Precious Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #1)

Chapter 6

SIX

I ignore the irritation I feel from Alanis’ brush-off as I speed out of the city. I’ve never been one for dwelling on shit, but I swear the cold look she gave me was worse than any she’s given me before. But that’s Alanis, in all her beautifully dark perfection. She holds grudges like a sea holds shipwrecks; the storm will sink you, but it’s the ocean that will hold you captive.

Sooner or later, I’ll get through that stubborn wall of hers. I know her too well. I know what makes her tick, what makes her hot under the collar. Even when we were kids, she was so damn easy to read. Five years hasn’t changed her one bit. Okay, that’s a lie . Something broke her, and it feels bigger than just me.

I saw her in my mirrors, checking me out as I pulled away from the curb. She might be trying to convince herself that she’s done with me, but her eyes always hold the truth. We’re far from done.

Speeding past cars and away from my thoughts, I weave in and out of the traffic until I make it to New Jersey an hour later, parking outside my parents’ place. They moved houses just before I was born, but I’ve seen the place my dad had before. It was hot shit, a total bachelor’s pad spread over three floors with a basement swimming pool and sauna. Sometimes I wish he still had that place for me to inherit, but it haunted my mom to the point they had to move. Though they don’t talk about it, I know what happened. My Uncle Noah told me enough and I can’t blame my dad for what happened. My grandfather was a piece of work and he deserved what he got.

Kicking the stand down and switching the engine off, I push off the bike and make my way to the front door. It opens before I’ve even reached the steps, my mom squealing as she pads down the stairs excitedly, wrapping me in a tight hug.

“Hey, Ma,” I laugh, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Her red hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, smothering me when she tugs me in for another hug. I literally saw her yesterday, but I guess she’s still not used to her son being back in the city for longer than forty-eight hours.

We head inside to find my dad is lingering in the hallway, smiling adoringly at my mom. Seeing their parents like this would make most kids queasy, but I know these two have been through enough shit to last a lifetime. After being paired in an arranged marriage, it’s safe to say their love for one another wasn’t immediate. They fought each other daily, desperate for a way out of the alliance my grandparents forged until my mom was assaulted. It changed their outlook on the arrangement, and ultimately exposed them both to their true feelings for one another. I hear the story constantly, and every time I wonder what would’ve happened if they escaped the clutches of our families.

“New bike?” Dad asks, slapping a hand in mine.

“Something like that.”

He laughs before pulling me in for a hug. “You know you can stay here,” he states.

“I know,” I chuckle, pulling away. “But I want to be in the city.” I walk with my parents into the living room, taking a seat on the couch beside the wide bay window. The light filters in from behind me, brightening the room up. It’s a perfect reflection of my mom’s personality, vibrant and beautiful. Elegance and simplicity is the main theme, with a large wall-sized TV taking up one side of the room—courtesy of my dad—while the rest of the room is decorated with simple wooden furniture. Three leather couches are positioned around the room to accommodate my large family, while photos of my childhood are blasted across the walls.

The rest of the house is equally adorned with furniture and decor that mirrors my mom’s feisty personality. Unfortunately, they never got a swimming pool fitted here—not that we needed one. Uncle Patrick has a whole mansion up in the Hampton’s with two pools and a jacuzzi. All our vacations have been spent there, and I don’t remember there ever being a time where we needed to go anywhere else.

The O’Sullivan’s are a tight-knit family. A large , tight-knit family, consisting of four uncles, three aunts and at least twenty cousins. I’ve kind of lost count, though, since Uncle Patrick and Georgia are on their sixth kid—or something like that.

Family is everything to us. It’s one of the foundations The Five built their empire upon; family and loyalty, protect it at all costs.

“I hear there’s been some issues with the dens,” my dad mentions, tapping his fingers across the leather arm of his chair.

Sighing, I scratch a thumb over my brow. “Yeah,” I huff. “I’ve already paid one host a visit, but there’s still more to do.” I don’t need to expand further on what that visit entailed. My dad is more than aware that blood would have been shed as a warning, and I don’t need to share the gory details with my mom in the room. Since he’s tasked me as his enforcer until I officially take the mantle, he trusts me enough to handle business how he would. “I wanted to pick your brain about something, though.”

“Sure.” He shifts in his seat, getting comfortable as my mom brings in a tray of coffees.

I reach for one, taking a heavy sip of the hot liquid before diving into my plans on how to expand the businesses. After our takeover on the West Coast, it was easy to see what worked and what didn’t. Drug peddling was our main source of income, but once we saw the potential of gambling dens, which then stretched into fight clubs, it was a no-brainer. My dad used to fight when I was younger. Not often, but enough to see an opening in the market to make money from fight clubs. Over a few years, his fight nights became the talk of L.A., everyone wanting to earn a sliver of exposure that my dad’s business offered. With my help, my father has managed to bring in ten times the profits in L.A. than he has here in this city.

Since the L.A. scene is doing so well, I want to bring that success back to New York. My father is leaving his legacy in my hands, but I haven’t fully taken over yet. I’m his enforcer right now, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to show him what I can do.

“So, you know California is doing well, business-wise?” I begin, watching my father’s face intently for a reaction. He doesn’t give me one, so I continue. “The fight-clubs are bringing in more money than we initially hoped for, cleaning money quicker than we thought, too.”

My dad rubs his chin as he leans forward, intrigue plastered across his usually passive features. “Let me guess, you wanna bring the fight scene here?”

My lips curl into a smirk. There’s no pushback with his question, he’s genuinely interested in what I have to say. That’s the thing about our relationship; we’re always on the same page. I chalk it up to the years we’ve worked beside one another, but I think deep down, it’s more than that. It’s trust, something I know he never got from his own father, no matter how hard he tried.

“I was thinking about doing what we did in L.A.,” I answer. “Push the drugs, clean the money, and it’s a perfect way to expand intake on the gambling dens.”

“I like where your head’s at, son. It’s definitely ambitious.”

“But…?”

He narrows his eyes in thought. “But, New York is different. The risk is higher here, and we have the Russians to contend with. I would advise you to focus on one thing at a time. The fight clubs, they’re a good idea. Start with those.”

“Alvaro said the Russians have a foot in the door, running their own fight nights. I need to figure out a way to infiltrate that.”

Leaning back, my dad sips his coffee. He’s pensive as the thoughts run around his head. Mom said he never used to be that way, but I guess the years of working with Axel Bonanno have rubbed off on him. He thinks things through, focusing on the weak areas so he can strengthen them instead of diving head first.

“Maybe Cillian can help?” my mom chimes in from the doorway.

Dad turns his head, a silent conversation floating between them until he reaches out his hand to her. She walks over and takes it, letting him tug her onto his lap.

It isn’t unusual for her to linger nearby whenever I’m talking with dad, which is why I consider her suggestion. It wouldn’t hurt to get Uncle Cillian involved. He knows the city better than any of us, and if anyone knows how to get to the Russian’s secrets, it’d be him.

“It’s worth a try,” my dad shrugs, finishing off his coffee.

“So what else have you got planned?” Mom asks eagerly, her Irish lilt softening as her green eyes focus on me. They remind me so much of Presh’s. Even though they’re not related, Alanis and my mom both have the same feisty attitude and personality to boot.

As if she can read my mind, Mom’s lips lift into a gentle smile. “Have you seen Alanis yet?”

There it is. The real reason she was lingering nearby. She’s always been Alanis’ biggest fan—probably because they’re so similar—so it’s no surprise she would bring her up now that she knows I’m back for good.

“Yeah,” I reply, still trying to keep my cool over what happened earlier.

“And?” She grins excitedly, rubbing her palms together. I don’t know what she’s expecting, but I can assure you telling her that I broke into Alanis’ apartment to fuck her with her gun is probably not it.

“Sloan,” my dad warns as if he can sense my reluctance, playfully tugging her hair. “It’s none of our business.” The way his eyes darken makes me shift uncomfortably, and when Mom gasps, I instantly take that as my cue to leave. They deserve happiness and I've grown comfortable enough with their interactions that I barely register it anymore, but nobody wants to see their parents making out, no matter how comfortable I am with their displays of affection. Some things you just don’t need to witness.

Pushing up from my seat, I place my mug on the coffee table.

“Where’re you goin’?” Mom frowns.

“I love you guys, but I don’t need to see what happens next,” I mutter, gesturing between them.

Mom blushes, but dad is wearing a look I don’t want to decipher.

“You could stay for dinner?” she suggests.

“I’ve got some errands to run right now,” I reply, checking my watch. I need to get back to the city to meet with Alvaro and Haldon. Now that Dad’s pretty much given me his approval to run with this fight club idea, I need to set the rest of the wheels in motion. Starting with finding a venue for our first fight night.

I look up to see mom’s face etched in disappointment. Never wanting to hurt her feelings, I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. “What time is dinner?”

Her eyes light up as she jumps out of Dad’s lap, wrapping me in another suffocating hug. “Seven o’clock!”