Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1)

by Morgan Black

  Her words made my dick stir in my pants. I looked at the naked woman in front of me collecting her money off of the floor. She looked up at me and winked. If I hadn’t found Farrah, then maybe I would have had some fun with this chick. But now, she wasn’t at all what I wanted.

  It won't be for long. I'll see you in the morning.

  My phone rang—it was Pops. I didn't even answer it. I killed the rest of my whiskey and slapped Dante on the shoulder. “Family’s calling. Let's move.”

  He nodded and followed me into the back of the club and down the staircase. The office was filled with smoke as usual, and there was a group playing poker in the corner. My father was on his phone, and it seemed like he was leaving a voicemail.

  “You're here? You're here and you don't even come down to say hello?” He was addressing Dante, the only man who could make that giant feel small.

  Dante look sheepish. “It was my fault, sir. I was watching the girl upstairs. The new one, looks like she's got some promise.”

  Pops rolled his eyes. “Like I care about some slut with promise. Now did you set up the meeting?”

  Dante and I sat down in the chairs across from him. “Sure did. Eight tonight. I made sure he was only to bring one guy.”

  “And you think he'll actually do that? He doesn't even know who you're affiliated with.”

  “I told him I knew the Mexicans. He bought it.”

  My father's mouth dropped open a little. “The Mexicans? Jesus! He actually believed that? I don't work with those dirty assholes! It makes us look bad, weak. They ride around in their trashy cars, while I sit in the back of the Mercedes like I'm supposed to.”

  “Yeah those Mexicans are a wreck. But no one wants to mess with them because they’d put a bullet in your ass in a second. Trust me. I learned all about them in prison.

  He rolled his eyes. “Great, now we're working with felons.”

  I shook my head at him. “Pops. I am a felon.”

  Pops put his hands up in protest. “No you're not. You are doing a job. A job that is paid. That doesn't make you a bad person. These people? They're just drug pushing assholes. Bad apples.”

  There was no use arguing with him. In his eyes, there would always be a difference between our family’s business and the low life crime that packed the prison cells. To him, I was perfect, because I'd always followed the rules.

  “Go upstairs and get something to eat and then take one of the cars and go handle this. I want it to be done and over with. I'll call Armani and let him know that the situation is handled tomorrow morning. And then I expect to see you at mass on Sunday.”

  I nodded. “I'll see you Sunday, Pops.”

  He nodded to both of us and we filed out of the office. My phone was burning a hole in my pocket; all I wanted to do was call Farrah and find out everything that was going on. She didn't want to be involved in family business, but it seemed she had her own to attend to. I would keep her out of these interactions in the future, if we even had one.

  I still had to deal with her when I got home.

  Fifteen

  Farrah

  Xavier was going to be gone all day. It was the perfect opportunity to take a good look at his apartment and see what I could find out about my father. Ramsey needed me to tie him to it. All this time, they just assumed it was Xavier who killed him, and they needed me to find the proof that he did. The entire Salvatore family was ready to move on my command. And as much as I needed to find something, to gain some closure, a much larger part of me wanted to find something that exonerated him. I didn't want Xavier to be guilty of this crime. Of course, I knew deep down that he was a murderer. I had known that growing up. But now he was mine. And I needed there to be some sort of redeeming quality about his work. If I found something that would prove that he did not kill my father, I wasn’t sure what the Salvatore family would do. I knew I needed to be careful. Because if I wasn't, they would take me away from him. Or worse, they would take him away from me.

  I wasn't going to let this end that way. I wouldn't let them kill him.

  I was searching under the bed when I found a shoebox. It was old and dusty and it looked like it was something that would belong to a child. I pulled it out from its hiding place and blew the dust from the lid. When I opened it, I found old baseball cards and an old Playboy magazine. I let out a small laugh. They were mementos of Xavier's past. I closed the lid and pushed the box back underneath the bed. I moved my hand over and something hard brushed across my skin. I pushed my hand up and felt the distinct outline of a gun. I carefully unstrapped and pulled it out. It was a 9mm. I looked around the room and realized that the way that his bed was angled, it was so that he could crouch behind it and grab the gun if he needed to protect himself. There was nothing but a couple feet between the bed and the wall. When I had first arrived, I had thought his bed’s placement was at a strange angle in the room, but now it all made sense. He was always thinking ahead. Being in his family, he had to. I re-strapped the gun to the mattress and moved toward his nightstand.

  I went through his drawers and meticulously made sure I put everything back exactly the way that I found it, but there was nothing. There was no information here about my parents. What if I couldn’t find anything? What would the Salvatore family do to me then, when I wasn’t useful to them anymore?

  I dialed Ramsey's number and he answered again in just one ring. “What?”

  God, he made me nervous. “I can't find anything that ties Xavier to my parents. His place looks like it was decorated by his mother. Knowing him, he wouldn’t keep incriminating evidence that he killed my father just lying around. You have to give me more information. Why did my mother leave your family?”

  “That's not important.”

  “It is important. To me. Now I want the whole story.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Your mother left because I told her to.”

  “What? You never told me that before!”

  “Listen, she wanted to marry someone that we didn't approve of. He wasn't part of the lifestyle, Farrah. He didn't understand our nature. He wasn't good enough for her.”

  “So you disowned her?”

  “For a while. Until she was killed, then we avenged her. Got that asshole locked up for life.”

  “Wait, you know who killed my mother?”

  He sighed, obviously annoyed with his admission. “Yes.”

  “Tell me.” I held my breath.

  “A friend of your father’s. He was like a brother to him. He was the one who ended your mother's life. But had she never gotten mixed up in the Santini family, none of this would've happened.”

  “None of what? You abandoned her! Why have you never told me this before?” Ramsey and the Salvatore family had always made themselves out to be saints to me. They had taken me in in my time of need. They blamed the Santinis for the death of my mother when really, they had taken her in when her own family abandoned her. The Santinis weren’t as bad as the Salvatores had made them out to be.

  “Why did the Santinis give my mother a job? Did they know about her affiliation?”

  “Yes. We were at odds back then. Mr. Santini knew that your mother had done the books for me for years. She had grown up in the lifestyle, and she understood our ways. So they took advantage of that, and when she needed out of whatever stupid situation she had gotten herself stuck in, they gave her an opportunity.”

  “She worked for them for years. Had they known that my uncle was coming for us, they would've protected her! She was important to them.”

  “I can't even begin to imagine what they would have done. They're not our family. But you are. You’re our blood. And this whole nonsense with your mother started because of her poor choices and the Santinis putting a hit out on your dad. Your blood.”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. “I have to go,” I said between labored breaths as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. Here I was trying to implicate Xavier as a murderer and he might h
ave had nothing to do with it. The Santinis would've protected my mother. They would've saved her if they had been given the opportunity. Just because my uncle and his family had avenged her death by putting her murderer away, it didn't mean that this twisted relationship was better than the Santinis relationship with my mother.

  It was in that moment that I realized I was in the middle of a blood feud, and I was just another pawn in their giant chessboard. And I was the only one who had the ability to stop it.

  I was going to own up to Xavier about why I had been so easy to claim. About my mother. About the job Ramsey was forcing me to do. I would save him from the Salvatores if I could.

  What I felt for Xavier could not be stopped. He was like a drug that I always needed to get my fix of. We would not be ripped apart again like we were when we were kids. Xavier and I would be together. No matter the outcome.

  Sixteen

  Xavier

  I stood under a streetlamp next to the warehouse that we had set up the meet at. It was just me and my car and Dante in the pool of light. Everything else around us was pitch black. I could see a red exit light glowing from the warehouse next to us, but I didn't even see them approach. I only heard their car. I checked that my knife was latched securely at my hip, hidden by my dress shirt, and got out of the car. As soon as the mark shut his door, I put my arms at my sides. They needed to be ready. Dante was going to make quick work of the other guy. A shot to the head. It would be quick, painless. There wouldn't even be blood on his hands. But not me. I needed information. I needed to know which of Armani’s buyers had been working with him. Because they would all need reminders of who was the real boss. They needed to stay with the right side of the business. I still couldn't believe my father had gotten into some work with arms dealers. It was always such a messy business. Money-laundering was simple, and there was hardly anybody working on it. Just a lot of money. And that's how I liked to live my life: simply. But I understood that occasionally you had to get a little dirty for work.

  A man walked into the light with the security guy standing to the left of him. Dante had his hands behind his back. I stood in front.

  “I hear you are interested in some of my business. Shall we go inside the warehouse?”

  I nodded. “I'd like to see the merchandise before I make any guarantees.”

  He was in a dark suit. Green bowtie. What the hell was with the bowtie? He wasn’t a man, he was just a kid. He was at least five years younger than me. I doubted if he could even legally drink yet. Jesus, this was going to be a mess.

  I followed him into the warehouse. There were crates on either side of us. A steel table sat in the middle of an open space. Another thug stood by it. Anger raced under my skin. “I thought we made it clear, this is only a two-man deal.”

  “Oh, him? He’s nobody. The security around the clock. I have to protect my investments.” He waved the guy off. I watched as he stood by the door, just out of reach. That was going to make this more difficult.

  Dante walked across the warehouse and looked for other guards. We were already outnumbered, anymore and we’d be outgunned too.

  “Let's see this. I don't have all night.”

  The kid smiled devilishly. “Something hot waiting for you at home?”

  I flinched at the comment. “It's none of your damn business. Now let's get this done.”

  “Got AK-47s and a few grenades here. That's mostly what I sell. Not sure what the Mexicans told you, but some of the bigger artillery didn't come for me. It’s too difficult to get over the border.”

  “Fine, fine. Got any other references? I like to know what other people thought. Make sure they had a good experience.”

  “You know I can’t tell you that. The seller never gives away his vendors and buyers. Makes him seem like he's easily turned.”

  I nodded. I knew getting his list of buyers wouldn’t be that simple.

  “I can have more buyers by the end of this week. So I need to know how much you are interested in.”

  I pulled out my wallet and dropped a couple grand in hundreds on the table. “I'm interested. There's a lot more where that came from.”

  The money didn't make his eyes go big, so he was obviously selling to some big fish. That, or he had one hell of a poker face. That made me nervous. That meant that Armani wasn't selling his guns cheap enough for his buyers to stay with him. So even when I ended this little punk, the buyers would go look for someone else. And that wasn't good for my father's business, because then he couldn't keep his word to his friends. I also wasn't in the mood to be killing some little shits every day the week. That would be an easy way to land myself back in prison.

  “So what do you know about Armani and his people? I heard they’re in the same business.”

  “I've heard of him. We’re not on the same level. He sells handguns, nothing like what I have. We are hardly in the same business.”

  “Really? That's not what I heard.”

  “Listen man, I don't have all night. Are you buying or not?”

  “I'm buying all right.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as the guy next to the door crumpled and fell to the ground. Dante must've brought a silencer with him. The seller looked over his shoulder and noticed immediately what was up. He pulled his own weapon and so did the muscle he had with him. But I didn’t even move a muscle. I didn’t need to. Dante was too quick for them. He shot the security guy and I watched as the huge man fell to the ground. He wasn't dead. He was bleeding from the shoulder and grabbing it with his other hand. There was blood spray on the floor; the bullet had gone straight through. Dante walked up behind the seller with his gun outstretched. “Drop it.”

  The seller rolled his eyes but he did as he was told. He put the gun on the table and put his hands up. I grabbed a chair from the other side of the warehouse and sat him down in it.

  “Now that it’s finally just us, tell me about how much of our business you stole.”

  He made a face of disgust. “I'm not a thief! If they came to me, it was because my product and prices were better.”

  “That's not what matters to us.”

  “Us? And who the hell is us?”

  I didn't like the way he was speaking to me. I balled up my fist and pulled it back. “Us is the Santini family.” I landed my right hook across the left side of his face. When my fist connected, there was an audible crack, and his head snapped to the right. He let out a groan and turned back to face me as he spat blood out on the floor.

  “And I'm going to make sure you don't fucking forget it.”

  I landed another right hook to his face, and this time, he spat out a couple teeth. I pulled the knife out and I dragged it across his left arm, leaving a nice slash with blood trickling down onto the cement floor. There would be more there shortly.

  “Now you tell me who your buyers are, or I'm going to kill you.”

  “You're going to kill me anyway. I'm not stupid.”

  “No, I don't think you are. So tell me what you know. Our sellers got a little black book, where's yours?”

  He shook his head. “You really think I'm the head of this operation? You're wrong. I'm just a distributor. You want to know who's really going up against Armani? Ask Armani himself.”

  I gave him a sucker punch to the stomach. It felt good to get my hands on somebody again. To make them bleed.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “He's playing you,” he said through labored breaths.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When the son’s away, the old man will play. Your old man needs to watch out. There's a new family in town. And they're coming for him.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Dante. He was still standing over the man who he had shot. The guy was still yelling about his shoulder. It was starting to piss me off.

  “Dante, get over here.”

  He obliged and walked over quickly. “What's up?”

  “This asshole said that somebod
y is coming after my family. You know anything about that?”

  Dante shrugged. “No. Everybody knows that the Santinis are the most powerful family in town. No one would even try to take down your Pops.”

  I looked back at the little shit who had his head hanging down, trying to catch his breath. “Hear that?” He didn't look up at me. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head up to my face. “I said, did you hear that? Nobody is messing with my family. So you better talk, before I switch to your other arm and make you bleed out here.”

  “The Irish,” he spat. “They say that your family has taken over their parts of the city and they have had enough. They're the ones running the guns. I work for them.”

  The Irish? We never had an issue with them before. Why now?

  It seemed since I went away for prison, shit had started to hit the fan. Between Farrah and the Salvatore family, and now the Irish, I couldn’t seem to catch a break. Maybe prison had been easier after all.

  I shook my head as I walked away from him.

  “What do you want to do with him?” Dante asked me.

  “Nothing. Let him go back to the Irish and tell them what we know. He can be our messenger.”

  I went to the table and took the guns and my money. I left the grenades; I never had a use for that much destruction. It wasn't calculated enough for my taste.

  I walked out into the crisp air of the night and Dante looked afraid.

  “What?” I asked him, angry with his fear.

  “Your father gave direct orders. We were to kill these sons of bitches.”

  I looked at him sternly. “That's when he thought he was the head of the beast. He is just the fucking tip of the iceberg. If Irish are behind this, then it's up to me and my father to find out why.” I shoved the gun at his chest and walked over to my car. “Get in. I want to go home.”

  My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. It felt good to beat the shit out of that kid. But it was only a lead to more questions and more problems. That was not the way I liked to do business. I wanted this all to be over. I wanted to go home and screw Farrah’s brains out. Now there was even more work to do.