Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice 5)

“Right, sore subject.” She waved it off as if it were nothing. “Back to your sister. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, does she really not see that you aren’t calling her because you are trying to help her and you believe in her? Honestly, this is why I needed her to leave because she and I would butt heads. She wants control; she has ambition, but she does not know how to do the leg work. She’s spoiled. She’s not becoming a princess; she has always been one. Only now everyone else can see the crown. She grew up with the world handed to her, a ready-made army behind her. She spoke, and everyone listened. She ordered, and they followed. She did not work for that power, she inherited it.”

“Is that jealousy or bitterness I hear?” I questioned softly.

“Neither,” she replied seriously, her gaze hard. “If you think about it, both of us are in the same place. Married to powerful men. And I am much better at handling it than she is. She’s upset she’s not getting the same respect she is accustomed to.”

“Really, that does not bother you?”

“I’ve never been accustomed to respect. The little respect I gained, I fought for. So, it does not bother me, like it does your sister. Besides, she can’t do what she was brought up to do—fight, kill, or steal whatever she needs—to get ahead. She does not know how to go forward, and the one person she thought she could ask is you. But you know your sister. If you lead her to the river, she won’t drink. So, she has to find it alone. You know she’ll find it eventually. So, you just wait until she does. Why would I be jealous or bitter of her? She’s still a child who’s upset she doesn’t get what she wants right when she wants it.”

There it was.

My thoughts vocalized. She did it with ease as if to say, “duh.” It was amusing. Though there was a tiny part of me that was annoyed at how good she was at figuring me out. It was a very small part, though. The greater part of me relaxed back in the chair, neither agreeing nor denying her explanations. She was perfectly content, and I allowed her to keep doing whatever it was she was doing.

“With Greyson gone, we are going to need new guards,” she said gently.

I stared at the nape of her neck for a moment before speaking. “With the current state of our family and the fact that our last personal guard was blown to hell, I doubt people are lining up for the chance right now, no matter how much we are paying.” I hated to admit it, but we needed to first build the prestige of this family back up again. She knew that. “Unless you have people in mind.”

Instead of answering me, she leaned back against my chest, lifting her phone and dialing a person saved in her contacts as Big Tillio before putting the phone to her ear.

“Big Tillio! How are you? Long time no talk!”

I flinched at how loud her voice suddenly became as she spoke on the line.

“Yes! I’m back in Chicago now. What for?” She glanced up to me, rubbing the back of her ear. “Well, I married a Callahan.” She made a face before adding, “Wyatt and me? God no. Do I look like I want to babysit another child? The one I have takes too much out of me as it is.”

I snickered at that, part of me wishing Wyatt had heard her.

“I married Ethan Callahan...How many other Ethan Callahans are there? Yes, I’m serious. So serious that I’m calling to see if I could get TNT to come work for me…Oh come on, Tillio! Why? We are basically family; you know you can tell me. What’s going on?” She listened, nodding and nodding again then frowning.

“Well, I can’t force you, but you know me. I’m going to be hurt if I can’t count on you.” More nodding, and just like that, she grinned. “See this why they call you Big Tillio! Say hi to Chloe and the kids for me, all right? Of course, we’ll meet up soon. I’ll make dinner.”

She laughed and nodded one last time before hanging up and looking at me. “Dino Tacinelli, Vinnie Napolitano, and Italo Tizzone.” She must have gotten so caught up in her little act she forgot one small detail.

“I do not know those people, Calliope.”

“But I know those people, Ethan,” she replied, turning in my lap, kicking her legs over the arm of my chair, as she now looked at me. “Or are you saying you don’t trust my people?” Her eyebrow rose, and her pink lips formed a thin line as she eyed me carefully. Apparently, she was gearing up for a fight.

“This family has a process—”

“If you don’t trust my people, that means you don’t trust me. If you don’t trust me, then why the fuck am I on your lap?” she snapped, now glaring at me.

I just closed my eyes, resting my head back. It had already been a long day; there was no point in getting into a battle I would undoubtedly lose.

“You’re starting to learn, Boss.”

I heard her snicker gently. Ignoring her, I tried to relax, breathing in the smell of fresh vanilla that came off her. Did she bake something again? My mind wandered, and I thought only a few minutes had gone by when I felt her move to leave. But from how heavy my eyes now felt, plus the now half-eaten food she had initially brought for me, I knew I had slipped off.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long, just a little over an hour.” She cracked her neck to the left and right. “I highlighted and drafted routes that would most likely be the safest during the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours with the manhunt still going on. We’re only going to be able to get out about 25-30%, though.”

“Sit,” I said, holding her waist.

“I know I am your best friend and all, but I am not a dog, Ethan.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Calliope, will you please sit back down?”

“I need to go check on—”