Page 114 of Duty

Or … his bipolar disorder was acting up, and he was on the cusp of mania. Sometimes, it came on really fast, and other times, it was a slow build up to a manic cycle that was sure to leave everyone in John’s path untouched. To everyone else around John, it was easily noticed when he was slipping into one of the phases. To John, though? Well, that was an entirely different story.

It was a punch to Andino’s gut.

Hard, fast, and unforgiving.

Guilt swept through him.

Because yeah—fuck yeah, he’d missed this.

How had he missed this?

He was supposed to be looking out for John; it was what he did. That was his deal—his one promise. He looked after John, no excuses.

How did I miss this?

Andino didn’t have time to think on it for long.

“This better be fucking good,” John grumbled. And then he noticed the rest of them. “What’s going on?”

Lucian, John’s father, spoke up first. “Have a seat, son.”

John fidgeted with his jacket. “Nah, I’m good. I kind of want to know why I’m here, though. I don’t like to be interrupted, you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Gio said under his breath.

John didn’t miss it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“John,” Dante said, that warning coming back into his tone fast. “Show some respect, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.” John looked to Dante, then. “I’m here—what’s up?”

Dante got right down to business, and didn’t even lead into it. “You didn’t think to tell any of us that you were going to be having dinner with the Calabrese boss and his family last night?”

“I was invited.” John shrugged. “Tell me how to refuse that without breaking the rules we live by, and I will do that next time.”

“You still didn’t tell anyone,” Lucian pointed out.

“I didn’t need to. It was a dinner.”

“With the Calabrese boss. You know how the Marcellos feel about that family, John,” Andino’s father added.

John kept looking at only Dante. “I couldn’t be disrespectful, and refuse. So, I went. It’s over.”

“You cannot trust a Calabrese,” Dante replied quietly.

“I don’t trust the Calabrese boss, or his shithead sons,” John said, a heat coloring his words. “I remember what they did to my father’s family.”

Lucian cleared his throat. Bad blood never really washed out, Andino knew. And there was a hell of a lot of bad blood between the Marcello and the Calabrese families.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls this morning?” Dante asked John. “You were fine with telling me you couldn’t disrespect Matteo, and yet you made me call you ten times before you finally answered. What was so important this morning that you couldn’t answer me, Johnathan?”

“I was busy.”

Dante nodded, and relaxed in the chair—a lie if Andino ever saw one. “I know you took the Calabrese girl home with you, John. See, I found out about the dinner invitation, and thought just in case, you should have someone follow behind. I don’t trust snakes like those ones in Brooklyn, and in no way will I allow a man of mine to confer with them without some kind of backup.”

Andino knew the moment when it clicked for John—the very second when his cousin understood what Dante had just told him without actually saying the words. And like Andino figured, it immediately hit John right where it would do all kinds of damage. Not just damage to his cousin, either.

“You fucking had someone follow me?” John asked, turning to stone and hissing the words.