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No one could judge me for hating this stupid holiday.
No one could judge me for hating Vanessa.
I should just fucking kill her.
Slit her throat and be done with it. I should put her body in a dumpster just the way my mother was tossed aside.
But I knew I never would, no matter how angry I was. I was far too obsessed with her, far too infatuated with her. When she wasn’t with me, I thought about her. Now I counted down the days until she returned. When I fucked her, I didn’t think about the horrible shit in my life.
I just felt good.
She was like drugs and booze—but with a better high.
My phone rang, and I immediately looked at it in the hope it was her. But it was Max. “Yeah?”
“Caught you at a bad time?”
“It’s Christmas—so yes.”
His past was just as dark as mine, so he didn’t question it. “I think I might have a lead on the guy who killed your mom.”
I sat forward, my elbows moving to the desk. “Yeah?”
“I think it may have been Joe Pedretti. My sources say he has a thing for prostitutes—and he kills a lot of them. He was in the area the night your mother died. I can’t confirm it with complete certainty, but there’s a good chance it was him. I’ll look into it more.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“Yes…because he’s the leader of the Tyrants. They do business with the Russians, transferring weapons and drugs back and forth across Europe. I hate to say it, Bones, but he’s pretty untouchable.”
“No one is untouchable—not for me.”
“He’s got at least a hundred men working for him—all heavily trained. He’s got lots of money. He has a relationship with the cops just like you do. He’s not as big as the Italian mob or the Skull Kings, but he’s not a guy you should piss off.”
“I don’t give a shit. If he killed her, he’ll pay for it.”
“Let me confirm it before you do anything stupid, alright? And even if he did do it, you still shouldn’t do anything stupid. You’re only putting yourself at risk and the other guys on the line. Your mother is dead, plain and simple. She’s not coming back, the cops don’t care, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your mother wouldn’t want you to die for her when she’s already dead.”
Everything he said made complete sense, but it didn’t change my mind. “She’s family, Max. I don’t care if she was just a prostitute. She was my mother and did the best she could to take care of me. Now I’ll take care of her.”
He sighed over the phone. “Bones, maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No. I needed to know. You don’t have to be involved.”
“I’m already involved. I’ve got your back—you’ve got mine.”
Because we were blood brothers.
“Just take some time to think about it. You’ll realize it’s pointless.” He hung up.
I set the phone down and balled my hands into fists. Rage pounded in my temple and my heart. The man who screwed my mother and then slit her throat was walking free. I had to dump his body into a dumpster just the way he did for her. Little did he know, he picked the wrong woman to fuck with. Little did he know, her little boy would grow up to be the foulest monster in the world.
Little did he know, I was much worse than my father ever was.
And he would pay for what he did.
I grabbed the decanter of scotch and threw it against the wall, listening to it shatter into a thousand small shards. Richard didn’t come running in because he was used to these outbursts of rage.
I snatched my phone and called Vanessa.
It was midnight, so she might be in bed by now.
She answered. “Hello?”
I didn’t say anything, keeping my silence over the line.
She knew I was still there. “Something wrong?”
So many things were wrong, but I didn’t think I could tell her. “When will you be home?” I needed to sheathe my anger, and the best way to do that was to be buried between her legs.
“Late tomorrow night.”
I could make it one more day. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Now she turned quiet.
I didn’t ask how her Christmas was because I didn’t care. I didn’t ask her anything because I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to sit on the line with her, listen to her breathe while she lay in the beautiful mansion her father had bought for his family.
“I gave the painting to my parents… My mother cried.”
I remembered the painting like I was still looking at it. I remembered the details, the joy. The sense of family was overwhelming, the feeling of friendship and loyalty. She expressed so much in that picture, so much that I never had.
