Page 14 of Inferno

“Lapse in judgement. I’m getting old. All he had to do was fall on his ass and we’d have a boatload of cash right now.”

My eyes roll, a clear sign of my exasperation.

“We don’t need money. And since when has Conan ever listened to us?”

He chews his lip, deep in thought. Almost as if he is reminiscing as he smiles.

“He only listened to your mother. Remember that time at school when he nearly strangled that boy to death for stealing his sandwich?”

I shake my head, a chuckle rumbling in my chest.

“How the fuck could I forget that? Mom was furious. I’ve never seen her that mad. I vaguely recall a saucepan being thrown at the wall.”

“Yep. That was her. Sweet as pie until you pissed her off, then all hell broke loose.”

That glimmer in his eye appears. It’s there every time he talks about her.

“She was angry because he publicly embarrassed the family name. Not because he defended himself. That was her motto. She wanted you guys to be respected outside. Not thugs. But behind the scenes, she had no issues with seeking revenge. If Conan would have gone to the boy’s house in the middle of the night and then taught him a lesson, without a crowd, she wouldn’t have batted an eye. It’s about being feared for the right reasons.”

I solemnly nod. Even talking about her, the memories, as much as they bring joy, bring pain alongside them.

“Good job we have you, then. We can get through to Conan.”

He looks up at the clock and back at me, his dark blue eyes burning into me.

“This old man won’t be around forever, son.”

“You’re sixty-eight. Plenty of years left.”

He spins the glass on the wooden table.

“I hope so. But honestly, just know when I go, I’ll be at peace with it. I miss your mother, and you boys have each other.”

“You ain’t going anywhere.”

He can’t. We need him.

“Now, back to Enzo. You three are going to take a little trip.” He smirks.

I raise a brow. “To where?”

“Italy,” he replies.

“When?”

“Tonight. Jet is ready. You just have to pack.”

He pulls out a burner phone from his desk drawer and slides it across to me.

“His men will meet you on the landing strip. You will have to pass a test first to secure the meet.”

I twirl the cool, smooth ring on my index finger, feeling its weight.

“A job in Italy? That sounds fun.”

“Be prepared for anything, son. Use your brothers to your advantage, but I suspect it will be mostly on you. You represent the Quinns to Enzo.”

My heart pounds a rapid rhythm of excitement and apprehension, a mixture of anticipation and dread.

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