Deception (Infidelity #3)(95)

“Have a good evening, Mr. Demetri.”

Good wasn’t the description I had in store for me.

As we stepped into the elevator, Walters lowered his voice to a whisper. “I was thinking about the Bonettis.”

I nodded my understanding and acceptance of his request. Yes, the Bonettis were the center of the drug cartels in Newark.

“Thank you, Oren. I’m sure we can make this mutually beneficial.”

I found the warehouse off South Street in the Ironbound district, and the irony wasn’t lost on me. This was Bonetti territory, the same people Joseph Walters had just asked me to contact. That wasn’t my goal for tonight.

It wasn’t my first time at this particular warehouse. I’d been here a time or two to watch Lennox do what he did. I didn’t like it. Hell, I’d spent most of my life keeping him away from shit like this, but even I had to admit he was good.

I made my way through the crowd as the stench of sweat and something worse assaulted my nose. In my thousand-dollar suit and Italian loafers, I wasn’t exactly dressed for a fight club, but it didn’t seem to matter. People were screaming and calling out Lennox’s name. Not Lennox, but Nox, some asinine stage name he’d assumed.

Elbowing through the mass of people who’d come to watch at ten dollars a head, I made my way toward the tall chain-linked ring. It took a while before I got close enough to see, but when I did, my feet stilled, the roar of the crowd silenced, and the scene blurred.

Bruised and battered, wearing a bloody white wife-beater and track pants, my son wobbled on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched and eyes focused on his cousin, Luca Costello.

Both of their faces had begun to swell as blood and spit splattered the first rows of spectators. It was there, ringside, that I saw Vincent Costello. Within seconds, I was there, pushing Jimmy out of the way and moving beside Angelina’s cousin.

“Tell me what you want and make this stop,” I pleaded. “They’re going to kill each other and then what do we have? We both lose our sons. Is that what you want?”

My stomach heaved as the crunch of cartilage and bone forced us both to turn toward the ring. This time it was Luca who’d taken the hit. He spat blood onto the floor.

“Ten percent on all,” Vincent said.

“All?” I asked. I paid the Costellos ten percent of all earnings in New York, but Demetri Enterprises had grown globally.

“All.”

“Fine. Make it stop. You’re nearly killing our sons over money?”

“Respect,” Vincent said. “I stop this. You pay. Lennox, he’s good. He has talent. It’s time he uses it in an honorable way—for the family.”

“I’ll pay,” I confirmed. “Stop this now.” Both young men were looking as though they might fall helplessly to the mat.

Vincent turned to Jimmy and nodded. Immediately, a referee or announcer, I didn’t know who he was, stepped into the ring and the vise that had been crushing my chest loosened a bit.

I stood, my new focus on getting to Lennox, when Vincent grabbed my arm. “We’ll talk.”

It wasn’t a request but a summons. “Yes, Vincent. We’ll talk.”

Lennox’s left eye was nearly eclipsed by the red and purple swelling. I supported his weight as he draped an arm over my shoulder. The crowd parted as I helped—carried—Lennox, my over six-foot-tall son, and Vincent did the same for Luca.

“Brooklyn,” Vincent said, his way of telling me to take Lennox somewhere else. Luca would be going to seek medical treatment in Brooklyn. Both of the boys couldn’t be at the same hospital or it would be questioned.

I nodded and assessed my son. Was he well enough to tolerate the drive to Westchester? “Lennox, do you hear me?”

“H-he… a hit?”

“Do you hear me?”

“I’m alive.”

He was. He was alive.

If I got him to Rye, Angelina would be close. She’d be better for him during his recovery than I.

“We’re going to the hospital in Rye,” I said after I had us both in the car. Though I had him belted in and his seat reclined, he continued to jerk his head forward and mumble things I couldn’t make out.





“WHY WON’T THEY tell us more? It’s been hours,” Angelina said as she stood again. Up and down, back and forth. It was as if she needed to keep moving.

“Because he’s an adult.” I didn’t like the answer any more than she did, and obviously he hadn’t acted like an adult, but nevertheless, according to his age, it was the truth. It was the hospital’s policy. It didn’t matter who brought him here or who was paying the damn bill. Fucking regulations.

My ex-wife finally spun toward me.

“I want you to be honest with me.”

“About?” I’d fallen into that trap too many times to count.

“About tonight. It doesn’t make sense,” Angelina said, wringing her hands as she again paced the small waiting area.

Sitting back in an orange vinyl-covered chair, I stretched out my legs. There were red droplets on the leather of my shoes. I’d washed Lennox’s blood from my hands, but my suit and maybe my shoes were probably ruined.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her blue eyes darkening. “What did you do?”