The Wrath of Cain (The Syndicate, #1)(34)

“I’m my father’s son,” I simply say.

“Yes, you are. That doesn’t mean you had to follow in his footsteps and be like him. What happened to being on the good side of life? God, Cain. Do you sell guns to kids? I mean, who do you sell them to?”

I laugh, even though none of this is funny. She sounds like a lawyer and I’m on trial already. She wants to know it all? I’ll give it to her.

“No, I don’t sell them to kids. What happens after I sell them isn’t my concern, though. I sell them domestically to a few large buyers in New York. I do not sell them out of the country to drug cartels or gangs.”

“How do you get them?”

This is the part that is going to rip her heart out. I look her straight in the eyes when I tell her.

“I steal them.”

I watch her shoulders sag. She leans back on the couch, her head goes to the ceiling where she stares at a particular spot for the longest time.

“You get rid of the serial numbers.”

“Yes.”

“Then you sell them so they can’t be traced.”

“Again, yes.”

“What else have you lied to me about?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

Actually, this is only a half lie. I haven’t technically lied to her about who my partner is yet. I just haven’t said.

“Do all these people really have jobs, or are they all in on this, too?”

“Everyone has a real job, including me. Manny, Bronzer, who you already know and our other friend Beamer, and I work together. No one else knows we front this bar to cover our tracks.”

I shrug as if it’s no big deal when really, it is.

“And this is where your snitch comes in? Someone here found out, or they’re an undercover cop, or they’re out for revenge. Am I right?”

“You’re very inquisitive, baby. I like it. I’m getting hard sitting over here, admiring how you’re questioning me like I’ve been arrested and now being interrogated by a sexy-as-hell lawyer.”

She looks over to me, a deep frown line creasing her forehead.

“None of this is funny. It’s both illegal and immoral. You could spend the rest of your life in prison or wind up dead.”

“It’s not funny at all. It’s not who I wanted to be, but it is who I am,” I say with an edge.

“Who do you sell them to, Cain?”

She’s demanding now, her tone heavy and completely in control. Me, not so much at the moment. The answer I’m about to give her is going to scare the hell out of her.

“Salvatore Diamond.”

She jumps off of the couch, her eyes becoming wide.

“Jesus, Cain. Are you serious? How in the hell did you get mixed up with the f*cking mob?”

I sit there, watching her pace back and forth across the carpet. Her hands run through her hair out of frustration.

“I don’t know if I want any part of this. Do you know what this means, for God’s sake? It means you will never get out of stealing and dealing guns. You can’t just get out of the mafia. Everyone in the world knows that. If you want out, the only way those people let you out is by killing you and burying your body somewhere where no one will ever find you. And you say you love me? You’ve kept me safe from a drug dealer? Well, who the hell has been keeping you safe? Who has your back?” she snarls.

I take a deep breath and steeple my hands under my chin, resting my elbows firmly on my knees.

“Your dad keeps me safe, Calla.”

I half expected her to go on a rampage, but she does the complete opposite. She stays calm, acting like I haven’t just tossed her into a tornado.

“I knew there was more to the reason why my parents were so adamant about keeping us apart, but never in my wildest of dreams would I have ever imagined this. You have a lot more explaining to do. And I demand to see my parents.”

She stalks over to me and leans down right into my face. Not so calm anymore. She’s become the eye of the twirling tornado and f*ck me, she’s destined for destruction.

“You said you weren’t lying to me about anything else!”

“I haven’t.” She’s so close to my face. Her face bright red from anger.

“No? Are you sure? Because I have a very good memory, and I recall you telling me just yesterday that I couldn’t call my parents because the less they knew, the safer they would be. Get them here now, goddamnit. I want, no, I deserve to know everything. My God. The mob! This is insane! We’re better off just putting one of those guns you steal to our own heads and blowing our brains out. Those people don’t mess around.”

“Calla. Enough.”

Our attention swings to the door. Neither one of us heard it open.

“Well, speak of the devil. Hello, mom and dad. Or would you prefer I call you Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Sit your ass down, and watch your mouth.”

John Greer stalks into the room. The f*cker is big. I’m talking huge. He towers over his daughter. The two of them stare each other down. Her stubbornness matches his.

“I’m a little old for you to be telling me what to do. Considering the lion’s den you all have thrown me into, I think you should sit down. Or better yet, start f*cking talking.”

Her mouth. Christ almighty. If we were by ourselves right now and she kept on running her mouth like she is now, I’d love nothing more than to… Yeah. Fuck, I’m not going there. I palm my hands down my face, then toss a glance at Manny, our eyes saying the exact same thing. This is about to get real ugly.