Page 21 of Pocketful of Us

"Whoa, kid, are you sure you should be handling a man's toy?" Gonzalez laughed.

Looking entirely enraged, Sketch flicked off the safety, checked for amo, and then cocked the trigger with a level of speed and expertise that proved he wasanythingbut a boy when it came to handling firearms.

"Aye, aye, aye." Gonzalez held his hands up. "Forget I said anything."

"Now, y'all can go back to making your pillow plans once this piece of shit starts talking." Sketch snarled, nostrils flaring, cheeks flushed with temper. "Where the fuck is my girl?"

"Well, aren’t you every inch your father's son?" Seth replied, tone laced with sarcasm. "Raffaele would be so proud to see what abig boyhis precious heir grew into – if he knew that you were alive." He smirked. "Which he doesn't."

Aiming the barrel of the gun directly at Seth's head, my reckless pal didn’t hesitate when he pulled the trigger.

Bang!

"Whoa, motherfucker, that was hella close," Lucky grunted, stepping sideways to study the bullet imbedded in the door, looking more impressed than pissed off.

"You're not the only one with a good aim, fucker," Sketch growled, keeping his vexed stare locked on Seth, who was cupping his bleeding ear, expression laced with shock. "Fuck with me again and the next bullet I let loose is going straight between your eyes." He cocked the trigger again. "And here's a little friendly tip," he added in a deathly cold tone of voice. "Inevermiss my target."

Sensibly, Seth kept his mouth shut, realizing that poking this particular bear could be fatal.

Meanwhile, I did the opposite and tried to plead with his good-nature – or what was left of it. "Are you sure you should be aiming a gun at anyone?" I asked him. "I mean, you've had a harrowing few weeks. You're not in your right frame of mind here, Sketch –"

"Damn straight I'm not in my right frame of mind!" he roared, moving straight for Chris Sr. "I've been lied to and attacked, shot at and kidnapped. I have a hole in my chest and an asshole taunting me with my girl's whereabouts." Keeping his gun aimed at Seth, he one-handedly set to work on untying the restraints that bound the man who raised him. "I ain't playing these goddamn mind games anymore," he continued to rant, sounding a little irate and looking a lot deranged. "And I ain't interested in taking another damn trip down memory lane. It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t give two shits about mobs and mafias and Catalinian fucking anything! All I want is my girl and I want her now! That's it. That's all I fucking want. Just Romi. Everything else can go to hell and the rest of y'all can go there too if you even think about getting in my way."

"I told you I will help you get her back," Seth replied. "Once you help me first."

"By helping you kill your daddy?" Sketch sneered. "No fucking problem. I'll do it with my own bare hands, but I want my girl back first."

"No." Seth shook his head. "That is not how this works, Giacobbe."

Sketch looked truly livid. "Who's the one with the gun here, asshole?"

"Kill me and her location dies with me." Seth shrugged. "Defeats the purpose, don’t you think?"

A shudder rolled through Sketch's huge frame, and just like that, all of the fight seemed to go clean out of him.

Lowering his gun, he released a pained sigh, shoulders slumping. "I won't be worth shit to anyone until I know she's still alive." He blew out a breath, looking more wounded and grief-stricken than any person I'd ever seen. "I just need her to beokay."

"There was a time when we would have beenCapo dei capiandsotocapoof theCosa Nostra," Seth urged, tone thick with emotion now. "It was our birth right, one that was snatched away from us. I know you do not like me, and I like you even less, but weneedto help each other or neither one of us gets what we want. Return to Pocketful with me and help me take that bastard down. Help me toavengemy mother, and I will help you to find my sister. Decide now, Giacobbe Toretto," he added gruffly. "Because when it comes to our fathers, both yours and mine, time is of the essence."

"What do you want him to do?" the words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to think twice about it.

"You know the property better than anyone," Seth replied, speaking directly to Sketch. "I can only assume that you've scoped out his house a thousand times. I need you to get me in there undetected."

"And then what?" I asked, knowing there was more.

Because there wasalwaysmore.

"Help me get to him," he replied simply, never once looking my way. "Be my second. Watch my back. I am not foolish enough to believe that a coward like my father lives unprotected."

"He doesn't," Sketch bit out.

"Exactly." He looked my friend dead in the eye. "Do this. Be mysotocapo, Giacobbe. Help me to destroy the monster that killed both of our mothers, and I will never stop searching until we find my sister."

9

Romi

Before my world imploded around me, when I thought of the word war, I would imagine guns, bomb shelters, explosions, and uniformed soldiers.

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