Page 3 of Twisted Throne

I love you. I always will. But I won’t put her in danger.

I lay the letter down on top of the box. My brain was spinning. Maybe even racing, confusion and curiosity battling with the grief that had come roaring back to the surface. I sat there, staring blankly ahead. But I wasn’t seeing the faded, peeling wallpaper or ripped up carpet. I thought about the man in the news, and tried to picture Mom with someone like that. If she knew who the hell he was and the kind of stuff he was into, why on earth would she have gotten involved with him in the first place if he was so dangerous? My hands were shaking—from shock or anger, I wasn’t sure.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Not for the first time I wished I had family or a close friend to talk things out with and get advice from. Mom’s parents both passed away before I could remember them, and she didn’t have any siblings. It had always been just the two of us. I’d had friends, sure. But no one that I had ever been very close to. And when I left college to move back home to take care of her, the few friends I did have slowly drifted away over time. Work friends? That was a laugh. The only people I saw regularly were my sleaze of a landlord and the cashier at the Chinese takeout place.

Now it seemed that I finally had an opportunity to have family in my life, and it turns out they’re a bunch of crooks.

I completely forgot about my dinner until I caught a whiff of smoke. I went into my dingy kitchenette and pulled out the now burnt, gluey mess. My appetite was gone anyway, so I just started a pot of coffee. While it made most people jittery, I’d always unwound over a mug of coffee. It was entirely possible that I drank so much that the caffeine had just given up and decided to relax me instead.

I shook the grounds into the coffeemaker, poured the water at just the right speed, and then held the back of the coffeemaker until the water had gurgled down into the safe zone so the reservoir wouldn’t shake off its base. The coffeemaker I had was probably old enough to get a driver’s license. By this point, I knew all of the tricks to coax the perfect cup of coffee out of it, although I still held my breath each time it kicked on for fear it would finally bite the dust on me.

Once I’d gotten my battered coffeemaker past the danger stage, I ducked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. Hot, bitter, and satisfying, the coffee filled my mouth as I waited for my ancient laptop to connect to my neighbor’s Wi-Fi. The signal was weak, but there wasn’t a password on it so it would have to do. Once it finally booted up, I opened my browser and googled “Angelo LaRosa”. After what felt like an eternity, the search results flooded in and I started reading.

There were tons of news articles that popped up for him. The first one I saw was the story I’d remembered from the news. “Angelo LaRosa Acquitted of Money Laundering Charges”. There were dozens more, going back to before I was even born. “Angelo LaRosa Quoted As ‘Not Worried’ About Upcoming Charges”. “26 Arrested For Weapons Smuggling”.

Well, now I understand what Mom meant about “his world”. But I was surprised to find a ton of articles that had nothing to do with any sort of crime. “Angelo LaRosa Funds New Hospital Wing”. “Local Businessman Sponsors After School Art Program”. He even sponsored a huge fundraising gala for the local homeless shelters. There were pictures of him at events with everyone from the chief of police to the mayor. I studied the photos closely. The more recent ones showed a man well into his fifties but still fit. He was standing on the front steps of the courthouse, laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world, although the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was surrounded by a team of lawyers in fancy suits. His shoes probably cost more than every single thing I owned. My mom had struggled to raise me on her own, I know that he didn’t know, but some immature part of me still complained that it wasn’t fair.

However, for each story of his apparent generosity, there were also plenty of darker stories. “Suspected Crime Boss Suspect in Double Homicide”. “Police Find Connection Between LaRosa and Body Found in River”. Lots of charges. Lots of gossip, lots of rumors. Lots of fear between the lines. While no charges seemed to stick to him, it all seemed to lead to organized crime at the highest level.

I found myself falling down a rabbit hole of information. News articles, public records, arrest reports, I read them all. I lost all track of time, just kept researching until my eyes started to burn and my laptop began to overheat. In some strange way, I felt like I was catching up on decades of those family stories typically shared over a holiday dinner. Of course, laughing at stories about your kooky Aunt Melinda was a far cry from reading about how your father had been a suspect in multiple homicides.

Just one more.

I clicked on another article, “LaRosa Family Linked to Smuggling Ring”, and sat there waiting for the page to load. It was always slow—an old laptop plus spotty, stolen Wi-Fi didn’t make for speed. But it was definitely taking longer than usual. Frowning, I stared at the screen. After several minutes, a pop-up appeared on my screen.

ACCESS DENIED

I went back and clicked on another article at random.

ACCESS DENIED

Great, it must be behind a paywall or something.

It was late, and I needed to get to bed anyway. I shut the computer and stood, stretching out my stiff back.

Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep once I turned off the lights. I lay in bed with my mind still racing. Even after all of my research tonight, I still don’t know if Angelo LaRosa is someone that I want in my life. But there must be some good in him as well, or Mom wouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place. I needed to see him and judge for myself. Somehow.

Chapter Three

Paul

Angelo’s face looked like a thunderstorm as Carlos and I sat in his office the next morning. Finding out we had a traitor among us was the last thing he had expected to hear and the last thing I thought I would ever have to tell him.

“As much as I hate to think anyone in our family would leak information to Sabitino, I can’t think of any other explanation for recent events. We need to flush out the traitor, and soon,” Angelo finally said. “We need to keep this quiet while we make a plan. I don’t want to alert ourtraditorebefore we’re ready to show our hand.”

I know Angelo has a soft spot for Alec. Having lost both his wife and son years back, he had never remarried or had any other children. While he had the occasional female companion over the years, they never lasted long. Smart man. I’ve always found women to be nothing more than distractions. Useful for the occasional fuck, but that’s about it.

“So, this stays just between the three of us then?” I asked.

Angelo snorted and leaned back in his chair.

“You’re asking if I’m going to share this information with Alec,si?” he chuckled. “Ordinarily I would. Alec is my family, my blood. Although I know that there have been some problems between the two of you over the years, I have no doubts about where his loyalties lie. However, the fewer people know of this, the less chance there is that someone will say something they shouldn’t. We will keep this to ourselves for now.”

“Sending Johnny to try and burn our warehouse was a clumsy move. Sabitino had to have realized he wouldn’t be able to pull it off,” Carlos spoke up. “So why did he use him instead of one of his capos? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if his true intention wasn’t to burn the warehouse at all but to use him to send us a message. The bastard’s fucking with us,” I snarled.