Page 76 of Worth of Waste

“I speak from experience.”

“Whatever,” Karen said, laughing but still managing to sound annoyed at the same time. “Say hello to Daddy, J.”

If it were possible, Dino’s smile grew impossibly wider

“Daddy, hi!”

Over the last few months, J had taken to calling Dino “Daddy” rather than the previous “Da” he had been using. His words were much clearer, mostly thanks to Karen and her constant need to teach the boy. While it made him sad to see some of the babyish expressions leave his son, it also excited him to watch Junior grow into a too-smart-for-his-own-good toddler.

It was a strange thing to feel both sad and happy about the same thing.

Dino supposed that was just a part of being a parent.

Something he had never thought he would be.

“Hey, little man,” Dino said, turning the corner at the same time.

His boy chatted away, and from the sound of the rushing noise in the speaker, he was running through the apartment at the same time. A ball of energy—that was how Dino would describe his son if he was ever asked to. The kid never slowed down for anything, except maybe a book and food.

Unfortunately, while his son talked and talked, Dino’s attention had been grabbed by something else. Or rather, two people. He would have much rather talked to his son, but he didn’t think he was going to be able to as he stared at the waiting men.

Standing next to his white Bentley, two men dressed in dark suits faced him as he approached. He didn’t worry much about who they were, because with just a single look, he already knew.

Cops. Detectives. Agents.

It didn’t matter—they all smelled the fucking same.

One of the two held a folded up piece of paper in his hands.

A warrant?

Probably.

“J?” Dino asked, never turning around as he spoke to his son.

“Yeah, Daddy?”

“I love you, okay? Tell Momma that I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

His son’s innocent question broke his heart, but Dino didn’t know how to truthfully answer it without also killing himself in the process. Karen would figure it out. She was smart like that.

And she was good to him, too.

Too good, even.

She would let him apologize when he was able.

She would forgive him.

Again.

Dino wished he was better at this whole relationship thing—better for her.

He hung up the phone on his son, who was still asking his father questions, though it was the very last thing he wanted to do.

“Dino DeLuca,” one of the two men said, stepping away from the car, “we’ve been waiting for you.”