“Please tell me you locked away the peanut butter.” I grin at my mother when she opens the door.

“Don’t worry. I have a full body HAZMAT suit for you inside. You’ll be just fine.” She opens her arms and pulls me in for a long hug even though it has only been a few days since I last saw her. But deep down we both know that each time may be the last. It’s just the way things are in this life.

“Nico!” Lily runs at me once I’m inside the foyer. I reach down to catch her as she launches herself into my arms and I hold her high in the air. She squeals and laughs, like a normal little kid. Except she’s not normal. But she doesn’t know that yet, and it’s my job to protect her from it all.

You have a lot of responsibilities now, Nico…

Grandpa’s words. Christ, if I’d only known then the kind of responsibilities I’d end up having later, I may have considered running away to a remote island and living off the grid.

“I missed you!” Lily shrieks.

“I just saw you! You didn’t even have time to miss me!”

“Okay, fine. I didn’t miss you!”

“What? How could you not miss me?” I put my little sister down on the floor and tickle her until tears run down her cheeks. That belly laugh. God, it gets me every time. I laugh right along with her, and damn, it feels good. Therapeutic. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.

I’d like to be able to do it again. I have to find a way to close this chapter, to move the fuck on. I’m on the path, but it’s a slow move.

I lean back and let her catch her breath. She rolls to her feet and bounces around me. “That peanut-addicted mutt of yours better be in the garage, Lil. If he drools all over me, you’ll be hauling me to the Emergency Room.”

“Don’t worry. He’s upstairs in my room.”

I cock an eyebrow at my mother. “Really? Like, on her bed?”

“Oh, yes. He sleeps with me!” Lily beams.

I furrow my brow. “Mellowing out in your old age, Mom? What happened to him only sleeping downstairs in his crate?”

“He’d whine and cry all night when he was by himself, and I didn’t want a re-do of the baby years. So I caved. Sue me.”

Lily grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. “I’ll make you breakfast! Cap’n Crunch or Cocoa Puffs?”

“Cocoa Puffs, please.” I look at my mother, who is making a cup of coffee for me. “Where’s Dad?”

She points to the hallway. “I think I just heard him come down.”

Dad appears in the doorway to the kitchen a second later. “Morning, son.”

Lily places a bowl of cereal in front of me, and I shovel in a few spoonfuls. “Mmohning.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Maybe we can talk for a few minutes in the office once you finish chewing.”

I swallow the oversized bites and give Lily the thumbs-up. “You’re a master chef. Thanks for the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

She smiles and curtseys for me. “Anything for you!”

I ruffle her hair, grab my coffee mug, and follow Dad into his office. He shuts the door behind me and sits on a leather cordovan chair behind his large mahogany desk. I sit across from him, sinking into a buttery leather cushion. This room always calms me, despite the business conducted between these walls. Dark wood paneling, rich hues, antique brass accents. It makes the place feel comfortable somehow. Safe. Secure.

Ironic.

“I have to meet Tony at the construction site so I don’t have much time, but there are a few things we need to discuss.” Dad gathers some papers together and places them into his briefcase. “How’d the meeting with Viktor go?”

“It was good. Kat was there.”

“So you made the offer.”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I made the pitch, but have no fucking clue how to deliver on it.

Dad stops for a second and looks at me. “Losing his wife and child like that…” He shakes his head. “I can’t imagine it. But what’s worse is not being able to bring those people to justice. Viktor is a good business partner, and aligning ourselves with this organization beyond just the supplier-distributor relationship is smart because it gives us leverage. He has a lot of enemies, yes, but he also has a lot of allies…allies we need on our side. Allies who can help us manage our territories here, allies who can pave the way for us to expand into other areas without the red tape.”

“Dad, that’s a great little speech but how are we going to find these people? Do you have any idea where they are in California? Baiting a guy like Viktor is bad news. You know his crew. If you screw with them, you’re pretty much fucked.”

“That’s why I needed you to stop by this morning. There’s something I need to talk to you about.” Dad lets out a deep sigh and reclines in his chair. “We know exactly where to find them, Nico.”

“Who do you mean by we, because I sure as hell have no idea.”

“You remember that your grandfather was the one who made the introduction to Viktor, right?”

I nod. What the hell does Grandpa have to do with any of this?

“He was making inroads with the Russians because he knew that the Cappodamo family had plans to infiltrate the other families and their interests. Our only means of survival was to align ourselves with a completely separate organization, one that needed something from us as much as we needed something from it. A balance of power, so to speak. They could supply the drugs, and we could distribute them.”

“Dad, give it to me straight. This isn’t just about the drug running, is it? What are you really telling me here?”

“Nico, the people who killed Viktor’s wife and daughter are in Los Angeles.”

I furrow my brow. “How do you know that? Who told you?”

“It was Rocco.” Dad sighs again. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but—"

“Tell me what sooner?” I slam my hands on the desk. “Dad, you tell me all the time how I need to be ready to step up, but how the hell can I do that if you hold shit back from me? How the hell is Rocco involved with this, and how long have you been keeping me in the fucking dark?”

“This was all part of Grandpa’s plan. He was trying to set up the family for the future, knowing that the Cappodamo family was closing in on our territories. He put these plans in motion to bring in more muscle, Russian muscle that couldn’t be compromised by Frank Cappodamo. They were and still are enemies, Nico. Frank was the one to put the hit on the Ivanovs.”

I shake my head, trying to process everything my father is pelting me with. “What does Rocco have to do with all of this?”

“When Grandpa found out Rocco was taking bets without his permission and stealing clients from Max and deVincenzo, he gave him a choice. He said he’d spare Rocco if he went to California and found the people who made those hits. He wanted Rocco to get close, to find out about their organization, and to figure out their vulnerabilities. It was all top secret, Nico. Only Grandpa, me, and Santino, Rocco’s father, knew about the arrangement. Everyone else was told Rocco had been kicked out of New Jersey by Grandpa as his punishment. That’s what we needed everyone to believe to make this plan work.”

“And that’s why you brought Rocco back after Grandpa died. You made everyone think it was because Grandpa wasn’t around to enforce his punishment, but the reality is you’d gotten what you needed from him. And that’s why you wanted me to give him a job so badly. To keep him close and under my thumb.” The legs of the chair scrape against the polished hardwood as I push it back and jump up. “How the hell could you keep this from me?”

“You didn’t need to know any of this before.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It’s not. I needed you to grow to trust him without knowing any of the details. I wanted you to see for yourself what he brings to the table without knowing what he’s done for the family. And you did. He took a bullet for you, Nico. He may be a greedy bastard, but he’s loyal. He didn’t want you to know anything until he’d proven himself to you personally. He did the job for Grandpa because his life was threatened. He did the job for you because he wanted you to trust him.”

“And you let him get away with what he did to Max and deVincenzo.”

“He put himself in a hell of a lot of danger for us, Nico. I think he paid his debt.”

I rake a hand through my hair and pace the floor. “What if Viktor had asked me for details about these people? What the hell would have happened then? He’d have blown off my head if he knew I was full of shit!”

“You never told him you knew specifics. You only said you’d put your weight behind his search. Period. You were never in danger with that offer.” Dad stands up and walks around the desk. “Nico, I didn’t want to keep you in the dark on this, but I had my reasons. Now you’re in a power position that requires a need to know everything.”

“Power position, my ass! You’ve been keeping me in the dark for years! How the hell am I supposed to manage shit without having the full story? You knew when I killed Cappodamo what would happen, but you never thought it was important enough for me to know it until now?” Rage courses through me, and I struggle to keep my voice even. “How much more do I need to know, Dad? What else have you been keeping from me?”

“This is it. You know everything now. And you’ll make the right decisions with this information.”

I rake a hand through my hair, my pulse throbbing. As pissed off as I am, I can still read between the lines. And I don’t like what I see at all. “Why are you talking like you’re bowing out? You’re still the head of this family.”

Dad’s shoulders sag as he lets out a deep sigh. “I never know what will happen from day to day. You’re my second in command, but you have to be ready to step into that top spot at any time. I’ve given you all of the tools you need to rule. We’ll run things together, until it’s just you.”

“But, Dad,” My voice shakes with anticipation, but I can’t stop the words. Keeping them buried is killing me, and dammit, they need to be said. Christ only knows how many other people are saying it behind our backs anyway. “That’s the problem! We’re not running anything! We’re floundering, and people are getting fucking killed because of it!” I clench my fists. “Grandpa wouldn’t have sat back and let Luca Cappodamo pull this shit. He would have faced it head-on. We’re not doing anything about this! We look…” I fist my hair. “Weak.” Max was right. My dad doesn’t have the same cunning instinct that Grandpa did, he doesn’t have the same strength. He doesn’t act; he analyzes.

Fuck. Don’t I do the same thing?

I could have gone after Luca, but I didn’t. I made excuses, reasons not to take action, and who the fuck knows what this asshole will pull next?

I force my eyes to my father’s face, and a pang assaults my insides when I see the expression of disappointment. He knows what I said was true. He can’t argue it.

And I’m just as screwed as he is because I didn’t get that killer gene, either.

My spine stiffens. “I don’t want to run an organization that doesn’t have faith in its leaders. There’s too much doubt, too much distrust. It needs to change, Dad. We need to change.” I grab my keys. I know what to do. I just need to figure out the how.

I walk over toward the front door and look toward the kitchen. I wave to my mom. “I’ll call you later. I’ve got to run.”

I slam the front door shut behind me and get into my car. I grab a Jolly Rancher from the center console and pop it into my mouth. I let the watermelon flavor consume my taste buds as I consider what I’ve just berated my father for. Anyone could say the same things about me. I haven’t done dick about Luca, other than let him haunt my subconscious. I’ve let him get inside of my head and I’ve done nothing to stop him.

Because I’m afraid.

Dad walks out of the house a minute later and grabs the handle of his car door. But before he opens it, his eyes meet mine. It’s a quick look, and it slices through me. I’m just as much at fault, and yet I’ve done nothing to fix things. He gave me the power to act, and I folded it up and stuffed it into my damn back pocket, endangering everyone I love in the process.

My phone pings with an incoming text, and I pick it up to see if it’s worth a response.

One of our Russian terriers escaped from the house. Can’t find him anywhere. He won’t be home for dinner.

I slam both hands on the steering wheel. “Fuck!” Duke is telling me one of our trucks was hijacked…one of our drug shipments from the Russians. That bastard Luca is behind the heist. I’d bet my fucking life on it. He’s not just out for blood; he’s looking to squeeze the life out of my businesses too.

I throw my car into drive and follow my dad’s Escalade. Rage courses through me, but I can’t deal with this truck bullshit right now. It’ll have to wait. I have something more important to take care of first. I need to meet Dad at the construction site and apologize for unloading on him. This Luca thing is fucking with me hard, and I feel like all I do these days is alienate people who are closest to me.

Maybe it’s because I’m afraid they’ll see right through me.

They’ll see my fear.

And if that happens, I’ll crumble.

I furrow my brow as Dad turns a corner onto a side service road. Why the hell is he going this way? Route 3 is a straight shot up to Bergen. I frown at the clock on the dashboard. Traffic shouldn’t be that bad now. I grip the steering wheel tight. He must be using Waze, and that app knows a shit ton more about traffic patterns than I do.

He slows to a stop when the next traffic light turns red. I tap my fingers, anxious to get there before Tony so I can talk to my father without that cocksucker lurking. I don’t need him hearing any of this. He’s still a slimy, conniving bastard as far as I’m concerned, and I don’t trust myself not to tell him that to his face, regardless of the fact that he’s my girlfriend’s father. She’s the only reason I bite back those caustic words.

The light finally turns green, and Dad’s Escalade accelerates through it. I tap on the gas, and stomp on the brake just as quickly when a dark blue minivan jerks across lanes and cuts me off. I veer right, narrowly missing the bastard. He’s not even making a turn. He jumped lanes to slow me the fuck down.

Asshole.

I lean on my horn, my eyes willing death on the driver in front of me. This jackass is going to hold me up and I’ll miss my chance to—

The sound of crushing metal and screeching tires grabs my focus, and the images in front of me blur to the point of incomprehension. Flashes of blue, white, and black streak my vision. I can’t make out shapes; everything gels together as the noxious smell of burning rubber fills my nostrils.

My heart hammers in my chest, my throat tight. A sea of memories rushes forth, temporarily blinding me to the chaos in my direct line of sight.

Grandpa Vito clapping me on the shoulder right before leaving my house on Christmas night. It was the night he’d died.

You have a lot of responsibilities now, Nico.

Walking along South Beach, talking to my dad on the phone.

He’s back, Nico. It’s not safe for you. Not safe for any of us.

The look of disappointment and shame on Dad’s face only minutes earlier.

You’re in a power position now.

I’ve given you the tools to rule.

We’ll run it together until it’s just you.

Just you.

Just you.

Those words echo in the depths of my mind, clanging between my temples like clashing cymbals.

It’s just me.

Blaring sirens in the distance jolt me from my thoughts. I blink fast, but the scene in front of me remains. My legs are tight, my hands trembling.

Dad. My father. The head of the Salesi family.

Trapped. Crushed. Immobile.

I push open my door and step out of the car, gripping the door.

Suddenly, I’m looking at my own car when it was destroyed by Frank Cappodamo’s crew months earlier. I’d narrowly escaped death because of one factor.

I’d been making a right turn.

I wasn’t going straight.

Dad was going straight.

If he’d only been making a right…

The Mack truck that plowed into Dad’s car doesn’t wait for the cops to show up. And the blue minivan follows close behind.

I close the distance between my car and Dad’s, my pulse pounding harder and harder with each step I take.

I never got a chance to tell him I’m sorry.

I never got a chance to tell him I love him.

I never got a chance to tell him a lot of things.

His face is a twisted mask of blood and bruises, his glasses knocked off of his face in the collision. I grip the door handle, dropping my head, letting the tears finally flow.

Maybe I never will.