Page 49 of O'Mega's Revenge
Jackson snorted.
“What?” She skewered him with a glare.
“Nonno didn’t know he lived.”
Our shot-caller pretended to ignore Jackson’s truth bomb.
“Nonno never would have given her to me if he knew.” I played back that night in my head. My thoughts had been primarily on Tits. Or on the challenge I’d seen in Nonno’s eyes. But now I dug into the conversation. The strange way everyone was ignoring the girl in the cage. It was as if she was a proverbial elephant in the room everyone knew was a problem but didn’t know what to do with. When I swaggered in, still stupid and young, it was a solution that gave them plausible deniability.
“Bingo.” Jackson picked up a finger to emphasize his win.
“I was supposed to be returned. But with no one to return me to, it didn’t really matter.” Tits dropped a hand to my leg and absently stroked the denim.
“A week later, one of his goons came for her. I told him she’d died. He shrugged it off. I thought that was the end of it.” Nonno shook his head. “You couldn’t let her die, could you?”
I brushed a hand through her hair, not an ounce of regret in my decision to nurse her back to health. “Nope.”
She leaned into my touch. Eyes closed and trusting me to keep her safe.
“This is why he can’t be your second, Jackson. He doesn’t follow orders well.”
“That’s exactly why I cast the final vote to make him my second, Nonno. Someone’s got to use their brains around here. I’m sick and fucking tired of yes-men.”
The older man slammed his hand down on the table. “Revoke it.”
“Nope.” Jackson reached into a pocket and slid the VP patch to me. Everyone watched as I picked it up and tucked it into my inner pocket.
“Crete told me he lied to his face. You don’t do that to a brother. Especially not one in his position.”
Jackson shrugged. “His fault for believing it. Don’t give a fuck, Nonno. Crete ain’t you. Never will be.”
Nonno’s anger faded at Jackson’s praise.
“So, this guy, the evil villain asshole, he wants Tits, but for years everyone thought he was dead. How in the hell did he maintain that kind of power without anyone knowing he was alive?” Trot had a hell of a point.
“Plus, he’s in a fucking wheelchair. That’s gotta be a shit image in the family.” Jackson studied his fingers.
“He had five bodyguards and maybe a stable of twenty women. Hardly where he was when I stabbed him.”
“How many times did you get him?” Jackson leaned in, a new gleam of admiration shining in his eyes as he stared at Tits.
“Mine, remember?”
“Right.” Jackson licked his lips and leaned back, a big smile on his face.
I added my own speculation, “The point is, he’s weak. Pretending he’s strong by demanding we play his games. Making us go to this fancy party when he’s hitting our businesses, our people. No matter who is at this party tonight, some of them will have forgotten his reign of terror. If he’s counting on that to keep people in line, he might be making a mistake.”
“Look strong when you’re weak,” Tits muttered.
“And vice versa.” I stroked down the soft curve of her neck and back, making her shiver as I trailed a finger under the waistband of her jeans.
“Does that mean we’re going to this party?” Trot asked.
“Hell yeah, I’m wearing that fucking blue dress.” Missile ran outside to retrieve it from the dirt.
“What you gonna wear, Tits?” Jackson asked, licking his lips.
She looked at me. “I’m sure Wolf’s got something I can wear.”
