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“I got this.” Zion walked out of the house and approached the men. They spoke briefly, and I watched as two stayed outside while two followed behind Zion.
“What the hell is goin’ on here? Grandpa, are you okay?” The man I assumed was Richie rushed over to Arnold, and they hugged briefly.
“I’m guessing you’re Richie?” Fred never rose from his seat, merely quirked a brow, his petulance shining like a bright star.
“Yeah…” Richie looked as if he were going to shout but paused. “Wait, you’re Mr. Brennan.”
“I’m glad you’re at least aware of who I am.”
Richie glanced around the room, likely knowing who Aiden was, but the rest of us were probably a mystery to him.
“I don’t understand—what’s goin’ on here?”
“Have you been keeping up with current events, Richie?” Fred asked.
“Some. I’m sorry about your family.”
So Richie was aware of the hit, but there wasn’t a lick of nervousness coming off him.
“That’s why I’m here today.” Fred relaxed more into the couch, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. “The SUV that was used in the drive-by was found near the restaurant where my uncle and cousin were murdered. An SUV registered to your grandfather.”
“What?” Richie faced his grandfather. “What’s he talking about?”
“I…I don’t know, you know I don’t own a car.”
“It’s true he doesn’t, you gotta be mistaken.”
Fred sighed loudly. “Thing is, Richie, I believe your grandfather has no idea what’s going on, but I can’t help but wonder if you do? Did you register a vehicle in his name?”
Richie jerked away. “Are you accusing me of killing your family? Do I seem suicidal?”
Fred lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps you are; I don’t know you.”
“Exactly.” Richie stepped away from his grandfather. “If you did, you’d know I’m not stupid and I happen to like living. If I did what you’re thinking I did, I’d be a hunted man. If not from you, from the rest of my crew.”
“Unless the Bleeding Angels ordered the hit,” Aiden added.
“No way. And if they did, they’d never set up my grandpa.”
Fred laughed. “Right, because they’re good-natured and honest criminals.”
“Hold up.” Richie took a deep breath. “The Bleeding Angels work with your family, Mr. Brennan. We got a good relationship—why would we ruin that?”
“Money?” I answered. “Territory? There are many reasons that make sense and many that don’t. Why people do things is a question with no answer.”
“Well, I didn’t, and the Angels wouldn’t. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Zion stepped up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Know what’s interesting? I just got information sent to me stating that the casings trace back to your crew.”
“What, how?” Richie was truly confused. Either he was telling the truth and the Bleeding Angels hadn’t done this, or if they did, he wasn’t aware.
“The Bleeding Angels’ marking was on each shell.”
Richie’s eyes darted from Zion to Fred. “Mr. Brennan, I didn’t do this and my crew has no beef with you. We have a great relationship.”
“I won’t deny this seems odd.” Fred uncrossed his legs and stood. “You purchase your guns and bullets through me. I assume the markings are put on after they are in your possession.”
“How are all of you not in jail?” I was exasperated. “That’s sloppy to leave a calling card that is obviously you.” Fred chuckled at me and yes, I saw the irony in what I said. Lex Talionis left behind a gold coin with our signature. Difference was, we weren’t a street crew, and we were impossible to find.
