Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Well, fuck.
“The latter sounds interesting,” West offered.
“It’s easy too,” Kellan said. “Alfie, if I were you, I’d get one local business and then invest in property in tourist-heavy areas overseas. But not where you can step on any cartel toes. They’re territorial and emotional as fuck. They think with their guns because their dicks and brains are too small.”
I laughed and wiped my mouth with my napkin.
Shan looked curiously at West. “Do you plan on getting involved in this side hustle?”
I watched my man, curious about his answer.
“I think it would be easiest,” West confirmed. “If we go in with my money, so to speak, everything will look legitimate from the start. Nobody would come around asking from where he got his capital.”
As much as that heated up my already lava-hot soul, it made me a little worried too.
I slipped my hand onto his thigh. “You don’t gotta do that, honey. I don’t want you involved if it makes you feel uncomfortable in any way. There’s a reason I go by O’Dwyer in the syndicate. To create a semblance of distance between work and private.”
Kellan did the same, but for the opposite reason. They didn’t want Sons outside the inner circle knowing his personal life; the rule of thumb was to say nothing about anything. Everyone was on a need-to-know basis. Hence, why everyone knew him as Kellan Ford. He’d always be Ford to me. But after he’d married Shan, he’d hyphenated to add O’Shea to his passport. Well, one of his passports.
“If I were uncomfortable in any way, I wouldn’t have offered,” West assured. “That’s not to say I don’t have stipulations. I want some of that money to do actual good.”
That was fair—and something I’d considered already. For as long as I had known him, he’d had his own monthly charity fund. A sum of money he gave away to various nonprofits.
“I have ideas for that,” I promised. I looked to Shan. “Is that difficult setting up? ’Cause I was talking to my mom the other week, and she said something about her neighbor who goes to a food bank. They ran out of food last month because some fuckers abuse the aid.”
Shan nodded with a dip of his chin. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of exploitation in food banks and certain welfare programs. Some do it so blatantly too, zero shame when they roll up in their luxury car and pick up groceries.”
Yeah, that. Like, I wasn’t an idiot. I knew someone with a leased Mercedes could struggle to make ends meet; I wouldn’t judge anyone based on what they drove, but evidently, this was a whole thing. A big problem. Usually smaller criminal outfits, like family-sized, had created a system to just take whatever was supposed to be going to people who were actually struggling.
For fucking real. Man up and steal from the government and people who had money, like a respectable person.
“Right, so fuck those cunts,” I said. “But it made me wanna do something with delivering groceries to old people like my mom and stuff.”
At first, I thought I had their instant approval, but Shan’s signature fatherly smile faded toward the end, and he turned to West.
“Is Giulia even sixty?”
“Nope.” West wasn’t smiling anymore either. He was just picking at his food.
Had I said something wrong?
“What’s happening?” Thank fuck, Kellan was confused too. “I think it’s a great idea.”
West cleared his throat. “I thought so too, until he called his mother old. She’s nine fucking years older than me.”
“That makes her…” Shan furrowed his brow, maybe doing the math…? Before he widened his eyes at me. “She’s fifty-four? Boy, I officially denounce you as my nephew and a member of this family. Get the fuck out.”
“But—” I spluttered a laugh as it dawned on me. At the same time, I got confused, ’cause I was sure my mom was older. “Wait—no. She’s fifty-seven or something!”
“That’s your dad,” West grated out. “For God’s sake, Alfie.”
Oh, yikes. My ears felt hot all of a sudden, and I ran a hand through my hair.
Unfuck this, unfuck this, unfuck this.
“I don’t consider youse old,” I said urgently. “With my mom, it’s different. She’s…you know. She has a kid who’s over thirty, and—”
“So do I,” Shan deadpanned.
Fuck! I looked to Kellan for help, but he was too busy trying not to explode with laughter. Motherfucker!
“She’s small and frail!” I exclaimed.
West gave me a look of disbelief. “She would tan your fucking hide if she heard you say that.”
“So don’t rat me out,” I spat. “Fuck you, I never called you old. You’re digging for shit—”
“We’re the same generation,” he pointed out.
“Nuh-uh! She’s forever stuck in the ’50s,” I argued.
“Oh God.” Kellan burst out in laughter and hid his face in his hands.
Fuck this bullshit! I was done!
I gritted my teeth, feeling all flushed, and my chest felt a little tight. I reached for another tempura shrimp drenched in sriracha mayo, and I chomped down on it. I chewed and chewed and stared the old motherfuckers down. I wasn’t playing their game. Fuck ’em!