Beautiful Criminal (Omertà Law Book #1)

  Beautiful Criminal (Omertà Law)

  M.N. Forgy

  Beautiful Criminal

  (Omertà Law 1)

  By M.N. Forgy

  Copyright © 2020 M.N. Forgy

  Edited by Ellie McLove

  Content Editing by Raw Book Editing

  Cover by Pink Ink Designs

  Proof Reading by Michell Hall Casper

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Setting The Scene

  Prologue

  1. Kieran

  2. Leona

  3. Kieran

  4. Leona

  5. Kieran

  6. Kieran

  7. Leona

  8. Leona

  9. Kieran

  10. Leona

  11. Kieran

  12. Leona

  13. Leona

  14. Leona

  15. Kieran

  16. Leona

  17. Leona

  18. Kieran

  19. Kieran

  20. One week later

  21. Kieran

  22. Leona

  23. Kieran

  Epilogue-ish

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by M.N. Forgy

  Dedication

  To those who didn’t transition their way of life from good to evil because they wanted to, but because life changed them.

  Setting The Scene

  With gentle ease, I slowly sit down on the wooden bench. The structure’s old age shows as it creaks in protest trying to bear my weight and reminding me of my tired bones these days. The bench overlooks the park. The calm of the outside air has me trying to relax. Outstretching my arms, I rest my hands on my knees and exhale the breath that felt as if it were stuck under my ribcage. My slacks ride up my legs showing my black socks and shoes that Velcro because these knotty ol’ fingers don’t quite work, they don’t do too well with laces. A light breeze blows the few strands of hair I have left around, making me aware of the wispy grays that I now have, instead of the ink-black locks I had in my younger days. But it doesn’t bother me, I don’t brush it anymore. Pulling a pack of smokes from my nylon jacket, I shake the cigs loose and pull one free with my lips before lighting it. Inhaling the smoke, I blow it out ignoring all the no-smoking signs nearby. I’m old enough to do what the fuck I want, and nobody will say anything to me anyhow because they think I’m too old to comprehend what’s going on around me in the first place.

  The summers are beautiful here in New York with the sun lacing through the trees and warm weather gathering all walks of life outside. For some reason, I’ve found myself visiting the park the last few days to watch the young ones play around the swing without a care in the world. It’s a different scene then my younger days. I was never at the park but always into mischief in the worst part of towns. Probably why I’m in the trouble I am these days.

  Two boys are playing by themselves off to the side catch my attention amongst idle chatter, bikes clanking by, and phones ringing off in the distance. Both boys are young and look like they could be brothers, they’re wearing summer clothes with grass stains on their scraped up knees. The taller one raises his hand high in the air with a toy airplane making motor noises with his mouth and runs off, the other kid chases after him, demanding to have a turn and the corner of my lip almost pulls into a smirk. I take another hit of my cigarette instead, leaving it to dangle in between my lips.

  It’s tourist season, but these two kids look like tough kids. They’ve got to be from around here. Not some pussyfooted mama boys who would cry if they so much as fell on their knees.

  Grinding my teeth on one another, I watch them, trying to remember that age, but it’s a memory blocked by the monstrous disease of old age.

  I wonder what those boys want to be when they grow up?

  What did I want to be? Did I ever really get a chance to think about it? The memories are so far back, I can’t get a grip on them. I only know it seemed my future was destined to be exactly what it was all because of the name I was born to.

  Are they scared of anything? I was afraid of my father, I remember that one. I silently laugh to myself.

  Looking around, I wonder if their parents are even keeping an eye—

  Something presses to the back of my head, cutting my thoughts short. A dark shadow falling over me has me close my eyes knowing what’s to come as the silencer shoves into the back of my head a littler harder.

  A voice behind me whispers, “You can’t outrun a DeAngelo.”

  “Bang.”

  Prologue

  Fifteen Years Earlier

  Age Ten

  Kieran

  My small hands grip the splintered shovel handle a little tighter as I drive the head into the damp dirt. My palms are sweaty, making it harder to hold on to the tool causing it to tire me out. A grunt presses from my chest as I try to shake the soil loose and toss the crumbles up onto the ground which is now well above my head. Standing up straight, I barely see my dad who’s sitting on the bumper of our car, headlights blinding me in the midst of the dark night. My eyes shift to the bloody sheets wrapped around what looks like a body lying on the ground next to the grave I’m digging.

  “Who is this guy anyway?” I ask out of breath. I’m not afraid or scared of what’s happening. I know if this guy is dead, it’s because he’s a bad guy. I know this guy being dead, he brought it on himself. My father always says, “I only hurt those that karma missed. Respect is earned and so is the calling of the Reaper.” Besides, fear isn’t a part of the life I’m built to lead.

  Dad gives me a pointed look before removing the cigar from in between his lips. His suit without a wrinkle, and shoes without a speck of dirt, he is put together like this is another day at the office. I always look anywhere but in his eyes, because when I see those dark brown irises, it makes my stomach do weird things. The feeling reminds me of when I’m about to do something real dangerous and my stomach gets this sick feeling as if it’s a warning.

  “Why’s it gotta be a guy, maybe it’s a woman?” he grumbles, pointing the cherry lit end of this cigar at me. “Just keep digging. Yeah?”

  Shaking my head, I wipe my forehead of the sweat dripping in my eyes only to end up smudging dirt across my face. I huff and keep scraping the hard earth free of its dirt, but my eyes keep drifting to the body. It doesn’t look like it has boobs like a woman would, it has to be a man. I don’t dare ask a second time. If my father felt like sharing, he would have. No, I know enough to know it’s time to keep my head down and do the task at hand.

  A foot steps onto the body, rolling it out of my sight.

  Catching me staring at the dead person, my father yells, “I said keep diggin’!”

  I do as
I’m told, but I can’t help but notice him. I see my brother sitting in the passenger seat hunched over, puke caking the front of his new shirt mom just bought. His dark hair is matted down with sweat, and his face is pale. I want to climb out of the hole and check on him, but that would really piss our pops off. Dad had him down here helping me, but Romeo couldn’t handle the smell or the sight of blood and puked all over himself. Dad ripped him away from me and shoved him toward the car, cursing at him in Italian.

  The smell or sight of the body doesn’t bother me, I don’t know why it doesn’t.

  It just doesn’t.

  I’m more curious than anything. The questions swirl in my mind rather than fear about the lifeless body in front of me. I want to know who it is. I want to pull back the sheet and see if he was shot or beat to death. Is he all bloody? In my mind, I run over the many things he could have done wrong to earn his death.

  That’s the difference between me and Romeo, he’s got a heart and I, well, I guess I don’t. He’ll see a bird fall from a nest in Central Park and take it home to nurse it back to health. I’d be more intrigued if I could climb the tree the bird fell out of, leaving the bird to fend for itself. If it’s out of the nest the mom probably pushed it out knowing it was a weakling or sick. It’s the circle of life. If it can’t survive now, it won’t ever.

  “That’s enough, Kieran, climb out,” Dad interrupts my thoughts.

  I drop the shovel, out of breath. “Thank God,” I mutter. I flex my sore fingers, noticing a blister coming on between my thumb and index finger. I rub at it.

  “Get the damn shovel!” Dad sneers, almost making me jump. I grab the tool and toss it out of the grave and then using both hands, I push up and grab onto the earth that is still intact to climb out. Managing to get mud and dirt all over me, including inside my shoes, I finally make it out.

  Dad wastes no time and kicks the body into the small makeshift grave and then looks to Romeo. I stand up quickly, hoping dad will just leave him alone.

  “I’ll bury him. It’s fine,” I insist, trying to protect my brother. I’m not a good brother, I still mess with him and do shit I probably shouldn’t, but when it comes to my dad, something inside of me always tries to shelter Romeo. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I see that Romeo isn’t cut out for the type of life dad wants him to lead. I can’t explain it. I feel sorry for my brother. My instincts scream to step in for him with our father time and time again so that’s what I do. Dad shoves me out of the way, his face looking angry already. This is a battle I obviously won’t win.

  “Boy, get over here.” His voice sharp, Romeo’s head snaps in our direction.

  Running my hands down my face, I already know shit is going to get out of hand. My brother and my dad can’t be around each other without a fight.

  “Dad, please,” Romeo begs. Dad’s head tilts to the side, just barely, giving Romeo that look he has seconds before he snaps off and slaps one of us around. Yes, we both know exactly what our father means in a single glare. Romeo quickly gets up, crossing his arms and shuffles his feet against the dirt, slowly coming our way looking at the grave with weary eyes.

  “Give him the shovel, Kieran,” Dad orders. I hold it out, handing it to Romeo, and he takes it with a shaky hand.

  “Now, bury the fucker,” Dad clips. Romeo walks past me and starts shoving dirt onto the body. I watch to see if he’s crying, but he’s not. He just looks lost, as if he’s a robot and not really here. I wonder what’s going through his mind right now.

  “Dad, just let me do it, he’ll screw it up,” I say, wanting to keep my brother from getting in more trouble or worse, scarring his soul in a way he might not come back from.

  “Here, take one.” A pack of cigarettes are placed in my line of sight, ignoring my plea, my father is giving me a cue that Romeo isn’t getting out of this no matter what I try.

  “Um,” I hesitate. I’m only ten. Mom would kill me if she knew I smoked. Even if my dad is the one giving them to me, mom will still have a fit. Romeo stops throwing dirt on the body and watches to see if I take one. He’s two years younger than me, I wonder if dad will offer him one too.

  “Take it, you’ve earned it.” Dad shoves the pack farther into my personal space. Taking it from him, I pull a long slender cigarette out, the smell of tobacco crisp, reminding me of fresh-cut wood.

  Putting the orange end between my lips, Dad leans over and lights it with a black lighter. I take a big puff, my mouth filling with the taste of metallic, and my lungs squeeze shut as if they’re refusing the toxic smoke making a cough tumble out of me.

  Dad chuckles and pats my back hard. “Easy, buddy.” He continues to laugh, and it angers me. If I can bury a body, I can smoke a little cigarette. I try it again, this time a smaller inhale, and the urge to cough isn’t as harsh. The taste isn’t so bad this time either.

  “One day, son, this will be you.” Dad crosses his arms, admiring the work my brother and I have done before him. “I’ll be the boss, and you will be underneath me. I need the best. I need you, son.” He shoves me in the arm with his elbow, and I nod in knowing.

  Our family isn’t like most families. I learned that at a young age. I’ve heard my father talk of things he’s done along the years and that talk eventually graduated us to tonight.

  Burying a body.

  Someone who was breathing hours ago and now isn’t. But I know that he’s dead for a reason, he tried to hurt our family, or take advantage of us in some way. Or most importantly, he broke Omerta Law. Don’t talk to law enforcement about anything within the DeAngelo circle.

  My grandpa is the top boss but he’s sick with cancer and eventually his body will lose the fight putting my father in the top spot, and if I’m old enough, I’ll be the underboss, or something like that. All I know is my dad’s dream is for me and Romeo to be Made Men.

  Romeo tosses the last bit of loose dirt on the body, catching my attention. I don’t know where Romeo will stand in the line of our family. Maybe a soldier, one to do the small work we need done.

  “Good job.” Dad steps forward, ruffling my brother’s hair before taking him under his arm. “See, you’ll learn just like your brother did.” Romeo’s left side of his mouth turns into a smirk, his eyes looking at Dad with admiration.

  “Let’s get home. Your mother is probably wondering where we are,” he says, opening the car door. I flick my cigarette off into the distance like I’ve seen Dad do a million times and climb into the front seat. A sense of confidence I didn’t have before has me sitting a little taller, like I could protect my little brother and mother if I needed to. Resting my arm along the back of the seat, I glance at Romeo in the back who is looking at his hands with a grim look. I sigh, knowing I’ll have to sleep in his room tonight to keep him from having nightmares. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a chore, rather than a responsibility.

  Is this what it feels like to be a man?

  Coming into the front door of our house, my feet bring in clumps of dirt, and the smell of Romeo’s puke is so pungent I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. Thank god dad had the windows down in that car or I might have puked as well.

  Mom greets us with a horrid look on her face. Her dark hair rolled in curlers, and a white robe tied tightly around her thin frame. Looks like she was getting ready for bed. Maybe with Romeo sick and her tired, she won’t figure out I was smoking tonight.

  “What the hell happened?” She sneers, looking both me and my brother over. Neither Romeo nor I say a word. Dad taught us to not be snitches. In our world, women don’t get answers. Dad gives her that reply regularly. If she presses on, I’ll just have to be the man and remind her of her place. Her dark eyes land on Romeo and she grips him by the chin. “This was a new shirt, it’s ruined now.” Her brows narrow in before looking at me. “I smell smoke, who was smoking?” she sniffs into the air reminding me of a dog. I hold my breath hoping she doesn’t smell it coming from me.

  I’m not scared of Mom, but w
hen she punishes us it’s pure torture. She grounds us or makes us do chores for weeks. I’d rather get slapped across the face from dad and get it over with so I can go play Fortnite.

  “Boys, go wash up and get to bed,” Dad orders and we push past Mom to head upstairs before she can interrogate us any further. Our father will handle her inquisition and I’m thankful in the moment for the reprieve. I stop at the very top of the staircase, watching to see what dad says to Mom, and how he gets himself out of this one. He’s a very smart man and says just the right things.

  “Emilio, tell me you didn’t!” Her voice cracks, her head shaking back and forth dramatically. “Tell me you didn’t take them on a job.” She covers her mouth with both hands, her heart spilling out onto the floor.

  “Doesn’t much matter where they were or weren’t. The boys are growing into men and they know what’s right,” he says without a care in the world, walking farther into the house he goes into the kitchen where I can’t see him. I hear the fridge open before slamming shut.

  Mom stares at him in disbelief. She’s not letting up so easily tonight. “They’re just boys, goddamn it! This is the time they learn empathy, and—and to enjoy their innocence!”

  Dad scoffs at her like she’s being ridiculous and walks back to where Mom is standing by the door.

  “Emilio, you keep doing this, and those boys are going to grow up to be monsters.” Tears run down her cheeks, her finger pointing upward to where me and Romeo are. Luckily, neither adult looks up to find me eavesdropping.