Page 97 of Volatile Vice

“That’s another thing I don’t understand,” Falcon says. “Mario Bianchi has all kinds of contacts. There’s no reason why his son-in-law had to go to prison.”

“Except that he took out the son of a rival,” I say.

“Yeah, but they were trying to ally themselves with that family. In fact, they still are. As I understand it, Vinnie is supposed to marry McAllister’s daughter.”

I cast my gaze to the cold hospital tiles. “I know. Belinda. He’s never going to marry her.”

“I don’t believe he will either. But I do believe that right now, Vinnie is dangerous. If Bianchi is here and Vinnie isn’t, then Vinnie’s doing business for Bianchi.”

I open my mouth to quarrel with Falcon over the statement, but then I close it.

In reality? He’s probably right.

Vinnie’s a good man.

In my heart of hearts I believe that.

But I also believe that to take down his grandfather—which he swore to do—he’s going to have to look the other way in some areas.

Areas I’m better off not knowing about.

But I already know that whatever he has to do, I will forgive him without question.

Because I love him without question.

I love him for everything that he is—everything that he wants to do. And ridding the world of his grandfather is a noble calling.

To make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.

I swallow. “Falcon? Do you believe Vinnie had anything to do with Brick Latham’s death?”

“I wondered,” he says. “But no, I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so either,” I say, “and I hate myself for saying this, but I wondered as well.”

“You did?”

I swallow. “Yes, it crossed my mind. But Brick was killed when he got to our house. And Vinnie was with me when I texted Brick and told him not to come.”

Falcon’s eyes light up. “Except…”

“Except what?” I ask.

“It just occurred to me. All we truly know is that Brick was found, his car at our house, dead in your bed, his throat slit. We don’t knowhowhe got there.”

32

VINNIE

Austin furrows his brow. “Tell youwhatabout Brick Latham? I hardly knew the man.”

I clear my throat. “I may have been gone for the last seventeen years, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this whole Brick Latham thing. And there’s one thing that I can’t get past.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What’s that?”

“The fact that you and your wife weren’t home Friday evening, and neither was Raven.”

“Yes, and I’m grateful for that. Otherwise, who knows what might have happened?”

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