Page 5 of Birthright
"Livy." His face brightens at my name, though I assume he's remembering me as a little girl, not the full-grown adult standing in front of him. "You two really did make a good child," he muses. "It's a shame you couldn't stay with him."
I wince. If my mother was here, that would piss her off. As if it was solely her fault that their marriage collapsed.
"Why don't you take a nap?" I suggest, reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the recliner. He nods as I lay it over him, and he leans back to get more comfortable.
I leave him there in his recliner, sighing as I head back down to the bar to continue cleaning.
I wanted a fresh start, and I thought my inheritance might give me one, but now, as I'm feeling bogged down with memories I’d rather not relive, I'm not sure if this is a fresh start or if I’m just repeating my mother’s mistakes.
THREE
Sam
Alot of emotions have swirled through my mind in the last eight months since I was arrested for a murder I never committed.
Anger. Hatred.Rage.
A desperate need for revenge has driven me to this point. Planning this moment is how I got myself through the time I spent locked in a tiny cell. I didn't dare let myself explore the feelings that simmered deep below the surface, pushed down by so much pressure. If I let myself feel that grief — the weight of my father's death — for even just a second, I would’ve exploded. So instead, I plotted all the ways I could kill the people who took him from me.
I know Damien wasn't working alone. And, if I had my way, I would have been the one to kill Marcus, but John already did that. So now, Damien is the only one left for me to take out all this rage on.
My so-called aunts aren't that innocent, but from a young age, my father drilled it into me that we don't kill women. So,while I won't be able to end their lives in retribution, I know the deaths of their son and husband will be enough.
The pizza shop my uncle owns isn't in any of the main hot spots in the quarter. Not near Jackson Square or Bourbon Street. Instead, it sits a few streets back from all the action. Still busy, as is everything in the quarter, but less crowded.
Damien never needed the place to make a profit, anyway; it's all a front to launder the family’s dirty money. I know I'll find him there, based on a text from one of the men still loyal to me.
It's the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly as I park John's car outside of the shop. Normally, I'd do this under the cover of night. I'd also wait for John to be available and have my back.
But I can't wait that long.
Even if I wanted to, I don't want to risk my uncle getting tipped off that I've been released. So instead, I'll take care of business now.
I park the car in the alley, which gives me a good view of the back door. My uncle has always had a nasty smoking habit, and it's only a matter of time until that door swings open and he exits, cigarette in hand.
When it finally does, he's not even paying attention.
Stupido.
He pulls the cigarette loose from its packaging and brings it to his lips before lighting it up. I watch as he sucks on the cancer stick before I get out of the car. The sound of the door shutting gets his attention, and his head spins to face me.
As shock coats his features, I revel in his surprise.
"Uncle," I greet coldly.
I can tell from the look on his face that he's weighing his options. His eyes flicker to the door and down the alley, trying to determine if he can make it to either one before I pull my gun on him.
He won't be able to, but it'd be more fun if he tried.
Damien has never been a physical man. He married into the Costello family through my Aunt Carlotta, and though he's a made man, he's always been in the position of running a crew, looking at things from a money-making angle rather than having to be on the streets.
He's only killed one man in his years. Part of his initiation, way back before I was born. And then my nonno let him have a coddled life inla famiglia.He washed our money, managed the legal businesses, and if he needed dirty work done, he had someone else to do it.
So even if he wanted to, I'm not sure he has the balls or the skill to kill me himself. That's why he needed Adrian. Too bad, I got the lawyer on my side instead.
"Sam," he says, blowing out a puff of smoke and straightening his shoulders. I wouldn't expect my uncle to die like a weak man, begging for his life. But I think I'd like to see him on his knees, pleading with me for forgiveness.
We both know that would never happen. Notwillingly, at least.
