Bones (Bonetti Brothers #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

BONES

I stare at my father in utter disbelief. The same man who has always been the most powerful man I’ve known. The strongest.

“What?” I ask, because his words make no sense to me.

“God damn it, Luca. You heard me.”

He’s right. I heard the words, but they must be wrong.

“We’ll get a second opinion, Padre . You don’t have cancer. There must be a mistake.”

My father is old school, and in our world men are not to show feelings. We are allowed to be sad, but it is never visible. Even though his words are gutting me, I give him what he expects. The mask that says I am as emotionless as he wants you to believe he is.

He flashes me a forlorn look, before reverting to his usual impassive one. “There has already been a second opinion, figlio , and a third. Even a fourth.”

I run a hand through my hair and take a good long look at him, take in all his features. Why had I not noticed this before? The dark circles under his eyes, the tired look of his gray gaze, the weight loss. Have I really been so preoccupied with my side businesses I’ve missed it all along? I know my father well. If he brought me in to tell me he has cancer, it’s because they are out of options.

“How long?”

He shrugs. “Four to six months.”

The sadness nearly consumes me, as the memories of this office assault me. I was only a six-year-old boy when my dad built this office. I remember spinning in his black chair that seemed so much bigger back then. He had the same pictures he does today hanging on the wall. A large one with my mother, my father, and me and my brothers. My sister wasn’t born yet, so she’s the only one missing. Dad always said it was his favorite, because my mom’s smile touches your heart. The black file cabinet, which I have access to now, was a forbidden place for me back then. And the curiosity ended with a belt to my ass more than once.

I lean back in my black leather chair on the other side of his ‘U’ shaped Italian marble desk and clench my fists. “Why are you telling me now?” I bite, because I’m pissed that he’s waited until he’s dying to let me in on our future. If my father is gone, it affects all of us. If he dies and no one is in charge, our entire family is at risk. We’ll become easy targets.

Technically, as the oldest of my brothers, Psycho would be the one to take over, but that would be a dangerous decision. We don’t call Massimo ‘Psycho’ for no reason, and my father knows this. Hell, everybody does. With him calling the shots, we’d have a mob war on our hands in no time.

He lights a cigar, and I open my mouth to tell him he shouldn’t be smoking but decide against it, because he’s a dying man. He should indulge in whatever he chooses to.

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he says, “I am prepared to make you head of the family.”

I arch an eyebrow with obvious interest as he continues, “With a few stipulations.”

Attempting to appear like I’m calm and collected, I cross my left leg over my right. “And what exactly are your stipulations, Padre? ”

He takes another puff on his cigar and exhales slowly.

“You must take a wife. It’s time to settle down.”

I chuckle loudly. “You are kidding, right? This has to be a joke. I have never wanted a wife.”

He takes a gulp of his whiskey sitting to the right of him. “No, but you want to be the head of this family. Has that changed, figlio? ”

Shaking my head, I admit, “No, that hasn’t changed. But Padre , a wife? I don’t even have girlfriends. ”

He chuckles quietly before he coughs loudly. “You like fucking, yes?”

I nod slightly, because everybody knows that not so hidden fact about me.

“Find yourself a wife you’ll enjoy fucking for the rest of your life. If I die before you’ve become a married man, other arrangements will be made.”

“Is that all?” I ask, knowing I could argue with him, but it will change nothing. Once my father has made his mind up about something, it’s final.

He nods slowly. “Yes, I look forward to meeting your future wife. You’ve never let me down, Luca. I don’t expect you to now.”

Rising from the chair, I walk to the door and I pause. “Father.”

My voice comes out embarrassingly thick with emotion and, of course, he doesn’t miss it.

“I know, Luca. Me too. I’m proud to call you my son. Go find her.”

I sigh audibly as I walk through the door and out to my car. This is impossible.

I, Luca ‘Bones’ Bonetti, certified playboy, am to take a wife. That’s the definition of insanity right there. And where am I supposed to find a wife?

Finding a woman to fuck is easy, but meeting one that I could stand to have around for a year, let alone the rest of my life? Fuck. This is the worst fucking day ever. My father is dying, and I have to get hitched. If I thought I could talk sense into him, I’d do it. Rule number one in our family; what the old man says, goes. At home and in business. The moral of this story is I am literally fucked. Of course, I have my pretty little Butterfly, but marrying her would definitely ruin my plans for ending her life. Since the moment I pulled her from the barbed wire, I’ve been fascinated with breaking her, until she begs me to take her life from her. Pleading for relief. And I want that. But do I want to be the head of this family more?

I have four brothers and every one of them is an asshole, not unlike myself. Three of us work for my father, and want to be the head of the family when he steps down. I guess I know he won’t be stepping down. It’ll be his death that forces him out. Kage, Psycho, and I all want the position. I know that without asking any of them. But Reaper hasn’t worked in the business for a long time. Not because he can’t handle the bloodshed.

All he wants is bloodshed.

My youngest brother is a goddamn serial killer, and can’t stay focused on getting anything else done. My father pushed him out of the family business years ago. All four of us share dear old dad’s penchant for violence, but none of us more than him. Which is exactly what brings me to a graveyard at two in the morning. Not just any graveyard, our family cemetery. My little brother is quite skilled at ending a life, but disposing of bodies, not so much.

Our family is all buried here, going back for hundreds of years. There are rows upon rows of headstones. They are all gray, but the writing varies by the generation. I’ve always found it fascinating. The ones that have been buried the longest have things written in Italian. The entire cemetery is surrounded by a tall black gate. That wasn’t always the case, but it had to be installed after some creepy ass kids decided drinking on a mafia cemetery ground was a good idea. It wasn’t. We didn’t kill them, although some families would have. I chuckle to myself at the memory, because we did scare the fuck out of them.

My youngest brother has hair slightly darker than my dirty blonde shade. The women all seem to love his hazel eyes, which can either appear charming or threatening depending on his mood. All of my brothers are fit, like myself, because physical fitness was instilled in us at an early age. I approach Reaper as he stands, looking down at a pretty blonde woman. Well, I’m sure she was pretty when she was alive. She has a lovely golden shade to her hair, and her open eyes are a dark blue, like the ocean, although slightly glazed over now. Her skin is pale, telling me without checking her pulse that she’s likely dead.

“What the fuck?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Isn’t she pretty? I think I want to keep her eyes. That’s not weird, right?”

“Jesus Christ. You’re the one we should call Psycho. Yeah, it’s a little fucking weird, man.”

I don’t bother asking why he kills anymore, because we all know he does it for the thrill. This isn’t new. I’ve known this for a long time. Wanting to keep her eyes, though? That’s new, and creepy as fuck. My brother may be the black sheep of the family, but not in the traditional sense. He is odd, but we accept him as he is. I guess we’re all fucked up that way, because most family members would not love a serial killer. And if he ever gets busted, he won’t do a second of time, because we won’t allow it. Right or wrong, family sticks together.

“Look, if you’re going to kill people, you need to learn to dispose of the bodies. You can’t be calling me at all hours of the damn night for help.”

He nods slowly. “I know.”

I lean up against a gravestone. “Alright, you need to figure out a way to ditch the bodies, but make sure they won’t be found until the DNA has degraded enough that there’s no evidence. Or better yet, destroy the evidence.”

He scratches his dark hair. “What if I buy a farm?”

I’m really trying to keep up with my kid brother, but I’m too tired for this shit. And I have work of my own to do.

“Reaper, can we focus? I don’t care if you buy a farm, but you need to deal with dead girl first. ”

He grins with a sneer. “I’ve done some research. A pig can eat a two hundred pound human in eight minutes.”

My brother looks so proud of himself as I shake my head at him. “Is that so, Reaper? Well, you’ve got it all figured out then, don’t you?”

He’s an idiot. While he may have researched this topic, he hasn’t considered everything.

“Do you know they can’t digest teeth? They leave them behind. Do you know what they use teeth for, Reaper?”

Arching his eyebrow, it’s clear he realizes his mistake, and I nod. “That’s right, brother. DNA. Evidence. If anybody ever looks on your hypothetical farm, they’ll find DNA evidence proving that you knew the dead girl.”

Living dead girl blinks and jumps to her feet with a shriek. I slide to the ground and get comfortable against Aunt Eva’s headstone, because clearly it’s going to be a long night. I could save the girl if I wanted to, but I’m not the hero, and I’m not in the business of saving lives.

Reaper chases after the girl, who disappeared into the trees from my view, as my mind bounces between my father’s devastating news and my Butterfly. I’m close with my dad. I always have been, and I can’t imagine a day where he’s no longer here. We all know this is the circle of life. Everybody is born and everybody dies. There are no exceptions. The possibility of taking over for him is bittersweet. I always imagined he’d retire and be around to help me, offer guidance. And his ludicrous demand for me to get married adds an extra layer of insanity. I don’t know anything about being a husband, although I assume it’s a lot like managing the men I do now. Maybe this will work. I’ll order her to do things, and she’ll do them because she’s so grateful to be alive.

After waiting for well over an hour, my brother comes back, staring at me with absolute confusion. He runs a hand through his hair. “She got away. They never escape. ”

I chuckle because he looks like a pathetic fucking puppy. “You let her get away?”

He shakes his head. “I know where she lives. She’ll never get away from me. All she did was make the game worth playing.”

“So what’s the plan then, little brother?”

Reaper shrugs with a sardonic grin. “I’ll find her and keep her for a while once she finally begins to relax, and thinks I forgot about her. Then I’ll kill her. And I’ll take her eyeballs. I want her to always be able to look at me. Even in death.”

Climbing off the ground, I say, “Gotta go, Reaper. I have a Butterfly waiting for me.” I don’t tell him about our father, because the others will be notified when he wants them to be. Not a second before.

“Thanks, Bones.”

I shake my head at him and narrow my gaze. “I mean it. Figure out how you’re going to handle dead bodies, or stop fucking making them dead. I don’t have time for this shit. Oh, and good luck with living dead girl.”

My little brother isn’t a bad guy. In fact, he might have the biggest heart out of all of us. It’s just hidden. He made his first kill when he was nine years old, and I think it altered something in his brain. Reaper has never gotten past the thrill of the kill. It’s exhilarating. If you’ve never taken a life, you wouldn’t understand. It’s like a surge of electricity coursing through your blood. Watching the light fade from someone’s eyes is exciting. I don’t care who you are. We are all murderous psychos. The difference is that Reaper is addicted to the kill. I don’t imagine anything will ever dull his need for ending lives. It’s who he is now. We all have our own thing we’re known for. I break bones, he kills people, and Kage, well, he rather enjoys making his victims go crazy by being kept in a cage, before he ends their lives. Psycho, like Reaper, is a breed all his own. He doesn’t have a specific way of killing people. He will simply make sure it’s painful, and involves a lot of blood.