As Miles closed down the conversation, Landon stared at him with a confused look. There were questions in his gaze, but Miles’s lips refused to provide the answers he sought.
Miles’s thoughts began to wander. According to the United States Government, Landon Capadonno is a man. He is old enough to vote for whatever rich, self-serving scumbag he sees fit. Landon could enlist in the military and pop a cap in however many American-hating ISIS assholes his little ticker could handle. Shit, despite Landon’s baby face and shy demeanor, he could walk into any bar and demand a beer. But just because he had reached the almighty echelon of twenty-one years of age, it didn’t mean that Landon was ready for the skeletons that would come crawling out of the Capadonnos’ proverbial closet. I can only protect the kid so much—eventually, he’ll find out the truth and he’ll have to decide which side of the fence he wants to stand on… and around here, you don’t have a choice. You have to pick a side.
Then again, maybe things weren’t so cut and dry. Not everyone’s choices were laid out for them like they were for Miles. When it comes to family, the line between right and wrong wavers. There is a grey line that people often walk.
I would kill for my family… and now that some had crossed a line that should never be crossed, I’d kill them, too. Family vendettas create an unstable environment. Foundations liquefy, relationships change, bonds break. Knox Capadonno used to be my best friend. Now I want to kill the fucker.
And that was just one name on Miles’s list. Landon would need to make up his own mind. Miles’s grudges were not his cross to bear, and Miles wasn’t about to make him, either. This vendetta belonged to Miles. The red fury that burned within him since the troubled days of his youth bubbled up like molten lava. Yeah, you could say Miles was a little pissed off.
As quickly as Rita escaped through the double doors of the kitchen, she swooped back out carrying a pair of drinks and a basket of garlic knots on a tray. Despite the teasing, Rita brought the kid a beer. He was over twenty-one and a paying customer. Miles was the one who was driving, anyway. Although Rita got his order wrong, Landon seemed to be happy enough with his Budweiser.
Nobody lays a hand on my baby, Miles thought, referring to his precious car.
Miles took a bite out of a garlic knot and took a swig of his ice water. The cold drink chased down the savory treat that he had not sampled in over seventeen years. Closing his eyes, you’d think Miles was having an orgasm at the table. Landon stared at his brother with a disgusted look upon his face.
Miles didn’t care, though. “Don’t judge me. Prison food sucks.”
“I believe you,” Landon said with a laugh. “I have no intention of ever visiting.”
“Better not. I’ll beat your ass,” Miles said with a smirk.
Landon gulped down his beer as he stared at Miles. To Miles, he seemed like such a straight-laced kid.
“So Landon…” Miles asked, breaking him from his thoughts. Landon took another swig of his beer and placed it back down on the table.
“Yeah?” he asked with a nervous look in his eyes. Landon hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since he arrived.
“What have you been doing with yourself lately? Got a girl?” Miles asked, trying to drag a conversation out of him.
“Not right now. Playing my options,” Landon said as a cocky smirk crossed his face.
“Mmmhmmm…” Miles muttered as his eyes moved from face to face in the restaurant. Many he recognized, but others were completely new to him.
“I was never really one to hop from girl to girl,” Miles explained. “I never really saw the fascination. It was hard enough figuring out what one woman wanted, let alone a handful.”
Besides, Letty would’ve beat my ass, Miles thought.
Landon’s eyes perked up with alarm as he watched someone walk through the front door of the restaurant. Miles couldn’t see the front of the restaurant from his vantage point, but whoever just walked in caught Landon’s eye and his gaze trailed them across the dining room.
“Yo, Miles, head’s up. Ruin Rizzoli is staring at you…” Landon said, his forehead scrunching up as the stress began to show in his facial expressions.
“Ruin, huh? You mean Rich Rizzoli?” Miles asked with a confused look on his face.
“Yeah, he’s known as Ruin now. He’s fighting in the underground arena.”
Miles craned his neck around, expecting the worst, but when he met eyes with his old buddy, all he could do was laugh. Miles stood up from the table, as a loud laugh ripped from his throat.
“Fucking Richie,” Miles said as he peered back at one of his oldest friends.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Landon asked with a confused look growing from his eyes.
“It’s uh… it’s neither. It’s fine. Richie is harmless,” Miles said, unsure of how to answer the kid’s question.
“Shut the front door and shut the back one, too! Miles fucking Capadonno…” Ruin said as he approached Miles with a shit-eating grin.