“This is a family matter,” Corrado had said coldly. “Your son is family. And he needs to understand what happens when family turns on family.”
Cringing, Dom had braced himself. He’d seen men beaten for their crimes before. Sometimes a man needed an attitude adjustment, Felice—then fourteen—liked to joke, and Corrado would chuckle and agree. Dom had steeled himself, sick at the thought of watching his father get beaten by the burly goons standing in the shadows, but it was the way things were.
“Corrado,” Papa begged. “Please. Don’t—”
Corrado went over to him and put an arm around him, and he murmured something in his ear. Something Dom couldn’t make out, but something that made Papa’s shoulders sag. When Corrado let him go, Papa kept his eyes down and knelt at the edge of the hole in the ground.
Dom’s blood had turned to ice. What was happening?
Corrado put a hand on Papa’s shoulder. “If you’d like to say anything to your son, now is the time.”
Papa closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Looked at Dom. “Tell Mama I love her. And I love you.” He’d swallowed hard, and something in his gaze intensified as he whispered, “And remember everything I told you.”
“And while you’re at it”—Corrado withdrew a pistol from inside his jacket—“remember that family comes first. And if it doesn’t…”
The gunshot must’ve echoed for miles. Instantly, the whole world had fallen silent, but not silent enough. Though Dom’s ears had immediately started ringing, and he’d clamped his hands over them in terror, it hadn’t been enough to drown out the sick thud of Papa’s body hitting the ground. Or the thud of his own knees when he dropped onto them.
His father hadn’t fallen completely into the hole, so the lieutenants picked him up and tossed him in, and the thud again reverberated through the ground and into Dom’s knees and echoed inside his head.
Corrado crouched beside him and hugged him gently, speaking so softly that Dom could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. “Loyalty is critical, Domenico. Loyal to the family, sworn to omerta. Or…” He’d gestured at Papa. “Or this.”
Dom shook himself. In all the years that had gone by, he’d never forgotten the smell of gunpowder mingling with Corrado’s aftershave.
Gazing down at the place where Papa remained undisturbed to this day, Dom took a deep breath “I never forgot what you said. You were right about this life. It’s a fucking viper, and anyone who picks it up is bound to get bitten. But I’m getting out of it. I found a way out.” He pushed his shoulders back. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. For all I know, I might be joining you soon. But I won’t be coming back here. I… if this thing works, I’ll be leaving Cape Swan and never coming back, which means I can never…” He sighed. “I wanted to say goodbye one last time.”
He stood there for a while, just staring at the seemingly benign ground before he finally whispered, “Goodbye, Papa.”
And then, for the final time, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 33
Sergei and Dom wanted some answers, and Sergei was pretty sure he knew who had them. Through one of their mutual contacts, he reached out to Tumino.
“I need to discuss the job,” was all he let on.
As always, they met in the guesthouse. And as always, Sergei was on guard. Especially after such a high-profile job, there was always the risk of a hitman being taken out rather than risking him bragging to someone about the kill. He checked his perimeter motion sensors, and then led Dom inside.
Tumino was in the living room, as was his custom, and Sergei went in by himself.
The man grimaced, shifting on the couch as his innards bubbled audibly. “So it’s done?”
“Not exactly.”
Tumino glared up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Behind Sergei, Dom stepped into the room.
Tumino’s eyes widened. His puffy cheeks lost some color. “Oh, Jesus.” He reached for the phone on the table, but Sergei grabbed it first.
“Make so much as a peep,” Sergei growled, setting the phone out of reach. “And you’ll be dead well before security gets here.”
Tumino gulped. “What the hell is this?”
“We’ve got some questions,” Dom said. “And it seems you’re a man who might have some answers.”
“No, no.” Tumino scooted to the edge of the couch, groaning as he did. “No, I’m not gonna get involved in this.” He started to get up, but froze when Dom pulled out a pistol.
“Sit. The fuck. Down.”
Sergei glanced at Dom, eyebrows up. Shit. He had a bigger spine than Sergei’d thought.
Tumino wisely sat back down. He leaned against the back of the sofa. “What do you two want?”
“I want to know how far back Felice is involved in all this shit,” Dom said. “Is it true that he called in the hit on me?”
Tumino gulped. “I…”
“Answer the question,” Dom said in a low growl that made Sergei shiver. He hadn’t seen this side of him before. Dom stepped closer, Tumino’s eyes tracking the pistol. “Come on. Fucking answer, or—”