Page 96 of Loyalty

Again, he was shown how little faith they had in him.

“You know you have to go to those appointments, and not just for parole, either,” Andino said. “I’m only trying to look out for—”

“Look out for yourself, and keep me out of it. You make me tell you that again, Andino, and we’re going to have another incident like we did years ago. Only this time, I’ll fucking finish it for good.”

John didn’t wait for his cousin to reply. He turned fast, and headed for the warehouse. This time, Andino didn’t follow behind.

Inside the large building, John found the Calabrese brothers were already waiting for him. None of the crews from either organization had arrived yet, but he expected that. They showed up early to figure out any last minute details in private.

Kev and Darren Calabrese both sat on a table side by side in the middle of the warehouse.

“You two got nothing to do, or what?” John asked.

Kev shoved off the table with a chuckle. “Waiting on you, man.”

“Sure, sure.”

Darren ticked his chin up at John, asking, “Was that Andino I saw out there?”

John hesitated, and wondered just how much the Calabrese brothers had seen of his conversation with Andino. “Maybe. What about it?”

“Curious,” Darren said.

“Curiosity kills men,” John replied.

He headed for the corner where a white van had been parked. Inside the van would be some of the shit that needed to be dispersed between the foot soldiers of the three men’s crews. Maybe if he got his hands busy with work, he could focus on other shit.

“Is that a thing for you, or something?” Kev asked.

John climbed in the back of the van, and wanted nothing more than to just get this work done. He had energy to burn. He was sleeping erratically, and very little when he did actually close his eyes.

“Is what a thing?” John asked.

He tore open boxes, and pulled out wrapped bricks of drugs. Weed, cocaine, meth, and more. A lot of pharmaceuticals. All hidden and packed in paper hay.

“Them babysitting you,” Kev said, leaning into the back of the van. “Sending someone to check in on your business, and making sure everything is on the up. What, you can’t handle your own shit, or something?”

All of John’s irritations and misgivings about his family and how they treated him were being reflected in Kev’s statements. A man who didn’t know John, the shit he dealt with on a daily basis because of his disorder, or how that made his family treat him differently.

Yet, they could see it.

Kev saw how John was the weak link to the Marcellos.

Or, that’s how it felt.

“I handle my shit,” John said.

“Yeah, but do they really let you?”

“Or do they just make it seem like they’re letting you?” Darren asked, leaning in beside his brother.

John shot the two men a look, and hated how unease and distrust burrowed into his nerves even more. Not for these men—he didn’t give a fuck about the Calabrese idiots. No, for his own blood; for his own family.

The things they were doing made him unsteady. In his heart, and in his life. It made for shitty days, and bad moods.

It screwed up his mind.

It messed with his emotions.