“Only problem is, after you threw Natasha into the nut house, her family went into hiding. No one has seen them,” Neal said.
“Then do your fucking job and find them!” Melody and I yelled together.
Declan shook his head but rose along with Neal, heading to the door. It was only after they’d left that I turned to my father. “Were you really going to kill him?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He didn’t reply, he just looked out the window. “You both have a mystery to solve and I have a parent to bury.”
“You’re really going bury that bastard?”
“Rule forty-four,” he replied before walking out the door.
Melody looked to me, eyebrow raised and questioning me.
“Rule forty-four: Family is family, even when you wish they weren’t,” I explained.
She laughed as she moved beside me. “If this has anything to do with my family as well, I’m going to look into it.”
“Everyone in your family is dead.”
“Rule 171.” She smirked, and I stared at her in confusion.
“Care to share?”
She grinned, kissing my cheek. “Rule 171: even the men are family.”
I smiled. “You just made that up.”
“That doesn’t make it any less of a great rule.”
True.
“I have a bad feeling about this. All of this,” I told her.
“So do I.”
Just as I had suspected, something was coming out of Hell and straight towards us. And it was coming fast.
TEN
“I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.”
—Jennifer Estep
FEDEL
Some people think you’d have to be a real messed up son of a bitch to live the life I do. I see them walking around with their heads held up high, talking on their cell phones, pretending to be good people. But the truth is, they’re not. Truly good people, which are very hard to find, don’t think they’re good people. They believe that they’re doing what anyone else would do. The truth is, ninety percent of us are hiding from the world and our true selves. We force ourselves to do the “right” thing because we’re afraid of the consequences of doing what we really want to do.
I used to be one of those people. I used to lie to myself too. I knew what my father—Gino the One-Eye—did for a living. I only saw him on holidays, and on my birthday, but I knew I didn’t want to be like him. Every time my mother washed the blood out of his shirts, I felt my disgust build. I didn’t want to be like him, I didn’t want his life, and I didn’t want to spend my time kissing people’s shoes.
And then he came back in a wheelchair and told me I was going to go work for the devil himself. Gino’s loyalty to Orlando knew no bounds, and I guess Orlando liked the old man. So when Gino lost his legs, Orlando allowed him a way out of the life and to prove his gratitude, and Gino gave me up; I would work in his place, that way no one would ever think he would become a rat. A man could rat on his boss, but a true man could never rat out his only son.
I hated him for it. I tried to run. I packed all my shit in a bag, jumped out the window and ran down the street, only to find Orlando’s daughter leaning against a beat up old Chevy.
“I told my dad you were going to run.” She said, as the wall of muscle I grew to know as Antonio opened the door for her and myself. The look in his eyes as he held the door open, and his visible gun, told me I didn’t have any choice in the matter.
Melody didn’t speak to me. Instead she sat back, flipping through an Irish-to-English dictionary. I tried getting them to talk, I called them every name in the book, but Melody’s only response was to take out a knife and drive its blade deep into the dashboard. That shut me up quick.
As we pulled up to their mansion, she laid down the law. “Your loyalty is to my father and me for the rest of your life,” she said. “You will kill for us, you will fight for us, and you will lie for us. In return, you will not only be a very wealthy man, but you will be much safer than you would be without us. Your father has pissed off a lot of people, all of whom would kill you just to get back at him. Run again, and Antonio will put a bullet in the back of your skull. Goodnight.” And with that, she got out of the car and walked into her house, leaving me completely stumped.
“How old is she?” I asked Antonio.
“Fourteen,” he said, as he shook his head, a thin smile playing on his lips. “The boss wanted to put her in high school, but was afraid she would eat the other students.” He laughed. “Come on, time to show the new dog his cage. Wouldn’t want to kill you so soon. She ain’t joking about the rules.”