Page 3 of Deceitful Oath

Poison. Fucking cyanide.

Whoever killed my father wanted it done quickly and without room for error. The amount of cyanide in his system was more than enough to kill a full-grown man. Who would do something like this?

I make a mental list of his enemies. It’s a long list, too long to keep track of in my head, but I discount almost every name I think of. None of them would be ballsy enough to go for the kill.

Dominic Romano. Head of the Romano crime family. The scariest motherfucker in town, killed by a cup of cyanide-laced coffee.

Something hot sticks in my throat, threatening to choke me. I push the unfamiliar feeling down and scrub my face with my hands. It makes me ponder how easily kingpins can fall in the world of organized crime.

If this happened to my father, a feared criminal mastermind, what’s to say it won’t happen to me? Now, more than ever, I need to watch out for that bright red target on my back.

There are too many small fish setting their sights on a bigger pond in this town.

I need to keep it together. After all, he trained me for this moment.

“Stay strong when I’m gone, Rafael,”he had told me more times than I could count.“Everyone will see it as an opportunity to move in—to strike while the iron’s hot. You need to show them who you are. The son of Dominic Romano. Powerful. Lethal. Bullet-proof.”

He wasn’t the type of dad who taught me to ride a bike or throw a softball. There were no bedtime stories, or I love yousin our house. Hell, he wouldn’t have known a soft emotion if it punched him in the face. But he was a good dad nonetheless.

A firm knock interrupts my thoughts, and Vince lets himself into the room. “I’m sorry, boss. Dominic was a good man. A good leader.”

I nod, adopting a neutral expression.I’m the son of Dominic Romano. Powerful. Lethal. Bullet-proof, I remind myself. I’m not feeling tears clogging my throat or a bone-deep worry for my own safety coursing through my veins.

“We have a lot to do,” I say, gesturing to the chair across from me. Vince sits down and I slide the bourbon over to him. “Where is everyone?”

“On their way, boss.”

He throws back a glass of the amber-colored liquid and pours another one for both of us. Thick silence stretches between us. I study Vince’s passive, cold face. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know.

“What the hell happened, Vince?”

“Boss, I…”

A fist pounds on the door and the other men wander into the room, looking like lost sheep without a shepherd. Ten of my father’s closest associates surround me, varying degrees of pity in their expressions.

Maintain control.

I stand, straightening to my full height, and throw my shoulders back. If there was ever a time to look like I could kill anything that moves, it’s now.

“My father was poisoned,” I say, matter-of-factly. “What can you tell me about this?”

A clamor of gasps and protests floods the room.

“Who would…”

“I bet it was…”

“…thought it was a heart attack…”

“Must be…”

Everyone starts talking at once, throwing names and theories at me. Only Vince is quiet, lost deep in thought, his chin perched on his hand. I ignore the others and walk over to him.

“What are you thinking?”

“Well…” he starts, then hesitates like he’s choosing his words wisely instead of spouting some nonsense. And that’s why he was my father’s right-hand man. “I don’t know for sure, but…there was this waitress.”

“Someone saw her do it?”

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