“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath because this is not good. “Yes, sir. I live here with you. I help run things for the family.”
I’m sure to be vague about what I say to him because we don’t know how gone he is most days and don’t want to set him off or cause him undo stress.
He smiles, looking me up and down. “Good, strong boys are needed, that’s for sure. Things are heating up. We’re going to need all the help we can get in the coming days.”
I make it over to him, and his words are like daggers to the chest. I’m not a believer in most things supernatural or anything, butI’ve learned that when Papa says there are things on the horizon, we should all take heed of this.
“Why don’t we go inside and talk more about what you feel is coming, Papa,” I tell him, hoping that will get him moving.
“I could go for a cup of coffee. It’s gotten mighty frigid out here.” Papa Sylas grunts as he fights to stand from his rocking chair.
Just as we make it to the front door, it’s snatched open, and standing there is Papa’s companion looking frazzled. I know she is new and much younger than our normal ones. I guess Andre figures it would take someone younger to keep up with the old man. He may be getting up there in years, but he’s still quick. Papa is fit and healthy, but his mind is quitting on him. It seems that when you hold all the secrets and know where most of the bodies are hidden, the universe’s karma takes the one thing you prize most—your mind.
“You mind explaining why Sylas is sitting outside in his rocker after dark with no blanket or jacket?” I demand from her.
Her eyes go wide. “I … umm … I was …”
“Vito, get your ass in here and leave the help alone,” Andre calls, standing in the doorway of his office.
The girl’s eyes go wide at my name, and they fill with tears. “I apologize for my mistake. I stepped away to use the restroom. I’ll be more mindful going forward.”
“Be sure of that.” I step around her to make my way to Andre.
As I make my way down the hall, I smirk when I hear Sylas say, “Don’t worry, dear. My grandson will come around, and when he does, you’ll put every last one of these assholes in their place.”
“Why are you smirking like that?” Andre huffs, going back into his office and pouring us both a glass of whiskey.
He comes over and hands me a glass before taking a seat behind his desk. I take a good long look at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes that are filled with bone-deep tiredness. It’s only been about two days since the last time I saw him. This could only mean something major has happened.
“What happened?” I ask, ready to get to the bottom of things.
“We’re missing a shipment and our counts aren’t adding up,” he says, annoyance clear in his voice.
“Would this missing shipment be coming out of Savannah?” I ask, taking a long pull off my drink.
His eyes go sharp as they narrow on me. “In fact, it is. Would like to tell me how you know this when you’ve been on a job the last two fucking days?”
Smirking, I take another pull from my drink before answering him. “I’m your second. It’s my job to know what’s going on at all times. That way I can be sure your ass is always covered.”
“Don’t be a fucking prick.” Andre mock glares at me.
“That’s my natural state of being.” I place my hand on my chest in mock indignation. “I can’t believe you would demand I change who I am.”
Andre chuckles, throwing back the last of his drink. “Fucking asshole. Excuse my insensitivity to your delicate being.”
“That’s more like it. Savannah was the reason your cousin called me.” Once again, making sure to put distance between myself and the family. “He was letting me know that they and their associates have been seeing some pushback and that their shipments haven’t been as smooth as they should be. I let him know we’ve started seeing the same shit and we’ve already put stuff in motion to cover it.”
“Do you believe the Irish can handle the load that we need?” Andre wonders as he looks over some of the paperwork on his desk.
“There is only one way to find out,” I shrug, pulling my phone out of my pocket and pulling up the number for Mason O’Malley and hitting dial, making sure it’s on speakerphone.
The phone rings exactly four times. “Mason O’Malley.”
“Mason, how are you, brother?” I drawl.
“Vito, how is it going?” he asks me, and I hear shuffling on the other side.
“Things could be better on our end,” I tell him honestly. “How are things on your side of the world?”
