The Pastores are just as much a part of my family as my mother and sister. I hold Nikki in the same regard as I hold Lauren. Then there is Grace, they don’t make them like her anymore. That woman doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, been through hell and back and still she smiles.
Her smile is fading, and it’s a fucking shame to watch.
I’m sure people will talk, they’ll call me an asshole, say I can’t let go of the life. But this is my life, this is all I know and when I’m at the end of my rope, running out of options it will always be this life that leads the way.
My connections in the mob may have diminished and my pride keeps me from reaching out to Rocco, but when there’s a will, there is a motherfucking way. Luckily my sister fell in love with a fucking genius. Riggs is a goddamn asset. I wish we had his expertise back in the day, maybe he could’ve gotten my ass released from jail sooner. One click of the mouse and he erases life and creates new. It’s fucking sick, especially for me, I barely know how to operate an iPhone.
Anyway, with a couple of strokes of the keys Riggs can get the information it would take me weeks to get if I did it the old fashioned way—following someone, collecting their secrets and using it against them. Maybe I snatch the person on the way to work, or there is always a good old fashioned beat down, either way they’re gums get loose and they spill.
“I’m fucking starving, where is this douche?” Riggs complains, digging into the console of my truck and pulling out a bag of Reese’s Pieces. “Jackpot,” he cheers, tearing open the corner of the package and pouring the candy into his mouth.
I keep my eyes trained on the headlights approaching the barbed wire fence as Riggs grabs his phone and pulls up the license plate we’re waiting on.
“Showtime Bianci,” he confirms as the black sedan crosses the gates and turns onto the gravel road.
Shifting the car into drive, I wait a beat before peeling out of the spot and following the Buick.
Riggs lifts his ass, pulling out a clip from his back pocket and loads his gun before nonchalantly going back to chowing down obnoxiously on the candy. I hadn’t asked him to tag along on my mission, all I asked was for him to get me the information I needed, but his stubborn ass insisted he come along.
It’s been a while since you pulled a trigger, bro, your finger might be rusty.
He had no fucking idea.
Not a clue.
I could hit my mark with my eyes closed, but I wasn’t planning on filling anyone with lead tonight.
“Tell me again his routine,” I order, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as I lift the ice cold cup of coffee to my lips. Shit was putrid.
“You don’t give a fuck about his routine, you want the dirt on him, you’re going to use that shit against this slob and if he doesn’t agree to the terms then we’ll blow his dirty little secret wide open. Fuck that, we’ll grab both the wife and the whore, introduce them to one another before making the dickhead choose which one gets to live,” he growls.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah, pent up aggression,” he says with a shrug of the shoulders.
“I don’t want to hear some shit about my sister not giving you…”
“Are you kidding me? Kitten would never survive without my cock, she’s the real tiger in the bedroom,” he says smugly.
Maybe I would pump someone full of lead tonight.
The fucking Tiger himself.
Then he’d know for sure there ain’t nothing rusty with me.
“Shit, I forget you’re her brother sometimes,” he grins. “You should see your face man, P-R-I-C-E-L-E-S-S.”
“Try harder to remember,” I say through clenched teeth.
“It’s my folks that have me all out of whack, itching to shoot someone. I thought beating the fuck out of that weasel, Sommers, would satisfy me, but nope I may have an anger problem.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, turning right behind the sedan I was following. “What’s got you riled up?”
“Lauren didn’t tell you about my folks?” He crumbles up the empty bag of Reese’s and flings it out the window. “I suppose that’s a good thing,” he contemplates. “Maybe she forgot.”
“Talk.”
“My parents showed up on our doorstep, insulted your sister and ripped into me for my life choices,” he sneers.
“I thought you had nothing to do with your parents,” I say.
“I didn’t. They dropped from the fucking sky like a bunch of vultures.”
“Well what do they want?”
“I didn’t ask. I kicked their asses to the curb when they gawked at me and my family. Fuck that shit, fuck them, fuck their millions, fuck it all.”
“Yeah, you might want to look into that anger problem,” I advise.
“Oh, give it up man. If your pops showed up on your door step what would you do?”
“We’re not talking about me,” I evade.
“Yeah, you’d fucking whack that prick,” he surmises.
Probably.