Page 42 of Clean Slade
“One of my men saw you.”
I was sure there was more to that story, but if he wanted to elaborate, he would have.
“What do you want?”
“Can’t a father pay his son a visit?”
“A father can.Youcan’t.”
“Your words hurt me,” he said, finally putting the cigar out.
“Everything you do hurts me. I know you want something, or I’d already be dead.”
My father huffed and kissed his teeth, his loving, caring face straining and darkening. An expression that only said one thing. It’s time for business.
“An old associate of mine has…stolen some money from me, along with some of my men. He fancies himself a crimelord now. He thinks he can start his own crime syndicate without repercussions.”
Someone had managed to cheat my father? That was unheard of. How was it even possible? And who was he so I could shake his hand.
The man in front of me was clearly rattled by the incident. No mob man wanted their hard-earned criminal money stolen. I wondered if he’d felt as betrayed as I had when he’d killed my best friend and robbed my daughter of a mother.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“We’ve located some ofhismen on your little island.”
That must mean they only found me because they found those men. That was the only explanation. But was it possible I was so unlucky that all this was due to a freak accident?
“Congratulations. I hope you catch him, and when you do, he’s spent all your money.”
He pursed his lips and his nostrils flared.
“This is not a joke, Tony.”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Kingston.”
I’d left that name a long time ago. That wasn’t me. It was never me. I’d thought it was, but it took losing everything to realize I was only fooling myself.
“Who is this guy?”
“Raymond Salieri. He joined us shortly after you ran. He was good at his job and had a drive I haven’t seen in anyone but myself.”
“So he’s a real son of a bitch too. Boo-fucking-hoo. Why should I care about any of this? You’ve found him. Go get him and let me be.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is with you.”
He took a deep breath before he spoke. “The problem is he went into hiding the minute we discovered him. And he knows all of my players.”
“Hell no,” I said. “Hell no!” I shouted.
I knew exactly what that meant. And there was no chance in hell I was doing it.
“He doesn’t know you or what you look like. He thinks you’re a simple gay dog groomer—” I huffed, and he rushed to correct himself, but it only made it worse. “I’m sorry. Just groomer.”
Yeah, much better. Dickface.
“By any means, you’re the perfect bait to flush him out.”
