Page 3 of Driftwood Daffodil 3
“Do you know why our father thinks you’re not ready?”
I couldn’t wait to hear this.
“You don’t think before you act, Gio.”
“At least I do something about it.” I wouldn’t have sat there and watched Kato Ford kill our brother.
“Okay,” Romeo nodded. “Say you somehow get the drop on Aldo and take him out. What then? What are you going to do to stop yourself from being branded a traitor?”
“He killed our mother.” Didn’t he care?
“How do you know that? Do you have any proof? Was he in town at the time? Did you find the men he hired? Or do you just think you heard his voice?”
I heard his voice. Didn’t I? It was twelve years ago. Why didn’t I remember it before?
“Ah. See, you’re not so sure now, are you?”
God, I hated him.
“Get out of my face.” I shouldered past Romeo, and headed down the stairs.
I know what I heard and Romeo couldn’t convince me otherwise.
“Prove him wrong, Little Brother.” He called after me. “Be the man I know you can be.”
I didn’t even bother to look back at him. I just rolled my eyes and continued on my way. Unfortunately, my brother was right. As much as it killed me to admit that.
If I wanted to expose the traitor my father refused to see, I’d need more than a vague memory I had years after the fact. Especially considering said traitor was the boss’s brother. A fact that pissed me off more.
This hierarchy was bullshit. Both my mother and brother died on my father’s watch, yet he was still calling the shots. I wasn’t the inept one, he was.
“Gio.” Fat Ricky nodded as I stepped off the bottom stair. “Who are you so pissed off at?”
“The world.” And my brother.
“I hear that.”
I assumed my father was in the library, which was where I headed, since he apparently had some more bullshit chores for me to do. Then I stopped and looked back at Ricky as an idea formed in the back of my mind.
“You’re going to New Orleans tonight, right?”
He wasn’t thrilled about this assignment. I could tell from the sigh he let out. “So I’m told.”
“Could you do me a favor while you’re there?”
“Sure.” He shrugged.
Ricky and I weren’t what I’d call friends. We didn’t talk or hang out. I didn’t even know his last name. He wasn’t someone I would normally trust. In this case, however... common enemies had a way of bringing people together.
“Find out if Aldo was in town the day my mother was killed.”
Ricky’s jaw ticked as he pushed off the wall and sized me up. He was probably trying to decide if this was some trap or test of loyalty.
“What’s this about?”
I shrugged. “It might be nothing.”
Or it might be everything.
