He tilted his head, giving me a subtle yet powerful stare. "Your father is a proud man himself. He will never admit his faults and trust me, he has plenty of them."
The comment seemed odd coming from my father's best friend. I contemplated the meaning, swirling the liquid in the glass before finally taking a sip. I wasn't entirely certain the bourbon, albeit smooth and delicious, could soothe the anger continuing to swell. "My father is vile, nasty, and has no understanding of anything or anyone but himself and his needs. You and I both know that."
"Which is what has kept him alive all these years." John Paul eased a cigar from the crystal ashtray, his shaking hand reaching and missing the lighter. I grabbed the polished steel piece, holding my hand over the flame as I attempted to light the tip of the foul-smelling cigar. I loathed the things, even though I'd enjoyed the scent as a boy. Maybe they were simply a reminder of all the meetings I'd been forced to sit through, my father at the helm of some oversized table, pontificating about his organization, detailing exactly how business should go or heads would roll.
And now, I was contemplating doing the exact same thing.
I remained quiet after as he coughed before inhaling the smoke, holding it in his mouth. He blew out in small ringlets, obviously pleased with himself given the smile on his face.
"There are many things you don't know about your father, but I suspect he might not get the opportunity to tell you," he continued, the raspy voice laced with sadness.
"I need to find out who's responsible."
"You already know. Saltori issued the hit, no doubt predicated by authorization from Don Dante."
"You really think the Massimos are muscling in?"
"They've wanted your father's piece for years, especially the real estate and the ports. That would put them in prime position for bringing in various... opportunities." He smiled. "Did you know they've made this very attempt before?"
I glanced at him, surprised when the adrenaline increased. "I know there have been several hits over the years. He never explained in detail who was responsible."
He laughed, tipping back his head to study the sky. "A close call was made just after your mother died. They believed Ricardo was weak. It cost the lives of three of his most valued soldiers, something he never forgave himself for. From there, your father made certain that Don Dante Massimo knew he would exact revenge one day. Bad blood has been between them ever since."
"That's the reason he kept Saltori on in the first place. To keep a watchful eye."
"The exact reason. Your father is quite cunning."
There was obviously a lot I didn't know about my father's organization and the troubles I'd inherited. "One thing is for certain. I need to make a move. Saltori's in hiding, suppliers bailing. Even some of the land deals are on hold. Hell, the hospital wants a damn DNR." I raked my hand through my hair, anxiety kicking my ass.
John Paul took a sip of his cognac, his hard swallow somewhat exaggerated. "Then let me ask you a question and you need to be honest with yourself. Do you honestly think you're ready to take the reins? To become the Don of Los Angeles?"
While his tone wasn't accusatory, I was still offended. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"I think you are, son. As a matter of fact, you're much stronger and even more cunning than your father has even been."
A deep sigh slipped from my lips.
He chuckled, taking another puff. "The move you made was very bold and very dangerous."
"What move?"
"Don't fuck with me, kid. Abducting the princess of the Italian mafia took balls. That solidified the fact that you are more than ready for what's about to come your way."
I was surprised he'd already heard the news. "Who else knows?"
"It's quiet right now, but as you can imagine, connecting the dots won't take long. I'm certain you were followed here today by one of Saltori's goons. I suspect they've been watching you for years, waiting for you to take over given there's no other choice. Your father isn't a young man any longer, but they know he's smart. Organized. A man like Ricardo Cappalini would have a plan in motion in case of a tragedy."
A plan. Yes, my father would have everything in order.
John Paul had a coughing fit, his frail hand pressing over his mouth. When he pulled it away, I could see a splattering of blood.
"How long do you have?" I heard the sadness in my voice.
His once vibrant eyes held such sadness as he turned toward me. "Four months, maybe five. Or so the great doctors tell me anyway. I don't want to leave your father alone and now, with this... tragedy..." His words trailed off.
"I will avenge this and he's not exactly alone."
"I believe you're already doing that." He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his mouth. "But you need to be very careful. You're playing with fire. Francesca is royalty as far as the world of organized crime goes. Massimo will stop at nothing to get her back. Her father is very important to Don Dante. The wealth and the connections mean more to them than anything. From what I've heard, Saltori's men tore Francesca's place apart, looking for evidence."
"Course they did. Who gives a shit?" I chuckled.
He shook his head. "They did a number on that girl you left behind. Beat her up pretty badly, certain she was in on the kidnapping."
A cold chill shifted down my spine. "Those fuckers."
"That's just the beginning, Michael. You need to think like your father. You upped the ante, but you're going to have to deal with the aftermath."
"I know that." I fiddled with the glass, uncertainty crowding my mind. "Francesca is a damn pawn in all of this. She doesn't deserve the crap they handed out to her. She chose to live another life, refusing to buy into their bullshit and violence. I almost feel sorry for her. Hell, maybe I was able to stop a certain atrocity by taking her."
There was a moment of utter silence, the only noise the wind swishing through the palm trees.
"You're much stronger than you know, Michael, but you do have a weakness, the very one your father had," John Paul said quietly.
"What weakness is that?"
He reached out, grabbing my hand. "A beautiful woman. Your mother was one of the most gorgeous women your father and I ever laid eyes on. She could have been a star."
"Yeah, until my father coerced her into marrying him. Besides, I don't give a shit about Francesca."