Chapter 15 #2
That's the part that almost breaks me. I want her even as I resent her.
Even as the word son detonates inside my chest and rearranges my entire sense of self.
Even as every instinct I have screams to take control, to assert ownership, to remind her exactly who she's standing in front of.
She looks at me like she's daring me to say it.
Like she's daring me to deny him. Something ugly coils low in my gut, not just rage, but fear.
A new kind. Sharp. Exposed. Because now there's something I can't afford to lose.
And she fucking knows it.
I step closer, not touching her, not yet. Just close enough that she has to tilt her chin up to keep looking at me.
"My son," I repeat quietly, tasting the words like they might cut me back.
Her breath stutters. Just once. Good.
I hate her for this.
I need her for this.
Somewhere beneath the fury, beneath the entitlement and the loss, something irreversible locks into place: Whoever took Amauri didn't just declare war on my empire.
They touched my blood. And there will be no version of ugly I won't embrace to get him back.
But first, I need to deal with the man waiting for me in the warehouse.
The man who has no idea what's coming for him, because my fury is unleashed as it has never been before, and nobody will have mercy on him, least of all me.
I leave Jenna seething in the living room, slam the door to my bedroom in her face, and step into the shower, daring her to follow me. She doesn't.
The water is scalding, just the way I like it. I let it burn, let it scrape the night off me; the sound of Jenna's voice still ricochets inside my skull. My son. The words won't settle. They don't belong to the past anymore.
I'm bracing my hands against the tile when the phone rings. For one moment, I contemplate just letting it ring, but my sense of responsibility wins out. Ten years ago, I fought for my life to become the Don of the Vegas family, and I'm not about to jeopardize it. Not for her. Not for anybody.
I reach for the towel on the warmer, wrap it around my hips, and grab the phone from the vanity where I left it.
For a moment, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
The scars pitter-pattering all across my chest and arms, twining around my torso onto my back and legs that are currently, mercifully, hidden.
Did Jenna feel them earlier when her hands roamed my back?
I wonder what she would think of my body now. A sardonic smile curves my lips.
I hit answer and put it on speaker so I can keep drying off. "Talk."
Damiano is on the other end. Like always, he doesn't waste time. "The chopper," he says. "I traced it."
My spine goes still. "I'm listening."
"Venezuela."
The word lands wrong. Heavy. Out of place. Venezuela? "That doesn't make sense."
"I know," Damiano replies. "Tail numbers are clean, though. It's run through a shell company out of Curacao. Fuel logs match."
I wrap a towel around my waist, my mind already moving.
"I don't buy from Venezuela," I say.
"No," he agrees. "You don't."
Venezuelan coke is trash. Flood product. Chaos supply. The kind of shit that burns cities fast and dirty. Which means this isn't business. At least not related to mine.
"What else?" I ask.
Damiano exhales. "The timing lines up with Kingsley's bill."
That's how the pieces click. A choked laughter bubbles out of me.
This has nothing to do with me. But EVERYTHING with Kingsley.
The Venezuelan fuckers have no idea what kind of hornet's nest they just hit.
This is about Senator Kingsley. His clean hands.
His public crusades. The trafficking bill that gutted entire pipelines.
The next one aimed at drugs: Nevada first.
"This has nothing to do with us then," I say out loud to hear the finality.
"That's what it looks like," Damiano agrees. "This is about Senator Kingsley and his drug bill. They wanted leverage, they got it."
Only that they don't have Jenna. The only one who might have swayed the senator to do their bidding.
He doesn't give a shit about Carter or Amauri.
I doubted he would make an exception for his daughter even if the Venezuelan's did put their hands on her.
But they don't know that. Which means they'll be coming after Jenna harder once they realize their leverage is shit.
That shouldn't bother me as much as it does.
"I'll have Enzo work on the New York angle." I fill Damiano in.
Kingsley is fully in the pockets of La Famiglia in New York. I don't know what kind of leverage they have on him, and I don't want to know, but I do know that touching him could cause waves with New York.
I wouldn't have given a shit six months ago, and I still won't hesitate if it becomes necessary, but Enzo has family ties with them. His new son-in-law is a capo to one of the biggest families. It's easier to work together than to be at war, so I'll give them the courtesy of talking to them first.
After we hang up, I take a deep breath. This drama is taking up more of my time than I want it to. My empire is on fire from within, and I'm distracted by a son I didn't know about and… his mother. Fuck.
I need to get my head in the game and focus on the jackass that Enzo's got strung up first.