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“Good,” he said. “We may not be blood, Noah, but wearefamily. And we do everything to protect the family.”
If only his sons were half the man he was, everything would be simpler. I wouldn’t have to step in every time they piss someone off.
I wouldn’t be considering removing Joaquin from his position.
* * *
My car keys clank loudly when I toss them onto the black granite counter in my kitchen. I push the button on the fireplace mantel that turns it on and pause when I go to sit on my couch.
Sylvia is lying there, sound asleep. I crouch beside her and swipe a lock of her dark hair from her face.
“Mother?”
She stirs, a soft sob escaping her, but she doesn’t fully wake. The light from the fire catches on her soft features, accentuating the lines created by age, which haven’t managed to dull her beauty.
I sigh, hating to see her like this. Frail, broken. Her cheeks streaked with dry tears.
It’s too late to take her home now. Besides, I’m not sure if I want her there alone, surrounded by the memories of the man she loved and lost, even if he could be a bastard. I scoop her up easily, her slight weight barely registering in my arms, and carry her to my bed.
“Wha—? Noah?” She finally rouses enough to look around. “What time is it? I need to get home.”
“It’s late. Sleep here. You can go in the morning.”
“But I can’t take your bed,” she protests and tries to get up.
With a gentle hand, I push her down to the mattress, then lift the comforter over her. “I’ll take the couch. Sleep.”
She’s too tired to argue and is breathing deeply by the time I shut the bedroom door behind me.
Undoing the top three buttons of my shirt as I go, I return to the living room and drop onto the couch. The noise of the outside world is now miles away. Within my quiet, buffered walls, I can think much clearer.
Taking the ring from my shirt pocket, I stare at the initials. Who the fuck is H.W.? Is this some sort of college ring? If it is, there are no indicators.
Earlier, I sent a picture of it to the only man who might be able to find me answers. Justin Lee is an antivirus software engineer who knows more about busting through firewalls and security systems than anyone I’ve ever met. He worked for my uncle until the day he died. Then my father hired him because he didn’t trust Joaquin’s men. Now that he’s dead, I plan on keeping Justin on my private payroll as well.
“I’ll run the image through the software, but I can’t make any promises,” he said when I asked him to do a search after I left the morgue.
“Can you compile a list of politicians and anyone with power or a criminal record in the area who would have those initials?”
He sighed heavily. “You have the ability to do that too.”
“Not as fast as you can,” I argue.
“Right. I’ll get on it.”
I’ve barely hung up when my phone rings. An unknown number appears on the screen.
For a moment, I consider hitting the Decline button and throwing my phone far away from me. No good can come from an unknown number, especially in the late evening. Telemarketers, scammers, and car warranty salesmen always call when they think you’re sure to be home and able to talk.
However, when I consider the fact that it could be something to do with my father’s death, I accept the call.
“Esposito.”
“Noah. This is Tony Sinacore.”
My spine stiffens at hearing the sound of his name on the same day Joaquin asked me to take out his brother. Why the hell is New York’s boss calling me? Did he get wind of my cousin’s order? And how the fuck did he get my number?
Suspicion flares to life inside me.
