Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

An array of articles appear about the Remington double-barrel shotgun, but nothing about the murders. I try adding the year, but still nothing. My thoughts race, clawing for something else to search to help me get a clearer picture, make sense of the why.

My stomach churns as a memory of Noah calling me a Gallo bitch pops in my head.

Gallo family.

Wine. Gallo is a wine. Dammit.

Gallo murderer.

A few articles pop up, a Gallo teen murdered, believed to have ties with the mafia. Too young. I scroll through endless pages, and then find an article that has promise

Marica Gallo a well-known member in the community of Rickerpark for her charity work at the local church. Her daughter, seven-year-old Freya Gallo, and husband Angelo Gallo were all reported missing on Monday morning by a concerned family friend. Detectives are urging anyone with information to come forward.

I scroll lower. My heart races as a picture appears. My fingers tremble as I click on it. Tears burn the corners of my eyes.

A woman, graceful and young, smiling at the camera, her eyes like the color of the forest floor after all the leaves have fallen from the trees. In her arms, a small child, long dark hair, button nose and pouting lips. She’s me, our eyes match.

Empty, lonely the hollowness within in me is because of her, that child in the picture had a mom who held her and it’s been way to long since she felt the embrace.

Stroking my finger down my mother’s face, I turn my attention to the man in the picture. Dull brown eyes…that face…

Images flash in my mind like someone turning the light on and off.

Blood.

A blood speckled face. Brown eyes. That face. His face. Shouting. Another man was there. Father. A knife. Mama’s hair flayed across the floor of her room, spilling into the hallway.

Quickly switching the screen off, I clutch my chest, scared to death my heart is going to rip free and splatter at my feet. Sickness roils in my stomach. Tears burn the corners of my eyes.

What happened that night?

Twenty

Noah

Jogging down the stairs from Freya’s room, I dump my suit on the chair in my room and shoot off a text to Mateo and little Tony, telling them I want to meet. Making short work of showering and re-dressing in a new suit, I find our father in his study with Remi, waiting for me.

“Take your damn time,” Remi scoffs. Flipping him the bird, I take the seat next to him, ignoring the side-eye glare from our father.

“I’ll be moving some product over the next few days.” He means the person he brought home with him is now just parts. “I’m leaving the gathering with Mercer in your capable hands. We will host them, but not without knowing everything there is to know about who this man is and how it can work in our favor for future endeavours.”

“It never hurts to have favors owed to us.” I nod in agreement.

“This is bullshit.” Remi rolls his head on his shoulders. “What if that client of theirs likes to take things too far? Are we just allowing the torture of women in our home now?”

Remi is light in a very dark world. He can kill, and does, but when it comes to women, kids, unnecessary pain, he struggles. None of us like that side of the business, but whether the party is hosted here or elsewhere, the sick depravities will still happen.

“You don’t have to be here,” Father informs him.

“Fuck this shit,” he spits out, throwing himself to his feet, knocking the chair over on his departure.

“He’s always led with his heart instead of his head. He reminds me of myself when I was younger. I envy him some days,” Father says, leaning back into his chair, the leather groaning. “Are you okay with this?”

No.

“It’s just business. From what I can gather, this client has control of territories and borders we haven’t been able to utilize before.”

“So, for the greater good?”

“Not good, but for our business, I suppose, yes.”

“I want to show you both something. Go fetch your brother.”

I don’t like being told to fetch anything, but I let it slide and go look for Remi, finding him in the kitchen drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “That’s gross, brother.”

“Don’t lecture me on gross,” he snaps, placing the carton back in the fridge and slamming the door. “I can’t let him kill innocent women. Mom would turn over in her grave.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” I hate when he brings up Mother. Hate thinking of her so soon after I spent the night with Freya in my arms.

Mother wouldn’t be okay with how I’ve treated Freya over the years, yet there’s a layer of guilt sticking to my skin like tar after spending the night with her.