Page 50 of Rotten Men

“Yes, I do. I have ten years’ worth of knowledge regarding you, Vincent. You are a selfish, cold man, and I doubt you have ever put anyone’s interest above your own.” I stand from my seat, not wanting to hear another minute of this man’s interpretation of my character. He lets out a stiff chuckle and takes another pull of his beer, and adds “Anything else you want to know?”

“Is Jude mine?” I question coldly.

“What do you think?” he grunts in response.

“Does he know I’m his father?” I interrogate him, and James tilts his head to the side, taking a good hard look at me.

“He knows. Selene never hid that away from him. But I’d like to clarify something for you before you get your panties in a twist—you might be Jude’s father, but you best believe that boy is my son, too. I have raised him the best I could, and his birth was what saved Selene and me from total ruin.”

I nod and look back at the house that now holds the two missing pieces of my soul.

“There’s something else you should know. She’s already making plans to leave,” James announces, breaking my train of thought and increasing my panic.

“I can’t allow that. Not anymore,” I state plainly.

This afternoon, when I went into their home, a part of me acknowledged that the best thing I could do for Selene was let her have the life she always envisioned for herself. Now, knowing that life is a lie and she has my son with her, I can’t let her leave me. Not again.

“I thought you’d say that,” he grunts, standing up from his seat and facing me head on.

“If you knew, then why tell me? I would assume your loyalties were with Selene.”

“They are and always will be. Call me naive, if you must, but I’m hoping you’re not as much of a pompous, self-centered prick as you seem to be. Perhaps this time, you’ll finally do right by her, as she’s done by the lot of you,” he says accusingly, and turns his back to me, heading back inside where my family has lived for the past decade.

I watch him take each step, but I’m still unable to move.

“James.”

“What?”

“Did Selene name my son?” I croak out, my body filled with nervous energy coursing through its veins. James doesn’t turn around but answers me just the same.

“She did. She told me Jude is the name of the Patron Saint of Lost Souls, and if there was ever a lost soul in need of saving, it was hers. She thought it poetic—the man who she forsook her soul for in the first place, should give her such a redeeming parting gift. But now that I have met you, I don’t believe you could sacrifice yourself for her the same way she did for you. She deserves better, and you’re not it.”

Eighteen

Giovanni

I nurse my drink on the counter, happy that tonight I don’t have the herd of Outfit bunnies around me. I’d swat them away if they tried to get within even ten feet of me. Tonight, all I’m in the mood for is to pull a Vincent and brood over my half glass of top-shelf whiskey.

I can’t believe Vincent went through with it. He actually managed to get Selene’s husband off a murder charge. I saw a lot of money passing dirty hands; at this point, even if the cops had caught James red-handed, he’d still be acquitted. With missing evidence, and a bogus eyewitness suddenly coming forward to state that he saw two strange men carrying Ed into the garage late that night—already dead—well, there were too many loose ends to uphold the charges against him.

I’m ashamed to say I wish Vincent would have stuck to his typical selfish ways and let the man rot in jail. It’s a shitty thing to think since I’m positive he was set up. Still, having him locked up meant myprincipessawould stay longer in my arms, but now she’s gone back to him. I don’t even know if she’ll return to say goodbye in person this time, or if I’m going to receive another fucking dear-john letter—or in her case, a postcard.

“Cazzo!” I mumble into my glass, and I immediately feel eyes on me. I turn to the side and watch Dominic talk Ciro’s ear off about whatever they bond over in their secluded booth. Ciro tilts his head in my direction, and I raise my glass in salute.

“Eat shit and die, asshole,” I mumble between clenched teeth, with a wide grin plastered on my face.

His own malicious grin appears, and it’s like the bastard heard me from way over there. What the fuck does Dominic see in that guy? I can smell the snake-oil bullshit from here. The man is vile and untrustworthy, yet my giant of a best friend seems unbothered by the sadistic fuck.

Vincent giving him my father’s role in the Outfit still strangles my throat like barb wire. The worst part is thestronzois actually good at the job. Much better than my father was, and every lastcapoin the syndicate knows it. As much as I hate to admit it, my father did have compassion, even if I refused to see it growing up.

Ciro though? That fuck doesn’t feel anything. The man is made of stone. Vincent might have a faulty sense of empathy, but that asshole is a black pit of nothingness. He’s only alive when destroying his enemies, and I, for one, wonder when his bloodthirsty morality sets his eyes on us as his next targets.

My thoughts are a rambled mess between Selene and impending threats, when someone pulls at my lapel, knocking me off my seat, and I reach for my gun to blow this motherfucker’s brains out.

“The fuck?!” I yell, when Vincent pulls me up, only to keep his hands on my throat.

“Did you know? Tell me, Giovanni, did you know?” Vincent hollers manically.

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