Top Dog

The thugs looked at one another, seemingly happy with the choice I had made. I heard them utter a few derogatory comments projected specifically at me. Something about being a pussy compared to my father. I bit down on my tongue and walked around behind my car, then opened the trunk.

But instead of pulling out a bag of cash, I reached for my weapon.

I closed my eyes briefly and told myself if was them or me. I was working too damn hard to get my family out of this shit to let this go down this way. I stepped from behind my car and handled the situation the only way I knew to make it go away for good. I sighed and shook my head as I dropped the weapon back into the trunk of the car.

I was disgusted with myself, but they gave me no choice. I pulled out my wallet and flipped it open, then slipped the twenty thousand dollar check out. I had it written and everything. Ready for them to cash it and be on their way. I ripped it to shreds and jammed it back into my pocket, then folded my wallet and stuck it away for another time.

“Come along, gentleman. It’s time to get home,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” one of them said.

“Should we call this in?” the other one asked.

“Just get me home. I’ll deal with it,” I said.

I wiped my hands of the cool metal texture before I slid into the back of the car. I pulled a burner phone from my pocket and dialed the non-emergency police number, then waited until we were on a back road outside of the city before I called. I left an anonymous tip about the shooting and how I thought I heard four or five different gunshots go off.

Then I hung up the phone, took out the battery, and tossed the remnants of it into the water.

I leaned back in my seat and tossed the battery onto the floorboard of the car. I watched as the city passed me by, the car driving me closer to home. That wasn’t the first time a deal my father had dragged this family into had gone south. I took diplomatic approaches with every other one of them, but gun runners were stubborn. Shaking on something was equivalent to a paper contract. But not in my world. I grimaced as I thought about the three bodies lying there on the dock. I still wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing.

Part of me still thought I could’ve talked them away from the ledge.

“Mr. Martine.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly. But if you are, feel free to swing by somewhere and get yourself something. My treat.”

“I was actually hoping your mother had some leftover lasagna if it’s not asking too much.”

I grinned as I shook my head. My mother’s lasagna was known all over town. At the very least, it was known all over the family. If there were leftovers from a meal she cooked, they were never in the fridge for long. She made her food with love and care, and way too much butter and sugar for any normal human being.

“We had some last night, and I think she made a separate dish that didn’t even get touched,” I said. “Drive me home. I’ll let you guys in, and you can have at it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mart—”

“No,” I said.

I looked up and eyed my bodyguard heavily through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, Romeo,” the man said.

“Better. Now speed up. Talking about my mother’s lasagna has made me hungry.”

CHAPTER 8

JULIA

“Matteo!”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Do you want orange juice or milk with your breakfast?” I asked.

“Chocolate milk?”