The Mafia Contract Series

Three weeks later

As the plane touches down at Seattle airport, the smile on my lips was put there by the thought of Wesley wondering where the fuck I’ve gone.

It’s not unusual for me to take off. He knows me by now, but I have been gone for one week already and my phone is lit with abusive texts and threats from the bastard himself.

As the commercial jet taxis to the stand, I dash out a reply and hit send with a soft laugh.

I’m on vacation, uncle.

I’ll text you when I’m home.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

The fact it’s not unusual buys me more time and I’m guessing he’s given up trying to understand me by now. I know I frustrate him, and the bastard is deluded if he thinks I can’t look after myself and is probably thinking I’ve hooked up with a chick in Bora Bora or something.

I probably only have one more week at the most before his patience runs out and so I need to act fast.

If I’m nervous at all, it doesn’t show and as I grab a cab and rattle off the address, only his raised eyebrows tell me he’s impressed.

I’m guessing he doesn’t get many customers heading to Denny-Blaine, and certainly not one looking like me.

I can’t help the threatening aura I dress in every morning. I shrug it on when I reach for my gun. I get that I intimidate people, hell I make a career of it, and I hide behind the mask of ‘don’t fuck with me’ because I prefer it this way. Now I’m wondering if I should tone it down a little. The woman I have come to see may not appreciate the fuck off attitude and dark smoldering eyes. I’m guessing she’s used to a different kind of visitor, and yet how can I pretend to be something I’m not? This is who I am, not who I want to be, and I need her help to see if there is anything worth salvaging in this sorry carcass that was inflicted on the world courtesy of her womb.

We reach the outskirts of the neighborhood they live, and it’s as if the air is fresher here, with more oxygen, pure even. As the houses grow in size and are surrounded by parkland, I can tell my mother has fallen on her feet at least. I should be resentful of that, but until I’ve heard her story, I’m happy for her. I’m hoping she has a good explanation for what happened to me and I’m not sure I can deal with hearing she gave me up willingly.

All my life I’ve lived with rejection, pain, and loneliness. Me against the world until I met my brothers at college and finally found a place I belonged. Do I belong here with her? I’m pretty nervous about that and as the car rolls into the driveway and stops short of huge wooden gates, I experience a moment’s doubt that I did the right thing in showing up here at all.

The driver lowers his window and presses the intercom and my mouth dries as he looks over his shoulder and barks, “Your name?”

I’m not a man who is prone to panic attacks, but now seems a good place to start and my voice doesn’t even sound like mine as I whisper, “Flynn V asquez.”

Now I feel like a fool because why the fuck would they let me in and as he speaks the words, I curse my own stupidity.

I hear the voice on the intercom say sharply, “Wait there. Someone will be out to speak with you.”

And my heart sinks. This may prove more difficult than I thought.

I watch as a side gate opens, and the security guard appears, staring with suspicion in my direction.

Trying hard to appear normal, I smile and step out of the cab.

“Hi, um, they aren’t expecting me, but I’m here to see Vivian Clark.”

“You’re not on the list.”

He looks bored, unconcerned even, and I nod. “I know. It’s just, well, it’s very important that I see her. If you could maybe just pass a message on, I would be grateful.”

“What message?”

The guy looks bored already and I say quickly, “Could you tell her that I was sent by Iris Young?”

He nods and heads back the way he came and I’m hoping like hell this gamble will pay off.

The cab driver throws me a pitying look which doesn’t make me feel any better about things and it seems like an eternity before the guy heads back and regards me with a different expression from the one before.

“Follow me.”

The cab driver whistles, and I am so astonished, I grasp a bunch of dollar bills and hand them to him, muttering my thanks.

As I head through the gate, my heart thumps because now I’m here, I’m not even sure what I’m going to say.

We walk up a path flanked by flowering shrubs and home to ornamental lighting that must be amazing at night. In fact, this place gets more impressive by the second as a billionaire’s world opens up before my eyes.

I’m used to fancy living. My uncle demands it, but this is something else. This wasn’t paid for by broken bones and blasted brains. This wasn’t the product of another person’s misery or a drugs deal.

This is what hard work, and a lot of luck gets you and even the air tastes clean without the ghosts of the damned circling as you live in the shadow of their misery.

I take a huge draft of fresh, honest air and wonder if it’s something I might experience in my future. Probably not, but I can dream at least and as I follow the security guard through a door in the side of an outbuilding, I wonder what the next hour will bring.

First, I am made to surrender any weapons and I almost laugh as I lay the gun on the table, followed by my hunting knife.

He looks surprised, and I grin ruefully.

“Sorry. I take my right to bear arms seriously; you need to where I come from.”

He looks a little worried, and for some reason I want to reassure him.

“Listen, I’m here for information and mean nobody any harm. It’s a little delicate, but I promise I won’t cause a scene.”

Maybe he believes me when his expression softens a little as I try to dilute the menacing edge I wear so well and appear like any normal person for once.

He asks me to fill in a form with my contact details and it’s as if I’m applying for a job and in a sick way, I suppose I am. The job of Vivian Clark’s son. I wonder if she has a vacancy.

It takes thirty minutes to bypass security, and the guard escorts me to a room on the other side of the courtyard.

It remains separate from the house and looks to be an office of sorts and he points to a seat set around a low-slung table.

“Mrs. Sullivan will meet you here. You have five minutes.”

I watch as he retreats to a seat set against the wall and I sigh inside. Part of me is happy she has security and part of me resents it. I mean her no harm. Even if I don’t like what I hear, I will be richer for it.

The clock ticks down to the most important meeting of my life and, as I wait, I set my mind accordingly. Despite my personal reason for coming here, I still have a job to do and marriage into this family will assure us of the strongest allies.

Despite everything, I can’t fail my brothers and so if things don’t go according to our strategy, I will just have to suck it up and revert to Plan B.