Ciao Bella

Chapter Thirty

“We’re all blind to ourselves, to others, the only solution is admitting it.” —King Campisi

King

“I’m a bad father. I’m my father. I can’t win in this scenario.” Nixon paced in the dorm waiting for Ivan, only to turn on me and shove his finger into the air like he was getting ready to use it as a weapon. “He touched her!”

“You’re yelling.”

“I’m FULLY AWARE! of what I’m doing.” His black suit looked ruffled, which was never the case with Nixon, he was always put together. He’d pulled off his jacket, tugged at his tie, and now he was in nothing but a white shirt, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, his pants and shoes that kept slamming against the wood floor like they hoped to turn it into kindling.

I jerked my head toward the black leather chair in the corner. “Maybe take a seat while we wait for him?”

He kicked at the same chair twice, then sat. “I don’t want to sit!”

“And the alternative is hitting someone or something?” I asked. “I mean, he saved her life, she would have died without—”

“I know.”

“He killed Junior, who was like a son to you, I understand your anger, and she’s your youngest daughter.”

“Stop being the voice of reason, King. It really pisses me off more, it reminds me of myself being the voice of reason with others when they lose their shit.” He fell back into his chair and pinched his nose. “I think he loves her.”

My eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s playing me. He’s wanted her from the beginning, he’s playing a role, he knows things, Junior knew things. I’m not stupid, but it’s my—” He took another deep breath. “She’s my everything, my Family is everything, he’s going to get her hurt.”

“That,” came Ivan’s voice, “isn’t your choice now, is it?”

Nixon jumped to his feet. “I said no touching!”

Ivan slapped his hands away. “Yeah okay, Dad, I’ll be sure not to touch her after a near death experience with some monster and his cheek tattoo, good advice.”

“Don’t call me Dad.”

“Don’t make yourself look stupid.” Ivan spat.

I whistled and looked away just as Ash came in and started to back out, only to have Phoenix shove him in the rest of the way. Maksim was chatting with everyone else in a separate room about our intel. I wanted everyone in here discussing the safest way to protect Bella and Ivan.

Nixon… was not helping.

“So…” Phoenix looked around the room. “This looks like a party.”

Everyone turned to him.

He held up his hands. “Sorry?”

“She was scared, so I hugged her, I was petrified so I kissed her.” Ivan spat. “Deal with it, Dad!”

“Stop calling me Dad!” Nixon roared.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, hey Dad, what’s going on, Dad? What’s your damage, Dad? You’re doing too much, Dad, relax…” Ivan grinned. “Dad.”

Nixon charged toward him, Phoenix blocked him and nearly got clocked in the face.

Maksim poked his head through the door, saw the drama, and backed away and closed it.

I sighed and glanced over at Ash. “You wanna start?”

Ash tossed a black folder onto the table. “I think Phoenix should.”

The room fell silent.

Phoenix walked over to the folder and stared it down. “Do I want to open this?”

“Do you want to avenge your dead son?” I snapped just as Chase walked in, expression pale. “Open the damn folder.”

Phoenix looked at it, then back up at Nixon and Chase. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Find out what?” Nixon asked. “That Ivan’s a jackass and that we have a killer on the loose that thinks they’re a boss and keeps branding their own men?”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “There were five.”

“Five?” Nixon repeated. “Five what?”

“Over twenty years ago, there were five De Langes that Chase and I didn’t cleanse. Five that disappeared off the map.”

Ash leaned forward while Chase cursed and looked down at his feet. “And you think they’re pulling the strings?”

“I think…” Phoenix sat “…that my son discovered them, and they made him pay for it, they wanted one thing, the money and the power, they wanted him to be a figurehead, I’m assuming. Knowing Junior, he said no, and they threatened his Family.”

“Why wouldn’t he just come to us?” I asked. “He knew better.”

“You don’t rat out a rat.” Phoenix sighed. “You lead them slowly with their own obsession… he couldn’t use force, they’d run, regroup, retaliate.”

I nodded my head. “He wanted them all out exposed, in the open.”

Phoenix tossed the black folder onto the table, the pictures slid out. Of Junior training Ivan, of Ivan’s first kill, of Ivan becoming made and Junior’s right-hand man.

“What better way,” Phoenix whispered, “to pull out the rat from the darkness, then having your favorite betray you?”

One of the pictures was covered by the folder, I pulled it out and did a double take. “Wasn’t his throat slit?”

“Junior?” Nixon asked. “Yeah, from left to right, couldn’t miss it.”

“He had a white horse tattoo on the left, not the right.” Hands shaking, I dropped the picture while Phoenix stood and ran his hands through his hair. “Anything can be edited.”

Nixon narrowed his eyes. “Ivan, are you still saying you killed him for the spot?”

“Yes,” Ivan snapped. “Of course I did.”

Nixon actually smiled. “He’s vehement about it.” I tilted my head. “Always is, about things you want, love, hate.”

Ivan went still.

Nixon stood. “Good meeting. Keep your secrets, I’ll keep mine, and Ivan, you touch her again without my permission and you’ll pay for it.”

Ivan reached for Nixon and gripped his arm. “With my life or with pain?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Answer the question.”

Nixon cursed. “Pain.”

“So I’ll live?”

“You hate her.”

“So I’ll live,” Ivan repeated. “Correct? On your word in front of our Capo. I’ll live.”

Nixon sneered. “You’ll wish you’re dead.”

And for the second time in twenty-four hours, I witnessed Ivan whisper, “Worth it.”