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“Oh? Because you don’t belong to my family? Are you no longer claiming Sorrentino?”
My eyes narrow. “’Til the day I die, Pa. You know that’s not what I meant—my operation is my operation. I’m my own man. I can handle business on the west coast without your interference.”
“Giovanni, in the past, I believed so. Now? Not so much.”
“Have I not proven—”
“Falynn Marie Carter, age twenty-four, born and raised in Pomona, California. Moved to Las Vegas at nineteen. Worked many jobs. Never held one down longer than a year. Most dancing gigs at different clubs. Part-time student at UNLV. She and that ex of hers are sixty-seven thousand in debt,” Pa rattles off in his smoky voice. “She’s been involved with some doozies. Would you like me to list them by name?”
I make a sound of disgust in my throat, dismissing his claims with my hand. “Is any of this supposed to mean something to me? I know all that already. She’s told me most of it herself.”
“You can never make a wife out of a woman like her.”
“Let’s cut the shit, Pa. Because she’s not Italian, is that right? Because she’s Black?”
“Being Italian is our heritage. You know that. But what’sworse, you’ve picked a girl from the gutter—somebody half of Vegas has seen, and God knows what else.”
I bark out a loud laugh, heartbeat roaring in my ears. “Not my murderous, drug-handler, money-laundering criminal father judging anybody for what they’ve done. That’s ironic, don’t you think, Pa?”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m thinking clearer than ever. You just don’t like that it goes against what you want.”
“A pussy-whipped man is a man unable to think straight. How many times have I told you this?”
I ignore the point he’s making. Deep down, maybe it’s true in the basest sense of the words. I’m addicted to Falynn, am no longer able to visualize my life without her. I’ve claimed every single part of her as mine. I’ll stamp it on her plump, round ass if I have to. She belongs to me, and nobody else.
“You’re going to have to make peace with it. Ilikethe girl,” I say after a pause.
“You’re falling for a scammer. Pure gold-digging, promiscuous, money-hungry scammer.Andshe ain’t even Italian!”
“I’ve had enough of this. We’re done here.” I stand up from the armchair, but Pa holds his hand up to signal I’m not going anywhere.
“We arenotdone. I haven’t told you the men she’s involved with.”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “Whatever angle you’re working—”
“Her ex-boyfriend, the one she’s told you about, Enzo.”
“What about him?”
“You know what crew he runs with?”
I clench my hands into tight fists. My insides freeze into ice as instinct tells me where this is going. The gleam in Pa’s eyes is too bright, the cruel smirk returning to his lips.
“I bet she’s never told you. Enzo is short for Lorenzo Espinosa.”
“That name means shit to me. Same as any other name.”
“Does Lovato?” Pa asks, palms wrapped over the handle of his cane. His smirk spreads. “Lorenzo is one of Lovato’s street guys. That charge he caught—the one Falynn told you about—was from the night they tried gunning down Everett Johansson in revenge for our partnership. Lorenzo was one of the guys hired to do it.”
My brows push together. “Falynn knows nothing about that. He never kept her involved in anything he did.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But she knows his latest job. Shoot up the Vittoria Resort and Casino. That third guy you’ve been looking for? Guess who?”
Pa’s info slams into me like a freight train. I scrub a hand over my face and breathe through the resistance in my lungs. Too many thoughts, too many questions swarm through my mind as the info sinks in.
Pa can’t leave it be. He has to twist the knife. “He spoke to her that night, Giovanni. The time she went missing? You know who she was with. She was feeding info to the enemy, to Lorenzo, toLovato.”
