Page 75 of Demon's Angel

“You may. If I was in your place, I would too. But Angelino has betrayed me…”

“You went along with his plans. Here, in this room, you were encouraging him to make a play for the child he claims. The baby that is my son.”

“I did. I will always support a father wanting to stand up and parent a child.” Lucio doesn’t try to hide it. “But what he’s doing now? It goes so much further than that.” He attempts a smile; it doesn’t quite work. “I have men loyal to me. Men suspicious of Angel’s ambitions. Men who have presented me with facts. Facts you need to know.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Demon

“All I need to know is where Violet is,” I growl.

“That is information I do not have. I may be able to help; unless you prefer to shoot me instead,” he laughs mirthlessly, “I would suggest you have patience. There are things you first should hear.”

Hell gestures at me. My lips thin as I interpret he wants a quiet word. When I nod, he walks to a corner of the room. Drawing close enough, he speaks into my ear, “Lucio’s right. We go way back. He plays it straight. Never known him to engage in cat and mouse. I’d listen to him.”

“We’re wasting time,” I whisper back.

His hand grips my shoulder. “I know, Son. Know this is tearing you apart. But it appears we were lured here by a trick. All we know is that Angel has her, but more than that? We’re in the dark. If Lucio can shed some light on it, I think we ought to hear what he has to say.”

A sharp nod, then I’m walking back. “I’ll listen. But make it quick.”

“May I?” He points to a satin-covered couch. When he sits, Hell, Red, Drummer and myself remain standing. “I’m afraid a history lesson is in order. Or a refresh of memory in your case, Hell.”

Drummer and Red exchange glances, their eyes sharpening with interest.

“When your club started, Hell, do you recall what it was like, then?” He doesn’t wait for an answer but continues, “Unemployment with the closure of the mills. No work available, people wanting money, and who had time on their hands. They wanted an escape from their pain. It was an ideal bed of unrest, and the opportunity to get drugs pouring in.”

That’s not news to me. The club had been part of that; Blackie was always up for a quick buck. It might be his history, but it’s my club’s as well. After Blackie’s death, Furnace had taken a move to the side, brothers who had become hooked on that shit found no sympathy in the club or supply and left. But we’d still provided safe passage for drug-runners, and accepted their money. Until Hell had taken over and made the agreement with the Satan’s Devils that we didn’t touch drugs in any shape or form and kept them out of our territory.

“The Devils were bit players,” Lucio confirms. “Useful, but not invested. No competition. Someone needed to step in and take control.”

“The Silvestri. But with all due respect, how’s this helping me get Violet back?”

“Patience,” Lucio snaps, telling me again. But before I can remind him who he’s talking to, the man whose life, or more accurately, his death is in my hands, continues, “Not just the Silvestri, but another famiglia too. A family by the name of Parma.” His gaze settles on my face, but I show no reaction. “The boss was Vittore Parma.”

Now I can’t control my body’s slight involuntary jerk.Coincidence?

“I never knew the full name.” Hell’s face creases. “Demon would only have been a youngster, kept well out of the war.”

“War it was. Twofamigliasfighting over the same territory. Foot soldiers, associates, only. Parma never showed his face, just sent in his men. It was over fast. We held the town, we were the victors. But it came at a cost. My eldest, Angel’s brother, was tortured and killed. He was sent back to me in pieces. Revenge for his death has been a debt of honour unpaid for twenty years.

“Do you know what an associate is, Demon?” His change of tack takes me by surprise.

I nod my head.

He gives me the answer I’d neither requested nor needed. “They are not like your prospects. There’s no trial period or initiation to go through. No, an associate is someone who works for us, fights for us, but can never rise up the ranks, as they are not of Italian descent. To become asoldato, a soldier, or progress higher, a person needs pure Italian blood.”

Dots are joining fast in my head. Drawing an incredible unbelievable picture. “Angel believes Victor Palmer and Vittore Parma were one and the same? That Violet is a descendant of the Italian Mafia? That bird won’t fly, Lucio. He’s crazy if he does. Her father was as American as apple pie.”

“We’d assumed he controlled everything from afar. But he didn’t. He was here, living and working among us. Pulling strings.”

Hellfire’s shaking his head. “A coincidence, Lucio. I knew the man. He was an accountant. Meek and mild-mannered. Walked too far across on the right side of the line for me to call him a friend. But our kids got on well. I checked him out, as any father would, before allowing Dave, Demon, to get acquainted with his boy.”

“He had you fooled. Us too. Not one of us looked in his direction or connected the name. An accountant, yes, ideally placed to cover many transactions which, shall we say, were far over the wrong side of the line you speak off.”

“You implying he continued the war?”

“No. That ended with the defeat. His crew was either killed or disbanded, his businesses absorbed into ours. We confiscated, shall we say, his money. He had nothing, or very little left. He continued his cover, became his cover.” Lucio coughs, a hacking sound. “I’d given up looking, had assumed Parma had died, or maybe had returned with his tail between his legs to Italy. But Angelino didn’t stop. It became his religion. Although there was a large age gap—you may recall, my first wife died, and I’d taken a second later.” I’m vaguely aware Lucio had buried two wives but hadn’t paid much attention. “Angelino became obsessed with the death of his half-brother. It was about eighteen months ago that he discovered the truth and brought it to me.”

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