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Chapter 18 (Ricardo)
I don't even need to answer my phone to know what the news on the other end will be—but because I'm a mob boss and not a psychic and because Tyrone's currently staring at me—I have no choice but to act surprised when I find out.
“Yeah?”
“Gaffney's dead. Happened about 20 minutes ago, it will be hitting the media in the next 5.”
I twist my face into a scowl and let out a deep exhale purely for show. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, the Vice-Mayor is being informed as we speak. I'm told there will be a press conference later on tonight and he'll be officially a
I roll my shoulders back and this time my scowl is real. Because the new mayor will only be in charge for a mere few days before he ends up dead as well.
In other words, I'm ru
I have precisely 25 days, 15 hours, 12 minutes and 4 seconds left before my time is up and I hand the DeLuca's my proverbial black soul on a silver platter.
I hang up the phone and reach for my water bottle on the floor next to the punching bag.
I didn't want to come here today—and I wouldn't had I known Gaffney was scheduled to be offed this morning—but I promised Tyrone I would help him start training again...and considering what I'm going to have to do to him—
No.
I can't think about that.
I can't...I still have time.
I can still come up with some kind of plan.
Hell, it only took God 6 days to build the earth, not including his little R&R on the 7th day—which means I can definitely come up with a plan that will save my brothers and her with the 25 I have left.
At least, I'm sure as fuck counting on it.
“What happened?”
I rub the back of my neck and look around the gym. “Gaffney. He's—uh. He's dead.”
Tyrone's brows shoot up to the ceiling. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah.”
He flicks the handle on his wheel chair and we head for the locker room. “How?”
“Automobile accident. Head on collision with a semi-truck on the expressway.”
And then shot point blank to make sure the job was done. But of course, the public won't be privy to that info.
And the poor truck driver will test positive for drugs—and in turn, the government will use it to lobby for campaigns for stricter penalties for DWI's, even though the laws will stay the same because those fuckers and their crew are more loaded and zonked than most people in a room are.
Conspiracy at its finest.
“A head on collision?” Tyrone exclaims, pulling his gym bag out of the locker.
“Yeah, driver veered into the wrong lane. They think he was on drugs but won't know for sure until the results come back.”
“Was his son driving the truck?” Tyrone mutters and the irony isn't lost on me.
Dean Gaffney Jr, is not only the asshole who was personally involved in Alyssa's sex tape, and participated knowing it was all a set-up; but he's also a junkie who's driven under the influence without getting penalized so many times I've lost count.
I sit down on the bench. “Well you know what they say about karma.”
She's a bitch with a long hit list.
He makes a face. “Damn, this is go
“Tyrone—”
“What could be more important than this?”
“Lou-Lou,” I say, pushing to my feet. Although we haven't spoken a word to one another since that night.
When I left this morning I told Marlene to do some girly shit with her around the house to keep her occupied while I was gone. But still, I don't like leaving her for more than an hour or two at a time, which means I need to start heading back.
Especially now that the council's plan is going into action. “I've been gone for almost two hours, I have to go.”
Tyrone rolls his eyes. “Seriously? From what I understand, that mob mansion of yours is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Heck, Momma told me your security won't even let her in anymore.”
It's true. No one from the outside is allowed in now, not unless they live there permanently. I just can't take the chance, not when it's her safety on the line.
“Not for nothing, brother,” Tyrone continues. “But I think you need to let her be around the people who care about her. Momma said she had a hard time adjusting when she stayed with her. Might do her some good to see her friends.”
I snort and glare at him. “Friends, really? Jackson's always hated her and the last time she saw Alyssa it was because Alyssa was holding a gun up to her head.”
Not to mention the real reason I don't want her around them all, not only did Alyssa just find out they were step-sisters and she's not taking the news well...she's currently pregnant.
Although Tyrone doesn't know about Lou-Lou being pregnant and losing our child, I do. I'm not putting Lou-Lou through the turmoil of seeing her, especially after what happened the other night.
She's not ready to handle all that. She may never be.
Hell, I can barely handle it.
“I—” He pauses and rubs his face. “Well I can't speak for them, but I care about her. She was always my friend. And she'll always be my friend.”
I fight the jealousy I can feel burning in my veins, because I know him and Lou-Lou have a special bond. But then again, Tyrone has a special bond with everyone he loves. That's just the kind of person he is.
Jesus—how do I kill a man who's made up of so much good?
He can barely contain his smile. “Plus Shelby wants her to be your date for the engagement party in 3 weeks.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, even numbers for seating arrangements and all that.”
It feels like another boulder just got placed on my shoulders as we walk out of the gym that's attached to the old fight club and head for the apartment complex.
Make that 21 days.
“Lou-Lou won't be going to the engagement party, Tyrone. It's not safe.”
“Why's that?”
I turn around at the sound of Jackson's voice.
I look at Tyrone who shrugs. “I told him to meet us here after Alyssa's doctor appointment.”
As if on cue, I turn my head and see Momma, Shelby, and Alyssa getting out of a cab.
“Ricardo,” Momma yells, charging at me full speed ahead.
That's when Jackson shrugs. “And when I asked the cab driver to let me out here so I could meet you and Tyrone...Momma wasn't happy. She said you've been ignoring her and she had a bone to pick with you.”
“Of-fucking-course.”
I turn around and wave, silently debating ru
She picks up her pace. “Don't you 'Hi, Momma' me, boy. I've been by your god-awful mob mansion almost every day this week trying to see how Lou-Lou's doing. You know, since you insist on holding the poor girl hostage.”
A few pedestrians stop and stare at us due to Momma's outburst. Tyrone and Jackson both laugh and I give them the finger.
“Would you mind keeping that between us and not all of New York, Momma?” I whisper as I lean over to kiss her cheek.
“Not if you don't give me an update, I won't,” she snaps, jabbing her finger in my chest. “I helped you, remember? You know I care about the girl. You can't keep her from me.”
Tyrone makes a face as if to say I told you so, as Shelby and Alyssa catch up to us.