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I pull out a chair and flop into it. “Happy?”
“Here’s the deal.” Nico taps on the tabletop with his fingertips. “Our location isn’t hidden. Everyone in the organization knows we own Jersey and everything south of it. We don’t operate outside of those locations. It makes us easy to find. But this place, this farm, is outside of our regular territory.”
“Thanks for the geography lesson,” I quip.
Nobody cracks a smile.
Shocker.
Ironic that the primary target is the one trying to lighten this situation.
“The point is, there is no affiliation between the farm to our other businesses. This is separate. Buried. Off the radar.” He pauses. “Undetectable.”
“Who knows about it?”
“The three of us.” Nico and Viktor exchange glances.
“That’s all?” I furrow my brow.
“Yep. For now.”
“And I’m going to be stuck up here?”
“Think of it as a refuge from fucking mutilation of the worst imaginable kind.” Nico rolls his eyes. “Do you get what I’m doing here? I’m saving your ass from the Cinques.”
“For how long? I mean, this is like witness protection shit except it isn’t orchestrated by the government, yeah?”
Another secret, wordless look is exchanged.
“You guys wanna let me in on the timeline? Am I turning hick or what?”
“You’re going to have to stay up here for a while,” Nico says, avoiding my eyes.
“How are you gonna explain my disappearance to everyone? Where the fuck am I supposed to be? What am I telling my family? This is my fucking life, Nico!”
Nico shoots up from his chair and leans in real close. Close enough that I can see the fire in his eyes. He’s pissed, but fuck that. So am I. I’m in this shit storm because of him, his father, and his grandfather. And he’s basically telling me my life as I know it is over.
What I did wasn’t even that bad. I started taking sports bets without permission. Big goddamn deal. Max Oriani made it into a bigger thing than it needed to be. He’s the one who ratted me out in the first place. Jealous asshole. He knew I was making more than he ever could, so he ran to Nico’s Grandpa Vito, the big boss, and boom. I’m outta business.
But instead of getting beaten to death with a baseball bat, I got a punishment assignment that assured me death by baseball bat would be much more enjoyable.
I stand by what I did with the gambling. I had a good reason, not that anyone bothered to ask. They all just assumed I did it because I don’t give a damn about anyone but myself and that I’m a selfish asshole.
What they didn’t know was that I did it to help my grandmother pay off my Pop’s medical bills when he was sick. I knew my dad was strapped, so when I overheard them talking one night, the idea came to me. I knew I’d clear enough to help, and I also knew Grandma would never ask me. So I took it upon myself and decimated Max’s little betting business.
To this day, Max doesn’t know the truth, and that’s fine. It’s none of his business. None of anyone’s business. I never told Nico’s dad or grandfather why I did it. It wasn’t important. I did what I had to do for my family. The bills were paid, and my grandma was able to mourn my Pop without having to worry about his debts.
But what the Salesis made me do as punishment was way worse than taking those bets ever was. I went into the lion’s den, surrounded by hellfire and brimstone, and I didn’t think I’d make it out alive.
And now this.
“You’re lucky you still have a life, Rocco! So while you’re pissing and moaning about how shitty your existence will be while you hide out here, think about the fact that you’ll still be fucking breathing!”
“Forget it, Nico. This plan can’t work. Not with him. He’s too reckless and too many risks have already been taken,” Viktor says in a low, menacing voice. He stands up and walks toward me. His blue eyes are so light and so clear, they look soul-less. I can’t tear my own eyes away. His stare pins me to the spot and my throat constricts, my body fully unprepared for any assault he might launch. I’m trapped by his cold, hardened gaze with no hope of breaking away.
He gets right in my face, searching me for something…I’m not sure what and he doesn’t bother to give me a clue, either. He’s a man of few words. He doesn’t need to use many. His expressions pretty much tell you everything you need to know.
And from the looks of it, I’m fucked.
