Dirty (RAW Family 2)

How times have changed.

I’m a man. And being a man, I don’t feel comfortable with the emotions coursing through me. So I do what any other man would do. I change the subject. “So, you’re a father, huh?”

Nox grins, puffing out his chest. “Three times over. I got a little boy, Rocco. He’s six. Then came our first girl, Angie. She’s four. And finally, our second girl, Mia. She’s three.”

My chest squeezes. “Congrats, man.” I sip my beer and squint as I look to the sky and try to keep the pain out of my voice. “Got a boy. AJ. He’s four tomorrow.”

“I know.”

My head snaps toward him. “You keeping tabs?”

He searches my face and, ignoring my question, asks, “What are you doing here, Twitch?”

“Keeping my family safe.”

He immediately returns, “By bringing flaming piles of shit to my doorstep?”

This was a bad idea. I move to stand. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Sit your ass down. Lily’s making dinner. If you leave now, you’ll hurt her feelings.”

I glare at him. That was a low blow. After meeting Lily, I kind of like her. I don’t want to upset her. The asshole just grins. “Sit down. Let’s talk. That’s why you came here, after all. Lay it on me. Give it to me straight.”

I shouldn’t sit. I should leave. Instead, I lay it down. “I got five houses on my list. Each of those houses got a king.” I pause a moment, before stressing, “It’s in my best interest for those kings to retire. So that’s what I’m doing. Forcing each king into early retirement. ” I jerk my chin. “Permanent retirement.”

Nox doesn’t blink. “Why?”

I sit. “Did business with these men. That business went sour. I…” I cough. “…I didn’t handle it well. Made some bad decisions. Left scars. Happy’s been listening out for things. These men all sent condolences to Lexi when I died.” I lay a pointed stare at him. “To her home.”

He nods. “Right.”

“What do you think’s gonna happen if I decide to go home?”

“They know where she lives. She and your boy become walking targets.”

Bingo.

Suddenly, he stills. “You planning on going home?” I don’t respond, just sip at my beer. He continues, “I help you fake your death, use up all my contacts, all my fucking markers, and now you wanna go home?” His eyes blaze. “Are you out of your motherfucking mind? The cops will be on you before you can say boo.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

His brow rises slightly. “What? I told you, I’m out. I don’t do this shit anymore.”

I nod. “I know.”

“Then what the fuck do you want, Twitch?” He sounds exhausted.

I run my fingers down the condensation on my beer bottle. Turning to my friend, I look him in the eye as I relay my request. “I want you to turn me in.”

I don’t believe this shit.

Never in my life have I been more angry or embarrassed. This is not how I conduct my work. I’m a professional. I don’t mess up. I never get it wrong.

I can’t let this get out. If it gets out, everything I have worked for is over. My career will be over.

Let’s rewind.

An hour after the untimely death of Dino Gambino, an express courier came to the door, delivering a package to Eduardo Castillo. Leaving his men to clean up the mess that was Dino, Eduardo excused himself to his private quarters.

Cleaning was never my thing. I didn’t much like the thought of blood on my hands.

I decided to go upstairs and check on Alejandra. Miguel said she needed time alone, and normally, there would be nothing wrong with that, but here was a pregnant woman, upstairs, alone, thinkin’ way too hard on things. On the death of the man she loved.

I never could stand to see a woman suffer.

I felt the need to offer her my condolences. I also felt the need to spare a few words for her, letting her know that she made the right decision. The protection of her child should come first, now and always. No one would hold that against her. I approached the door with caution, but when I placed my knuckle to the door, with a slight creak, it opened; a frown marred my face. Pushing the door open all the way, eyeing the rumpled state of the bed, I searched the room through narrowed brows.

Where was she?

There was no time to think on this. A second after I stepped back into the hall, a pale-faced Eduardo stood at the open doorway of his quarters. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he cut me off with, “I need you to find Miguel. Find him and come back to me.” He blinked as sweat formed on his brow. He spoke quietly. “Find him. Now.”

Wanting to maintain an air of respect for this man, I did as I was told. I found Miguel and Ling in the kitchen, and not a minute later, we were ushered into Eduardo Castillo’s safe haven, having the door locked behind us.

Miguel was the first to ask, “Papa? What’s wrong?”

Without a response, Eduardo motioned for us to sit then held the remote up to the TV.

The soundless, black-and-white footage played on the massive screen. We watched in complete silence. We watched wide-eyed. I watched seemingly in slow motion, every beat of my heart turning into a weak, dull thud in my chest.

We were in trouble.

As the Russian mobster, and known psychopath, Maxim Nikulin, pierced Raul Mendoza’s heart for the last time, he knelt over his body in the bar’s parking lot, laughing.

Dino Gambino didn’t kill Raul.

Maxim Nikulin killed Raul.

This was not a jealousy-fuelled hate killing.

It was a less convoluted loss of a soldier in a turf war.

Lives have been lost for less. Which only meant one thing.

In my present state, anger bubbled up from a place stored deep inside of me, from the place I told myself didn’t exist. The truth was, I prided myself for being cool, calm and collected, but when something set me off, I could do damage. Granted, it took a lot to set me off. And right now… I was set off.

Standing, I ball my hands into fists, turn to face Miguel and hiss, “Where is she?”

It’s time for damage control.

I’d never needed to do so before. You can say I’m feeling sore about it.

Miguel turns to Eduardo, and utters, “What now?”

Eduardo, rubbing his hands down his face, looks at his son. “We call Vito, show him the video.” Sighing, he stands, walking over to his desk. “Show him that his son has been vindicated. An hour after his death. I’m sure Vito will understand.” He nods absently. “I’m sure he will understand that his son, his firstborn, was put to death”—his voice rises—“because of a false accusation—” face turning red, he roars—“put forth by my son and daughter, Dino’s own wife!” Slamming his hand down on his desk, with one clean swipe, papers, ornaments and office supplies are sent careening to the gr

ound with a crash and clatter. Turning to face us, he blasts sarcastically, “Yes. I’m sure with a simple explanation, all will be well.”

Ling flinches but says nothing.

Miguel blanches. “Papa, I had every reason to believe Dino did it. If Alejandra hadn’t—”

Cutting him off midsentence, Eduardo dips his chin. “This is the end of an alliance. A good alliance. A great alliance. And I want to know why.” Closing his eyes, he utters a hoarse, “Bring me Alejandra.” Sighing through his nostrils, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Bring me my daughter.”

Searching for the better part of an hour brought forth the conclusion that Alejandra had fled. Miguel had called her cell over twenty times, left countless messages on her voice mail telling her he wasn’t angry at her, that he just wanted to know why she did it and he wanted to know if she was okay.

Fuck that.

I was angry. I demanded to know why she lied. And I did not give a flying fuck about her wellbeing. Not right now, anyway.

Vito had arrived shortly after with his sons. His face lowered in shame, Miguel walked them upstairs. Eduardo motioned for the men to sit, and before they started to watch, I wedged myself between the Castillos and Gambinos. Although it would be warranted, violence would not be solving the problems right now.

The video played, and I watched closely as Vito Gambino broke down and cried. The youngest son, Luc, placed his arm around his father and consoled him. The reaction of the middle son, Gio, now the oldest, I suppose, had me puzzled.

He watched Raul Mendoza be slaughtered in cold blood with a smirk on his face.

Vito Gambino stood, guns blazing. “My son!” He looked from Eduardo to Miguel, and snarled, “My son is dead, because of your vermin!”

I expected Eduardo to snap back, to respond snarkily. I hid my surprise as Eduardo came forward, face apologetic, placing one hand on Vito’s shaking shoulder. “I know.” As Vito dipped his chin to cry, Eduardo embraced him like a brother and held him as he mourned, offering him solace and strength in his time of need. “I know. And I cannot express how sorry I am, Vito.” Patting his back, he uttered a firm, “I will fix this.”