Vicious Minds: Part 3 (Children of Vice Book 6)

by J. J. McAvoy

  “So, you don’t care; you just came to…do what exactly? Gloat? Rub my face in the dirt?”

  “No. To do what you failed to do when my face was in the dirt. Remind you we are family. Help you.”

  “Help me?” I repeated. “With?”

  “Calliope,” she said, and her eyes felt as cold and dead as mine. “What happened—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I do not need help with anything.”

  She moved from the door and walked closer to me. I stood straighter, my head held high, waiting.

  “We are Callahans,” she said to me. “We might not have been born with that last name, but we were raised Callahan, and no one should ever insult us or harm us and not pay the price for it. No one.”

  Over the last year, the relationship between Calliope and Nari had gotten worse. Nari wanted to divorce her husband, but Ethan and Calliope were against it. Nari filed anyway, and now her husband had gotten full custody of her daughter. She blamed Calliope; after all, when had a Callahan not been able to bribe a judge?

  “Helen, I have a plan to—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I cut her off quickly. “I don’t want any part of anything you are in.”

  “Helen, together—”

  “No.”

  She stared at me as if I were crazy. “Don’t you hate her? Why the fuck wouldn’t you?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said! I don’t understand!”

  “Because you are weaker than me!” I snapped in her face. “If you can’t even get your own fucking daughter back, can’t even win against your own damn husband, how the fuck do you expect to have my back? You lose too fucking often! I do not want to be saddled with a loser.”

  “Didn’t you lose too?”

  Glaring, I spoke out, “Once again, I. Do. Not. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About! I broke my mirror because I am stressed and upset about my dad. I do not know what happened to Calliope. But I hope she recovers and we find the assholes who hurt her. She is the leader of this family, and I respect her. I don’t know why you blame her for your daughter. You were the one who simply expected things to go your way based on your last name.”

  Every word was a lie.

  “Fuck you,” she snapped as she moved back to the door.

  “Same to you,” I said as the door slammed.

  Inhaling, I felt it again, the heat of the flames in my heart. I wanted to crawl up next to my mother's side and just stay there like I had when I was a child.

  I missed how was it was back then.

  When Nari and I fought over clothes instead of power. When we talked about love and not murder.

  I missed Dona and following her on one new adventure after another. Now she was far away, having a magical one all on her own.

  Reaching down, I picked up the phone and thought to call her. But stopped, looking back at my broken reflection. If I called her…I’d be like Nari—a loser looking up the food chain.

  5

  “Each betrayal begins with trust.”

  ~Martin Luther

  ETHAN

  I sat at a VIP table alongside my brother in the Chicago Museum of Art, the sound of Mozart’s Overture from The Marriage of Figaro playing just a few feet from me, by the very best classical musicians in the state. The most influential men and women of the city dancing, drinking, and stuffing their faces with finger foods as they pretended to be elegant and refined people. Meanwhile, I knew all of their secrets. None of them were even half of the picture they tried to paint of themselves. They all annoyed me, every one of them.

  “Would it kill you not to look as if you want to murder everyone?” Wyatt whispered as he poured a glass of brandy for me and then another for himself.

  I lifted the glass, staring into it for the longest time, and set it back down. “Someone is trying to poison our family; it’s best not to drink public drinks.”

  “You are being paranoid.”

  I glanced over to him as he relaxed back into his chair, drinking. “If it were Helen who was poisoned you would not be saying that. You’d be demanding to know who did it and get revenge immediately. But then again, you must already know…who did it.”

  “Same could be said about Aunt Cora,” he shot back.

  I smirked, nodding. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Ethan—”

  “Drink this for me,” I said, lifting the glass to him.

  His mouth parted as he sat up straight. “Are you serious?”

  “Why would I joke?”

  “Because you must have seen that I poured the drinks from the same bottle, Ethan.”

  “The poison could be in the glass, not the bottle.”

  “And you think I would do that to you?” he sneered, snatching the glass from me, knocking it back. “Happy? You can’t even trust your own family now?”

  “The same could be said about you,” I muttered when Dino came over, leaning down to whisper something into my ear.

  “Italo is waiting in the black and white gallery…and Mrs. Callahan is on her way.”

  I turned to look to him, and he just nodded. The woman refused to rest, no matter what. Shaking my head, I rose from the table. When Wyatt moved to get up as well, I put my hand on his shoulder to keep him back down.

  “Stay and enjoy the party brother. You are not needed.”

  Walking through the rows forced a pleasant expression to my face, the best I could muster as I nodded to the few other members of the city council, the mayor’s office, and the Chicago PD. The way to the black and white room was closed off to the rest of the public. Two museum attendants stood there, ushering people away, the path blocked by a red rope. However, the moment I walked forward, they opened it without question. Dino did not follow me. He knew not to whenever I was meeting Italo.

  The man was a modern-day gigolo, with a boyish look to him, despite the fact that he was only a year younger than me. He had a freckled face with curly, ear-length, dark-brown hair. For some reason, women seemed to love him, but I could not see why. But I did not care, either, so long as he got me what I needed. He stood in front of a large black and white painting of an elephant in the wild. The painting was so big that it took up the whole space of the wall. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with a beanie on his head. He smelled like church essence.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Some chick’s apartment on 43rd.” He grinned, turning back to me. “Hello, boss, how is the fancy party?”

  “What have you found out?” I asked, outstretching my hand.

  He reached into his coat, pulling out a small tablet. “Your cousin, Killian, seems to be preparing for a big-time comeuppance by cutting you out.”

  I stared at the picture of the females surrounded in a dark clubhouse. From the outside, it looked exactly like the rumors said. That after the death of his mother, Killian had become a drunken playboy who just threw money at strippers all day. But I knew him better than anyone else. He had ambition, dedication, and he was far too angry at me to slip into drunkenness.

  “Let me guess; the women are attached to cartel leaders?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because if I were him and needed to be under the radar, but also wanted to grow my power and influence, I would do the same.” Only I wouldn’t be so fucking sloppy about it. Fucking idiot.

  “He’s supposed to meet someone tonight. I couldn’t find out who. But he’s been burning money fast. And he’s become very popular.”

  “Everyone knows I’m supposed to be giving a speech in my mother’s honor tonight. He believes it’s the best time to move.”

  “So, what should I do?”

  I stared at the tablet gripping it tightly. All of them were the same. All of them. So stupid that I could not stand it anymore.

  “Break his fucking legs!” I sneered.

  “Boss—”

  “Did you hear me?” I asked, turning to him. “He
wants to play big, then show him how high the price is.”

  “Understood.”

  “And…let’s stop right there.”

  We both turned to see my wife, dressed in a long, black-satin gown with a high leg splits, and two large emerald butterflies hanging from her ears. She stepped into the gallery, glowing, not a dark circle or a look of sickness anywhere in sight. I had a feeling Dino did not just get word that she was coming. She walked directly up to me and smiled.

  “Hello, boss.” Her sultry rang in my ear.

  I glared down at her. “Once again, I must ask who is the boss here? You or me.”

  “The answer is the same as the last time you asked,” she replied before looking to Italo. “Why the hell do you smell like church essence?”

  “Because of some chick on 43rd,” I answered for him.

  Her eyebrow raised, not understanding or not caring. “Give us a moment, Italo.”

  He glanced at me, and I nodded for him to go.

  “See, look at that; he looked to you before leaving. You are definitely the boss here.”

  “You could not take one day off?” I asked her. “You should be resting. I have this handled.”

  “I’m rested, and you do not have this handled. You were about to place a hit out on your cousin.” She frowned as if she had not done worse.

  “It is not a hit but rather a warning.”

  “Ethan. Breathe.”

  “I am.”

  She reached up and grabbed my face, bringing it toward hers. “This is what they want. You to be so focused on all the small rebellions that you miss the war.”

  “They are betraying me!” I sneered, feeling a headache coming on. “Left and right, all of them.”

  “We knew that was a risk.”

  I shook her hands off my face, looking away, my hands clenched. “Over and over, they always asked how they could help me, how they could help this family. And I told them not to get involved, but they refused. And so, I fucking made space for them and told them to be patient. They refused. They never fucking listen. They never fucking think. They jump to action, only causing more of a fucking clusterfuck for me. How do they expect me to ever share my plans with them when at the first sign of trouble, they go running to join hands with someone else?”

  “Darcy…excuse me, Killian, is grieving, and if you act now, the last strand will cut.”

  I stared at the black and white painting of the lion, tearing into the lamb at the far-off corner wall of the gallery. That was the way of the world. The other paintings where the lamb slept along the side the lion never made sense to me. Lambs were food; you did not make friends with food.

  “Maybe it’s best to have the last strand cut. Let us have it done and over with,” I replied, still not looking at her. “They want to betray me? Turn their backs on the family? Fine. I’ll turn mine, too. They never understood me anyway.”

  “Ethan.”

  I didn’t bother responding, but started to walk away from her toward the hall.

  “Ethan.”

  “I won’t do anything tonight. I have a speech to give.” But I made no promises about tomorrow.

  CALLIOPE

  He was on the edge.

  There were too many knives in his back.

  He stayed silent. That was his problem; he let stuff sit inside him. He stuffed all his emotions downs, and sometimes the pressure built and then set him off. His mind went to destroy everything. Typically his release was to take whatever was close to him and shatter it against the wall…or someone’s head.

  But this was different.

  From how Helen had been acting lately, and the look in her eyes this evening, I had a feeling she was behind that poison. After all, she was in charge of helping me run the charity auction. Melody wouldn’t use poison to kill me, not after our last fight. She’d want to feel my blood on her hands. She’d need to see me die herself. So Helen had a hand in it somewhere, and if she did, then so did Wyatt. That was two more against Ethan, plus his parents, now Killian.

  He wouldn’t admit it, even after we talked about his family maybe hating us for a while, he still could not accept it. He understood why they were all acting as they were, but he could not stand that they did not blindly trust him. And in their view, how could they trust him when they kept getting hurt.

  “Oh, what a clusterfuck.” I exhaled, following after him, adjusting the ring on my finger. Also, a little annoyed that he was not there to take me into the ballroom with him. However, when I entered the hall, he stood there, waiting with a smile spread across his lips. Even when he was on the edge, he still found a way to remember the little things. Walking up beside him, he stretched out his arm for me. “And here I thought you left me,” I whispered, linking my arm with his.

  “It’s a little too late to leave you,” he replied, glancing back over to me, his green eyes looking over my dress. “You look nice.”

  “I look stunning.”

  “Then, you complain I do not compliment you enough,” he muttered as we walked inside.

  I smiled at a few women from the foundation on my way to our table, where the mayor and the governor’s wife, as well as Fatimah Gupta, all smiled upon seeing us.

  “Calliope, you came. Ethan told us you were feeling under the weather,” Fatimah said, kissing both sides of my cheeks.

  “The worse has passed, so of course, I had to come; otherwise, one of you will try to steal my seat next to him.”

  They laughed. “I think you’re safe, your seat has been protected.”

  I looked over to the man they claimed was doing the protecting—Wyatt Callahan—whose face looked like a mixture of annoyance and disinterest as he got up, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

  “Good timing, I was looking to make my escape,” he said, pulling out the chair for me.

  “Aren’t you going to stay for Ethan’s speech?” I asked him.

  “I wish could,” Wyatt said, walking over his brother and placing his hand on his shoulder. “But I am needed at the hospital.”

  “Thank God for your healing hands, brother,” Ethan said dully, as we moved to take our seats.

  “Excuse me, everyone,” he said to them, shaking hands with the mayor and kissing the hand of his wife, making her giggle.

  “Flirt,” she said.

  “Never with married women, maybe another life.” He laughed. “Have a beautiful night, everyone.”

  “It must be hard for him, juggling family life and his work as a doctor at such a famous hospital,” Fatimah said beside me.

  Ethan huffed so gently beside me that I wasn’t sure they noticed, but I did.

  “Yes, we are all so very lucky to have a doctor in the family,” I replied, watching as he weaved through the tables toward the door. Wyatt leaving as I arrived, left me unsettled, though. I had a feeling, a gut feeling that something was off. It wasn’t poison. They weren’t going to try that again for a while, or at least I wasn’t going to be blindsided again with it. There was just this nagging feeling, like wondering if I had left the stove on in the house.

  I glanced over to Ethan, leaning in to whisper. “Did you tell him to come, or did he come on his own?”

  “I told him to. Why?” he asked.

  I frowned, shaking my head. “I’m not sure.”

  “When you are sure, let me know,” he replied. “In the meantime, did you tell your grandfather to come, or did he come on his own?”

  I followed his gaze to my grandfather, who spoke to some man I did not know on the other side of the ballroom.

  “He came on his own,” I answered.

  “Good news or bad news?”

  “It depends on who you are, I guess.”

  “And now we welcome, business magnate, investor, philanthropist, and son of the former, Governor, Melody Callahan, a man who continues his mother’s work as part of the backbone of this great city and our beloved state, Mr. Ethan Callahan.”

  I rose from my chair alongside him, as did everyo
ne else as we gave him the applause he deserved. He kissed my cheek before going up to the stage.

  Wanting Gigi to see, I lifted my phone and took a picture. Ethan would call it ridiculous, but still, I rarely took pictures of him; besides, the cameras would capture me as well.

  “You both are very cute,” Fatimah said.

  “Or childish,” I teased, putting the phone back down as he prepared to speak; however, when I did, I paused, looking at the phone in my hand, then remembering the phone I saw Wyatt put in his pocket. They were exactly the same as all Callahan phones. However, he’d dropped his phone two days ago and cracked the bottom edge of the screen.

  Had he fixed it? Had he been given a new one.

  Smiling, I discretely texted Dino. “Was Wyatt given a new phone to replace his cracked one?”

  Immediately he replied, “Yes, he got a new one yesterday.”

  It seemed like I was getting paranoid.

  I put down my phone to focus on what Ethan was saying, but for some reason, I couldn’t. I had a bad feeling.

  I hated it when I had a bad feeling.

  Shit always happened when I had a bad feeling.

  Call it an assassin’s instinct. Glancing around the room, I noticed a few men entering the room…men who did not look like they belonged here. I thought back to when Wyatt had left, I noticed other men entering. They slowly walked to all the corners of the room.

  “Fatimah…I need you to do something for me,” I whispered.

  “You know I’d do anything.”

  “Pour your drink on my dress and loudly say you’re sorry.”

  “What?”

  “Do it now!” I hissed.

  She grabbed her champagne and poured it on to my dress. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s fine!” I said loudly, wiping the drink off my dress.

  Ethan paused, staring at me.

  I lifted my hand and moved to exit the room as quickly as I possibly could. When I walked, I made sure to see what their eyes were focusing on. Sure enough, they glanced at each other as I walked by. I could smell it clearly now—Melody Callahan.

  How would she get rid of me?