Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“The Benedetti imposter’s gonna get what’s coming to him. I’ll let my uncle be the one to do it, though.”
“How, boss?”
“Thinks I’m fucking stupid. Thinks I don’t know he’s keeping me on as his fall guy, treating me like some fucking foot soldier and taking over what I started. What rightfully belongs to me!”
My heart raced. Static cut him off, but I had everything I needed.
“I’ll let my uncle dig his and that asshole’s grave.”
Static again, then laughter.
“Two birds, one stone, and all that shit.”
I checked the date on that recording. It was the twenty-third of December. Not a full twenty-four hours before Mateo had disappeared.
Victor Scava killed Mateo because he was a snitch, but he used Mateo’s death to start a war. A war within the Benedetti family. He wanted Roman out.
Well, I guess that was one thing he and I could agree on.
With Roman out and no more Benedetti sons to take over, Victor Scava could move into Benedetti territory. Take it over. Hell, maybe he’d overthrow his own uncle in the process.
But if he thought I’d stand by and watch, he had another thing coming.
14
Gia
I sat in my room, waiting out Dominic’s anger, figuring it was smart to just stay out of his way, at least for now. I picked through Lucia’s closet, feeling like some sort of criminal to be looking through her things, snooping almost. She had a lot of books. I could read for a while.
I chose one from her shelf and sat on the bed, flipping it open. I didn’t get very far, though. Not past the first blank page, where she’d made a sketch she’d then crossed out in angry lines. I recognized the drawing, but it took me a minute to realize why I knew it. I stared at it for a long time, knowing it was a drawing of the mark on my hip. I read the words Benedetti Killers she’d written beneath the drawing. I wondered about her. Those weren’t the words of a wife in love. Had Dominic lied to me about that? Was Lucia as much a victim as I?
I didn’t need to compare the sketch to my mark. I’d studied it. Hell, I’d memorized it. I knew it was the same. I just needed to figure out the connection.
Growing up, my father had shielded me from his work, but being the daughter of a foot soldier, there was only so much you could keep from your family. We were kids, Mateo and I, but we had eyes. We saw.
Mateo’s introduction to the world our father lived in came on his eighteenth birthday. My family had a big birthday party for him, a gathering for extended family and friends we hadn’t seen in years. There must have been three hundred people at our house that day with Franco Benedetti at the top of the guest list. In fact, he’d taken the opportunity to meet with several men, including my father, during the party.
I obviously hadn’t been invited to the meeting, not only for the fact of my gender, but I was only seven. My father introduced Mateo to Franco Benedetti that day. Mateo had been given his first-ever job; something small, thank goodness. I remember how proud he’d been. How excited.
Franco Benedetti liked my father for some reason. He treated him differently than his other soldiers. My father considered it a promotion when he became one of Franco’s personal body guards, traveling with him everywhere, coming home less and less often. Mateo had begged to join him so many times, looking at Franco like he was God almighty. He’d never been allowed, though.
It was during one of these trips that my father was killed. He died protecting Franco Benedetti. He’d saved Benedetti’s life by sacrificing his own. That was why Franco had promised to take care of Mateo, me, and our mother.
I hadn’t known Mateo was at the meeting, and I’d gone looking for him during the party. I wanted cake, but my mother said we needed to wait for Mateo to sing “Happy Birthday” first, so I’d decided to go get him myself. I remember I’d taken the envelope Mr. Benedetti had dropped off for him, Mateo’s birthday gift. My mother had commented on its thickness, knowing it contained cash. She’d put it on the top of the refrigerator for safekeeping, but I’d climbed up on a chair and gotten it down, wanting to take it to Mateo, knowing how happy he’d be. I loved him. He was the best big brother. He was protective and even humored me by playing with my dolls when I begged.
Well, I hadn’t found him and had wandered farther from the property, not realizing two older boys had seen me with the envelope and were following. They cornered me when we were far enough away that no one would hear and told me to give it up, give them Mateo’s birthday gift.