Chapter 2
Two months later…
Montgomery
“You’re not listening, David. As per usual. You fucked with us. Now, you’re going to pay a hefty price.” Like it or fucking not. I smashed my fist into his face, enjoying the coppery stench from the spray of blood I’d caused earlier.
His body was pitched against the cold brick wall, sliding down in perfect slow motion.
He’d fucking refused to pay what he owed.
Not just for the first time but the third.
It wasn’t that his business hadn’t made money hand over fist. While he’d done everything to hide why his protection money was three months behind, I knew the reason.
The motherfucker had taken up gambling.
And lost.
Our money.
Protection money. No, the Prince family wasn’t in the protection business, at least not any longer. However, there were a few businesses in the French Quarter that had been around for generations, small to medium shops who’d weathered the economy over the years. As well as the increased crime.
Our father had established a zone of protection two decades before, which had prevented everything from arson to petty theft in several upscale businesses. We used our men as security and with ensuring their safety and welfare, payment was owed.
Sadly, the handshake way of doing business had been cast into the shadows, the son of the original owner a piece of shit, refusing to honor the original deal. And I was the man to remind him.
“He had part of the money, boss,” Gio mentioned, my Capo standing only a few feet away, his voice tinged with boredom.
“Unless you have every cent of what’s owed, you broke the deal set forth by your father. You’re a disappointment, David.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll have it by the end of the week.” His words were as broken as the two teeth I’d cracked. Along with his nose.
“That’s not good enough. Forty-eight hours or the little bistro you covet so much will belong to the Prince family.”
I was finished dealing with bullshit, eager to toss out the day, and would have left with those as final words had he not dared issue a final statement.
“Fuck you.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes, twisting my hand around the cane as rage swept through me. Even the deep breaths I’d learned to create a positive outlook weren’t working. The asshole had picked the wrong time to piss me off.
“I’ll handle him if you want, boss,” Gio offered.
“Not necessary. This is mine to deal with.”
Without thinking, I spun around, raising my arm and ready to strike him with my cane.
“Whoa,” Sinclair gritted out as he snapped his hand around my wrist, stopping me cold.
My snarl was as immediate as my desire to bash David’s head in. I jerked my head toward my brother, my jaw clenched to the point my entire mouth hurt. “Don’t stop me.”
“Tough, brother. Jesus Christ. I don’t know you any longer.” He shifted his angry gaze toward the cane, shaking his head. “You made your point. You beat the shit out of him. Give him the forty-eight hours.”
I shifted my eyes back and forth, slowly coming back to earth after being in a haze of fury.
With another deep exhale, I jerked my arm free, storming awkwardly toward the door leading to the back alley.
Every soldier I passed kept his eyes front and center, but I knew exactly what they were thinking.
The cripple needs his meds.
Fuck them. Fuck the entire goddamn world. I hadn’t asked for this shit.
Once outside, I took deep breaths, but the stale odor of piss and death picked the wrong time to assault my senses. Rage lingered, festering deep inside, twisting my stomach like the agony continued to do with my leg. My fucking useless leg.
Another wave of fury swept through me, violent and untethered. I smashed my cane against the side of the building, almost falling on my ass in the process. Oppressive heat tore through me and it was all I could to do to keep upright.
On top of my being crippled, the bastard who’d shot me hadn’t been found. My family and every soldier in the Prince Empire had turned over every rock, scouring every corner of the city and beyond and had talked to every informant. Nada.
We as a family had our share of enemies even after combining forces with the Italians, but they’d been of no use.
Russians. Armenians. Hell, pharmaceutical companies and bankers ranked high on the list of our enemies.
Yet without an indication of who’d committed the heinous crime, starting a war was akin to a death wish.
That didn’t mean that knowing the man who’d shot me was still walking, talking, and breathing didn’t continue to piss me off like everything else.
Embarrassment tugged at the powerful, brutal man inside.
Yeah, I’d heard the doctors. I was lucky to be alive let alone able to keep my leg.
The only reason I was breathing the repulsive air was that the bullet had barely nicked my femoral artery.
Anything else and I would have likely bled out before help had gotten to me.
Days in a haze. Weeks in a hospital followed by rehab.
And I still needed a goddamn cane.
The door opened behind me, footsteps moving close.
Sinclair stood with his hands in his pockets, both of us remaining silent for over two minutes.
“Are you finished with your tantrum?” he asked, using his quiet but stern voice just like our father had favored when something went wrong.
“Don’t start with me.” My words were abrupt, harsh, but not venomous enough. While he was older, we’d been close almost all our lives. We gave each other hell when necessary, but right now, I had no patience left to hear yet another criticism.
“You’re out of control, Montgomery. Your anger is off the fucking chain. One day, you’re going to hurt someone you care about.”
“That motherfucker stole from us. His gambling is the issue.”
“Did you ask him why he needs extra money all of a sudden?”
My brother’s question caught me off guard. “Women? Drugs?”
He turned to face me, placing his hand on my arm. “His wife has cancer. His insurance is shit. He was trying to win money, not lose it.” Another shake of his head, another disgusted look and my brother left me standing alone feeling sorry for myself.
What the fuck was going on with me?
I watched as he walked away, not once turning back. It was as if my entire family had turned their backs on me.
Well, to hell with them. I didn’t need anyone. Not a goddamn person.
Bourbon sloshed over the edge of my tumbler as I ambled to the door, determined to keep it in my hand. I was a thirsty man and no unwanted visitor would keep me from enjoying my drink. I threw open the door without bothering to check the security cameras.
The damage had already been done.
“Alexander. Surprise, surprise.” He wore the same expression of disdain I’d seen in Sinclair earlier.
It was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for my sarcasm. “Can I come in or would you prefer wallowing in self-pity while drinking yourself into oblivion alone?”
“Suit yourself and I’m not wallowing in self-pity.” I didn’t wait for him or care if he followed, which I knew he would. Alexander always had the last word.
“Bullshit,” he said, right behind me like I knew he would be.
That didn’t stop me from returning to my living room, immediately heading for the bar. I leaned the cane against the side and grabbed the bottle. “Would you like a drink, big bro?”
“This isn’t a social call.”
I laughed. “Big business at…” When I pulled my arm free, I was forced to blink twice to read the time on my watch. So the alcohol had dulled some pain. So what? “Midnight. Wow, your sweet bride let you off your leash for another night.”
“My sweet bride is fucking pissed I had to leave her in bed to come here and have a long chat with your sorry ass.”
“There’s such a thing as cellphones,” I barked in return.
“Yeah? Well, since I tried calling four fucking times, I decided driving to your house would be more productive.”
A slow and steady cringe rolled through me. “Sorry. I just needed some time alone. Busy day.”
“I gathered.” He studied me the same way Sinclair had done earlier. Pity. My own family pitied me. “I heard about today.”
“Fucking snitch. Gio needs to learn his place.”
“Your Capo will take your secrets to the grave and hell if I know why. Lately, you treat him like shit.” Alexander glared at me. “You treat everyone like shit.”
“That’s bull!” Huffing, I looked away. “So my own brother decided you needed to know my business. Fucking fantastic.”
The tension was as thick as the air outside. Yet another goddamn thunderstorm. Another reminder. I rubbed my leg, the ache always more intense when it rained. Alexander noticed, shaking his head even after I stopped.
“Did you ever stop and think Sinclair might be worried about you? We all are.”
“I’m fine.” The lie wasn’t getting any easier. I guzzled half my drink. Even alcohol didn’t have the same effect. I’d replaced pain pills with a steady flow of whiskey, but nothing helped.
“No, you’re not and your entire family is sick of your suffering. Part of the misery you’ve entwined yourself in is mental and emotional.”
I felt the heat crossing my jaw and it had nothing to do with embarrassment. “Mental and emotional? Do you think I’m faking this goddamn pain?”
He stood staring at me with hard, cold eyes.
“Why don’t I shoot you in the goddamn thigh and you tell me how it feels.” My hand was close to crushing the thick crystal. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d heard a crack.
“You’re ignoring your physical therapist.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“You didn’t and refuse to listen to your surgeon.”
Huffing, I threw him a look. “A fucking moron.”