Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 117010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
* * *
DRACO
* * *
“What the fuck are you saying to me, Denver? You’re where?”
“Sicily!” My blood ran cold.
“What? Why? The fuck! Why am I now hearing this?”
“He didn’t tell us where he was going. We went to your parents’ house, and then he just left for the airstrip. We didn’t have time to tell you anything.”
“My parents?”
“Yeah, he’s been going there a lot lately. We thought you knew.” Ah fuck Pop, what did you do? I hung up the phone without saying another word and headed out to the car. “Tommy, Pop’s now.”
“On it, boss.” Dammit, Gabe, just dammit all to hell. He’d clipped my wings, lulled me into a false sense of security when all along he’d been up to this shit.
I know for a fact that there’s no way he went there without extensive planning; that’s how he works. I should’ve known Pop had something to do with him finding the nun, but I just always thought he’d found her through the computer. So much has been going on since we got back from Europe that we never even really got down to discussing the particulars.
Every time I brought it up, he seemed disinterested, but I see now that that was a well-devised scheme to keep me off his scent. I dropped the ball, and now my kid might be in danger; nothing can feel worse than this. If that fuck does anything to hurt him, they’ll bury me under the jail because I won’t care who’s watching.
Of course, he took my plane, so there’s no way for me to go after him like I want to unless I book a flight, and that shit would take forever with the restrictions in place. Pop’s plane is an option, I guess, but the old man never lets us use it. He has a phobia about one of us buying it with a bomb meant for him. Powerlessness is not something I’m familiar with, and neither is the weakness I felt at the thought of my son being hurt.
I slammed out of the car and took the steps to my parent's front door two at a time, not even stopping to greet the butler who answered the door. I knew just where to find the old reprobate this time of day, cursing out whoever did the Sunday New York Times puzzle that takes him days to finish.
“Pop, what have you done to my son?”
“Oh, you’re here. I knew you’d show up. Have a seat.”
“Not in the mood, Pop; what were you thinking?” He chewed on his unlit cigar and filled in a word. “Cazzo, there you are.” I should light that shit and let Ma have his ass.
“Pop, this is serious. Do you know where your grandson is?”
“It’s not me. It’s your mother.”
“What? What’re you talking about?” Just then, she came into the room with a tea tray, all smiles.
“Pauly said you were here. Come, sit down; I’ll explain.”
“Ma? what do you have to do with this?”
“Sit bambino.” Oh damn, her Italian is showing. Once she starts with that, I know I’m in for a wild ride.
“Ma, what did you do?”
“My daughter-in-law told me years ago what happened to her. When your son came to me, he explained that because it was a female issue, he felt more comfortable discussing it with me than with his grandfather, so I did what I had to do.”
“What you had to do?”
“Draco, you know your mother’s grandfather was capomandamento back in the old country. Who better to give the boy advice and turn him onto the right people over there? Me, I’m third generation, my people were made in the streets of Chicago, what do I know?” This…
“So, you just sent him there, let him go on his own. Behind my back.”
“Don’t yell at your mother.”
“I didn’t yell. How could you do this?”
“Boy, I’ve been trying to protect both of you. You want to go legit, and the boy wants to take care of what he needs to take care of. So, this old man has been doing everything he can behind the scenes to make both those things happen. With your mother’s help, of course.”
He smiled at his wife like this shit was just another walk in the park. What am I supposed to do with this, huh? What? At what age are these two going to stop making me crazy? My own mother. “I’m telling Garrett.”
“Ah!”
“And I’m taking your damn plane.” I left because there was no time to lose. Later I’ll get the story of how my mother helped my son hoodwink me.
GIANNA
Traumatized! What made me think I could do this on my own? Giving birth was the easy part. Connie yelled for them to give me every drug available once the pain started. Well, not exactly easy, but the pain was nowhere near what I expected. But once the ordeal was over and I could breathe again, the real fear set in.