Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Vince
This girl better thank her lucky stars it was me here this evening and not the boss of AC, Sergio, because that sick fuck might have taken Mr. Barone up on his offer. Not that I believe in luck; superstitions are for suckers.
Leading the girl down the hall, we pass the kitchen, and her stomach rumbles violently. Making a pitstop, I grab a box of cookies and continue ushering her out the back and to my waiting vehicle. I open the passenger door for her, but instead of getting in, she takes off running.
Smart girl.
I take off in a sprint and easily catch up to her, wrapping my arms around her as we skitter to a stop. “I don’t want to have to kill you, so don’t make me,” I warn her.
Her body shakes like a leaf as I pick her up and easily hoist her over my shoulder. Walking us back to my car, I toss her in the passenger seat and hustle to slide behind the wheel. “ Eat,” I tell her, shoving the box at her as I pull out of the back lot.
She eyes the box suspiciously, but opens it and dives in like a ravenous dog. “You stay hungry,” I comment, and she shrugs. “How old are you for real?”
“Seventeen,” she admits, continuing to attack the Italian wedding cookies.
“You got old-soul eyes, kid. I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit.”
“Is this the part where you act like we’re friends right before you slit my throat?” she asks quietly, finishing off the last of the cookies as she licks her fingers clean.
“Don’t ever mistake me for a friend, piccola ,” I warn her. “And if I wanted to slit your throat, you’d be bleeding out right now.” Although I’m not a knife man; that’s more Sam’s bag. Why get that personal when a good bullet lodged between the temples gets the job done?
I glance over to Luna, and she meets my eyes, refusing to look away. She’s brave; that, or she’s in shock. Maybe a little bit of both.
“What’s wrong with your left eye?” she blurts out before averting her gaze.
“Nothing’s ‘wrong’ with it; my glass eye does the job.”
“How’d you lose your real eye?” she asks, sneaking another glance at me.
“Is this the part where you act like we’re friends so I’ll show you mercy?” I muse.
“Don’t ever mistake me for a friend, Vince,” she parrots.
I howl with laughter. “Kid’s got some fire in her.”
A hint of a smile reaches her lips, but she doesn’t comment.
“What’s your dream?” I ask.
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve got fire, so you’ve gotta have a dream. ”
“To be a Grandmaster in chess,” she answers without hesitation.
“That like going pro?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Any money in that game?” I wonder.
“Millions if you’re one of the best,” she answers.
“You one of the best?”
“Not yet, but one day I will be,” she answers confidently.
“Where’s your mom?” I change the subject.
Wiping her mouth with her arm, she answers, “Skipped town when I was about a year old. Supposedly went to Vegas to follow her dream of being a showgirl.”
“Do you hate her because of it?” I ask, curious.
Luna considers for a moment before answering quietly, “Yes and no. I don’t blame her for leaving my dad; I just wish she would have cared enough to take me with her.”
“Sometimes them’s the breaks, piccola .” I know about the breaks all too well.
“What does piccola mean?” she asks.
I raise an eyebrow. “Your old man never taught you Italian?”
“The only thing my old man taught me was what to say to debt collectors when they called. ‘You got the wrong number.’” She mimics her old man’s voice.
I snort a laugh. “That work?”
“We never had a phone long enough for me to know if it did.” Feeling Luna’s gaze on me, I glance over to her. “Are you going to make me fuck you?” she asks, having worked up the courage. Good for her.
“No. There’s a Barone getting fucked tonight, but it isn’t you.”
She looks at me thoughtfully, but doesn’t ask any more questions.
I pull into a Parisi Construction worksite and park next to a truck. Getting out of my vehicle first, I walk around and open Luna’s door. “Follow me,” I tell her, and she scrambles out of the vehicle, her eyes darting between me and the scene up ahead. Soldiers hold her old man next to a large construction pit; his hands bound and his mouth taped.
We reach Mr. Barone, and the soldiers force the pathetic man to his knees. I don’t waste time on theatrics, pulling my gun from my waistband. Mr. Barone pisses his pants as I move the barrel of my gun to the center of his forehead and pull the trigger; the impact causes his lifeless body to fall into the hole.
I glance over to see Luna’s expression—her emerald-green eyes are wide, but she doesn’t appear scared.
And that’s a problem.
Putting my gun away, I grab Luna by the neck, dragging her to where her heels are dangling precariously over the pit housing her old man’s corpse. There’s the look of fear I’m going for. Better.
Her eyes pleading with me, she futilely grabs ahold of my hand squeezing her neck. “I’ve let you live for a reason, Luna. Your family owes the Parisi family a debt. And one day, little Grandmaster, I’m going to call due,” I promise.