CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

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Logan's sixteenth birthday party was in motion

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Logan's sixteenth birthday party was in motion. Obstreperous teenagers caroused in the garden and tailored guards observed from the shadows, while Alexa, in the world's tightest black dress and sinful high heeled shoes, engaged in conversation with Jace and his roommate, Shane, who arrived only recently to show his face.

Logan is quieter than I had expected. He is in the midst of loud-mouthed Tre and unidentifiable teenagers from the youth centre, nursing the same beer bottle he nabbed from the bar two hours ago. He has avoided the pool, too, and paid his love interest, the vivacious blonde hanging off his arm, very little attention.

"So, let me get this right in my head." Brad's folded arms leaned onto the wooden countertop. "I tell you to annihilate the Italians as there is no rational basis for consensus or justice for treachery. You categorically refused the reconsideration of amity between warring families because of the guilt you harbour for Miliana D'Agostino's murder." He jabbed a finger in Vincent's direction. "Mr I-can't-do-fuck-all-wrong comes along, demanding the eradication of adversaries, and you relinquish for the sake of the Italians vengeful descendants, which, I might add, are not even in their mother's womb yet."

I puffed on a blunt.

"And whilst we are on the subject of what a complete and utter fucking tool you are." His animosities turned directly to Vincent. "You took a shot at Moretti in the presence of officials, including the boss's wife, which was an unauthorised operation on your part."

Vincent smiled coldly. "Are you finished?"

"No," Brad said almost too calmly. "I have only just begun."

My brother rose from the barstool. "I am sick to the high heavens of your unwarranted belligerence."

"You know what's funny?" Brad stepped up to him. "You are a career executor. People pay for guaranteed results. You cannot afford to miss those shots."

"Firstly, it was a successful hit. Secondly, it was a personal attack. I was not paid to shoot Moretti."

"You got him in the chest."

"I still delivered a successful hit on the target."

"It was a slapdash performance on your behalf."

"Moretti stood too close to my brother and his wife."

"You are a sharpshooting marksman. You handle rifles, unlike any other gunman. I don't give a flying fuck who stood next to the target. If you aimed for the head, he'd have dropped down dead there and fucking then, which tells me that you are withholding information from us."

Exasperation radiated from Vincent. "I hide nothing from my brother."

"He is full of shit," Brad said to me while glaring at the man. "I think you took the rap for someone else's underhandedness."

"Really?" Vincent is amused. "Who?"

"I don't know, Vincy Boy." Brad popped an unlit joint between his lips. "Enlighten us."

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