Garden of Sins

In the car, we are both pissed off. I admit it did not leave me cold to see my father, nor Carter, although he’s not feeling it right now. He drums his fingers on his leg as we watch Dad pull all his men back because I told him that Carter would get in trouble. He didn’t like that, he could have raided the club, but that would have put Carter and me in deep shit because we’d have to answer to our boss, Vito de Luca.

“Next time, stay the fuck in the car when I tell you to stay in the car. The boss said several times, no direct confrontation with the cops, Carter. What does ‘no direct confrontation’ mean to you? Getting in Dad’s face? One of the top men in the FBI? DAD, CARTER? You know how Dad gets when he loses it.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s my DAD or the Don of Africa,” he shouts, a

So, for now, I leave everything as it is and repeatedly save his ass every day. And I had already made plans with Granddad. I was going to start working for the FBI as a profiler and deal with the sick thoughts of human scum. What would be my assessment of my brother?

I did not even finish my studies. Threw away all those years of top grades, awards, and everything. Threw my life away, Alayna. Threw you away as well as my family.

“Ahhh, don’t look like you drowned a kitten,” Carter says, interrupting my thoughts. “Who is it now you’re crying about, huh?”

I start the engine as Dad drives past and stares at us for a long time before he presses the gas pedal and disappears into the night.

“My life,” I mumble to myself and drive off as well.

We are quiet for a while as I drive through the southern district and imagine what it would be like to go home with Dad now and sit at the dining table with him, pestering Ava, and smoking a joint in the garage with Carter.

My brother ravages his hair again and slides restlessly around on his seat. “I don’t need a chaperone, Caden,” he mumbles to himself.

I nod. Maybe he just needs a woman to remind him who he really is. Maybe that’s Isabelle. Maybe she is the one for him. But if she were here, she would suffer. Would it be worth it?

I’m at my wits’ end with my brother.

That too is a first, Alayna.

* * *

The next evening, Carter is on an assignment for Dorian, from which he will probably return bloodied. I, on the other hand, drive to the boss’s villa. We meet once a week and he goes through my lists to see what I have done and what I still have to do. He pays me very well for that.

I know today won’t end as it usually does when Vito pats me on the shoulder before I leave because he appreciates me so much. Yesterday’s event will not be without consequences. The fact that Carter forgot to grease the cops was too big of a screw-up for me to talk our way out of, undo, or cover-up.

I drive along the deserted forest road. To my right, Lake Michigan glistens. Here at the edge of town, there is only this one villa surrounded by dense forest. The black wrought-iron gates lined with columns of white angel statues open onto the huge estate, which resembles a heavily guarded prison. In front of me rises a dark old villa, which is located directly on the shore. On the opposite bank, there is only dense forest. I roll over the gravel, past the other parked cars. The place is huge with the terrain covering five acres. I park a little further back because the men are everywhere. Some of them patrol in front of the house. The villa is better guarded than many politicians’ estates.

I get out, flick my cigarette butt away, and walk around the fountain in front of the house, which is also surrounded by angel statues before climbing the dark wide steps and walk through the open double doors, past the guard, and into the house.

My feet meet the black marble and the familiar smell of the house assaults my nose: espresso, tobacco, and manly odors. Opposite me, the wide wooden staircase covered in red carpet, leads upward, with ancestral portraits lining the wood-paneled wall. Above me, hangs the largest chandelier I have ever seen. It is never off and the sparkling crystals project rainbows onto the walls. The salon doors on the left are open. The men enjoy their evening there. I, however, head directly for the boss’s office door where John is standing guard, stoically staring at the opposite wall.

I rap three times with my knuckles.

“Come in, Caden,” Vito de Luca says, who can discern the difference between the knocks of all the men in the house.

His study contains shelves filled from top to bottom with books, mainly first editions. The furnishings in the room alone are probably worth a million. You have to give him credit for one thing, Vito de Luca is a highly intelligent man, or else he would not have achieved so much. In a way, I pay him respect for that — in the sickest way.

He sits behind his dark mahogany desk and leans back in his office chair while studying me. Leisurely, he puts an elbow on the backrest and as always, I have his full attention as he points to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

His face is serious and his artificial posturing is not present today. Of course not. I lower myself into the seat he offered me. It is the chair directly opposite him. He rests his cheek on his thumb and forefinger and looks at me for an eternity as he drums the other hands’ fingers on the table. His dark blue eyes look right through me. My heart beats quietly and I endure his gaze while I wait. I know what is coming anyway.

“What Carter did wasn’t good,” he starts because he doesn’t beat about the bush at our meetings in the office, as is usually his way. He loves a good show.

“I know.” I don’t have to give him excuses, justifications, or apologies.

“Your brother is out of control.” Vito de Luca bends over and takes a pen from the table. The engraved XX flashes, just like his signet ring.

“I know.”

He raises his dark brows. “He’s irreplaceable to me, but he must restrain himself or I’ll be forced to take action.”

I say nothing more.

“He has now attacked one of our own men four times. One of them had his fingers chopped off because he was fondling a stripper. While delivering a prostitute, he lost her. And now, the thing with the protection money. Not good, not good at all. I don’t like it.” He’s dead serious. My heart’s beating faster. Fuck, if something happens to Carter simply because he gets in his own way, I don’t know if I can go on living. What was that about the hooker? That was in the very begi

“I’m sure you agree with me that your brother can’t go on like this.” Vito de Luca bounces the pen between his fingers.

“I do,” I answer calmly. “What do you want me to do?” I know it boils down to something I must do. It always does.

“I don’t believe you’ve made much of an effort to keep your brother in line and we know that you could if you really want to. I think you need a push.” Oh, Alayna, I have a terrible feeling. Everything is numb inside me.