Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice Book 5)

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Greyson,” I went on as if I didn’t hear them, “was no longer useful.”

  And he was the only one who could link Calliope to me over the years. All the other guards, who had ever met her by chance, were either dead or far too removed from the family now to ever be of any use to anyone. But Greyson? If he was pressed by Wyatt or anyone else in this family about the past, they could uncover something. It was better to clean up loose ends this way than risk the narrative Calliope and I had dedicated so much of our lives to creating. That was the first and most important reason. The second was closer to what I told Monk. Greyson ran his mouth too much. However, I couldn’t just off the man; he’d been loyal to a degree, and people were watching. If I had just tossed him to the side, it would be harder to keep getting people to replace him.

  “Admit it, you were expecting me to fuck it up,” Darcy snickered.

  “What would be the point of wanting you to fuck it up, Darcy? Your fuck ups are a reflection of me,” I replied.

  “By that logic, his victory is yours then, too,” Uncle Neal replied.

  “It’s the family’s, isn’t it?” My eyebrow raised, and he smirked.

  “Aye.” He nodded, sounding much more Irish all of a sudden.

  “O’Phelan,” I stated when I came back into the room.

  “Yes, sir.” He stepped forward.

  “Let my wife know that she will need to plan a closed casket funeral for Greyson later.”

  “Yes, sir.” He stepped back again.

  The dining room grew quiet as all of them tried to accept and fit together the pieces of the puzzle in front of them. So finally, I got the silence I was looking for, allowing me to enjoy my meal. But just as soon as it came, it went. Someone else felt the need to test me, it seemed.

  “How?”

  We all paused at the stern and cold tone, which came from Sedric, who was no longer eating but just glaring at Darcy.

  “What—”

  “I was supposed to go with you,” Sedric cut off Darcy. “Which means this was something he had planned for us to get done together. But I got sidelined at the last minute. So, you did what he wanted you to do alone…How?”

  Darcy sat up in his chair, the light manor in him now gone, looking back at Sedric. “Just because he preferred two doesn’t mean two were needed. It was one body, not an army. I’m sure there was another way, but I adapted. All of our properties have tripwires to blow if need be—something Uncle Liam told us when we were younger. I took that and made a smaller bomb and put it on the rat. Why? Because I needed time to escape and make up a valid story to get out. I wasn’t sure if Greyson should be a hero or not, but seeing as he wasn’t made an example by Ethan and killed slowly, I figured it was better not to trash the guy’s name. So, I did what I had to do. Why do you seem disappointed, cousin? Were you hoping I’d fail without you? That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think? I would suggest you and your sister start working on keeping those feelings to yourself.”

  Sedric’s jaw tilted to the side, his nose flared, but his eyes just shifted to me. “Excuse me, Ethan—”

  “No,” I cut him off.

  “Ethan, I’d rather be—”

  “Sit. The. Fuck. Down,” I hollered, and he did. “Do I look like I give a shit where you’d rather be? You dislike this? Well, get used to doing things you dislike. You wanted to be part of this; you wanted to be part of the business, so you need to learn who the fuck I am. I am not just your cousin. I am your boss; you work for me. You might not have noticed with your head stuck so far up your ass, but this city has cops all over it. We are infested, and instead of worrying about how the fucking hell we are going to keep our business going or what you can do, you and your sister keep bitching about how you are being treated. Do I look like I give a single flying fuck about your feelings? This is not a game! This is our fucking lives! So, open your goddamn ears and hear me because I will not repeat this shit to you again. One, you do not tell me what you’d rather do—ever! Two, you do what I fucking tell you to do—when the fuck I tell you to do it! And three—this is very important—you do not disrespect the mother of my child, not now, not ever again! Do you understand? Should I break it down more for you? Because yes, that also means you work for Calliope, too. The rules I just gave you apply to her as well. If you or your sister or anyone else in this family ever, and I mean ever disrespects me or my wife again, I swear to God, in front of your motherfucking parents, I will cut you in half and throw you into the goddamn river! I am fucking done holding all of your hands. Get in fucking line or get the fuck out of my face you fucking morons!” I hollered, throwing my dish at his head, but he moved, the plate shattering behind him.

  Silence filled the room, and I met the gaze of all of my so-called family, the people who were supposed to be my arms and legs. Yet for years, they had been dead weight, sucking the life out of me. That was going to change!

  Taking a deep breath, I glanced over to O’Phelan, who stood in the corner of the room silently. “Have the chef make me another plate.”

  “Tonight’s meal was made by your wife, sir, should I call her?” he replied.

  I fucking knew it.

  Wyatt dropped his fork and glared at me. “If she poisoned me again—”

  “Are you threatening her, brother? Did my words go in one fucking ear and out the other? Do you think I raised my voice for fun?” I asked, and he just cracked his jaw to the side before picking up his fork again.

  “O’Phelan, did she fire our other chef?”

  “No, she gave him a list of food she wants prepared for tomorrow. If he fails, she’ll fire him then.”

  “I’m fine. Have him prepare me something. I do not care what, and have it sent to my office; I have work to do,” I demanded, rising from the chair.

  I did not offer another word to any of them as I stepped back into the foyer. Laughter no longer came from the opposite room. The doors were partially open, and I could see my aunts all with worried glances staring back at me. The only one not looking at me was Calliope, who was whispering to Gigi in her lap. So, I ignored them and went upstairs and into the elevator.

  The doors had only just closed when my phone began to buzz. I stared at the international number for a moment before answering.

  “I am not your twin, and yet, somehow, you always manage to call whenever I am tempted to kill yours, Donatella.”

  12

  “And I silently simmered

  in the chaos of my mind and heart.”

  ~ Penny Reid

  ETHAN

  “Well, hello to you, Ethan? Or should I say, Dad?” Donatella’s cool and arrogant voice filled my ear, clearly annoyed.

  “Seeing as how I am not your father, I do not think Dad would be appropriate.”

  She groaned loudly. “Good to hear that your annoying voice hasn’t changed.”

  “Do voices change in a week?”

  “I’ve been gone for over a month, Ethan!”

  “Really? I had not noticed.”

  “Fuck y—ugh. I am not going to let you distract me. Let’s skip the brother-sister formalities and simply get to the part where you explain to me why I was not told that I have a niece?”

  “You have niece,” I replied, walking out and entering into my personal study. I’d forgotten they were working to change it into Gigi’s bedroom, and everything but my desk was now covered to be moved.

  “Oh, thanks.” I could feel her eyes roll from here. “Ethan!”

  “Yes, Donatella.”

  “Don’t Donatella me, this is huge.” Her voice softened. “Ethan, you are a father.”

  A slight smile came to my lips without my control. “I am.”

  She sighed heavily. “If anything should bring any emotion to your voice, it should be that.”

  I thought there was. But like always, they missed it.

  “Helen sent me a photo. She’d be cuter if she didn’t look so much like you.”

  “Do they not have ophthalmologists in
Monaco? Your eyesight seems to have worsened,” I shot back. “If she looked any cuter, they’d put her in a museum.”

  She gasped. “Aww…that’s more like it. Now you sound like a dad. I wish I could have seen you as you said that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dona, get off my phone—”

  “Your daughter, she’s going to be the flower girl at my wedding, by the way. All these ‘noble’ children look like inbred science experiments. They are going to ruin my photos. She’s the first kid I’ve seen that actually made me smile. She needs to come here to get fitted. When can you send her?”

  If my memory served me correctly, and it often did, Gabriel, her prince, told me it would take months if not a year before their actual wedding. So, flower girls would not need to be talked about now. And even if they did, Gigi would not be the same size in a year. So, all of this was just for her to say she liked Giovanna and wanted to meet her. She really was our mother’s daughter.

  “Ethan?”

  “Let’s have this conversation when you have an actual wedding date, Dona. And not just when you are missing home.”

  “As if I would miss that place. We get the news here, too, and it looks a shitshow. What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I ask who you have been doing?”

  “I am positive I never want to have my sex life be a topic of conversation with you, Dona, or anyone for that matter.”

  “You do know I’m waiting for you to bring up this new woman, right? What’s her name… Piety or something?”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?” I asked dully.

  “Yes. You just lack a sense of humor. So, tell me about this Calliope? Who is she? Where does she come from? Why was she hiding my niece? And also, why the fuck would she bring her back when I am not there?”

  “Dona, despite what mother and father told you, the sun does not revolve around you, and neither does my daughter or her mother. I’m choosing to keep them from you right now. Why? Because it is not your business anymore. Yes, we will always be family. I will be there if you need me. But you do not need me. You are in a different circle now. I will not get dragged into whatever is happening over there, just like you should not be dragged in what is happening here.”

  “Well, thank you for that shitty speech, Ethan. I’m sure that seems logical in the cold, barren wasteland that is your mind, but in the real world, people do not just cut family out. Just because I am here does not mean I don’t have questions or want to know about you.”

  “You are marrying a future king. If the press there is asking about your family here, you are obviously not doing a good enough job holding their attention.”

  “You are the fucking worst brother, you know that?” she snapped. “Everyone else has called at least once or reached out—everyone but you. My big brother. I know being made of ice is your thing, but that’s a little shitty, don’t you think?”

  I was silent for a moment. It was amazing. All of them, Wyatt, Darcy, Helen, Sedric…now Dona, each and every last one of them, lacked the ability to see beyond themselves.

  “I think you should have more important things to do than calling me to whine.”

  “I am not whining. I am wondering why my brother doesn’t bother—”

  “You are whining. Just like you did when you went to boarding school and I did not call or write to you then. Just like when you went to a different university. Are we going to have this same conversation every time you are by yourself and lost?”

  She paused for a few seconds. “I’m not lost. Just wondering if it would kill you to show you care?”

  “I am not sure. It is hard to know, being made of ice and all.”

  “Really? Is that joke?”

  “Yes. You just lack a sense of humor,” I shot back.

  She chuckled. “You really suck. You know that?”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  “Ethan, I’m not trying to interfere with Chicago or the family anymore—I’m out. I know. But I am still family. At least call me once in a while. It’s not like boarding school, and Monaco is not like a university. I’m not going to be coming back after a few years. This…palace is where I’m going to grow old and die. So, call. Besides, these people are fucking weird. I need to talk to you all just so I do not lose my sanity.”

  “Noted,” I replied. “Remind Gabriel not to forget our conversation, also.”

  “What conversation?”

  “Goodbye, Dona,” I said. Hanging up on her, I tossed the phone onto my desk. Inhaling, I rubbed the side of my head before unlocking the side cabinet and pulling out the files and tablet inside.

  Because of the police crawling throughout the city, we hadn’t moved any products. I had called for a freeze. But that also meant we would have overflow in different locations. Scrolling through the map, I checked where the roadblocks would be.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  “Enter,” I said, closing the file and switching off the screen of the tablet.

  “You ordered more dinner, Boss?” Calliope said sweetly, and when I looked up, she stood there, leaning against the door frame with a mischievous smile on her face and a plate in her hand. The dark red dress she had on clung to every curve of her body. Her dark brown hair swept over one shoulder, exposing her neck. On her feet were cheetah-print heels.

  “I did. However, I was not aware the chef came with it,” I said as she closed the door and made her way over to me.

  “Don’t get used to it. This is a special occasion,” she replied, placing the food in front of me before taking a seat in my lap.

  “Why would this be a special occasion?”

  She glanced over the paperwork in front of her. “Because you raised your voice and threatened to kill your family—for me. It gave me a shiver hearing it from you.”

  “You would get shivers from anyone who exercised power.”

  She grinned, scrolling through the tablet. “True, but there is a different ring when you do it. I like when unhinged Ethan comes out and starts throwing things.”

  “Noted.”

  “Good. Your sister called?”

  I watched her for a moment before reaching over and touching the plate. It was warm, not hot. “How long were you eavesdropping?”

  She shrugged. “Long enough. How is the new princess?”

  “Upset I have not called her.”

  “This family.” She laughed, shaking her head. “How did they grow up with you and yet not understand you?”

  “Are you saying you do?”

  “I thought we already established that as reason number 901 as to why you love me?” she had the nerve to say seriously, checking the live feed of the cameras.

  “There are 900 other reasons?”

  “There are a million, actually.”

  I chuckled. “I would like a written list.”

  “I do not make written lists. Paper trails,” she replied and held up my tablet. “Am I seeing this right? You have a heroin storehouse under a preschool?”

  “Is there a problem with that, asked the drug dealer to the assassin?” I answered.

  “Yes!” she replied matter-of-factly. “Your business uses uncut diamorphine hydrochloride, aka white or snow heroin, the purest form of the drug. Which makes it finer and more likely to have residue transferred without noticing or even worse, getting sucked into the air vents. Children in daycare are what, under four? So, Gigi’s age. Breathing that in would cause various issues in minutes. Even if you sealed the rooms, it would still leak. The moment any doctor did a test to figure out what happened to all these sick toddlers, you would have narcotics on you within seconds. They would rip that place apart.” She looked back at me, surprised and confused. “That is a very rookie mistake, and you are not a rookie, so there must be a reasonable explanation, what am I missing?”

  “What happened to reason number 901 being you understood me better than anyone else?” I shot back coldly.

  But she made a face and stared back to the table
t, looking through the school again. Ignoring me, she searched online for a moment. Her shoulder dropped as she pieced everything together.

  “I see.”

  “Would you like to share?”

  “Are we in class? Are you quizzing me?”

  “Would it help to imagine if we were?”

  The corner of her lips turned up slightly. “Depends on who’s the student and who’s the teacher.”

  “You are the student.”

  Her eyebrow raised as her gray eyes glanced back at me. From the way she looked at me, it was clear that she was not pleased with that. “I hope you are trying to say I am the student in some things and the teacher in others. Just like you.”

  I looked away from her and to the desk. “What makes sense to you now?”

  “Fine.” She huffed and focused again. “I didn’t do my due diligence before asking my question. It’s smart, due to the school shooting that happened there…side note, really? This is why Gigi is being homeschooled. People are crazy. Anyway, you used the shooting to your advantage. You donated anonymously to the city. They do not just clean or close down the school. They will tear it down and build a brand-new school with extra modern security. Something that would have the mayor looking really good, well, before you killed him anyway. He gave the contract to a construction company secretly owned by the Callahan family. With the policies for masks and hard hats at sites, you have a crew working on the school and another crew holding the drugs until they can be moved. They all blend in. Bravo. Well done.”

  “I am so happy you approve. From the look on your face, it seemed like you had forgotten I have worked at this all my life,” I reminded her.

  She nodded, looking at me. “Exactly, which was why I was so worried. If this wasn’t the case, that would have meant you were an idiot who had been getting by on sheer luck or your parents—”

  “Calliope,” I sneered; she was pushing it.

  “Right, sore subject.” She waved it off as if it were nothing. “Back to your sister. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, does she really not see that you aren’t calling her because you are trying to help her and you believe in her? Honestly, this is why I needed her to leave because she and I would butt heads. She wants control; she has ambition, but she does not know how to do the leg work. She’s spoiled. She’s not becoming a princess; she has always been one. Only now everyone else can see the crown. She grew up with the world handed to her, a ready-made army behind her. She spoke, and everyone listened. She ordered, and they followed. She did not work for that power, she inherited it.”