Page 50 of Dreadful
“Is this that swill those Irishmen gave you?”
I can’t help the smug smile on my lips. “One and the same. I befriended them just as you asked. Would you like more,zio?”
He scoffs. “I sent you and Vinnie to Vegas to scout out the heads of the local families,notbefriend them. You were recon before I risked rubbing elbows with them personally, that’s it. But not only did you not find out anything useful, now you’re best friends with the swine? They’re a means to an end, boy. Not allies.”
I found out far more than he thinks. Other than telling him it was safe to attend the McKennon wedding, he’ll never find out more from me. My loyalty has never lied with my uncle.
He slams his glass onto the table with a thud and swishes his wine like mouthwash. Ironic, really, that he’d use the wine for that.
“And now mycugino idiotahasn’t graced us with his presence for nearly aweek. His texts are fewer and further between, and he turned off his location, too, just like he did a few weeks ago while he was living it up in Vegas instead of doing recon. You left the wedding before we did last weekend. Did you see him out at all?”
“The last time he texted me was before I boarded the plane, and he was drunk in some casino’s bar,” I answer with a shrug.
He grumbles more about how useless his “idiot cousin” is and I relax a fraction. The longer Raze and I can keep this up, the more time I have to figure out how to expose Claudio without risking the wrath of the rest of the families. The video will help, but this process can’t be rushed. I’m prepared to go down, but I don’t want the men that trust me, like Raze, Roman, and Tiero, to get caught in the crossfire.
“What, uh, what families were you surveilling in my state, Claudio? I thought you were sticking to New England these days.”
Dickie’s hand trembles as he takes a large gulp of wine. It’s his fourth glass, so the tremor could be from drunkenness or stress. The way he’s begun to slur his words makes me think drunkenness, which is fucking annoying because it’ll only get worse. The more he drinks and the more he talks, the more his voice grates on my nerves. It’s familiar, too, but I can’t place it.
“Yourstate?” Claudio chuckles. “Don’t forget where your roots are, Judge. I might need you back in New York soon enough.”
I’m beginning to understand Claudio’s objective. The judge must have been an associate who tried to escape this life by moving across the country. It’s never that easy, though, and he’s been sucked right back in from the looks of it.
“We went to the McKennon-O’Shea wedding, Judge,” my mother answers for Claudio, taking some of the tension out of the conversation. “I have to ask after seeing how…emptythe desert is. New York has seasons, and it’s so lovely in the fall. How could you ever leave it behind?”
And the tension is back. The man coughs into his napkin and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. This is getting good.
I steeple my fingers again to hide the smirk on my lips. “Yes, tell us, Judge. How could you possibly leave decades of hard work building up your career in one state, only to start all over again in another?”
Surely you’re not attempting to flee the man who invited you here to blackmail you again…
“The desert has its own charm, especially at night. And, yes, autumn is gorgeous, but these winters…” He chuckles and points outside the window where the first real snow of the season falls silently to rest on tree branches. “I don’t miss blizzards in the slightest.”
My mother laughs politely, but I huff with exasperation.
“That doesn’t answer the question, though, does it? I imagine it takes a lot of time and handshakes to become a judge. Was a little snow really enough to risk all your connections? Isn’t that kind of move rare?”
Dickie narrows his eyes. “Federal judges have more freedom of movement than other positions if you must know. I earned my place on the bench.”
“Did you now? With no help at all?”
“Severino, what has gotten into you?” My mother trills. “Please, Judge, don’t mind him. He’s in one of his moods.”
My razor burns in my pocket, and I’m itching to keep interrogating him. The only thing stopping me is the fact that I know Claudio brought this man here—at a dinner withme—for a reason. I might be playing into whatever my uncle is scheming, but after what the judge said about the gardener, I have questions. The only way I’ll possibly get answers is if I play his game.
“Well, thank you for the apology Trudy, even if it was on his behalf.” He gives me a pointed look, and I glare back. The look makes him quickly turn back to Claudio. “So, the McKennons and the O’Sheas. What business do you have with them?”
“I already have one successful restaurant, but if I’m to expand, I’ll need the Vegas families on my side. The McKennons and the O’Sheas lead the Garde, their so-called ‘secret’ society. I’m not surprised they didn’t invite you to the wedding, though. You know, since you were supposed to be the judge on one of their RICO cases.”
There’s a subtle shift at the table. The balance has officially tipped to where Claudio has the upper hand. His demeanor has changed completely, making me uneasy. I’ve seen that evil smile before. He thinks the judge is an easy win.
“Is that so?” Dickie hedges and shifts in his seat. “I have so many cases, I’m not even sure which one you’re referring to.”
For the first time, I finally realize why my uncle invited us both. These dinners are for those he wants to schmooze, punish, or flex his strength in front of. I’m obviously shit at the first, but I can easily take care of the other two. It’s likely why Claudio let me keep my weapons instead of leaving them at the door. I’m strapped with my cane, razor, and gun, so if Claudio wants me to scare the guy shitless, I’m ready for it. His voice has already annoyed the piss out of me, and at this point, I’m willing to slit his throat just to shut him the fuck up.
Granted, I still don’t know why he chosemespecifically for this guest. Vinnie’s obviously out of commission, but any of his other enforcers or soldiers—Raze, Tiero, or Roman, even—could get the job done just as well as I could. I’m sure Claudio has his reasons, though, and he’ll relish in dropping them like a bomb before the dinner is finished.
“Severino, what did you think of the wedding?” my mother butts in, obviously trying to steer the conversation out of the pool of tension it keeps getting sucked into. “Did it inspire you to settle down, perhaps?”
