Page 2 of Daddy’s Firm Hands (Saddle Up)

I slice right through his throat. Warm blood sprays my face, coating my lips and neck.

I take his gun and shoot two of his three cronies point blank in the forehead—in the same spot they aimed at my brother seconds before.

The third runs away, but I don’t give a fuck. Piero needs to get to a hospital. Now .

His body is dead weight, and I can barely drag it. He’s not the biggest of my siblings. Elio has at least forty pounds and four inches on him. But I am the smallest—and apparently the weakest.

Sirens wail in the distance, and I panic. I can’t drive the car I stole that’s flipped over. I search the dead men’s pockets for car keys, but find nothing.

Everything is fucked up, and it’s my fault. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just listened to him. Now he’s going to bleed out, unconscious in the fucking street.

“Piero, now would be a great time to wake the fuck up! The cops are coming.”

I smack his face, shake him. He doesn’t wake up. He’s too still…

I bend down and take his pulse at his neck. There isn’t one. Nothing.

Fuck! He’s dead…

Shock roots me to the spot. Piero is dead…

Four cop cars barrel down the street, their sirens splitting my eardrums. My body acts for me off pure adrenaline. I run as far and fast as I can until I see a subway entrance. Flying down the steps, I throw myself onto it right before the doors close.

My whole body goes numb as Piero’s voice rages in my head.

“I gave you an order and you disobeyed me…you have no clue what you’re doing!”

My brother is dead, and it’s my fault. Another member of my family is dead…because of me.

Minutes or hours pass by, I’m not sure. My brain is so fucking jumbled up, I can’t think of anything or hear sounds.

Somehow I ended up in front of the house I share with my brothers.

I let myself in, thanking the universe that Elio isn’t sitting in the living room to greet us like he usually is.

My phone rings, and Rocco’s ID flashes across the screen. I have tons of missed calls and texts.

We were supposed to be at the dock an hour ago with the product.

Where are you two? You’re over thirty minutes late.

What the fuck is taking you so long?

If you’re not here within the next ten minutes with my product I swear to God I am going to slit your throat. You’re not getting another chance.

If he’d kill me over drugs, he’d definitely kill me for murdering another member of Nueva Notte –my own fucking brother.

My whole outfit is covered in blood, but I don’t want to waste time showering.

I get a damp washcloth and wipe up as much of the blood off my skin as I can before throwing on a fresh pair of blue jeans, a ball cap, a white tee, a jacket, and sneakers.

Rocco doesn’t fuck around. He’ll send men here to break the fucking door down to find me.

I grab a duffel bag from my closet, cramming some clothes, weapons, cash, and a fake ID in it.

I grab one of the burners from the drawer, purposely leaving my primary phone behind so they can’t track my movements.

Nueva Notte has an ace hacker, Mr. Vettore’s cousin Maximo, who’d fucking salivate for the chance to find me thorugh some geolocation hacking bullshit.

I’m not even sure where I’ll go, but I can’t stay here.

I fly down the stairs, stopping at the keyrack. They’ll probably track my car or motorcycle…but it’ll take some time for them to realize Piero’s Porsche is missing. By then I can steal something less conspicuous and fade away into the wind.

I shove his keys into my jacket pocket, praying all these measures will buy me enough time to get away. The locks on the front door unclick one by one. Elio burst through, his worried face twisting my heart. He’ll lose two brothers tonight…

“Milo, you’re okay!” he cries. “What happened? Piero is miss?—”

I cut him off by pulling my gun from the back of my pants, aiming it right at his chest. I hate myself for this.

Elio is my brother and my best friend…but he’s a member of Nueva Notte through and through.

We put La Famiglia over our own family, always.

It’s part of the mark we wear and the blood oath we take.

“Move, Elio.”

“Milo, what’s going on?” he asks, showing me his palms. He moves a couple of steps closer to me. “Whatever trouble you’re in, we can work it out.” His eyes land on the duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

My eyes sting, but I refuse to let the tears fall. I have to be tough right now, or I’ll crumble. This is the best thing for us. Now he doesn’t have to watch Rocco slit my throat, or worse—do it himself. I wouldn’t put it past that crazy fuck to make my younger brother kill me.

“No, we really can’t. Don’t look for me or contact me. I’m not coming back,” I grit out. “I love you, Elio. Now move away from the door.”

“Milo, please–” he begs, but I shoot a bullet that misses his ear by an inch. He needs to know I’m serious about leaving. I need him to stop begging me and move away from the fucking door.

Elio might be the biggest of us all by far and the most scary looking, but he’s sensitive.

The betrayal he feels is a billboard on his face.

Some tears roll down his cheek, and I feel like a piece of shit making him cry.

He moves to the other side of the room, and I push past him without looking back.

I get into my brother’s car, steeling myself for a lifetime on the run. Possibly a short one, if I’m being honest. If Nueva Notte doesn’t find me, I’m sure I’ll fuck up badly enough to get myself killed eventually.

I fuck up everything. The reverse Midas touch—everything I touch turns to complete shit.

I take off into the night, driving west for hours. No matter how far I go, I’ll never be able to block out the burning fury in Piero’s eyes when I disobeyed him. Or how I made Elio cry. I’ll always be a fuck up, just like Piero said I was.