Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Izzy
Oh, failure, my old friend. I hate you so much, but at least you’re familiar.
I stare at the bed. It’s still a wrinkly mess. It’s not that I don’t have the energy to make it—my self-loathing hasn’t evolved into full on depression. Not yet. Last night, I slept on Lance’s side of the bed. But wrapping myself in the sheets that used to keep him warm isn’t the same. I woke up cold.
But once I fix the covers and neaten up the bed, Lance will be erased. Like he was never here at all.
The worst part is Drew. He’s so confused. One morning Lance is there, and the next he’s gone.
Temporary. All of this was temporary. A fun vacation. And now it’s time to return to reality. Me and my son. That’s all that matters.
He’s still going to school, but security has been amped up. When he comes home, he scans the house, the question on his lips, “Is Lance here?” But he knows the answer and never asks it.
Today is no different. He goes downstairs and turns on the video games. Twenty minutes later, I bring him a reheated slice of pizza. He takes one look at it and moves it to the coffee table his feet are resting on.
“Don’t you want it?” I ask.
Drew shakes his head. “It’s the last one he made.” My beautiful son turns his attention back to the screen.
I sit next to him, and he leans on me while he’s building something I don’t quite understand.
“It doesn’t matter,” Drew whispers. “We were just a job for him.”
My heart shatters and shards splitter off into my bloodstream. This heartbreak courses through my veins and into my DNA.
I don’t know what to say. Hell, I’m not sure if I’ll ever see him again. Maybe we’ll pass each other at a charity dinner or something. He’ll be protecting some model, whispering in her ear how beautiful she is.
My gut screams that’s not true.
But my brain yells, it might be.
“Well, if we were only a job for him, at least he said we were his favorite.” I wrap my arm around my son’s shoulder. He’s getting too big to comfortably fit into the spot he used to nuzzle in. But he doesn’t pull away.
His little cartoon man on the screen tends to his sheep. I like sheep. I can tell what they are. “Why didn’t he want me? Am I not enough?”
His words hit like bullets.
“Oh god, Drew, this had nothing to do with you.” I was the one who fucked up because, well, I fucked. “Lance got moved to a different assignment. He’s not gone because he doesn’t want to be here.” My voice breaks as I fail to hold in my tears.
I feel Drew shaking his head against my ribs. “I know that. Lance texts me everyday.” Drew adds under his breath, “Specs gave me a burner phone, in case I needed to reach anyone.”
Oh, that makes sense. “How long have you had it?”
“A while.” Like any true Mafia family member, incriminating answers are always vague. He’s quiet for a moment, and I rub his shoulder. He pulls his knees to his chest and drops his head onto my lap, but turns away so I can’t see his face. “My father. Why didn’t he want me?”
The question guts me, feeling even worse the second time. I was never enough for my son. He needs a family. “It’s not you. It was never ever about you. He’s the one who missed out. You were a fucking adorable baby.”
He huffs, “Oh I know. I’ve seen the pictures.” His cheek tightens against my thigh. He’s smiling, laughing at his own joke. But the tightness fades, and he continues, “He’s the reason we left Alabama and came here.” Drew whispers, “I like it here more than I liked it back home.”
“Me too.” The truth catches me off guard.
“And he’s why we’re here.” He motions around the room. “Did he come to the apartment? He must’ve done something bad because Lance was scared.” There’s a damp spot on my thigh under his eyes. “I don’t understand how someone can be out of our lives and still hurt us so much.”
Fuck, kid! My eyes and throat burn. “You were always wanted. And there will never be a time when you aren’t loved and surrounded by family.”
He wipes his face with his shirt. And we sit here in our silence for a little while, watching his sheep walk around the screen.
Eventually, his stomach growls. “I am kinda hungry.” He lifts himself off my lap and reaches for the pizza. It hangs from his mouth as he takes the controller back in his hand.
“Love you, kiddo.”
“Ove ou boo,” he says with a mouth full of cheese and bread.
I walk back to the kitchen. Bracing myself against the counter top, the silent tears pool and overflow. I try not to squeak or make any sounds. Drew would hear and come running in to check on me. I allow myself cry for a few more minutes before sniffling and picking myself back up.
The phone rings, and I jump. It’s the emergency phone that’s plugged into the kitchen wall, always charged, always ready to go.
I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands and straighten my shirt. I don’t know why. Whoever is calling can’t see me, it’s a phone call.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” I don’t recognize the voice. It’s female, soft, with a heavy dose of concern. “It’s Alana. You okay?”
How did she know something was wrong? I scan the room and see the lens above the fridge. Cameras. She’s watching me.
Of course she is. She’s a professional. But I didn’t think emotional check-ins were a part of her job description. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” Her voice doesn’t hold any malice, or judgment. She’s stating a fact. She knows I’m lying. “Two things. One, I’m bringing your family to the safe house. You shouldn’t be in the dark, but it’s not my place to tell you. I’ll be over in two hours.”
“Okay. What’s the second thing?”
She lets out a long sigh. “Um, Ian left something on the Minecraft server for Champ, er Drew.” She rushes the words together. “I don’t know, a chest or something. Entire backstory of The Knights of the Night going back six generations, no problem, but whenever someone talks about Minecraft to me, ugh.”
I laugh, “Same.”
There’s a pregnant pause before Alana says, “We have more in common than I thought.”
Two hours to the moment later, there are headlights rolling down the driveway. Anxiety bees dance in my stomach. Who’s coming? Why are they here?
The car engine stops, and the garage door squeals on its hinges before closing.
A few seconds later, Alana steps in. Her makeup is fading, leaving hints of dark circles peeking out. The image is starting to crack.
Three other familiar bodies walk in. Joey, Donnie, and my dad. Oof, this is going to be a rough one.
At least Donnie brought food. He hands over a brown paper bag with grease already leaking through. That’s how you know it’s gonna be good. Garlic and butter waft out as soon as I open it.
Alana is the first to separate from the group, walking around, poking at the cameras and making adjustments. She doesn’t look at me, but her presence lets me know whatever this is, it’s serious. But, oddly, her presence also makes me calm. Dad and the guys will keep it under control with her around.
She keeps watching the woods. There are no alarms, no hint that something’s wrong, but her frown says something else entirely…or maybe that’s just her face. I’ve never seen her smile. “I’ll give you privacy. Izzy, have you done an inventory of the panic room?”
I shake my head, and with that, she heads downstairs.
Weird. That’s the second time she didn’t use code names. Is there a deeper meaning? Or did she forget? Do code names go out the window when you’re sleeping with a client?
Dad, Joey, and my brother all hang around the kitchen island. “Kiddo, we need to talk. This thing with your ex… There are a lot of moving pieces here.” Dad puts his hand over mine, and Donnie takes this opportunity to dive into the food he brought for us. “Have you heard of Majesty?”
“Like royalty?”
Donnie pipes in between fries. “No, it’s a drug. Useless in the powder form, but when mixed with a liquid, it’s highly addictive.”
Not to sound jaded, but isn’t that what we would want out of a drug?
Joey must see the confusion on my face because he adds, “It’s addictive, deadly, and dangerous. It’s still new. It’s safer to travel with it in the powder form, it’s lighter, and you can get more in a brick. But it’s also highly flammable. It burns hot and fast with purple smoke. Hence the name. It’s a liability to export or import. One idiot with a cigarette, and the whole ship goes down.”
Dad continues, “It’s so new the dealers don’t know how to measure the right dosage, either. They’re still working out the kinks, but the OD rate is much higher than other drugs on the market.”
Joey grabs a fry. “Dead bodies mean investigations, which equals task forces and various agencies filling our streets. Which is terrible for business.”
“Plus, stiffs don’t buy more drugs and are kinda the worst form of advertisement.” I frown. Joey points his fry at me in approval like I got the answer right.
Dad squeezes my hand, and until he did it, I forgot he was holding it. “The Deviant is trying to push it into the States. He approached us two years ago. We told him no. He didn’t like that answer.”
Donnie dips his head, and an oddly serious expression appears on his face. “There was a hit on the Russians. Uri was shot.”
Oh shit, that’s what Dimitri was talking about. “That whole family was wiped out except for two people, right?”
Dad nods. “That was The Deviant sending a message. Alana and Lance were only able to get them out because two agents turned and started working for us. One of them is Specs. Alana hired him to keep him safe. The other went deep undercover.”
Specs—the guy who plays Minecraft with my kid—is a former government agent? “Specs?”
“It’s short for Spector because he’s dead according to all the records,” Donnie added.
“There’s more. About six months ago, a series of car bombs went off. Thiago was lucky he wasn’t in the car when it happened,” Joey says, eating another fry.
I hadn’t heard about that.
“So you’re doing all of this to keep Drew and I safe?”
The men exchange glances then find other interesting things around the kitchen to stare at. Dad talks first. “Mike Bringsea is an informant to the Majesty task force.”
Oh shit. Oh shit. My hand claps over my mouth. Too many thoughts race through my head at once. If he’s fighting against Majesty, he’s an ally, and not one I want. “Is he…?” I start to say.
Dad frowns. “He’s on The Deviant’s payroll.”
My heart sinks to the ground. Oh no. He’s using me to get to my family. Our entire empire could vanish, and it’s all my fault.
“Shit shit shit!” Alana says stomping up the stairs. “Client emergency. ” She pauses, “I’ve got to go.” She points at me. “So she knows?”
My dad grunts yes. She nods and the garage door slams behind her, the car’s engine revs to life and seconds later she’s gone.
Everything from the past two hours hits me. My fuckery is of world-ending magnitude.
Dad leans forward in his chair and puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “Speaking of Alana…”
Oh no.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Lance?”
My mouth becomes dry and wet at once, like a swamp in a drought. Shit. Joey lets out a deep sigh, loud and melodramatic. “I thought it was clear that Mastodon was off the table.”
Dad’s eyes meet mine across the room. There’s a lightness and relief in his face I haven’t seen in years. “He’s a good man. Loyal…”
“To Alana,” Joey says.
That statement bothers me. Alana doesn’t owe us anything. But she let Lance keep in contact with us. She isn’t a part of the Four Families, but she’s networked her way into almost god-level status. What do they see in her that I don’t? She’s a great ally, sure, but she’ll never be family. I can’t figure her out.
“To the kids…to anyone he cares about,” Dad counters. “Nonna likes him. All the moms think he’s wonderful, and those women have seen every con artist around. They have laser vision to cut through all the bullshit, and if he gets the thumbs up from them, well, that’s enough for me.”
I didn’t think I needed or wanted his approval. But still, it’s nice to have. And who am I kidding, nothing is done without some level of family approval.
Donnie says, “You’ve done worse.”
“Literally.”My ex and this failure still feel like a lead blanket on my shoulders. My injuries healed months ago. Every once in a while, if I take a quick breath, my side hurts. “I’m sorry I let my ex hurt me.”
It’s the apology I should have made when I first came here. I’m sure it’s why I waited or why no one asked for it. Failure is weakness. And weakness in our family business is dangerous and forgivable only by extreme mercy and luck. Every day I waited, I dug my hole deeper.
“The fuck did you say?” Joey jumps up, his hand in an instant fist. His eyes blaze in a way I’ve only seen when I beat him at Mario Kart. “Don’t ever let me hear you fucking blame yourself for what that twatburger did to you.” He paces back and forth, pushing his hair out of his face.
Donnie’s head hangs low as he braces himself on the counter top. “Did we do this to her?”
All lightness and joy vanish from my dad’s face. “I don’t know.” He finishes the last of the liquid in his glass and slams it on the table. “First, what he did to you was the sign of a fucking coward and the definition of a cheap shot. Second, we’ve all had the shit kicked out of us. But we all had backup to get us the hell out of there.” He points to me. “You were all alone, protecting your son, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He looks off into space for a second. I can’t even pretend to understand what he’s thinking. But whoever this man is, he’s different from the man who raised me. He clears his throat. “You were separated from us, like a baby antelope, and a crocodile tried to snatch you away. But the herd came back to protect the baby. You’re home now, and as safe as we can make you.”