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The scratching pressure on my throat tightens even more. To think that all this time I believed it was my fault for not stepping out of the crawlspace in time, or that it was because my father didn’t come in time to protect his family.
I could kill every single person who was involved in the murder of my mother, but it wouldn’t change that fact that it happened, and I have to live with the fact I couldn’t save her.
As Enzo parks the car, I grab the gun from the seat and put it in the waistband of my pants. He looks at the gun and already understands what my intentions are. I blink away the memory of my mother and who I thought my father was and give Enzo a nod as we both exit the car.
My father’s villa is on the top of a hill with a perfect view of the city. The city that he owns. The men blocking the doorway let us both in without giving it a second thought. I have been gone for years and they still remember the shit I am capable of. If they know what’s good for them, they will keep it up.
As we walk through the door, I see a clear shot of my father on the balcony, sipping on his morning coffee without a single worry in his head. It would be a lot easier if I just shot him from where I’m standing, but I want to hear his side of the story. There will be no sympathy; I just want to know what his reason was.
I continue to take steps closer to him. From where I stand right now, only a sliding glass door separates us.
Separates him from his death.
“Giovanni?” He lifts his weight off the table as I wave for him to sit back down. I’m not in the mood for hearing horseshit right now. I don’t need him to tell me how much he has missed me, or how much he has needed my help. I have only two goals in mind. One, to hear what shit he has gotten himself into. I need to make sure I hold back any harsh words, otherwise he’ll know something is going on.
I need to know who I am going to have to deal with once I blow out his brains. My family believes in blood feud. I am almost positive that is why he hasn’t told me the truth of all this. He wants me to think there’s still someone out there that needs to be dealt with. Throughout the years, maybe that was his way of making me a man.
I shake my head as I sit across from him. The chairs are made of steel, burning my skin through my pants because of the hot sun beating down on the surface.
My second goal: to hear his side. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch a breath if I don’t hear the words fall from his lips.
To hear the harsh truth as to why he did what he did.
The words he never thought he would have to say are the ones that will get him killed.
“You’ve brought Enzo.”
Enzo shifts his stance, about to kill him before I do.
“So, Father,” I say. “What did you get yourself into this time?”
He lets out a long sigh. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t have the time to deal with their shit.”
He doesn’t have the time to deal with their shit? He’s sitting down drinking his coffee in the morning while I’ve been running around frantically trying to piece together my mother’s murder. A case that he has never blinked at twice.
“They are not paying me back.”
“Who is not paying you back?”
“The Stepanovs.”
“Why the fuck are you involved with the Stepanovs?”
“The same reason you are, Giovanni.”
I don’t think so.
It started off with my cousin, Carlo, marrying Ana. That means my family is connected to theirs. But what I can’t seem to figure out is why Rolando wants to make an alliance with the Stepanovs.
“What money did you lend them?”
“It was two million.”
“Two million?” I repeat to clarify. “Why?”
“Yes. And as for the why, that part does not concern you.”
My temper gets the better of me as I stand up and give Enzo a nod.
