Page 5 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“That like going pro?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Any money in that game?” I wonder.

“Millions if you’re one of the best,” she answers.

“You one of the best?”

“Not yet, but one day I will be,” she answers confidently.

“Where’s your mom?” I change the subject.

Wiping her mouth with her arm, she answers, “Skipped town when I was about a year old. Supposedly went to Vegas to follow her dream of being a showgirl.”

“Do you hate her because of it?” I ask, curious.

Luna considers for a moment before answering quietly, “Yes and no. I don’t blame her for leaving my dad; I just wish she would have cared enough to take me with her.”

“Sometimes them’s the breaks,piccola.” I know about the breaks all too well.

“What doespiccolamean?” she asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “Your old man never taught you Italian?”

“The only thing my old man taught me was what to say to debt collectors when they called. ‘You got the wrong number.’” She mimics her old man’s voice.

I snort a laugh. “That work?”

“We never had a phone long enough for me to know if it did.” Feeling Luna’s gaze on me, I glance over to her. “Are you going to make me fuck you?” she asks, having worked up the courage. Good for her.

“No. There’s a Barone getting fucked tonight, but it isn’t you.”

She looks at me thoughtfully, but doesn’t ask any more questions.

I pull into a Parisi Construction worksite and park next to a truck. Getting out of my vehicle first, I walk around andopen Luna’s door. “Follow me,” I tell her, and she scrambles out of the vehicle, her eyes darting between me and the scene up ahead. Soldiers hold her old man next to a large construction pit; his hands bound and his mouth taped.

We reach Mr. Barone, and the soldiers force the pathetic man to his knees. I don’t waste time on theatrics, pulling my gun from my waistband. Mr. Barone pisses his pants as I move the barrel of my gun to the center of his forehead and pull the trigger; the impact causes his lifeless body to fall into the hole.

I glance over to see Luna’s expression—her emerald-green eyes are wide, but she doesn’t appear scared.

And that’s a problem.

Putting my gun away, I grab Luna by the neck, dragging her to where her heels are dangling precariously over the pit housing her old man’s corpse. There’s the look of fear I’m going for.Better.

Her eyes pleading with me, she futilely grabs ahold of my hand squeezing her neck. “I’ve let you live for a reason, Luna. Your family owes the Parisi family a debt. And one day, little Grandmaster, I’m going to call due,” I promise.

Chapter

Three

Luna, nearly a year later…

Surveying the chess board, I move my white king’s pawn two squares to e4.

My opponent, Aspen, takes her time, her expression neutral as she responds with an e5. It’s a solid move, but had it been me, I would have gone with an e6—the Sicilian defense—putting black in an arguably stronger position. But that’s only because I know I’m opening with the Ruy Lopez, and Aspen hasn’t figured that out yet.

I immediately move my knight to f3, making the notation on my scoresheet.