Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Instead, I’ll ignore my pain and smile and hide behind easy platitudes and try not to let everyone around me know how much I’m suffering just like I was always taught. Swallow it up, bottle it down, and soldier on, that’s the Rowe family way.
After breakfast, Carmine drives us over to the apartment where we meet with the movers. They get to work ferrying my stuff out of there, and it feels like watching a piece of me get stabbed over and over again. Carmine helps out, even though I can tell the movers don’t want him to, and I can’t stop staring at the way he wipes his sweaty brow and how much his arms flex as he lifts the boxes. Despite being the guy with the checkbook, he decided to pitch in, which was just overkill. I didn’t need four big, strong men to carry, like, eight boxes worth of stuff.
When it’s all packed up, we hit the road again and head to the new house. Carmine’s quiet on the drive out through the city as we follow the movers in his Range Rover. Halfway there, I can’t stand the heavy silence, and decide I might as well use this opportunity to get something out of him. “Tell me about these Panagos guys,” I say, trying to sound casual, even though this isn’t exactly a nice topic. “Since they’re going to kill me and all.”
He glances at me with a frown. “The less you know, the better.”
“Carmine. They knocked on my door and threatened me. You made a big thing about saying they’re going to rape me or whatever. You think that’s the last time I’ll see them?”
“I’ll make sure of it. Nobody fucks with what’s mine.”
“Stop the macho stuff for a second and tell me about them. I deserve to know.” He gives me another look and I add, “Please.”
He runs his hands along the steering wheel. “There’s not much to tell. Typical Greek mafia. They deal mostly in drugs and extortion. They’re big down South though and growing all the time. Lots of Greek immigrants are coming over and bolstering their numbers, probably because they hear the Panagos family is paying well and there aren’t any jobs back home in Greece. These days, mafia families prefer to do business as peacefully as possible to avoid getting attention from law enforcement, but the Panagos family hasn’t been so quiet. They like to do shit like knock on doors and yell about paying debts like a bunch of fucking children, and it makes things harder for everyone. If your father had ripped off one of a dozen other families, I wouldn’t be so worried, but he had to go choose the one goddamn group that’s still actively killing people.”
“Do you think he knew? My father, I mean. Do you think he knew who he was taking money from?”
“Hard to say. I can’t pretend like I know everything about crypto. It’s entirely possible the Greeks bought in on their own and he had no clue they were on the other end, but I sort of doubt it. Families like the Panagos don’t invest in things on a whim, and I suspect your father reached out to set up a deal with them.”
“That makes it so much worse. He knew who he was selling to and he did it anyway.”
“Your father torched your company and pissed on your family’s finances, and you’re only just realizing he’s a colossal piece of garbage?”
“He’s still my father.”
“And he’s going to get you killed. If I were you, I’d forget your old man exists and move the fuck on.”
I’m silent for a second. “Would you do that? Forget about your family, I mean. Could you do that?”
“My father died of a heart attack at the dinner table and I didn’t lift a finger to try to save his life. Yes, filthy girl, I could.”
I gape at him, not sure what to say. Is that really true? Could Carmine be so cold that he could watch his own flesh and blood die without trying to help him? The mafia families are totally foreign to me, but it’s possible—I can’t imagine he grew up under normal, happy circumstances. I’d bet his father was distant and difficult at best, but most likely he was straight-up violent and abusive. I mean, how else do you end up like Carmine? Like there’s darkness boiling under his skin? I can only guess at the things he must’ve gone through.
But I won’t pity him. I won’t humanize him. Carmine’s still the enemy.
We lapse into another silence as the neighborhood comes into view. It’s a nice place, upscale, and right on the outside edge of Dallas. It’s the sort of place new money tends to gather, with big, gaudy homes, huge wrought-iron gates, and sprawling properties.