by Bethany-Kris
Gio turned fast on his heel to face his son. “Evening, son.”
His father stuck his bleeding middle finger into his mouth and sucked on the digit.
“What happened?”
“Wrench slipped and busted my fingernail up,” Gio mumbled around his finger.
“Ouch.” Andino nodded back toward the garage door that led into the side of the house. “Ma is getting the table set for supper.”
“Good, I’m starving. And done trying to fix her fucking car.”
Andino cocked a brow, amused. “Since when do you work on cars?”
“Never.” Gio huffed when he pulled his finger out of his mouth and stared at the blackened bruise already beginning to form. “And this is exactly why. Stealing a car, no problem. Fixing something in it, probably not.”
“What’s wrong with the car?”
“I don’t know, it’s eating oil.”
Andino pressed two of his fingers into his temple. “I’ll take it to my mechanic tomorrow.”
“Or I could just buy her a new one,” Gio suggested, smirking.
“Or that. Whatever you want to do, Dad.”
“She was admiring your new Lexus, wasn’t she?”
Andino eyed his father. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Ma earlier?”
“No.”
“Dad.”
Gio’s expression never changed once. “I said no. Stop asking me questions, son.”
The habit of giving his father respect first and foremost made Andino drop the conversation. Those were the only rules his father cared to enforce as Andino was growing up, and that was mostly because it had everything to do with living the Cosa Nostra way.
Honor.
Respect.
Dignity.
Family.
That was it.
Andino’s life could be summed up with four simple things.
“She did mention she liked the Lexus,” Andino said.
Gio rubbed his hands together. “Good, good.”
“She was also fishing for info on John. I had a feeling that was coming more from you than her, though. Ma doesn’t pry like that. You do.”
His father didn’t even look the least bit ashamed.
“He’s been avoiding calls the last couple of days,” Gio said. “It’s unusual when he ignores even my calls.”
“Not mine,” Andino replied. “And I see him every night when I get home. He’s still staying with me until he gets settled into his new apartment.”
“Lucian is worried.”
“John is thirty, Dad. Let him be an adult for once.”
Gio frowned. “You think it’s just that simple, do you?”
“A little bit of trust could go a long way where John is concerned. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Fine, trust,” Gio said heavily. “I’ll pass the message along to Lucian.”
Andino nodded. “And to Dante, too.”
“We worry.”
“You shouldn’t. He’s doing just fine. He’s working, reporting in, and keeping a low profile like Dante told him to. John is following the rules … for once. Maybe he’s putting a distance between him and his father because John is still trying to figure out how to breathe outside of prison. Give him some time, Dad.”
Gio crossed the space between him and his son. His right hand came to rest on Andino’s shoulder as he passed, the weight of it heavy but familiar.
“You always were good in that way, Andino.”
“What way?”
“Family, you know. Taking care of everyone. You’re good at it. It’s going to carry you for the rest of your life, son. It’ll take you somewhere—this person who you are. It’s more than just a duty to you, even if you don’t realize it. I’m just not sure if it’s something you want, too.”
There it was again. Like his mother had, now his father was making vague comments about shit that made absolutely no sense.
Andino turned with his father to walk toward the door. “Someone raised me like this, Dad.”
Gio smiled. “I know. What did your mother make for supper?”
“Casserole.”
“She makes the best casserole.”
She did.
“She was pestering me about something else, too,” Andino said, opening the garage door for his father to step inside the house.
“About what?”
“Settling down. Kids. The normal nonsense.”
“Andino—”
“I get it, but it’s getting old. Ask her to lay off for a while, okay?”
Gio stood in the doorway with his son, glancing down the long hallway where Kim was likely still getting the table ready. She couldn’t hear their conversation from where they were standing. Andino was grateful. He didn’t want to hurt his mother, but he did need her to back off.
“I love Ma,” Andino said.
“I know you do,” Gio replied quietly.
“But I’m not at that point, and I can’t suddenly be there just because she wants me to be, Dad. I’ve got no interest in marrying someone anytime soon or playing house. I’ve got far more important things to worry about.”
Andino was a Capo—Cosa Nostra came first, always. For him, love and forever didn’t factor into that at all. Not right now. Maybe someday, but his immediate plans didn’t include that nonsense. He had businesses to run, a crew to manage, and money to make. He lived fast. No way in hell was he about to slow that all down for a woman.
“I know that you have a lot to worry about other than settling down,” Gio said.
“Then ask her to back off a little.”
Gio stared at Andino for a while before he said, “I don’t know how you came from me, son.”
Andino’s brow lifted high. “Why not?”
“We’re just different, you and I.”
“I can’t be like you and Ma.”
Gio nodded once. “No one is asking you to be, Andino.”
“Good.”
“You can’t be us, Andino, because you’re already too much like someone else, son.”
What in the hell was that supposed to mean?
Chapter Eleven
“Zia Catrina,” Andino greeted.
His aunt accepted his kiss to her smooth cheek. Even in her late fifties, his aunt had aged remarkably well. The light dusting of gray throughout her red hair, and the laugh lines at the edges of her sharp eyes were the only telltale signs of her age.
Catrina still stood tall. She still commanded a room. Andino knew his aunt was still capable of frightening a man with a few simple words or a flick of a knife, too.
“How is my favorite nephew?” Catrina asked.
Andino chuckled. “I’m not your favorite.”
“Well, you’re all my favorites. But when we’re one-on-one like we are now, I reserve the right for any of you to be my very favorite at that moment. Now, how is my favorite nephew?”
“I’m good. Busy.”
“You should slow down and enjoy what is already around you a little more, Andino,” his aunt said before sipping from her tea.
“Maybe.”
Catrina’s red lips pursed as she regarded him over the rim of her cup. “Never do that, Andino.”
“Hmm, what?”
“What you just did. Say what a woman wants to hear just to please her. It won’t make for a good woman, I promise you. Tell it like it is and how it should be said. Honest, frank, and harsh if need be. She might not appreciate it as first, but she will learn that the truth is better than a blissful lie that will only hurt in time.”
Andino blinked, surprised at his aunt’s candor. “Okay.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No. What in the hell is with everyone and me lately?”
Catrina’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”
“Everyone seems to feel the need to point out to me lately that I am without a woman, and that I should be out finding one as soon as humanly possible to walk her down the aisle.”
&n
bsp; “You’re joking.”
“No,” Andino said.
Who would joke about that shit?
“Your mother?” Catrina asked.
“Yes, and others.”
“Kim is finally starting to feel like her house is empty, that’s all.”
“I am not going to fill it for her,” Andino said under his breath.
Catrina laughed loudly. “Oh, she doesn’t expect you to, she simply figures you’re lonely like she is or something.”
Oh.
Well, then … Andino knew both of his aunts and mother had always been close friends, so Catrina’s assumption was probably truer than he really knew. Andino chose to let it, and his mother’s words from the day before, go.
“By the way, why is my father’s and Lucian’s cars outside?”
Catrina shrugged. “Dante invited them over earlier. He does it all the time. They’re upstairs in the office where they usually are. Probably smoking those awful cigars again.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell me that he invited them over when he called earlier?”
“I don’t know, ask him. And while you’re at it, tell him to snuff out his cigar, too. It stinks up the whole upstairs. You can’t even renovate that awfulness out.”
Andino chuckled, gave his aunt another kiss on her cheek, and left her alone in the kitchen to go search for his father and uncles.
Sure enough, as his aunt had said, Andino found his father and uncles in Dante’s office by following the sounds of their traveling voices. The topic of the conversation made Andino slow in his walk as he approached the opened oak doors.
“It’s time,” Lucian said quietly.
“You could wait another couple of months, brother,” Dante said. “Maybe even until after the next Commission meeting.”
“Are you ordering me or asking me?”
Dante laughed dryly. “Between family, us being brothers, that’s all. Not a boss and his underboss.”
“I don’t know, I get being over it all,” Gio murmured.
Andino stopped his walk when his father joined in on the conversation as well.
“I mean, Lucian is sixty, you’re fifty-nine, Dante, and I’m fifty-seven.” Gio sighed heavily and added, “Dad stepped down at this age, too. It’s not like we’re talking about a premature thing here.”
“I know that,” Dante said gruffly.
“Let Lucian do it,” Gio said. “In a few months, we’ll look at someone for me. Andino can handle doing this for a few months. He’ll have his hands accounted for. Trust that he can fill seats with the right men.”
Andino felt a dead weight settle in his stomach.
He couldn’t fill seats.
He wasn’t the boss.
“I want to enjoy my time with my children and soon-to-be born grandchildren,” Lucian said. “My oldest daughters are married, one is already gone, living in Chicago, and Cella is talking about moving to Florida with her husband for his job. Lucia just graduated, and she will be going to college in the fall out of state. And then there’s John …”
“Give him time,” Gio said.
Andino was grateful his father was taking his advice on that issue.
“That’s exactly my point,” Lucian replied. “I need to give my son time. Out entire life has been surrounded by Cosa Nostra. And that would be fine, Dante, if John was like I had been growing up, or even like how you and Gio were with Dad. But he’s not, he’s John. I can’t expect my boy to be like we were when he’s had an entirely different set of obstacles that he never asked for placed in his path. For once, I would like to have time with my son where I am not active in this thing of ours. Maybe then he can see me differently. Just a man, his father. Something. I’m ready to retire. I need to.”
“Fine. Informally, then?” Dante asked.
“Informally works,” Lucian agreed. “We can handle all the other nonsense when we need to.”
“What do you think, Gio?” Dante asked.
“About what?”
“You know what. Andino.”
“He’s my kid,” Gio said, chuckling. “He’ll do okay. He’s a damn good Capo, and he knows how to manage men just about as well as you do, Dante. Andino has been under our feet since he could walk. I have no doubt that he can run this family. He’s your best choice for a successor, the entire family knows it. The whispers are already out there, you just have to listen for them. La famiglia wants Andino for the next boss.”
“They do,” Lucian agreed.
Andino was stunned. Nothing had ever caught him off guard quite as badly as this news had. It wasn’t bad, not at all, but he wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted. Being a boss had never been in his goals. Andino had focused on his crew, on being nothing more than a damned good Capo, and that was it. He’d always seen John as his uncle’s successor because he was the older Marcello between them, and John had always been included in more things than Andino.
What had changed?
He knew the answer, but he ignored it.
Would John understand?
Andino didn’t have the answer for that.
Drifting out of his stupor, Andino’s legs finally decided to work. He moved the last few feet between him and the opened office doors. Standing in the doorway, his form caught the attention of his father and uncles.
Not one of them seemed surprised to see him there.
“Did you hear?” Dante asked from behind his large desk.
Andino nodded, but said nothing.
Gio stood from the couch. “This is good, Andino.”
“Is it?”
Things were beginning to make more sense for Andino. The longer he considered it, the more he understood his mother and father’s words to him about settling down and finding a wife. His father had likely known what was coming for him, and Gio probably took the news to Kim.
“Nobody thought to ask me?” Andino asked.
Lucian dipped his head down. “You should have known, Andino.”
“I don’t know that I should have, actually.”
Dante sighed. “What is the problem?”
Andino didn’t know if he was ready for this.
That was exactly the problem.
He was twenty-eight. Being a boss wasn’t as simple as moving up in power when people retired in the mafia. There was a hell of a lot more to it.
His uncle—his boss—seemed to pick up on his inner thoughts.
“We’re never ready, Andino,” Dante said.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he said.
“No one ever does.” Dante smiled. “We either take it, are given it, or are born to it. We don’t, however, ask anyone for it.”
“This isn’t the kind of change that will be made overnight,” Gio tacked on when Dante finished. “It’ll be done over a span of time, Andino. Lucian is ready to step down, which will allow Dante to fill his spot. Lucian’s position as the underboss will put you front row and center for the family first and foremost. You’ve acted as my middle man for years alongside being a Capo. You know how to do this, and it won’t be a stretch to anyone who sees you in the position.”
“Makes sense,” Andino said.
It would work, and Andino understood his family’s choice to advance him, especially if la famiglia was already looking at him for the spot. It was still a huge change. One he hadn’t been expecting at all.
“Good,” Dante said, smiling widely and clapping his hands together. “Then it’s settled.”
“You’ll make a damn good boss, Andino,” Lucian said.
“I agree,” Dante said.
Gio passed his son a look that Andino didn’t understand.
“You have a while to get everything sorted on the personal side of things,” his father said. “No one is saying that you have to run out and get yourself settled with a wife right this minute, Andino.”
That was that. Andino’s future was decided and he didn’t get a single say in it all.
Duty waited on no one.
Cha
pter Twelve
The best part of Andino’s day was when nothing was happening at all. Usually, his life was busy, because that’s how he lived, always on some kind of go. He didn’t take much time to relax, but his spoiled dog didn’t give him a choice. There was nothing Snaps liked more than to chill.
Trailing his fingers through the pitbull’s short-haired coat, Andino walked his dog through the silent park. Snaps was happy, content even. So was Andino.
Snaps took lazy strides, staying directly at Andino’s side at all times like the dog had been trained to do. Thinking back, Andino hadn’t wanted a dog, and certainly not one that required all of his attention all of the time. He didn’t have the patience for that nonsense.
And then his father showed up at his door one day with a scarred puppy in his hands when Andino was just twenty-two. Maybe the little pup had reminded Andino’s father of the rottie he’d had all those years ago before the dog succumbed to age and cancer. Andino wasn’t really sure, but Gio hadn’t given him a choice.
No, his father simply passed over the whimpering puppy and explained how he came about him. Snaps had been bred from a puppy mill, apparently. The fools who had been breeding the dogs did so with the purpose of using them to fight. Snaps had been nothing more than fodder to the dogs around him. If he survived, he would live to fight. If an older dog killed him during the period when the dogs weren’t being watched, then so be it.
Another litter would be born.
Gio didn’t like dog fighting—he wouldn’t stand for it. When he’d found out his men were involved in it, he ended it, rescued the pup in the process, and brought it to Andino.
Now, Andino was grateful.
Then, he’d wondered what in the hell he would do with a dog like Snaps.
Running his fingers through the dog’s fur again, Andino could feel the raised ridges of some of Snaps’ old scars under his fur. No one could see them, but Andino remembered vividly what the marks looked like when his dog was just a pup, struggling to eat solid food and needing Andino to feed him liquids through a syringe. Yeah, Snaps had been that young. He wasn’t so young or incapable anymore.
“Snaps,” Andino said, noting the fact that the trail had cleared of people.
His dig’s ears twitched, but Snaps never looked up.
