His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (mystery books to read .TXT) 📗

myth, a hit happens by whoever can get close to the hit. For my uncle, the person closest to him was my father. For many years, my mother didn’t know who did it. When she found out it was my father even though she knew her brother was a bad guy, it messed with her. It was their first and only real fight after they were settled into marriage and was big enough she tried to leave him. She said she needed space, she’d be back. My father wasn’t having it. You stay and you fight it through. She wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom fine, but she wasn’t going anywhere.” His hand runs through his hair.

“Pop carried her kicking and screaming into the house. My brother heard what they were fighting about. Our father had told him, raised us this is the life we would lead. There were things we would do others couldn’t. Salvatore knew that. I think it freaked him out though one day he might be called upon to kill family. One of the basic tenets of the mafia is it comes before all else, even your own family.”

He sighs and glances to the closed door of his office. “The thing was, for Sabatinis we say fuck that rule. We mouth the words, but a Sabatini family member comes before the mafia. There are plans in place, going back to my grandfather, if we ever need to, that we’ll cut and run rather than put the family first. I don’t know how Salvatore didn’t get it. Both my grandfather and father were clear on the importance of our family before the family. My father killed his brother-in-law because he was a woman-raping, piece of shit who got caught skimming. Not because his Don ordered it.”

“Did your mother know about the rape thing?” I can’t imagine being torn between the love of my brother and my husband.

His hand goes up to the back of his neck. “No, my father was trying to protect her from it. She had an idea her brother wasn’t a good guy but not to what extent. Her father and brother were mafia, but without much honor than whatever made them money. She didn’t get there were degrees of bad not to be crossed. Her mother didn’t really want her to know much. However, she picked up enough living in a home where it went on around her. It wasn’t until my father saw it was tearing her up that he told her all the bad shit her brother did. They were able to patch things up, but Salvatore wouldn’t let it go. Got all hateful of the family and my father. Went off to Yale, got a fancy degree that mafia money paid for, then went after us through the D.A.’s office.”

“I read some of the stuff he said. It was pretty harsh. I can’t believe he took money yet ignored his family the rest of his life.” What a dick.

“Hm, his wife came to see me a few times and brought their kids.” His chuckle is bitter. “She needed money and used those kids to get it. My mother would have ordered me to hand over every penny we had to see those kids. Salvatore was so full of himself as some righteous do-gooder. Then he turned around and killed his cheating wife and himself because he couldn’t let her go. I’m glad my mother died before she saw him do it. He hurt her enough. Fucked up the whole damn family more than enough.”

I want to ask, but I bite my tongue.

He sees it and sighs. “Because of him, Dominic won’t have kids.”

“What?”

“My mother basically raised my kids because my wife wouldn’t. Dominic saw how much it hurt my mother for Salvatore to deny her and his family. The mafia is a family business in every sense of the word. My sons, and if Dominic were to have a son would be expected to continue on in this life. If they didn’t,” he sighs. “It would not go over well among the family. Salvatore didn’t want anything to do with the mafia. He was bitter and vocal about how even though he wasn’t one of us, his name was Sabatini and it haunted him in this city. Dominic wants his kids to be free to be whatever the hell they want to be. Since they won’t have that freedom, he would rather not have them at all.”

“I’m sorry.” I long to touch him, to soothe the anger in him. “Did you want to be a grandfather?”

“It’s not about me having a grandchild. I want my son to be happy. The best thing to ever happen to me in this life is my sons. Children are agony and ecstasy, the agony soon forgotten over the ecstasy. I wanted him to have that.”

A lump is in my throat at his words, at the emotion churning in his blue eyes. This time I can’t stop reaching out to him. My hand goes to his chest as I step forward on unsteady legs. His hands go to my waist, and his lips tease mine before his tongue slides inside my mouth.

The phone on his desk rings, and I jump. Tony smiles as he reaches over and answers the phone. His other hand on my waist moves up my back, keeping me against him. Once again, he speaks Italian with whoever is on the phone. I have no idea what’s being said, but it’s clear his Italian flows more smoothly than the other person’s. The call doesn’t last long.

“Do you speak Italian all the time with your men, or is it because I’m here?” I’m curious.

His dimple flashes at me. “Because you’re here. You don’t speak any language other than English.”

It’s not really a question, but I answer anyway. “No, I took Latin in school because I got laughed at by the other Mexican kids when I tried to speak Spanish. I was glad