Page 34 of Reckless Sinner

I could hear my father pondering in the silence that stretched on.

“This would be very interesting,” he said at last. “To have a man of such… supposed uprightness actually a manipulator such as that. Did I not tell you that these men aren’t to be trusted? That they aren’t any better than we are?”

“Father…”

I could picture in my head my father waving his hand in that dismissive, expressive way he had. “No matter. I’ll look into it for you. If…”

And here it was. I swallowed hard.

I had always known that someday my father would call to collect. Someday I was going to have to sell my soul back to the mafia for good. I was living on borrowed time as a law-abiding lawyer.

That didn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. That it didn’t send me off-kilter and make me feel like I was in a terrible freefall into an unending void.

“The D.A., most likely in collaboration with Weston, is planning something against us. They already tried, using Marco’s girl. Your brother is good at one thing, and that is getting women to like him—she told us everything before her… tragic death.”

I wanted to ask if my father or Vincent had been the one to really kill her, or if there was something even more going on. But I kept my mouth shut. The less I knew, the less I would have to lie about later on.

“Of course, we are a step ahead of them, as always. But they’re going to come at us again another way. They were very close to their goal and I don’t think they’ll want to stop when they can taste it… so they will come at us from the side, instead. I need you to find out what that side is. You are interested in Weston’s daughter? Get even closer to him. Find out whatever you can. Do what you have to.” Dad paused ever so slightly. “We don’t want to have to eliminate him. But you can get closer to him than any of us could.”

My blood went cold. “I’m not going to murder someone. I’m not a soldier, or a contractor.”

‘Contractor’ was the polite word for ‘hitman’ in our world. While there were designated hitmen in each mafia family, we still tended to treat them like they were independent contractors. And then there were the actual independent contractors, the hitmen who would work for anyone if the price was right. They were usually worth the fees.

“But we don’t want this to look like a hit, if it comes to that,” Dad replied. “We can’t be the only people he’s made enemies of; you know how ruthless lawyers are said to be.”

I could hear his smile on the other end of the line.

“When you told me to go to law school you said I would be a fixer. I would handle legal troubles. I’m not a murderer.”

“You’re my son,” my father replied. “You would be surprised what sort of iron lurks in those blood veins of yours.”

“This isn’t me saying I’mincapableof murder,” I snapped. I was unfortunately all too aware of that darkness lurking inside of me—the darkness I had only let out, a little, with Delaney. “I’m saying I willnotcommit murder.”

“Then you don’t get my help,” Dad replied smoothly. “Simple as that. Personally I think you shouldn’t bother helping this girl anyway. How long have you known her?”

My face got hot. “A month, now. We’ve been… mostly texting.”

My father was not the type to groan with annoyance, but if he was, he would’ve been doing that right now. “What did I do to raise such foolish boys. Over a woman you’ve known a month? Throughtexting?Dante, have I never gotten a word through—”

He descended into Italian at that point and I just kind of tuned it out until he was finished. I could snap back at him—all of us spoke Italian, it was either that or our grandfather would’ve killed us all for ‘forgetting our roots’—and usually, I would’ve dived right into the fray, arguing against him.

But not this time. I wasn’t in the mood for games or playing at war with my father. This time it wasn’t me at stake—it was someone else. It was Delaney.

I let Dad wind himself up and then work off the heat, cooling down back into English.

“You finished?” I asked.

He cursed at me. It was almost like old times.

“I’m willing to do a lot for you. I know this help isn’t free. But I have my own lines, Dad. I told you I wasn’t going to be a part of the mafia and I meant it.”

“And I told you there’s no such thing.”

“How about you think for a few minutes about how damn stubbornyouare, remind yourself that I’myourson, and then consider how well this stalemate is gonna go.”

I could feel his glare even through the phone.

When he spoke again, however, his voice was soft. That was the dangerous voice, the voice of the viper. My father hadn’t expanded the power and reach of our family by being a hammer. Where else had Vincent gotten his strategic skills?

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