Deal with the Devil Read Online Free

windows. Or kept a roll of hundred dollar bills in the pocket of his suit jacket that he used instead of a credit card or check. Or was always surrounded by shady guys in black suits with obvious bulges under their jackets in the shape of a gun. As if a run-of-the-mill family man would own a string of nightclubs and topless bars.
    I’m a lot of things, but not an idiot.
    He treated his capos like adopted sons, or my “uncles” as he liked to call them. That's probably to make up for the disappointment that is his only legitimate offspring. 
    My grandfather is the only reason my childhood wasn’t truly tragic. He made sure my mom got me to school often enough to avoid any visits from social services. And his house was where I went whenever she would go on one of her more impressive benders.
    I suck in a harsh breath as I realize that I’m already thinking of him in the past tense. It doesn’t feel real to me, as if the scenery passing by the train window is part of a dream. Maybe I’ll finally believe it when I see him laid out in the casket, cold and dead.
    This might be the last time that I ever make this trip. With Papa gone, I don’t see any reason to ever go back. I could never really abandon my mother, but the more space I put between us, the better off I’ll be.
    I wonder if the death of her father is enough to get her clean for a while. She does that every so often — goes to rehab and resolves to be a different, better person. It never lasts long, but I always fool myself into thinking that maybe this will be the time that everything changes.
    Nothing ever really changes, except for the worst.
    She is going to freak out at the funeral. I’m already mentally preparing myself for it. Cecile Matarazzo never met an event that she couldn’t turn into a showcase for her own emotions. Maybe that’s why I always seemed so overly rational and dispassionate. It was all just a learned defense mechanism against her nonsense.
    I just want to get it all over with and get back to my life.
    Lynn was completely understanding when I told her that I would have to delay joining her in Aspen. Even if she didn’t quite understand why I only found out about my grandfather’s funeral the day before it’s happening.
    Taking the first train of the day leaves me almost exactly enough time to make it to the church before the service starts. So I have to wear mourning dress on the train. I feel like something out of a Gothic novel — young woman dressed in black riding alone on a train through the countryside. All I need is a Victorian castle and a tall cliff overlooking the sea to fling myself off of to complete the image.
    Those books never end happily, so maybe the comparison is more accurate than I’m giving it credit for.

Chapter Three

Leo
    A ll my suits are black , which makes getting dressed for a funeral pretty simple. A good thing, because I’m in no shape to be making decisions about anything right now.
    I can’t believe that the boss is dead. It’s been almost a week and I’m still walking around like a piece of me is missing. It doesn’t help that I haven’t worked a job since the last one, which always puts me on edge.
    Considering how many people I’ve killed over the years, I haven’t been to that many funerals. I barely remember the one for my parents and then there’s been a couple for guys from the family.
    And now this. It doesn’t take much to know that I don’t fucking like it.
    The day of the funeral dawns bright and sunny. With the cool chill that lets you know winter is right around the corner. It seems stupid to wish for rain, but I can’t help but think it’s wrong to bury a guy on a day this nice.
    I still remember the first day I met Don Vito, like it happened last week. It was the day that I tried to rob him.
    I was fifteen years old and starving. I’d just been kicked out my seventh foster home. The state stuck me in one of those group homes for boys that could have doubled as