Page 1 of Blood Lust

Gabriel, eight years old…

My mother was going to love the picture I was making for her. She always hung them on the refrigerator. I was using her favorite colors, and I hadn’t gone out of the lines at all. I hoped it would cheer her up.

There was a crash, and I jumped, crayon poised above the page, eyes wide. I climbed down from my chair and hurried toward the sound. Mama had fallen off her rolling ladder in the library last week. My heart pounded with worry that she’d taken a tumble again.

“You are a fucking idiot!” I heard my grandfather swear in Italian. My footsteps faltered, and I paused as my heart tried to jump through my chest. Confusion crumpled my brow. Grandfather wouldn’t be talking to my mother like that. He loved her. Didn’t he?

The murmur of voices was muffled by the walls, but I crept closer. Though I was frightened, I couldn’t stop myself from picking up my pace. When I approached the door, I saw it was open a crack. Hesitantly, I peeked through without bumping the heavy wooden sliding doors.

There was a man on the ground, and my grandfather was shaking his head.

“You’re a disgrace to the family, Antonio!” My grandfather sneered as he swung his leg back and kicked the man. “Get your shit together or I will slit your throat.”

Grandfather hit the man and then hit him again. He kept standing him up and knocking him down again. Horror filled me as the man’s eyes swelled shut and his arm looked funny.

I cried out when a hand went over my mouth. Then I was dragged down the hall and into my room.

“Shhh,” I heard, then saw my dad as he faced me and crouched down to my level.

“Why did grandfather do that?” I asked through my sniffles.

“Gabriel, listen to me. One day you will take on a great responsibility. When your grandfather steps down, if I have been a worthy man, I will take his place. After my day, I pray it will be you. We will run the family much differently. But you must remember: if you show weakness, your enemies will exploit that. You must be ruthless but fair. When it is my turn, I will teach you. Until then, I’m so sorry you had to see things like that,” my father vehemently said as he crouched in front of me and held my arms.

“Yes, Papa,” I whispered, fighting the tears that wanted to return. I trembled from head to toe, but I couldn’t stop.

“Oh, my boy,” he said as he pulled me close in his huge embrace.

I would never forget that day.

“It’s Time”—Imagine Dragons

My brothers and I were down in the godforsaken state of Texas to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. Why the fuck they wanted to retire here was beyond me. It was hot as fuck, and it was only May. My parents now lived on about a hundred acres. Their house was beautiful, and they had a bunkhouse from when it was part of a working ranch, which was convenient for our men to stay in, but still… Texas?

Ever since we arrived, Mom had been going on about this book signing she’d bought VIP tickets to. I didn’t realize it was this weekend.

“Jesus Christ,” I grumbled as I glared at my father. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I were. But I figured that since you and your brothers will be here, you can take her. With you and your security details, she should be safe,” my father explained. He was lounging by the pool in the sun. Looking at him in his “Don’t Mess With Texas” T-shirt and swim trunks, I couldn’t believe this was the man that had successfully runLa Cosa Nostra, or the American-based Sicilian mafia, in Chicago. In a way, I could see how people never guessed who he really was. The nose job and minor plastic surgery didn’t hurt either.

“Dad, I’m not going to some book nerd convention,” Alessio grumbled as he stood there glowering with his arms crossed and dripping water from his swim. While Vittorio and I had gone running, Alessio took advantage of the pool.

“Fucking hell, don’t let your mother hear you call it that,” my dad snapped as he quickly sat up and glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “It’s an author event.”

Alessio cocked a brow. “Like I said.”

Dad pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and slid his hands down his face. “Boys, I need this favor of you. Besides trying to keep a low profile, I have the people coming to install the new kitchen equipment at the restaurant. I can’t go. I figured since you’re already here, you could cover for me.”

“You think we won’t look suspicious?” I incredulously barked. Sweat trickled down my back and dripped off my nose. Dad tossed me a towel, and I wiped my face.

“Yeah, not a one of these three looks like they can even read,” Vittorio snickered as he motioned to me and Alessio, then the upstairs window where Leo was still out like a light. I flipped him off.

“You boys have done a better job of staying out of the media than we did in my time. They don’t stalk you like they did us. You’re less recognizable than I am,” my father cajoled.

It wasn’t that we lived so differently, it was just a different world. We learned to be quieter about what we did. More of our business was conducted digitally, and if someone ate a bullet, we were better at covering it up. With our family’s roots in Sicily, we were one of the closest ties to the Sicilian mafia in America. My grandfather had returned to Sicily when he retired, and Enzo Conti took over, with my father as his underboss. Enzo was killed in a boating accident a mere three months in, and my father took over.

When Dad retired, I know my older half brother thought he would take over, but while Dad had helped financially with his upbringing, he hadn’t been there to guide him like he had us. When I was voted in as don, it had left our older brother resentful, despite his working his way to the position of capo. He hadn’t been doing a bad job so far—he just tended to be a bit entitled and bigheaded at times.

Vittorio had been appointed as my underboss, the position I’d held for my father before he retired.

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