it manageable. Well, Vinny’s job. Usually I could walk away and just get piss-drunk at these functions. But if I take this role, the face of the family, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be sipping on wine and sobering up for all the upcoming meetings just like everyone else.
“Only the usual cleanups. This has been going on for a while. Small and subtle. It would have looked like just another failed business avenue eventually if I wasn’t looking to change how things are run around here.”
I let that sink in and then nod. “Right. So we’re looking for a thief.”
He nods once. “And I don’t want them to know we’re coming for them. Till we know more, we need to keep this tight.”
“You saying we got a rat?” The snarl on my lip can’t be contained.
“I’m saying I trust my brothers. Everyone else can be bought.Everyone.”
I knew it. We’re looking for a rat. Vinny has a good head on his shoulders. If he says someone or something ain’t right, then you know to pay attention. If he didn’t think it was an inside thing, I’d get the full backing. Him not saying shit means I’ve got to keep it to need-to-know. And like Vinny, I only trust my brothers.
Well, my sister, too, but she’s shacked up with a Hound. And that’s a bigger dog than I want to deal with at the moment.
“Got anyone who interests you for this?” I want to know who he’s already looking into and who he’s weeded out as being this elusive puppet master.
“A few.”
I tilt my head.
“Do tell, big brother.”
Chapter 3—Tommy
“What a dump,” Dante says from the driver’s seat of my car.
Lately, I drive myself, but tonight, a little show felt like the better move. And what better way to play the old Tommy than by showing up in a car I can’t be bothered to drive but was happy to pay for, proving I’ve got money?
Carl is a weasel who went against the Maranzetti family and told us some shit. In exchange, we let him live and even gave him a club to run. It’s a small thing—we own plenty of clubs—but it showed we accepted Carl into our fold. Even if we never reach out to the sniveling rat. Like my family, I believe once you turn on a person, you’ll do it again. Don’t kill the messenger—that’s what’s written in stone according to the women of our world. Thankfully, I never fell into that category.
Probably because I never date. No more than a few hours, and then I’m on to the next. They all get it. It’s just how things are done in this life. One day I’m sure I’ll either get an arranged marriage or die. Those are really my only two options. Don’t see a third one where I find someone on my own who not only approves of what my family and I do, but who the family accepts. Especially Mama. She’s a mean judge of character, and so far has never liked a single woman any of us brought home. All three of them.
To be fair, it was me, and I brought them all in one night. Still, no one else has come close to introducing Mama to a woman they’re interested in. Because we haven’t been. It takes a lot to find one who can talk about more than shopping or their social media. And it takes a lot more to find someone I want totalkto at all.
“I think you’re just grumpy that you’re missing your shows.”
“Stop calling them like that. It makes me sound like an old woman.” He shudders at the thought. “And yeah, so what if I enjoy good reality TV? It never hurt anyone.”
I nod in agreement as we make our way down the dingy alleyway that leads to G-Spot.
I get that the whole idea behind this place is that it’s meant to be exclusive. Only a few people can find it—kind of like the G-spot on a woman—but I don’t think we should have this much trash on the walkway. I nearly stepped in dog shit, mainly because there’s barely any light. Thank Christ the moon is full, or I’d be smelling like crap all night.
“True. But you might get hurt once the boys learn it’sThe Golden Bachelorand you get off on watching old people fall in love.”
He holds up his hands. “It’s not that. Those people have years on me. I seek the knowledge of what they bring. If they’re still talking about their best date, kiss, or sex life, it’s like insight into what lasts through the ages. It’s a learning thing.”
“Man, keep that up and I’ll make sure you get the matching heels with the skirt.” There’s zero heat behind my words, and I don’t even fault him for shoving me. It’s a smallone at that. We might not see much, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t being watched.
