I wasn’t lucky.
Never had been, never would be.
The scent of cigarettes hit my nose as I pulled open the door to the establishment. My boots clicked against the floor as I made my way to the bar. It was near empty except for Phoenix.
“Water?” I pointed at his glass. “Please tell me that’s vodka.”
Phoenix shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Admit it.” I took a seat on the bar stool. “You found religion or something.”
“Nah, just my soul.” Phoenix lifted the water to me and nodded. “Now, about our plan.”
I held up my hand. “Something tells me one of us needs to be intoxicated for this.”
He nodded. “It may be wise to have a bottle of whiskey handy.”
I reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses. “How deep are we going in, Phoenix?”
“You’re a Campisi.” He stated the obvious. “The question is never how deep, you should know that by now. What you need to know, is how to move the pieces in your favor so strategically that nobody knows you’ve won until it’s already happened.”
“I’m shit at chess.”
“Bull.” Phoenix snorted. “Your IQ makes me feel like a three-year-old sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes and took a shot, wincing as the dry liquid poured down my throat, giving me no relief, just a burning sensation of dread in my empty stomach.
“So, let’s hear it.”
Phoenix drummed his fingertips against the counter top. “You need to send a message.”
“To Alfonso?”
“To everyone.” Phoenix’s eyes flashed. “Not just Alfonso but every damn family at The Commission, word needs to spread so fast that you’re freaking trending on Twitter within two seconds, get the picture?”
“Mass murder by Tex Campisi trending on Twitter, right, that would be the day, okay so the only way to do something that… extravagant is either put fireworks in Alfonso’s ass or—”
“Kill them,” Phoenix snapped. “You have to kill them all.”
“All?” I swallowed.
“A cleanse of… sorts.” Phoenix shrugged. “Luca, Frank, Nixon, Chase, Mo, Mil…”
Each name he fired off was like a hammer to my head. My blood broiled beneath the surface of my calm-as-hell smile. “A demonstration.”
Phoenix’s hands shook as he grabbed the bottle and poured himself a shot, only he scooted it to me and nodded. “Blood always wins.” He lifted his glass and clinked it with my shot. “Cheers.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend. – Jim Morrison
Sergio
MY HEADACHE HAD EVERYTHING to do with the fact that I wouldn’t know what choice Phoenix made until it was too late.
“Don’t interfere.” Luca had instructed, like the freaking Godfather himself. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew Luca thought of Phoenix like a son. Really, good for them, they had a life and death bonding moment and now he was trusting Phoenix to be the man he hoped he’d saved, not the one who had died that day.
I wasn’t sure who to trust.
Maybe a bottle of Jim? Yeah, that sounded good.
Bottles never let me down.
Like women, like Phoenix, like Luca, Frank, hell I came out of retirement to help them save The Family not put it in more danger and wave a red flag in front of the Feds.
Nixon walked into the room with Trace close behind him, they were laughing about something and then he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her mouth.
I looked away as knives of jealously surged through my body. I’d never wanted Trace, yeah she was beautiful, but it had always been Mo.
The same girl who was not but an hour ago wrapped up in enemy territory with stars in her eyes.
That girl had no idea the lengths Tex would go—I did. I knew. I knew that in the end you could deny your blood all you wanted, but it still flowed through your veins, a daily reminder of the person you were destined to be.
He was a killer.
The enemy.
So the way I saw it, we were putting our lives in the hands of two of the most messed up people in the world. Tex and Phoenix.
That bottle of Jim Beam was looking better and better.
“…Maybe he needs a girl.” Trace whispered.
My head jolted up. “You guys talking about me?”
“Never.” Nixon smirked. “You okay, man?”
“Nothing a bottle or two can’t fix.”
Nixon winced, his eyes taking in my bouncing knee and inability to focus on anything for more than three seconds before looking back at the bottle.
“Trace?” Nixon turned to her. “Why don’t you go see what Mil’s doing? And tell Chase I need him.”
“Yes, master.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Where’s the please?”
I coughed to hide my laugh as Nixon clenched his jaw tight. “Please.”
“Better.” She grinned and skipped away down the hall.
“Someone’s got your balls in the palm of her hand.”
“Let’s leave my balls and her hands out of this.” Nixon grabbed the bottle from me and retrieved two glasses. “Mind telling me why you look like shit?”
“It’s a new style I’m trying.” I pulled at my long hair and winced. “Jared Leto meets Sicily.”