by K. L. Myers
From Son TO SOLDIER
Vicci Crime Family Series
K.L. Myers
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
THANK YOU’s
About the Author
Other Books By K.L. Myers
Connect with K.L. Myers on Social Media:
Copyright © 2020 by K.L. Myers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Julia Goda - Diamond in the Rough
Proofreading by: Autumn Blevins Proofing
Cover Designer: JM Walker- Just Write. Creations and Services
Chapter One
Peanut
Thirteen years ago, I sat at this table with Angelo, drinking a glass of milk and eating chocolate chip cookies. I remember it as if it happened yesterday.
“Angelwhoa, those bad men hurt you. I was scared.”
He took a bite of the cookie he had just dunked in his glass before answering me. “I’m going to be just fine, Peanut. Nothing but a scratch.”
Even as a kid, I knew it was much more than a scratch, but Angelo was my superhero, and as long as he was around, I’d always be safe.
“They scared me. You won’t let anything happen to me, right?”
“As long as I’m here, little man, you’ll always be safe. I promise. With my life.”
He raised his fingers to his lips, kissed them, and then crossed his heart. “God as my witness, I’d die before any harm came to you or anyone you love.”
I crawled out of my chair, taking my glass with me, and moved towards the other side of the table. My cup wobbled as I placed it on the table and climbed into the big guy's lap.
“I wuv you, Angelwoa. Forever.”
“Back at ya, Ragazzino.”
Four years later, once again, we sat at the table in our same seats celebrating my eighth birthday. That’s the day Angelo told me he’d like to marry my mom and wanted my permission.
“You’ll really be my dad if I say yes?”
His deep throaty chuckle filled the kitchen. “I’ll be your dad if your mom says yes. But first, you have to tell me it’s okay to ask her.”
“Mom loves you. She’ll say yes, so you have my permission.”
He ruffled the hair on the top of my head. “I sure hope you’re right, buddy.”
“I’m right.”
“Now, all I have to do is get your uncle to approve. Wish me luck.”
Dressed in a black tux and forest green bowtie, the ten-year-old version of me stood next to my Uncle Linc and watched as my mom walked down the aisle towards Angelo. I recall glancing over at him and seeing a tear fall down his face. I’d never seen the big guy cry, not even when his mom passed away. Outside of our home, he was always so stoic—nothing ever fazed him. But today, the man I'd dreamed about calling Dad stood before family and friends and showed a softer side. As he reached for my mom’s hand, I thought I saw his shake. I couldn’t be sure, though, because he’d quickly regained in his composure before anyone else noticed.
From that day forward, I would finally be able to call the man I respected and loved Dad. I tried to focus on the words the priest was saying, but I couldn’t help but notice how half of the church sat in clusters. All the women sat together in the back pews with their children. There were so many of them. In front of them, the men filled the few seats remaining. Yet, when I glanced at my family, everyone was intermingled. Husbands sat with their wives and their children. I wouldn’t fully come to an understanding why until late in my teens.
Later that night, my parents headed out for their honeymoon. They boarded great grandpa’s yacht and planned to sail to Uncle Linc’s island. Paraiso de Agua had been in our family forever. It seemed as if everyone except me had been there. Even Uncle Linc and Lillian's brat had been there, and I wanted to go more than anything.
“Be good for your aunt and uncle,” Mom said as she kneeled to hug me. “We’ll be home next month. I love you, Peanut.”
She peppered kisses all over my face and squeezed me tight. When she released me, I saw the tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I can go with, Mom. I don’t want you to be sad.”
Angelo’s firm hand landed on my shoulder; he gave it a light squeeze, forcing me to look up at him.
“I know you want to go, son, but this is your mom and my time. I promise you, there will come a day when you’ll visit the island.”
“But I want to go now, Angelo, with you and Mom. You didn’t just marry Mom. You married me too. Shouldn’t I be able to celebrate with you?”
His deep belly laugh angered me. I wasn’t trying to be funny—I was serious, and he thought it was a joke.
“Don’t laugh at me.” My words were full of venom.
“Son, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because in a way you are right. Though I didn’t marry you, you became mine as well. I love you, Peanut, with all my heart. Don’t ever forget that. But this is one time you can’t come with us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
One thing I’d learned from the years of having Angelo in my life was that you had to pick and choose your battles. Not everything was worth a fight. You fought for the things that mattered, and you let the small things pass. I knew this was one of those times when no matter how hard I fought, nothing I did would change what was about to happen. So, I gave up. I hugged them both and said goodbye.
Chapter Two
Peanut
I hadn’t expected my parents to return early from their honeymoon, but they did. Three weeks after they set sail, they returned home. Mom’s face was somber when she walked through the door. Until she saw me—then her eyes brightened, and a smile formed on her face. When she dropped to her knees and opened her arms, I ran into them. I’d missed her hugs.
When she finally let me go, I looked around, but Angelo was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Angelo?”
“He’s outside on the phone with your Nonno.”
A few minutes later, Angelo came through the front door. His stoic demeanor in place, not the relaxed dad who’d left several weeks ago. Something was wrong with him; I felt it in my bones.
“Hey, there, little man.”
Angelo pulled me up from the ground and hugged me tightly before setting me back on my feet.
“I’ve missed you. Did you miss us?”
He waited for me to respond and then went in search of my uncle. Mom and Aunt Lillian were in the kitchen cooking while little Angelo played in the living room. It was sort of weird that my aunt named her
boy after my dad, even though they tried to explain why, it was still odd. With nothing else to do, I watched the little brat play with his blocks for a bit. After an hour, I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to find out what was going on.
That night was the first time I’d ever heard my Uncle Lincoln and my dad's voices raised at one another. They’d been in the study behind closed doors since just after my parents arrived home. My curiosity forced me to eavesdrop on their conversation. I placed my ear close to the door, and I listened.
“You promised no family business,” my uncle scolded Angelo.
“Lincoln, you know it’s not that simple. I’ve stayed away, but this time, I have no choice. It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”
“Does Lillian know?”
“No, it is none of her business.” Angelo’s voice was stern.
“It’s her damn cousin; she deserves to know.”
I heard the clink of a bottle, and I knew that meant Uncle Lincoln had just poured himself a glass of the brown liquid I’d witnessed him drink so many times before.
“You don’t understand, and you never will, Lincoln. In our family, women are on a need-to-know basis, which is rarely ever. Yes, I admit that more often than not, Lillian seems to be aware of certain matters, but this is one time when the matter doesn’t concern her, and I advise you to keep it that way.”
Then I heard my uncle say the words that angered me. I’d never been red-hot mad at my own blood until that day.
“I can’t in good conscience condone you moving my sister and nephew to New York. I won’t allow it. Not while all this is going down.”
“Fuck you, Lincoln, you don’t control our lives. I’m moving Bethany and Peanut with me, and I swear on my life I will always protect both of them—my life for theirs. Nothing has changed since the first day I gave you that promise. No harm will ever come to them. I will ensure that.”
“You need to take care of this by yourself. You know better than anyone that you’ll be busy and you won’t have time for them. I don’t care if it takes two weeks or two years. You need to let them stay here in the place they know as home.”
I couldn’t understand why Uncle Linc was so concerned, and why on earth had my dad promised he’d give up his life for ours? We were never in danger that I was aware of, other than that one time when I was almost four when someone broke into our house and shot Angelo. Aside from an occasional visit from my Nonno or my dad's friends Gabriel and Lorenzo, our life was quiet and straightforward. But now, something deep down inside told me that maybe everything I knew might be an illusion.
Over the next few months, I saw less and less of my dad. Mom and I remained in Virginia, and the big guy occasionally traveled between New York and home. Though it seemed as of late, he rarely came home anymore. It was time I got some answers—at least I hoped I’d get answers.
It was dinnertime, and once again, Mom and I sat across the table from each other without my dad. It was now or never, so I rustled up the courage to start asking questions.
“Mom, where is Angelo?”
It felt odd to refer to my dad by his first name, and I’m not quite sure why I had done it.
“He’s working, Peanut, but he’ll be back soon.”
“He’s been gone for a while. Why?”
My mom rested her fork on her plate before clasping her hands together and resting her chin on them.
“It’s complicated, Peanut. His family businesses are very hands-on, so it requires him to be there more than here.”
I slid my plate to the side, folded my arms on the table in front of me. Resting my chin on my arms, I stared at my mom for a moment.
“Why wouldn’t Uncle Linc let us move with Dad?” I hadn’t wanted to admit that I’d been eavesdropping on Uncle Linc and my dad, but it just came out.
“Who told you that?”
“I overheard an argument the day you came back from your honeymoon. Uncle Lincoln said he couldn’t in good conscience condone us moving with Dad.”
Mom shook her head, raised an eyebrow, and glared at me. “You overheard? Or you were doing something you shouldn’t have been?”
For as long as I could remember, there was a standing rule in the Eastwick family. Closed doors mean privacy, and privacy means none of your business. Because of my uncle’s work and my grandfather’s position with the Senate, I knew better. But something that day told me I needed to break the rules.
Nodding my head, I confessed. “I eavesdropped on their conversation. You looked sad when you got home, and Angelo seemed upset about something. So, I stood outside Uncle Linc’s office door and listened.”
“Peanut, you need to promise me you will not ever do that again. Uncle Linc’s business is very private, so when his door is closed, that means we all stay away.”
“Promise.”
Mom took a deep breath and released it. Then she seemed to ponder what to say next.
“Your uncle and your dad have a difference of opinion. They come from two very different family dynamics. Sometimes the way they handle situations clash. One isn’t better than the other, so they have to find a happy balance.”
“I don’t get it. Dad was here all the time, and now he’s not. I want things to be like they were before. I don’t like it when he’s gone.”
The corners of my mom’s lips turned slightly down. “I don’t like it either, Peanut, but I promise it won’t be like this forever.”
I’d gone to bed that night after praying that God would bring my dad home and that things would go back to normal. Months later, just after my eleventh birthday, those prayers were answered.
Chapter Three
Angelo
Eight fucking months I had to go without my family because of that son of a bitch Frank “Smiley” Romano. It doesn’t help that he’s Lillian’s cousin. When my father called on my honeymoon, I knew it had to be necessary. He’d never interrupt such an occasion for anything that wasn’t life or death.
I’d been out, away from it all for years. But I didn’t have to be reminded that I was still part of something bigger than myself. The beseeching tone in my father's voice demanded me to fall back in line. I had been baptized in the blood of the family the day I was born. The La Cosa Nostra always came before God and family. Something my father would never let me forget. Since he now ruled as the Boss of the Vicci Crime Family and Francesco Vicci had been his best friend growing up, their family was my family, and we protect our own. The bond between the Viccis and Rizzutos was thicker than the birthright. The names were synonymous with the mob. That’s why even though it killed me that Bethany and Peanut didn’t take my last name, it was necessary to keep them safe.
Unlike other weddings, other families and bosses weren’t invited. My wedding was limited to only those closest friends and family. Those who could keep a secret. After all, it wasn’t easy to mix upstanding members of the Eastwick family with those of the Vicci and Rizzuto family. Since Bethany was the youngest of the family and hated attention, it wasn’t hard for Theodore “Theo” Eastwick to only invite the immediate family. Those who already knew who I was and what I represented. They welcomed me as quickly as they accepted Lillian.
Now, Smiley had done the unthinkable and put himself and his family in harm's way. The little fucker couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants and gave it to Bruno’s wife. That is a covenant you never break. Never FUCKING visit, touch, or speak ill of another's girl, let alone wife. Now, The Shiv was out for blood, which meant if they couldn’t get a pound of flesh from Smiley, they’d get it from his family. So, yes, I’ve spent the last eight months tracking down the little pissant who thought he could hide from his problems.
He’d run off to Pennsylvania to hide with his wife’s brother Stefano NiCastro. The NiCastros were soldiers for the Mancini family. Crossing over into another family’s business is never good, let alone one who’d been itching for a reason to go to war with the Viccis since before Francesco passed. I was “The Reaper,” t
he judge, jury, and executioner for my father, and they respected me. The only reason I’m still alive today. But that didn’t mean I could waltz in and drag Romano back to New York. They promised him protection. They knew it wouldn’t be long before the Vicci family came looking for him, and we had something they needed. Smiley had been their bargaining tool.
There wasn’t much the Viccis didn’t dabble in, but drugs were a hard no for Francesco. You didn’t deal, trade, or move the shit through his neighborhoods, which made it inconvenient for some families who wanted to get their product to Connecticut or further east quickly. Going around the Vicci territory meant additional delays and potential for things to go wrong. But now, if I wanted to take Smiley back, I had to make a concession. A compromise that required risk on both sides, otherwise the Mancini family would think I was a pushover and that they could gain power over the Viccis. I would permit them one load to be moved across the Burroughs, act as the liaison to the transaction, and ensure the merchandise made it to its delivery point. In return, they would never ask a request of this magnitude again, and if they were ever caught trying to break the agreement, I’d end the life of each of the firstborns of the Capos in the family.
Once Smiley stepped foot on our turf, I had to appease the family. That meant Frank “Smiley” Romano would be put on a shelf. No one would be able to talk to him or his wife and kids ever. They were banished, but in return, he’d be forever untouchable by anyone. It was a shit thing for Maria, little Marie, and their son, Johnny, to have to pay the price for their father's sins.
