Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I nod slowly. “Not a problem. I’ll make arrangements.”
He slides a portfolio across the desk to me. “Arrangements are already made. You leave this evening.”
I pull out the portfolio. Inside is an itinerary and an e-ticket receipt. Everything looks to be in order, except—
“I’m going to be gone for a month?” I say.
“That’s what it says, Vincent.”
I shove the portfolio back at him. “No way. I’m not going to be gone that long. Especially if you’re not even telling me what I’m going to be doing there.”
Grandfather folds his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter, Vincent. With Puzo’s demise, there are some loose ends to take care of, and you being out of the country will serve you well while the investigation into his death is going on. You’re going to go to Columbia as a representative of this family. You’re going to take care of the business Giacomo Puzo no longer can.”
I frown. “Puzo didn’t work for our family.”
A small grin cracks across his face. “No, but I want the piece of the pie he was trying to take. Plus…”
I groan. “What?”
“There’s some…cargo I need you to take care of.”
“You can ship your own damned drugs, Grandpa. And your own damned coffee beans for that matter. At least that’s legal.”
“This cargo isn’t drugs. Or coffee.” His expression remains unchanged.
My breath catches in my throat. “No. No way.”
“It’s your job, Vincent.”
I shake my head. “How were you ever talked into this, Grandfather? After nearly a century of this family business. Sure, we’re criminals, but we drew the line at people.”
He narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying it’s moral to bring drugs over the border and get people hooked. Be responsible for overdoses, the deaths of thousands. But it’s not moral to bring people across the border? People who are only looking for a better life?”
“And what better life do you plan to give them? Life in servitude. Sexual servitude, most likely.”
“A life where they’ll be well fed and taken care of,” he says.
“You’re the devil,” I say.
“Don’t even begin to lecture me on morality, Vincent,” he says. “There are no degrees of morality. There’s just simply morality and immorality.”
No.
Just no.
There are degrees. I have to believe that or I can’t live with myself and what I’ve done.
But is he right?
Why was it easier for me to think about the business when it was only drugs? Despite all the damage drugs do to innocent people?
Is it all that different to just take the innocent people? Bring them into a better country from where they are, except that… I can’t stomach the thought…
But if I do this… If I get my hands dirty, I may get some contacts that I need.
And perhaps those contacts can get Belinda out of the McAllister house for me.
This whole thing is making me want to throw up.
I may never eat again.
One thing is for sure. I need to make sure Raven understands that she and I are through. For good this time.
She’s been through enough.
I can’t get her involved in this.
21
RAVEN
“Hi, Falcon,” I say into the phone.
“Hey, Ray. Can you meet me over at your place?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I look around—the house is still. “Nothing much else going on over here.”
“Great. See you there around ten.”
I end the call and find my mother still in the kitchen, sitting at the table and nursing a cup of tea. Her normally rosy face is pale.
“You okay, Mom?”
She looks up at me and forces a smile. “Yes, of course, Raven.”
“I’m going to go over to my place for a little while. Falcon wants me to meet him there.”
“Whatever for?”
“He didn’t say,” I say, “and I didn’t ask.”
She sighs. “Raven…”
“Dad says we’re in the clear about Mr. Latham’s murder,” I say.
She nods. “That’s good news at least.”
“Yes, it is.” I walk toward her and give her a kiss on her cheek. Her cheek is cold. Her eyes are…spent. Like she has no tears left to cry.
This whole thing has her rattled. Maybe I shouldn’t leave. But Falcon… I can’t say no to him. Not ever. I literally owe him my life.
“I won’t be gone long,” I say. “And if I have to stay longer, I will give you a call.”
“Thank you, Raven. I appreciate that.” She takes a sip of her tea.
I inhale the steam coming from the tea. The earthy and floral aroma of chamomile. She’s trying to relax.
I hope she can.
I sure as heck can’t.
I go outside, get in my car, and drive the few minutes to my place.
Falcon’s car is already there when I arrive, along with a car I don’t recognize. A black Suburban.
I walk up to my door, enter the code, and go into my house.
Falcon sits in my kitchen along with a very large man. He’s tall, at least six foot six, with dark skin and the build of about three linebackers.