None of us speak on the drive back to our house. It’s heartbreaking, really. Someone died tonight, maybe while we were in that cozy movie theater, entertained by an action-adventure film and eating our body weight in buttered popcorn.
“Hey, Wallace. Tell your guy that the soundtrack was really good.” Elias clears his throat. “Especially the strings.”
“Thanks.” Wallace pulls onto our street. “I’ll let him know.”
When we get to our driveway, two people are standing by our front door. One, tall and wearing a plaid shirt with jeans. The other, much shorter, but standing regally with her silver-blond hair worn down around her shoulders. I recognize them instantly and jump out of the car as soon as Wallace stops.
“Mom? Dad?” I rush toward them. All I can think about is Granddad—something happened, something bad, and they’re here to give me the news in person. Tears spill from my eyes. I was just there, I just saw him. He was feeling so much better, eating the right foods, taking it easy.
“Dani.” Mom’s voice breaks on a sob.
Wallace, Elias, and Rita all hold back, giving us space because we’re blocking the front door.
“What is it?” My voice quivers. “Just tell me.”
Mom bursts into tears. “He’s dead.”
“Who? Who’s dead?” My mind flashes through all the men in the family. Dad, who is right here and obviously alive. Then Granddad, Patrick…Dmitri.
14
Edmund
It’s far too late in the evening to be listening to my father’s bullshit.
And yet, here I am.
It’s all about how the Aseyevs are trash, how they ruined our shipment and they’ve messed with our restaurants and that’s why they’re operating in the red. Old Sergey this, old Sergey that.
Well, I met old Sergey, and he seems like a good guy. Nicer than my father, at any rate.
We’re nearing the hour mark of our “little chat,” and I’m starting to lose it. Deep breaths.
My father leans forward in his chair, an untouched tumbler of whiskey at the desk in front of him. “You’ll go to Mirarosa yourself and watch over the dock when the new shipment comes in tonight.”
“You have Caleb Morraine for that?—”
“And Manchester was right. Morraine’s security detail dropped the ball. I want to know why. You’ll be my eyes and ears.”
I shake my head. “We can get another guy for this.”
“I want you to do it, and you’ll do it. You have something better going on? Chasing women at Salt? Finding your way under the Aseyev brat’s skirt?”
Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths.
“Well?” My father’s eyes are the blue of the hottest flame.
“Yeah. I’ll go to Mirarosa.” I try to paste a bland smile on my face, but I’m sure it looks forced.
“Good. You’re dismissed. Jon will drive.”
I’m thirty-four years old and I’m tired of being treated like an impulsive teenager.
I leave my father’s office, unable to see straight, I’m so pissed.
Troy and Arky are waiting outside. My heart rate goes down a notch. Family. This is my real family, right here. Not that hateful old bastard in the office.
But Troy frowns. “Have you checked your phone?”
