Savage Shay - Evan Arden The Complete_Boxed Set -

Evan Arden The Complete Series Shay Savage

All characters and events in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 Shay Savage Published by Shay Savage, LLC All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Cover design: Jada D’Lee Designs Editing: Tamara and Chayasara

Table of Contents Otherwise Alone Shay Savage Preface Chapter One – Meaningless Existence Chapter Two – Resolved Tension Chapter Three – Sowed Seeds Chapter Four – Accepted Fate Otherwise Occupied Chapter 1 – Hired Relief Chapter 2 – Annoying Rival Chapter 3 – Conjured Plan Chapter 4 – Patient Research Chapter 5 – Tense Situation Chapter 6 – Brief Surrender Chapter 7 – Easy Murder Chapter 8 – Wretched Patient Chapter 9 – Evening Interlude Chapter 10 – Abrupt Change Chapter 11 – Painful Betrayal Chapter 12 – Lost Sanity Epilogue Uncockblockable Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Otherwise Unharmed Chapter 1—Lost Soul Chapter 2—Possible Forgiveness Chapter 3—Needed Sleep Chapter 4—Desperate Thoughts Chapter 5—Unavoidable Agreement Chapter 6—Intense Reconnection Chapter 7—Desired Refuge Chapter 8—Unveiled Threats Chapter 9—Gentle Night Chapter 10—Blatant Truth Chapter 11—Unexpected Reaction Chapter 12—Developing Plan Chapter 13—Tentative Agreement

Chapter 14—Heated Argument Chapter 15—Unexpected Gift Chapter 16—Narrow Miss Chapter 17—Altered Plans Chapter 18—Double Cross Chapter 19—Incredible Loss Chapter 20—Startling Revelation Chapter 21—Final Goodbyes Epilogue—New Life Isolated Shay Savage Chapter One—Unexpected Truce Chapter Two—Risky Deal Chapter Three—Frigid Escape Chapter Four—Secretive Travel Chapter Five—Completely Alone Epilogue—Clear Shot Irrevocable Chapter 1—Typical Night Chapter 2—New Faces Chapter 3—Family Ties Chapter 4—Stolen Cargo Chapter 5—Complicated Companions Chapter 6—Random Encounters Chapter 7—Untrustworthy Associates Chapter 8—Stress Relief Chapter 9—Missing Person Chapter 10—Compromised Position Chapter 11—Unsettling Complications Chapter 12—Troubling Knowledge Chapter 13—Broken Security Chapter 14—Devastating News Chapter 15—Impulsive Arrangement Chapter 16—Startling Discovery Chapter 17—Beyond Duty Chapter 18—Uncovered Betrayal Chapter 19—Resolved Agreement Chapter 20—Unplanned Encounter Chapter 21—New Leadership Chapter 22—Final Piece Chapter 23—Miraculous Awakening Chapter 24—Different Outlook Epilogue—Otherwise Healed Author’s Note

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Otherwise Alone Shay Savage

Preface In blazing heat and almost complete isolation, I hide in the Arizona desert and wait for the day my boss tells me I can come back home. My only companions are my Barrett rifle and a Great Pyrenees named Odin. I check my email regularly – it’s my only link to what has become the outside world. Everything in it reminds me of what is currently out of my reach, and I wonder if I will end up rotting here after all. Maybe it isn’t exile. Maybe it is an execution. The days are long and the nights are longer, until a young woman suddenly appears on my doorstep. I’m all for getting a little – it’s been ages – but she makes me long for more.

Chapter One – Meaningless Existence It’s fucking hot. Even though I’m naked, I’ve kicked all the blankets off in the middle of the night. The sun isn’t even up yet, and it’s still blisteringly hot in the middle of the desert, somewhere west of Pinon, Arizona. I roll over on my back and try to blow air down my chest, letting the sweat there mix with my breath to cool me down a bit. It helps, but only when I’m actually exhaling. The bed squeaks as I drop my legs to the side and hope I don’t end up with another fucking splinter from the ancient wood floors. My eyes fall to my Barrett, a long barreled rifle with an elaborate scope, which is propped up in the corner of the room, next to the bed. It is my constant reminder of how I ended up here. I stretch and moan a little before I take a quick piss and dig around for a clean pair of boxer shorts, my jeans, and a faded Jesus and Mary Chain concert T-shirt. Once I’m dressed, I go outside and check the level of gasoline I still have for the generator. If I don’t run a fan and only use the electricity for cooking and checking my email, I’ve got enough to keep me going another week or so. Internally I hope that will be enough, but I know in the back of my head that it probably won’t be. I will have to make the one-hundred mile trek to a gas station where I have yet to be seen. Lots of people pass through the area on the highway several miles from here, but they don’t ever stop twice in the same place. Even if they did, chances are no one would notice, but I’m not one to take chances. Before I can head back through the door of the small, two room house, I hear a magnificent sneeze followed by the thumping of four canine feet across the dusty ground. “Come ‘ere, Odin,” I say with a yawn, and the Great Pyrenees lopes over to get his head scratched. Though his white coat is still pretty close to his skin, in this heat he needs another haircut. I wonder if I have enough juice to charge up the electric trimmers. If there isn’t, I’m going to have to do it by hand with a pair of scissors. Odin isn’t going to like it much, and it will probably end up looking like shit, but it’s better than overheating. I fill his water dish from the pump outside and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. There’s just enough light to see by as it streaks across the barren landscape while the sun decides to make an appearance. I do a quick look around, check the wires hooked up to the battery of the old Chevy truck in the back of the house, and verify they’re still connected. The wire runs the perimeter of the two acre property and would set off the vehicle’s horn if breached. It’s not the best security around, but I’m supposed to be dead anyway. I stretch out, do a few pushups and sit ups, then jog around the shack a few times before I head back in. Odin follows me back inside, and I take quick inventory of the place out of habit, not because I don’t know what I will find. There isn’t much to go over – a bathroom with rusted out fixtures, a kitchen area with a mini-fridge full of room temperature – that is, warm – bottles of water, and a small electric stove. The main room is mostly occupied by my twin-sized bed with a cast-iron frame, once painted white, but is now chipped and falling apart. Pushed against the wall is a card table with two folding chairs. There isn’t even room for a full sized chest of drawers or anything, so the small amount of clothing I do have is folded up in the drawer of a short nightstand. I showed up here with a single duffle

bag, so I don’t have that much, anyway. “Fucking paradise,” I grunt to myself. Odin looks up at me and snuffs. He hardly ever barks but seems content to huff through his nose and occasionally whine at me. I’m not one to talk to the dog a lot either, though he is my steadfast companion. He’s eight years old, and I’ve had him since half way through his first year. I don’t know why I decided to walk into the county animal shelter that day, but he was with me when I left, and he’s been by my side just about constantly since then. After making myself a peanut butter sandwich, I pull one of the warm bottles of water out of the fridge and drink it down. I stretch again, rub Odin’s wooly head, and grab the rifle before I go out to the front porch to sit in the rocking chair and watch. It’s not like I really think I’m going to be found at this point – I’ve been out here in this Godforsaken place for a quarter of a year – but I don’t have much of anything else to do, and I can’t leave until I get the go-ahead to do so. Watching at least gives me the feeling that I am doing something because I find it difficult to do nothing at all. I wish I could read, but I tend to get very lost in a good book, and that would drop my defenses to a completely unacceptable level. Just because I haven’t been found doesn’t mean I won’t be. I know this from experience. I pick up one of Odin’s rubber bones from the corner of the porch and toss it out into the dust. He stands and looks out at it, wags his tail a few times, and then drops back down at my feet. “You used to want to play fetch, you lazy thing.” Another huff through his nose is all I get in return. I’m fairly certain what he means to say is it’s too damn hot for that shit. I sit and tap the run-down front porch with the toe of my boot as I rock back and forth with the sniper rifle across my lap and Odin at my feet. The heat continues to be oppressive, but there is at least the hint of a breeze in the air today. It’s still unbearable, but it’s a slightly better version of unbearable than it was yesterday. It’s a hell of a lot better than a bunker in the Middle East even without the breeze. Lunchtime. I fire up the generator and the stove to boil some water, add part of a box of pasta to the pot, and heat up some sauce. I let the fan run while I eat because the afternoon is just too fucking hot and I need a little temporary relief. The pasta is nicely al dente, but the sauce comes out of a jar and sucks. I remember homemade sauces from Rinaldo’s kitchen – his wife slapping my hand away as I tried to get a taste before dinner was on the table. While I eat, I fire up the netbook PC and wait for it to acquire enough of a satellite signal to download my email. Odin watches for cues from me, but when he gets none he just drops at my feet with his head on his front paws. The fan shuffles the hair on his head around, and he huffs again before closing his eyes for a bit of a nap. The electronic beep tells me my email has loaded. There is one message from Pizza Hut, offering me my choice of any pizza with any topping for ten bucks – fucking tease that email is – and three additional, similar advertisements. I have also apparently won the Swiss Lotto four times, can obtain

Canadian prescriptions for Viagra at a discount, and the President of a country I have never heard of wants to give me one-point-two million dollars from his off-shore account. Nothing from Rinaldo. I don’t delete the messages – I just shut the PC back down again. I wash the dishes, put them in the cupboard, turn off the fan and the generator, and then drop back into the rocking chair on the porch. Odin wakes up and follows. He lets out a big yawn, stretches, turns himself in a circle, and then settles back down at my feet. I reach out and rub the back of his neck with the toe of my boot. My eyes scan the horizon. Sage brush, packed red earth, and dust devils. I lean my head back and close my eyes for a moment. Visions of a cool, rainy alleyway and the sound of gunshots fill my head. I can see my own arm upraised and the barrel of my Beretta turned on its side as a man in a dark blue suit runs away from me. My arm jerks twice, and he falls. “What the fuck, Arden? He wasn’t the target!” “He was a witness.” “But shit…Rinaldo’s not going to be happy about this.” “I’ve done worse.” Well, I thought I had. Apparently killing the nephew or cousin or some such shit of Greco’s mistress pissed the guy off. Since Greco’s group was Rinaldo Moretti’s competition, the potential for an all-out mafia war was pretty high, which is why I had to disappear. Greco didn’t know who did it, but he was determined to find out, and it was better if I was just not around to be found. Rinaldo was ticked, and there had been a moment there in the first fifteen minutes of his stalking around in his office when I thought he was going to put a bullet in my brain, but he didn’t. Exile was the next best alternative. That was just after Memorial Day weekend, and tomorrow will be the first of September. I open my eyes again and stare at one of the dust devils as it spins and jerks around for a minute before dissipating into the dry ground. I roll my shoulders one at a time and glance down at Odin, wondering how he can sleep while wearing a fur coat in this heat. I scan the horizon again, rather haphazardly. Movement. I am instantly alert. This is not a dust devil or a dry, tumbling shrub. The movement is on the dirt road leading up to the small house and it is definitely human. Whoever it is, he or she is too far away to been seen clearly without a little ocular assistance. The rifle comes to my shoulder reflexively. With my left eye closed, my right eye looks down the scope, focusing on the target some three-quarters of a mile away. Through the crosshairs, I can see the figure much more clearly.

It’s a girl. What the fuck? A woman, I suppose – maybe twenty years old. She’s walking sideways just a little, like she’s not really looking where she’s going, and stumbling every once in a while. She’s not carrying anything, but as she approaches I can see there is a small backpack strapped to her back. It’s not big enough for any real supplies, but more like one of those things the college girls wear for a purse – something that is certainly more decorative than useful. As she comes closer, I get a better view and learn a little about her. She’s been walking for maybe an hour or two at most because she’s not showing any signs of dehydration and she doesn’t appear to have any water with her. Her shoes are very dusty, though, so it’s not like she just started walking, either. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, but I’m pretty sure she’s only done that recently. It’s haphazard and definitely not done with the aid of a mirror. She was either in a rush when she put it up, or it was done as she walked to cool off her neck. She’s a freaking klutz, tripping about every forty steps over nothing but her own shoes, as far as I can tell. For some reason, that makes me smile a little. I shift the weapon and scan the horizon behind her from left to right, but there’s no one else to be seen. I consider my options. Option one - shoot her. I really don’t want or need any company, and company in general is a risk. Pros – I don’t have to think about it anymore, and it’s generally safer for me. Cons – she’s just some innocent chick whose car probably broke down, and killing her is kind of a shitty thing to do. Next option – let her walk right on up here. If she was from Rinaldo, I’d have some notice about it, and if she was from Greco’s organization she wouldn’t be approaching the house tripping over the dust with nothing on her but a little bitty backpack. Pros – I wouldn’t have to dig a big ass hole in the dry, packed ground. Cons – I will probably have to talk to her. She stumbles again – just a little. It is barely noticeable if you aren’t really paying attention, but I am. I always pay attention. She’s maybe five-foot-four and a hundred and twenty pounds. Her tennis shoes are covered with a pretty thick layer of dust, and as I lower the scope a little I can see a slightly clearer spot on the edge of her left shoe – near the laces. She must have tried to wipe it off, but it’s been some time ago and it’s all dirty again. I re-estimate and decide she’s been walking for at least two hours, and she’s got something serious on her mind – at least serious to her. As she walks she is completely oblivious to everything around her. Either it is really that important, or she is really that ignorant. A few hours in this heat is not a good thing. I try to come up with any other alternatives, but I don’t think of many. She’s obviously not Native American, so she probably doesn’t have family too close. Odin’s head pops up, and he growls low as he looks out towards the young woman. “You’re a little late,” I tell him, and he huffs at me. I focus the scope back on my visitor, and my finger hovers over the trigger for a moment, but only a moment. I have no problem shooting a woman – done it plenty of times before – but she is just lost, and that doesn’t seem like a decent reason to die. I lay the rifle back across my lap. She’s close enough to watch without it now, though she still hasn’t even looked up from the dirt road. If I am quiet enough, I’m pretty sure she’ll run right into the

house. She trips again, right at the perimeter of the property, and the truck’s horn starts blaring. Awakened from her trance, her head jerks up and she falters in her steps as her eyes take in the shack, the Chevy, and then me as I stand up, rifle still in hand and pointed in her general direction. Odin immediately stands alongside me with hackles raised and starts to growl loudly. He doesn’t take it any further because he can tell I’m not particularly alarmed. Wary, yes – because I’m not stupid – but I’m not overly concerned, either. Even if she started running, it would take a track star at least a minute to reach me, so I stand up from my chair, walk over to the truck, and disconnect the alarm so the horn stops. I walk back towards the porch but stick to the dirt instead of going up the steps. I don’t need the extra height to keep her closely in my sights, and I figure since I’m obviously not shooting her just yet, I am probably going to end up talking to her. Odin is walking in a figure eight pattern in front of me, watching the girl’s approach. I snap my fingers near my hip, and he walks around behind me. He sits on the ground and looks up to me expectantly. Her approach slows as she gets near me. She almost seems to hunch down a little, as if there would be some advantage to making herself invisible at this point. Her eyes are trained to the rifle in my grip as she takes a final step forward, stops, and opens her mouth. “Um…hi!” she calls out. Her eyes dart around, showing her nervousness. Her hand comes up in a short wave, but it’s not too convincing a gesture. I look her up and down, reassessing now that she is closer. My conclusions are all the same – she’s lost, been walking for about two hours, and she came from the south. The closest road in the south is Highway 264, so she is definitely going in the wrong direction. She has another twenty-five miles before she hits another road. If she wasn’t standing in front of me right now, she’d probably be dead before nightfall. “Do you want to die?” I ask her. My tone is probably a little harsher than needed, but the question just had to be asked. Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back from the barrel of the rifle. I resist the urge to snicker as I gesture out towards the open desert with the dangerous end. “Not the very best area to look for a picnic spot.” She glances around the barren landscape, then at the weapon in my hands as it points back towards her head. She laughs nervously and wraps her fingers around themselves in front of her stomach. Her top teeth pop out and bite into her lower lip as her face turns to a grimace, and she stares hard at the ground for a while. When she looks up at me, I can see her throat bob before she speaks again. “My car broke down,” she says softly. Her eyes drop from mine, and she looks off towards the dirt road for a second. The muscles in her right hand tighten a little, making her fingers jerk in response. There is no doubt in my mind she is lying.

“Did it now?” I reply softly. “Yeah, overheated, I suppose,” she says with a little more conviction. “I thought I was heading back the direction I came from, but obviously I wasn’t.” “Want to get some water, and I’ll drive you back to it? I’m sure I can take care of a little radiator trouble.” “Oh!” Her eyes go wide, and her feet begin to shuffle. That’s right, baby, I’m not buying your shit. “You don’t have to do that.” She reaches up and fiddles with the poof made by the hair band at the top of her head. “Maybe I could just use your phone? My cell can’t get any reception, and I think it’s dead now anyway.” “I don’t have one,” I reply. “Oh.” Her eyes drop back to the ground. I keep looking at her, but she won’t meet my gaze. I debate calling her out on it directly or letting her dig herself deeper. It doesn’t really matter one way or another, so the decision is based completely on my own desire to see what she says. “You want to tell me the real reason you’re wandering around out here?” Her teeth take that moment to bite right into her lip again, and I wonder if she’s going to make herself bleed. “That obvious, huh?” “Pretty much.” “My mom always said not to join any secret societies because I was the worst liar in the world.” I don’t reply because there’s no reason to respond to that. I just wait and watch. She’s looking at the ground and seems to have become suddenly lost in her own mind, likely in nostalgia about her mom or some other aspect of her childhood. When she doesn’t say anything after a minute, I switch the rifle from one arm to the other and her eyes widen. At least I have her attention again. “I had a bit of an…an argument…with my driver,” she finally mumbles. “I was dropped off in the middle of nowhere.” It’s the truth, but not all of it. I figure it’s all I’m going to get, and since I really don’t care, I decide to move on from this conversation. “Want some water?” I ask. I move the rifle up to my shoulder, pointing the end at the sky. “Yes, please.” Her relief is obvious, but she is also understandably cautious in her movements. She follows me tentatively to the door and stands just outside of it. Odin sniffs around at her feet, and she pats his head. He seems undecided about her, likely reflecting my own feelings.

“It’s not particularly cold,” I tell her as I pull a bottle out of what would be a refrigerator if it was turned on, “but it is wet.” “That’s perfect, really,” she says. I walk near the door and hold the bottle of water just out of her reach. I’m curious about how she will respond. Will she step inside the spider’s parlor to get the water she needs to survive? Or will her own fears and paranoia make her stay on the rickety porch and refuse to take the risk? It takes her several seconds until she realizes I’m not going to move, and she slowly takes two steps forward. Our fingers brush against each other’s as she takes the bottle from my hand. There’s a tinge of red on the tops of her cheeks which wasn’t there before. She’s embarrassed, but about what? Is it because she’s taking water from a stranger or because she’s admitting to needing help? Or maybe it’s because our fingers touched and she realizes she’s alone with some guy she doesn’t know. I want to laugh at the idea, but I manage to contain myself. “Thank you,” she says and then clears her throat. She twists open the bottle and tips it up to her lips. She starts to drink way too quickly, and I immediately grab it from her, causing her to startle. “Not so fast,” I say, “or you’ll make yourself sick. Sip it.” I place the bottle back in her hand, and she nods slowly at me. She takes a small sip, pauses, and then takes another. I return her nod, convinced she isn’t going to make herself puke on my floor now. “What’s your name?” she asks. “Evan,” I tell her. “I’m Lia,” she says with a smile. I’m not sure if it is due to her continued nervousness or if she really just wants to be polite. I watch her closely but don’t respond. “Um…Lia Antonio.” Italian. Figures. I should have known from her features. She doesn’t have any accent, though, so she’s not first gen or anything. I keep staring at her. I know it’s making her nervous, but I’m not one for small talk and I don’t want her to get the impression that she’s going to stay here and gossip away the evening with me. I consider picking the rifle back up and making it clear she needs to be on her way. On her way where? If I kick her out, she’s dead before the sun sets. What am I supposed to do – offer her a fucking ride somewhere? I don’t even know – or care – where she’s going. I’m also supposed to stay right where I am except when I need to go somewhere for supplies. Getting low on gasoline, I remind myself. Fuck. I push the thought from my head. I don’t want to have to spend at least a couple hours in a truck with some chick I don’t know. She’s an idiot for even being here.

I reconsider almost immediately. She is an idiot, but that is for getting herself in the situation at all, not because she is here now. She doesn’t have a choice at this point. Going back out into the desert is suicide. “Hungry?” I hear myself ask, and I want to slam my head into the wall. “Um…a little, but really – you don’t have to go to any trouble.” “Well,” I say, “it’s my dinner time, so I’m going to cook. If you want something, speak up now.” She steps from one foot to the other a couple of times as she stares at the wood slats that make up the floor. “I guess,” she finally answers. “I mean, if you are making something already, that would be wonderful.” Too fucking polite.

Chapter Two – Resolved Tension We sit at the table, and I serve up what I managed to scrounge for dinner. It’s a better meal than I would have made for myself – definitely. Fried potatoes with peppers and onions mixed in with it, along with canned peaches and a couple bottles of water. It still isn’t much, but the way she tears into it tells me how hungry she really is. I leave the generator going, and the fan points close to us so we can at least be a little more comfortable while eating. Odin plops himself down next to the fan to reap the benefits as well. He watches Lia pretty closely but backs away when she reaches out her hand. When she asks me if he’s friendly to strangers, I can only shrug. He really hasn’t been around too many people. It’s always been just the two of us. “This is really good,” Lia says as she takes another bite of the potatoes. “Where did you learn to cook?” “Camping,” I tell her. It is close enough to accurate. “We did a lot of hiking in the middle of nowhere, so I can make a meal out of most anything as long as I have a fire to cook it.” “We?” she pushes. “You and your family?” I hesitate before shaking my head. “I don’t have one.” “I’m sorry,” she says quietly as she bows her head. I wonder if she thinks they’re all dead and she’s saying a little prayer for them or something. I decide to take the moment to get a little distance. “I’m going outside for a few,” I tell her. I need to hook the alarm back up to the truck, which means first running out to the point where she tripped it up and set it off. “I’ll be right back.” Not sure why I feel the need to tell her that. “It’s getting dark,” she says softly as she looks out the window. I don’t reply because it’s such an obvious observation. Will she tell me I’m tall next? After picking up my rifle, I head out and Odin follows at my heels. He sniffs the ground as he keeps pace with my jog. Once I reach the general area, I follow her footprints in the dry ground until I come to the thin, detached wire and twist the metal part of it back together. Odin and I run back to the truck and clip the whole thing to the truck’s battery. I walk slowly around the house using the scope on the horizon but see nothing of interest. I refill Odin’s water dish, feed him, and head inside again. I leave the front door open, which I do most nights. It doesn’t have an actual lock on it anyway, and it works particularly well this evening since the fan is on and it creates a nice cross-breeze. Lia is still sitting in the same spot, tearing the label from her water bottle. I look her over, wondering what’s going through her head. I can make a lot of logical guesses, but there are still too many parameters. She could be thinking of her mother, the asshole who ditched her, or what she is going to do now.

“I assume you are staying here tonight,” I say. I don’t know if I’m answering the question she is pondering or not, but it still has to be something on her mind. Besides, I feel resigned to letting her stay. “Oh, no, no,” she says with a shake of her head. “I couldn’t impose…” I want to laugh, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the humor. I go with straightforward instead. “There really aren’t a lot of options,” I point out to her. “It’s late. I’m tired and going to bed. You can stay or you can go, whatever you want obviously, but I wouldn’t go anywhere until tomorrow.” “I guess you’re right,” she admits. Her fingers twist around each other on top of the table. I stand slowly and start collecting the dishes and fill the sink up with water. “Oh!” she suddenly cries out. “Let me do that!” She’s beside me a second later, apparently planning on washing the dishes herself. I consider for a moment, and then take a step back. “By all means.” I’m curious to see if she really intends to do it or if she is just trying to be polite. Her hands go into the sudsy water, and she begins to scrub. There aren’t many, and she’s done quickly and efficiently. When she places the last dish in the drying rack, I realize I’ve been watching her the entire time. Slowly, I pull the towel from my shoulder and hand it over to her. She mumbles a thank you as she takes it and quickly dries her hands. She looks around the tiny kitchen area and finds the little loop used to hold towels and threads the drying cloth through it before looking back to me. For a long moment, I only look at her and try to figure her out. Some things are obvious – she’s running from someone. Maybe he dumped her on the side of the road and maybe she ran off, but she’s trying to get away from him. That much is clear. On impulse, I check out her ring finger. No ring, but there’s a clear mark around the skin – she’s worn one until recently. Interesting. Is it lying in the dust out there in the road or hidden away in a little pocket of the backpack she left lying next to the still open front door? I tilt my head to one side and feel the brush of the fan’s wind against my neck. I need to turn it – and the generator – off for the night. I do both before walking to the far side of the little room where I live. It’s still too fucking hot. Gripping the hem of my shirt, I pull it up over my head and off before tossing it into a basket under the window. I reach down and thumb open the button on my faded blue jeans. I feel my mouth turn up into a half smile as Lia blushes and looks away from me – as if there is anywhere else to really look in the shack. I shake my head and try not to laugh out loud as I dump my jeans around my ankles, bend over to pick them up, and fold them a couple of times before placing them in the nightstand drawer. Deciding to at least leave my boxers on for her sake, I drop down to the bed and toss the thin sheet back just in case she wants to use it. It is way too warm for a blanket, even a thin one, but who knows? Maybe she is one of those who always needs a blanket.

“Um…where should I sleep?” she asks quietly, and I can’t help but chuckle. “There’s only one place to sleep,” I say, which should have been pretty fucking obvious. Rolling and scooting to my side to offer her as much room as possible, I gesture to the other side of the twin bed. “Right here.” She looks around a bit, and I can almost hear her mind contemplating her options. There are the rocking chairs on the porch and the card table in the kitchen, which wouldn’t hold half her weight. Other than that, there is the wood floor to sleep on – that’s it. I shake my head slowly. “Just lay down.” I watch her throat bob as she swallows again, then walks slowly over to the side of my bed. She doesn’t bother taking anything off, which doesn’t surprise me at all. She’ll be way too hot to sleep, but that’s her problem. Actually, she’s just plain hot. I’m pretty sure it’s not just because I haven’t seen an actual female for three months that makes me think like this. Her hair is gorgeous and makes me want to run my fingers through it while my cock slides in and out of her mouth. She’s got a perfect build, too. She’s not too skinny, which I fucking hate, but has kind of an athletic build. She isn’t quite muscular enough to remind me of the chicks who served with me, but still well-formed. She’s got a real woman’s hips, which I want to grip while I pound into her pussy. Nice ass, too, which makes me want to roll her over on her stomach and grasp both cheeks while my cock pistons in and out of her backdoor. There seems to be a theme to my thoughts. She bites down on her lower lip as she first sits on the bed and then stretches out next to me, which is when it occurs to me that I’d really like to just kiss her, too. I chuckle silently to myself and try to get in the most comfortable position possible. I lie down on my side still facing her and lay my arm across my own body with my hand resting on my thigh so she has enough room to lie down without having to touch me. She also lies down facing me, which I find intriguing. A lot of people would have turned around and faced away from a relative stranger, feeling protected by their own backs. She knows better and realizes she needs to be able to see me so she’s not taken off guard. She’s also staring at my bare chest. Her eyes are just a little wider than I would expect from someone contemplating sleep, and her muscles are tight and stiff. She’s not mentally tired at all, but only going through the motions because it’s time to go to sleep, not because she wants to. She may be physically exhausted, but her mind won’t let her relax. She’s too anxious to sleep, and I wonder if her thoughts are more on the strange man whose bed she is in or the one who dumped her on the side of the road without regard for her safety. That thought pisses me off a bit. I watch her watch me, and every time I look at her lips I think of either covering them with my own or maybe filling her mouth with my cock. Every time I look lower, I want to find some other warm place to hide my dick for an hour or so.

Yeah, there is definitely a theme. “You’re making me nervous,” she says. I glance up from her hip back to her face. “How?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer. “You keep staring at me.” I try to hold back a laugh, but I can’t help myself. “You are by far the most interesting thing I have had to look at in a long, long time.” Her eyes are wary and nervous, and I feel a little bad. My flippant comment probably isn’t going to help her get any sleep, and that really isn’t my intent. I decide to lay it all on the line for her. “Look…” I start, but then I pause. I’m not sure how to say what I want to say without scaring her, and I don’t want to scare her. I want to fuck her, but I don’t want to scare her. If I play all of this right – if I read her perfectly – then I just might get the chance. I can’t fuck it up though. If I misread her in any way, I will say or do the wrong thing, and she will just become more agitated. I want to have her quietly moaning my name into the pillow as I come in her, not freaking out on me because I pushed in the exact wrong way. I finally decide on the direct approach. “You don’t have to be scared of me. If I was going to hurt you, I would have already. If I was going to kill you, you’d be dead. If I was planning on raping you, you’d be raped, okay?” I hear her sharp intake of breath. Okay, maybe that was a little too direct. She tenses at my last sentence, which doesn’t surprise me. Most chicks are more fearful of being raped than being killed. Something about her posture and expression seem off to me, though. As I look her over I realize that though I have shocked her a bit, she’s thinking about it in a slightly different way. It’s not pure fear, as would be the obvious reaction. I think about this for a minute and start watching her a little more closely. It does seem to make her…react. Her chest is rising and falling a little faster, her eyes are dilated, and there’s a bit of a tinge to her cheeks that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure nervous is the right word – anxious seems more like it. Maybe even something slightly different. Like maybe she’s thinking about what it would be like, and not in a completely bad way. I’ve seen chicks get raped - usually right in front of their dad or husband or whatever as a means of punishing him for whatever he fucked up. That shit just goes with the territory in my line of business. I don’t participate – I’m just a killer, not a torturer. That’s an art form I don’t care to learn. My skills are all with the guns, and the closest I ever see my victims is through the scope. With rape, the chick gets damaged, and I know no woman really wants that. That’s not the same as thinking about it, though, and I know the difference between fantasy and reality. I process the information in my head.

Some guy, one who is close to her and maybe even her husband, dumped her on the side of the road…and now she wouldn’t mind a little consensual, rough sex. Interesting. It’s temping, but the more I think about it, the more I decide I’m not going to act on it. I’m not sure my cock is in agreement because it’s threatening to rear up and be noticed. In a bed this size and with our close proximity, I really doubt it will be overlooked, so I close my eyes for a minute, breathe deep, and think about a few head shots until I’m in control again. Well, I am until I open my eyes and see that she is still staring at my chest. Every minute or so her gaze drops down over my abs and maybe even a bit lower as well. The tip of her tongue slips out and moistens her lips right before she takes air deeply into her lungs. I feel the slight vibration in the mattress as she shudders a little. For a moment, I think it’s fear, but her eyes show something else. She wants me. She’s thinking about running her hands over my chest, and the thought is making me hard. My mouth acts on the thought without really having a deep consultation about it with my brain first. “Touch me,” I say. Her eyes widen as her tongue darts out over her lips again. “What?” I hate that. People do it all the time, and I know it’s “human nature” or some such shit, but I hate it when people use the “oh I didn’t hear you” excuse to give themselves time to think about how they want to answer you. That is exactly what she is doing, and I’m not going to give her the chance to think. “Touch me,” I repeat as I nod towards her hand. “You want to – go ahead.” She hesitates, and her chest rises and falls with her deepening breaths. Her eyes move to mine, back down to my chest, and then back to my face again. I can almost see her mind working behind her eyes – weighing the options and trying to decide if she is going to go for the gusto or not. She wants to, but she’s afraid of the consequences. “Take the chance,” I say softly. Her eyes are on mine again, and I know she’s made her decision. She licks her lips once more before slowly reaching out with one hand. My skin can’t help but twitch as her feathery light touch connects with my abs. I’m a little surprised because I thought she’d touch my chest first, and the sensation on my stomach is unexpected. It’s also too damn close to my dick, which is now being very obvious just a couple of inches below her fingers. Hoping she will agree that it’s only fair, my hand moves slowly from my own leg over to her waist. I lay it right on top of the hem of her shirt – just above the curve of her hip – and just let it sit there a moment. Her eyes dart up to mine, and I can see her throat bob a little as she swallows nervously. She looks back down to where her hand touches my skin, and her tongue runs over her lower lip. With a light touch, her hand moves up to my chest and slowly traces the outlines of the muscles there. She finds her way to my shoulder before going back down to my stomach again. My hand grips her slightly on

her waist. It’s only reflexive, but she looks up at me anyway. She doesn’t meet my eyes, though – she is focused a little lower. Her lips purse slightly, and I can see the increased speed of her breaths in the way her chest rises and falls. I want to place my hand on her chest to feel her heart rate, but I hold back. For now. “Kiss me.” My voice sounds raspy to me, like my throat is dry and full of sand. I watch her eyes get wide for a moment, flickering quickly between my eyes and my mouth. As much as I want to lean forward and just take her mouth with mine, I stop myself from doing so. Letting her take the lead – at least for now – is important. Soon, though…soon I’ll be in control. Once she’s decided she really wants it, I’m fucking taking over because that’s what she really needs. “Go on,” I say with my eyes locked on hers. “You want to.” “I do?” “Yes.” “And how do you know that?” Her tone is somewhat defiant but not enough. She might not want to want it, but she does. “I’m a very good judge of character,” I inform her. “You are, huh?” She cocks her head to one side and looks up at me. Her eyes are dilated even more now, and I know she’s just trying to think her way out of it. “Stop stalling.” My fingers grip her side a little to pull her minutely closer. Just a touch of encouragement, which seems to be all she needs. My eyes stay on her as she moves slightly closer. She hesitates one last second before her lips tentatively touch mine. I’m not having any of that, though. She’s opened the door, and it might as well be a pair of those gigantic wooden double-doors that grace the front of some huge Bavarian castle because I’m coming in. I grab the back of her head with my hand and pull her to me, opening my mouth and finding her tongue with my own. She groans against my lips, and I tilt my head to one side to get a better angle. She tastes sweet, like the peaches we had with our dinner, and I want to devour her. There is nothing soft or gentle about what I do. I want her, and I can sense the desire inside of her. She’s not looking for a brief make-out session. Whatever happened with whomever she was with pushed her to this. She wants to be fucked, and I am happy to oblige. My hands grab at her, and my fingers dig into her flesh a little. My tongue dances with hers. Maybe more like a mosh pit than dancing, but whatever. I slide my hand down her back and pull her body flush against mine. My cock is peeking out between the opening of my boxers, and I grind against her stomach. I need to get her shirt off of her as

quickly as possible. And her jeans. And everything else. I need to be inside of her. Mouth, pussy, ass – I don’t care. I just need to merge with her… blend…be one… She turns her head to break the kiss and to take a breath. I don’t bother to stop, but instead move from her lips to her chin and then lower. Her head tilts back as I move down her neck, letting my tongue flick out over her heated skin. I get to the hollow of her throat before I am met with the cloth of her shirt, which pisses me off. I want her tits in my mouth, and I’m tired of playing around. I grasp her fingers and push her hand down until it’s resting on top of my rigid cock. “You want this?” I whisper in her ear, my hot breath making her shiver. I push against the back of her hand and tilt my hips at the same time, basically smashing her hand against my dick. “You say the word, and I’m going to give it to you just how you need it.” Her eyes are wide, and I know she wants it, but I still wait. She needs to know it, not just me. Her wide eyes finally look up to mine, and I feel her fingers twitch against my cock. She nods slightly, but it isn’t good enough. “I want to hear it,” I say to her. “Tell me you want it.” “I want it.” No hesitation. I don’t need further encouragement. I grab both of her wrists and hold them together in my hand, raising them high above her head and pushing them into the pillow. My lips smash down on hers, and my tongue invades her mouth. She gasps and cries out into my mouth, but I don’t stop. I don’t even slow down. I need this as much as she does. My free hand moves to my boxers and pushes them down enough to free my hard and expectant cock before I start moving with purpose. I grab the end of her shirt then and pull it up until her bra is exposed. I straddle her, my mouth still locked to hers, and rub my dick against the skin of her bare stomach. I reach down, hoping she’s wearing a bra that clasps in the front, but she’s not, so I tear the fucking thing off of her. She groans in protest this time, struggling against my grip on her hands. I move back enough to release her lips. “What the hell are you doing?” she cries. “I’m going to tear your clothes off and fuck you so hard you won’t walk right for a week,” I respond. “You want me to stop?” Her eyes dilate further, her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she shakes her head emphatically. I don’t need verbal confirmation this time, and I yank her shorts part way down her legs instead. Her panties come with them, and I don’t bother getting them all the way off because my fingers can already reach what my cock is looking to find. The tips of my fingers slide over her outer labia very lightly – teasingly. Her hips push up, trying to find the friction, but I don’t give it to her. I just lightly touch her at first until she is squirming under me.

The tip of my index finger glances over her clit before seeking her opening and pushing inside. She gasps at the sensation, but she’s wet enough. It’s not because it’s uncomfortable at all, and is probably more in anticipation of what my cock is going to feel like. She’s still moving around a lot, though her hands are still pinned. I lean over her and run my tongue around her nipple, and she moans. Then I bite her. Not hard – not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to notice. Her body tries to rise off the bed, but it doesn’t work – she’s trapped under me, and it’s making me seriously hard. I add another finger, slide in and out of her a couple more times, then pull them out and use the moisture to coat my dick. “You ready for this?” I ask huskily as I position myself at her entrance. “I don’t have any condoms, and I’m fucking you bareback. I’ll pull out if you want.” “I’m…I’m on the pill,” she says, breathless. “It’s a good thing,” I reply, and I shove into her. The noise she makes is nearly a scream, and for a brief moment I think I have crossed a line. I release her hands, and she immediately grabs my head and pulls my mouth to hers. I feel an instant of relief before I kiss her roughly and use my now freed hand to wrap around her tit and pull at the nipple. However, most of my focus is on the warm, seriously tight channel where I’ve just placed my cock. Holy shit. It’s been a while – a long while – and it feels fucking fantastic. I rock my hips into her quickly – pulling out to the tip before slamming back home. Her body jerks each time I hit her center, which tightens her up and squeezes my cock. I’m only slightly aware of her tongue in my mouth because my cock feels too glorious. I thrust into her harder, and she throws her head back and breaks our kiss. She groans loudly, and I take the opportunity to lean back a bit and grab both her hips in my hands. “You better hang on, babe.” She makes a little noise in her throat that almost sounds like a squeak, but she obeys – gripping my forearms with her hands and wrapping her ankles around my calves. The bed squeaks as we progress, and I move rhythmically as my cock claims her pussy. Each push is fast and deep – almost violent as I bottom out in her, buried balls-deep with every thrust. I pound her and pound her until there is sweat running down my back and into my eyes from my hairline. I run my hands up her sides and focus on her tits. I love the way they feel in my hands – perfectly round globes of soft skin and pebbled nipples. I pull at them, and I want to suck on them more, but I like the pace I’ve set fucking into her and I’d have to slow down to reach her with my mouth. Even touching them slows me down, and I want to pound her harder. More importantly, I want a decent view of her ass. I pull out, and she whimpers under me as I get up on my knees and wrench her hands from my arms. “Get on your hands and knees,” I tell her. “Spread those legs.”

My voice is quiet, but my tone still makes the words an order. She complies immediately, and I hear her whimper a little as I move up on my knees and into position between her legs. I grab her hips and slam my cock back inside of her. Her ass is fabulous, and I dig my fingers into the soft flesh as I move. She’s fucking tight this way, and every time I slam up into her, she gasps and her pussy tightens up. I close my eyes for a moment, tilt my head back, and focus on the feeling of her wrapped around my dick as I fuck deep into her. When my eyes open again, I look down to where my cock is sliding in and out of her for a minute, but the sight is too fucking awesome and I can’t keep looking or I’m going to blow. Instead, I lean over her back and slide my hands up her sides and around to grip her tits. I pull at her nipples – not hard at all, but enough to give her a little more stimulation. She moans and tries to turn her head around to see me. I take one hand and place it on the back of her neck. With just a little pressure, I guide her head to the pillow and wait for her to turn her face to one side before I lean in with a little more weight, holding her there. I keep slamming into her as my other hand moves south, finds her trembling stomach, and then her pulsating clit. I bring her to the brink, back off a bit, and then bring her to the brink again. She is crying out, sweating, and practically shaking. My own legs are threatening to give out, so I push her down flat with my body. I lay on top of her back, my legs just inside of hers. My hand is sandwiched between her pussy and the mattress, and I continue to run my finger around her clit. I have to adjust my position a little, but a few moments later I’m slamming into her again – not as deep, because the angle isn’t right for deep penetration – but just as hard as before. My hand releases her neck, and I grab her hair instead. “My cock feels so good fucking you,” I growl into her ear. “You like that? Huh?” A groan is the only response I get, but it is enough. I slam into her harder, hold myself deep inside for a moment, and then slowly slide almost all the way out. I would have pulled all the way out, but it would be too awkward to get back inside of her without getting her back up on her knees again, and I like having her all splayed out under me the way she is. She likes it, too. “Do you know how easy it would be,” I moan, and my voice is gravely and husky in her ear, “to fuck you in the ass from this position?” I feel her tense, and there are goose bumps springing up over her neck and shoulders. I smile slightly – she’s never taken a cock up the ass before. My lips press against the skin below her ear. “Not this time,” I whisper, and I feel her relax underneath me for a brief moment. My finger circles her clit again, and she cries out. Her body clamps down on my cock, and I push into her with a snarl. My thrusts are shallow but quick. I keep rhythm with my finger on her clit as I pound into her as hard as I physically can. Her cries come in time with the creak of the bed as I slam into her. I can feel it coming – the tightness in my thighs and the squeezing sensation in my balls just before the wave cascades over me, leaving me grunting and holding my breath. I come hard and deep inside of

her, arching my back a little to push in as far as I can. As the wave subsides, I drop onto her back and my breaths come in short, hot pants against the skin between her shoulder blades. I stay there for a while, just listening to the sound of our breathing and waiting for my body to relax. My hand is caught between Lia and the mattress and is starting to go a bit numb. I like where I am though and don’t really want to change the position much. I settle for a slight roll to my side, pulling her body tight against mine until we’re in a classic spooning position. Evan Arden – hit man gone spooner. I almost laugh out loud. Lia’s heart is still pounding as I hold her against my chest. She turns her head over her shoulder a little and looks me in the eye. “That was…incredible,” she says through panting breaths. I chuckle. “I know.” She laughs out loud. “What do you mean, you know?” I stare at her intently, silently debating just how straightforward I want to be with a woman who literally stumbled into my life barely a few hours ago. If I tell her, it will reveal quite a bit about me – an aspect I tend to keep to myself – to an almost perfect stranger. A stranger who just had his cock inside her… Well…yes. Still, there are people I have known for years who don’t know about how much detail my mind seems to pick up and categorize in a short amount of time. Deductive reasoning, Mother Superior had called it. She even made me read Arthur Conan Doyle books. Eventually I used it against her to get emancipated at the age of sixteen, and she was nearly ousted from the church altogether. I realize Lia is still watching me and waiting for an answer, and I decide to throw a little caution to the wind. “You like getting fucked hard,” I say with a small shrug. “How do you know that?” she asks quietly. “What? Aside from the massive orgasm you had?” “Yes,” she replies, her voice still soft. “I mean, how did you know before? Before you…um… started?” I shut my eyes for a moment and try not to sigh too loudly. “You really want to hear this?” She hesitates but answers in the affirmative.

Who am I to argue? “Aside from the obvious bullshit nature of the story you gave me when you got here,” I start, “the ring finger of your left hand still has the indent of a ring you wore for a long time – either engagement or wedding – whatever it was. You were too tight to have been having sex regularly, which means even though you were still wearing your ring recently, you weren’t getting it on with your fiancé or husband. You’re a little timid, which means he was abusive to you – maybe not physically because I don’t see any evidence of that – but at least mentally or emotionally. Guys that are shits to their women tend to feel bad about it, so when he tried to make up for whatever shit he did to you, he’d make slow love to you as a way of apology. You probably grew to associate that kind of sex with the shitty apologies he never really meant, so as sweet as he wanted it to be, it left you feeling emotionally empty inside. That’s why all you want now is to be fucked.” I open my eyes and look into her shocked expression. “Hard,” I add.

Chapter Three – Sowed Seeds Lia’s breath comes in quick, short pants as she drops back down on my chest. With one arm wrapped around her back and my softening cock still buried inside of her, I gently run my hand over the top of her head before kissing the same spot. I’m exhausted, and I feel fantastic. I haven’t fucked the same chick twice in a row since college, and never in the same night. At three in the morning, we are on the fourth round. It is like my cock couldn’t get enough of her pussy and her luscious ass. I still haven’t fucked it, but that’s okay, too. Maybe in the morning… I wrap my other arm around her shoulders and hold her close to me. I close my eyes and slow down my breathing – trying to match hers as our heartbeats seem to flow into one. Her head rests under my chin, and her hair tickles my neck. I like it, and it brings deep, restful sleep. I wake, feeling the difference in our positions immediately. I’ve shifted lower in my sleep, and instead of holding her against my chest, my head is cradled against her body. One of her arms is around my shoulders, and the other is slowly stroking through my hair. It’s still fucking hot, and if I try to move I will likely find our skin stuck together. And I really, really don’t give a shit. Of the times I have woken up with a woman in my bed – and I can probably count those on one hand – I have never woken up quite like this. It’s unsettling, but when I turn my head to look up into her eyes, the next set of feelings that course through me are far more unsettling. She smiles at me, and it feels like I’ve been turned inside out. She is unusually beautiful. Not text-book, air-brushed, model beautiful, natural and clear and…lovingly beautiful. It’s as if I have just looked into the face of the mother of God, and my Catholic days are far, far behind me. It is more than that, though. My muscles relax into her, and I feel safe. I feel comforted. I feel strangely submissive to her – like there isn’t anything within my power I wouldn’t do for her. “Hi,” she says. The sound is quiet and unassuming. I want to respond in kind. I want to be nonchalant. I want to ignore the churning of my guts inside of me as she looks down at me. “Hey,” I finally sputter. Her hand keeps running through my hair, and I almost want to shake my leg the way Odin does when I hit the exact right spot. Get a hold of yourself, Arden. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath. It doesn’t help at all because now her scent is all around me. It smells like me and her and sex all mixed up together, and I want to make good use of my morning wood.

“You okay?” she asks, and I nod reflexively. “Just need to pee,” I tell her. When I push up and away from her, our skin makes a ridiculous sound as it separates. She giggles, and I make the mistake of looking at her again. I smile down at her, afraid to open my mouth, and then turn quickly to the little toilet in the corner. There’s no door – only a shower curtain attached to the door frame, which I don’t even bother to pull around as I relieve myself. I grab my toothbrush for a quick once-over before I head back to bed. She slips out of the bed when I’m done and heads for the bathroom area as well, first blushing and asking if she can borrow a toothbrush. I watch her ass as she walks away from me, and my fingers tense up a bit, wanting to grab a hold of it again. I’m not done with her. As soon as she gets close to the bed, I’m on her again. I sit up and pull her into my lap, grabbing both her ankles and wrapping them around my hips. Holding tight to her waist, I raise her up over my cock and lower her onto me. She rises up on her knees and moves slowly over me a few times, but it’s not enough, and I can’t see her ass. I really like her ass. Pushing her up and off of me, I position myself on my back as Lia straddles me. I shake my head at her. “Turn around,” I say. “Face away from me. I want to see your ass while you ride me.” She blushes. My cock is glistening with her juices, and she’s blushing at me. Holy shit, why do I find that so hot? She slowly lifts her leg over my hips and settles her knee down on the mattress. She shifts and moves down a little until she’s in the right spot, and I grip the base of my cock to help guide it back inside of her. She groans as she lowers herself, and after she’s adjusted to the position, I grab her hips and pull her down onto me. Tilting my hips upward each time I pull her down onto me makes for maximum depth, and I feel practically high, though I’ve never smoked weed in my life. I imagine this is what it might feel like as she slides up and down my cock, faster and faster as she moans and tosses back her head. I let go of one hip long enough to grab one of her hands and hold it in front of her, down by her clit. “Touch yourself,” I order. “Make yourself come on me.” The sight of her back and ass as she rides me and brings herself to orgasm is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. Not that I’ve really seen a lot of beautiful stuff because my life hasn’t led towards that kind of shit, but she is truly phenomenal. The curves on her…the way her hair moves…the tiny droplet of sweat cascading between her shoulder blades… I growl and cry out as I push inside once more, holding her hips against me as I fill her. My head drops to the mattress as I angle my hips a couple more times to milk the feeling a bit. I sit up and wrap my arms around her, letting her fall back against my chest as I roll us to our sides, almost dropping us both off

the small bed in the process. She giggles through her rapid breaths, and the motion makes my softening cock fall out of her. She twists around to face me, and I push the hair from her forehead. “What do you do for a living?” she suddenly asks as she props herself up on one elbow with her head resting on her hand. “I’m retired military,” I respond automatically. It’s the truth, easily validated. I roll onto my back and try to catch my breath as she begins to pepper me with questions, and I continue to answer in the vaguest way possible. “That explains a lot,” she mumbles under her breath as her fingers trace over my bicep. “I like your muscles.” “The better to hold you down and fuck you with, my dear.” She laughs as I roll over her and take her nipple between my teeth. I nibble, but only lightly. Between last night’s numerous escapades, the lack of sleep, and the earlier morning romp, my stamina hasn’t quite returned yet. I prop myself up on my hands and lean in to kiss her a couple of times before I lay back on my side facing her. Her hand runs over my bicep again, then down my arm. Her head cocks quizzically to one side as her fingers trace over the slight dip at my waist right before they creep around to my ass. She gives it a bit of a squeeze before looking up at me with humor in her eyes. “I like this part best,” she admits as she blushes. Heh. Birds of a feather or whatever the fuck the saying is. I grab her butt, too, and bring us closer together. “I like this one better.” She giggles, blushes, and then stares at me again. “What?” I ask. “Nothing,” she mumbles back. “Tell me.” Lia hesitates before speaking again. “Can I try something?” I narrow my eyes and release her ass. “Depends on what it is.” “Just…roll over a minute.” “Roll over?” “On your stomach,” Lia clarifies.

I glare at her a minute as she offers more encouragement. Finally I acquiesce and lay on my stomach in the center of the bed, watching her warily as she goes to the bag she has by the front door. I tense, watching her movements closely, and for the first time I feel agitated – sure for the briefest of moments I have been duped – she knows who I am and she’s here to kill me. I am a second from jumping out of the bed and maybe wrestling her to the ground when she turns and holds up a small, round, shiny coin. It’s a quarter. “What the fuck?” I ask. Lia giggles as she skips the fifteen feet back to the bed. “I’ve always wanted to try this,” she says. “You were in the military – it’s just like the quarter test on the bed after you’ve made it up. She cannot be serious. “What, on my ass?” I ask incredulously. “Exactly!” Lia giggles again. I drop my head into my hands and close my eyes. I can’t believe I’m submitting to this, but at the same time I cannot stop laughing. “Flex!” she orders, and I comply. I look over my shoulder and watch as she tosses a quarter at my backside… …and misses the bed completely. “Damnit!” I’m laughing so hard my gut is starting to hurt, and I barely feel it when she smacks my ass and tells me to be still so she can try again. I try to hold in the chuckles, but she smacks me twice more before I’m still enough for her. This time it works, and I’m a little surprised myself when the quarter bounces off and rolls under the bed. Lia jumps up and down, shouting and cheering. This makes her tits and her ass bounce around, too, so I flip back over and grab her, pull her back into the bed, and cover her mouth with mine. “That’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard of anyone doing,” I mumble between laughs and kisses. “It was awesome,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to see that.” I want to fuck her again immediately, but now the laughing has worn me out, so I lay us both back down and just kiss her for a while longer. They are slow kisses, but they are just as hard and earnest as they were before. After a while, we are content to lay there and watch each other – breathless. Eventually, Lia goes back to her questions. “How old are you?” “Twenty-six.”

“Where were you born?” “Ohio.” “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” “Nope.” “How long have you been here?” “A couple months.” “Are you going to stay?” “Maybe.” She sighs and drops to her back beside me. I can feel her shoulder against mine. “Evan, why are you here?” Shit. “Well, the atmosphere is awesome,” I say, trying to pull off the joke and maybe change the subject as well. “The weather’s never too cold, and I don’t have to worry about any leash laws.” She looks at me for a long moment in silence. I turn my eyes away from her. “You live in a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere,” she says. “You have a laptop and a really freaky looking gun. You must have some money somewhere, so why would you choose to live here?” “Well, you know,” I say with a small, humorless chuckle, “if I tell you…” I let my voice trail off. “You’d have to kill me?” I shrug. It is probably true, though for the first time in my life I actually have an opinion about it. I wouldn’t really mind telling her and almost feel compelled to do so, but I know I can’t. “I was in the Marines,” I finally speak quietly. “I trained in Virginia, was injured in the line of duty, and honorably discharged. Please don’t ask me anything else.” Her fingertips cross my cheek gently. “I won’t,” she promises. “I’m sorry.” I know I am giving her the wrong impression, but it is better than an outright lie, and I can’t give her more details about my life afterwards. What would I say anyway? Oh, by the way, you just fucked an ex-Marine sniping expert turned hit man for a Chicago mob boss. Have a great morning. Yeah…not likely. Breakfast is quiet, and she joins me for a walk around the area with Odin after we’re done. I want to ask her what exactly she plans to do today, but I find I’m a little anxious about her answer.

I don’t want her to leave. It makes sense, really. I haven’t spoken to a single person since I drove to Pinon for gas over a month ago, and I only asked the sales clerk to confirm the price on a liter of Gatorade. Before that I hadn’t said a word to a soul since leaving Chicago. “It’s temporary.” “What, until you find someone better than me and send them out to remove me more permanently? I’m not stupid, Rinaldo.” “So you claim, yet here you still stand.” “Fine. I’ll go.” There’s a touch against my arm, and her fingers slide from my elbow down to my hand. A second later our fingers are interlocked, and the sensation is both welcome and nerve-racking. “Do you regret it?” Lia suddenly asks. For a brief moment I think she can read my mind, but then I realize she’s thinking about last night. Or this morning. Whatever. “I’m a guy – we don’t regret sex.” She snickers and shakes her head as she looks down to the ground in front of her feet. Her mouth immediately turns down, and she bites at her lip. I squeeze her fingers slightly, and she meets my eyes again. “I don’t regret it,” I confirm, and she smiles genuinely. “I’ve never done that before,” she says softly. “I’ve never been that…spontaneous. You read me so well – better than he ever did.” “Does ‘he’ have a name?” She eyes me for a moment. “William.” “William is an asshole,” I say definitively. She smiles again, but the smile is a sad one. “He wasn’t always,” she says. “When we were in school, he was so sweet and so different from the other guys. He grew up on the reservation near my hometown. He was…exotic, I guess. I think I also believed all that talk of alcoholism in Native Americans was bullshit.” “Just because it’s a stereotype doesn’t mean it never fits,” I murmur. “Very true.” She nods her head. “My dad loved him, and I think when he passed away…my dad died of cancer two years ago…” “Sorry,” I mumble. I don’t even know why I do it – I’m not one for standard responses. “It’s okay; it was a long time coming.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “My dad loved Will, and I know he wanted us to be together. I think…maybe I would have left him before it came to this

if Dad hadn’t loved him so much.” “You going to tell me what he did?” “He drinks.” “You said that.” “Then he gets mean.” I wait for her to continue. I’ve already deduced most of this, though alcoholism would have been a guess only. There is nothing about her that points to his drinking as opposed to just him being a dick. “He did slap me once,” she says quietly. “I mean – it was a while ago – before we were engaged, so it’s not like it would be out of character for him to do again.” She huffs out a humorless laugh. I found myself wishing the fucker would track her down so I could pick him off from a mile away. “But even if he wasn’t violent, he was never there. When he did come home, he’d yell at me all the time and tell me what a crappy job I was doing as a housewife.” Another laugh without heart. “I was in school, so it’s not like that was all I was doing. We weren’t even married, just engaged. We’ve been engaged for almost four years.” “Why didn’t you get married?” I ask. I feel her shoulders move up and down in a noncommittal gesture though I keep my eyes on the horizon. Odin is nosing around a creosote bush a few yards ahead of us. “Lack of funds was always his reason,” she says. “He always said he wanted to give me the perfect wedding even though that wasn’t what I wanted. Dad was all for it though Mom was happy to have us stay as we were. Actually, she’ll be thrilled to hear I’m not going back to him.” “You aren’t?” I did not want to assume. “Not this time,” she says softly. “What aren’t you telling me?” I demand. She bites into her lip before responding. “When I told him to pull over, he did,” she says. “He hadn’t actually stopped yet when he reached over, opened my door, and shoved me out.” Lia goes silent, and I try to stop the feelings of rage inside of me. I haven’t had such feelings in years, and it had taken years for me to get them under control in the first place. I want to find this asshole. I want to annihilate him. I want to tear him to fucking pieces to make sure he can never hurt her again. It would be easy and might even be a decent distraction from hanging around here. She just showed up yesterday – he can’t be that far. “I took a bunch of Aikido classes in college,” she tells me. “I was always so…ungraceful. I thought it would help, but it never did. I did learn how to roll, though. That’s what I did when I fell out,

and I managed to end up on fairly soft ground.” The edge of her mouth twitches slightly, and the corners of her eyes clench, though it’s barely noticeable. She still isn’t telling me the complete truth, but I am fairly sure she’s holding back some detail. Did she start the fight? Was he drunk while he was driving her? Why was he so angry? Why do I give a shit? I don’t bother asking myself if I do care – it’s so obvious there is no point in denying it to myself. I just can’t figure out why. I haven’t cared about anything since seven men and one woman trusted me with their lives and I failed them. “I have to go to my mom’s,” Lia finally says. “She never really liked him in my life, and I know she’ll be supportive, and I don’t want her to worry. My cell doesn’t seem to work anymore.” “It won’t,” I confirm. “Not anywhere near here.” “I figured.” “You can still call her,” I suggest as I try to ignore the feeling in my chest when I think of her leaving. It’s ridiculous and idiotic. “There’s no landline here, but I can drive you into Pinon to call her.” “She’ll still worry,” Lia says with a shake of her head. “Will’s probably called her by now, and God knows what he’s told her.” “You want me to find him?” I say without thinking. What the fuck, Arden? You going to kill this girl’s ex? She looks to me, and I don’t miss her quick glance to the rifle. She is far too observant for her own good, and she knows what I mean as much as I do, even if it is a ridiculous notion. “No,” she says quietly, “I don’t think that’s really necessary.” I reach out and grab her fingers. “Sorry,” I mutter. “Reflex.” Oh great – that makes it sound so much better. She actually flinches a little, and I might not have even noticed if I wasn’t holding her hand. “I won’t do anything,” I promise. She nods. “I would never hurt you,” I add. It’s so fucking important to me she knows I would never, ever do anything to hurt her, and I have no idea why. She nods again. “I know.” “Come back?” My fingers grip hers a little tighter. I want the words to sound like a demand, not a question. “After you see your mom, you can come back here.”

I want it to be a statement…a charge…an order…but my own bizarre feelings of insecurity win out. “You don’t have to-” “I want you to come back here,” I interrupt. I need her to understand, even if I don’t. “Why?” Her voice is so soft, I can hardly hear her. I don’t know how to answer. “Because,” I finally say. I look into her eyes, hoping she’ll find meaning there since my words are so inadequate. Lia sighs and reaches up with her free hand to run it through my hair. “How long will you be here?” she asks. “I don’t know. It could be days or weeks. I just don’t know.” “I need at least a couple of days with my mom.” “Take them,” I tell her. “Just come back when you’re done.” She stares at me for some time without saying a word but finally nods her head. I don’t know if it’s meant for me or if it’s just the way she is confirming her own decision to herself. I don’t care – she’s agreeing. Nothing else matters. “All right, Evan,” she says softly, “but only on one condition.” “Anything,” I say. Again, all brains have left me. “Tell me your full name.” “Lieutenant Evan Nathanial Arden.” No brains whatsoever. Maybe the doctor who did my psyche evaluation and said I couldn’t serve anymore was right. Brains become completely irrelevant as she smiles at me again. “Okay,” Lia says with another smile. “I’ll come back to you.”

Chapter Four – Accepted Fate Odin sits next to the open window of the truck, so I have Lia sandwiched between the two of us. I like it. I like it way too much, actually. Odin seems to have accepted her, or at least decided she smells enough like me now that it doesn’t matter. He licks her hand when she pets him and even nuzzles her neck with his nose, making her laugh. The journey is quiet, but I hold her hand in mine and place them both on her thigh. It is a two-hour drive to Tuba City, and the nearest bus station where she can get a ride the rest of the way to Phoenix. I want to take her to see her mother myself, but she makes it clear she wants to do this alone, and I know I can’t really leave my station for the extended trip. At least I will be able to get some gas for the generator and some supplies. I watch her legs as they move up the steps of the bus and wonder when they will be wrapped around my waist again. Lia turns back and gives me a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes, and I return the sentiment. Then the doors close, and she is gone. The drive back to the empty house is a blur – too uneventful to bother committing to memory. Even if it had been more exciting, my mind is too preoccupied to bother with it. Every thought points to her, and it’s more than a little maddening. When I walk in the door, I am followed closely by Odin, carrying his rubber bone in his mouth. He tries to engage me in play, but all I see is the empty bed with the sheets shoved down to the floor. I take a deep breath, hoping I can still find her scent in the house, but it’s too faint, and I’m probably only imagining it. Get your shit together, Arden. I walk back outside and fire up the generator. Dinner is grilled cheese and half of a bag of salad I got from the store next to the bus station. I fire up the netbook PC as I munch on Romaine lettuce, cabbage, and carrot strips without any dressing. All they had in the little convenient store was the brand I hate, and there wasn’t any Italian dressing at all. My email eventually loads as I’m on my second helping. Pizza Hut – teasing me again. God, I would love a pizza right now. I’ve won the Bank of Europe lottery. Is there a Bank of Europe? Alienware would love to have me buy their new gaming machine. And one more message. Sender – Roger Moore. Subject – none. Body of message – come back. The message was sent twenty-nine hours ago – I haven’t checked messages since early yesterday. Roger – or rather, Rinaldo – would assume I had received the message and left by now. I swallow hard and close the PC.

A thousand thoughts run through my mind, and I can’t catalog them all into any semblance of order. I told her to come back, but when she gets here, the place is going to be empty. I can’t hesitate to leave and head back to the city – I just can’t. I have no phone number or any way to contact her. I didn’t even consider it, and if she thought about it, she apparently didn’t think it was necessary to give me her phone number. Ride my cock for hours, yes, but not give me her fucking number… Even if she had given me her number, I still don’t have a phone to use in the first place. Not until I get back to Chicago, and there is no way I am going to ask her to come there. If I want to, I can have her found – there can’t be that many Lia Antonio’s with a mother living in Phoenix. I can certainly locate her mother at the very least, but then I wouldn’t know what to say to her. I’m trying to make excuses. I know what I’m doing and tell myself to cut that shit out. I don’t lie to myself. It’s pointless and destructive. I already know what I have decided because there really isn’t any other choice. I’m not going to bring that girl into my life. No way in hell. The very notion is ridiculous, and I was probably just a little bit insane when I told her to come back here. It could never last. There’s a small duffle bag underneath the card table in the kitchen, which I haul out and deposit on the bed. My clothes go into it – the dirty and the clean. The netbook goes in there, too, as well as my spare pair of tennis shoes and Odin’s bone. I reach over and grab the rifle, quickly dismantling it so it fits inside the duffel. I take a quick look around the place to make sure nothing important has been forgotten, and there they are. Her panties – the ones I nearly tore off of her last night – wrapped up in the sheets on the bed. I reach over and untangle them, then place them deep inside the duffle bag. I have to leave her something. I briefly consider leaving her my boxers but shake that thought from my head quickly. Her little lacy underwear is seriously sexy – boxers are not. There really isn’t anything I have I can leave for her, so I am stuck with the ultimately lame. I dig around in the “catch all” drawer of the kitchen until I find some paper and a pen. I sit in one of the folding chairs at the table and stare at the blank page. What the hell can I even say? I had to leave, but thanks for the great fuck? I can’t leave her my address. I don’t have a phone number. I can’t tell her to come and find me in Chicago. With shaking hands, I write a single word on the paper and then place it in the center of the bed. SORRY I take a step back, and a glint of silver catches my eye. There is a quarter lying next to the pillow. Reaching over slowly, I pick it up in my hand and hold it tightly, transferring the heat of my palm

into the metal. My throat constricts, and I swallow past the lump before I open my fingers and let the coin drop next to the piece of paper. Turning quickly, I grab a couple bottles of water for the road and head back out to the truck. I spend a moment dismantling the wires attached to the battery and rolling the wire up into a tight, round loop. I bend down to pick up the dog dish and a bag of kibble, throw them and the duffle into the back of the truck, and whistle. Odin appears from around the house, races towards me, and a few minutes later we are heading down the road. As I steer the truck down the drive, it feels like someone reaches through my back and grabs hold of my heart, ripping it through my body and yanking it back to that tiny, hot little house. I keep swallowing, but it doesn’t stop the burn in my throat. Odin whines and noses at my arm. I look over at him and wonder what he sees when he looks at me. He noses my arm again, then licks my hand where it grips the steering wheel. “Thanks, buddy,” I say in monotone. He whines again. “I can’t do that,” I say softly. “I can’t do that to her.” With my eyes staring toward the spanning horizon, I push thoughts of her from my mind, burying her memory in the darkest recesses of my brain. I wish I could have explained it to her – told her it was for her own good, but there was no way. Anything I said would either be a lie or too dangerous for her to know. So I drive off. Odin at my side. But otherwise alone.

Otherwise Occupied Shay Savage

Chapter 1 – Hired Relief It’s fucking raining. Again. It wasn’t that I minded the wet or the cold – I really didn’t, but it screwed with my aim and I was still trying to get back into the boss man’s good graces. I couldn’t really afford to miss. Against my better judgment when it came to an easy escape, I had put myself a little closer than I liked to be for this sort of job. I had to be sure to be successful, and if it cost me my life…well, that was better than failure at this point. With my left eye closed, I looked through the scope of my Barrett M82 rifle. The crosshairs focused on a set of double doors made of glass and metal. The doors led inside of an office building, and there was a large “space available” sign over the entryway with a phone number to call if you wanted a thousand square feet, which was just right for your office needs. If you were to call the number, someone would answer, but you’d find there wasn’t really any available space. Not unless you had the right connections – preferably Russian, quite probably illegal Caspian Sea caviar, and definitely heroin. Those connections might get you a little corner office, but they would not, however, endear you to Rinaldo Moretti – my boss and sole owner of all the Moretti businesses. Some of those businesses were even legal. Well, one of them was. Sort of. I shifted my hip and stretched my back a bit. I had been in the same position for a good seven hours, and I was hungry. I brought a couple of protein bars with me, but they were long gone. This job wasn’t supposed to take this long, and I was getting frustrated and annoyed. I forced my breathing into a slow, regulated pace. Frustration and annoyance were not my friends, not when I was on the job. I needed to keep my shit together long enough for my target to walk out the door and die. Maybe the weather was causing a delay. I reached up with my hand and tightened the cloth around my forehead. It was doing a decent job of keeping the rain from my eyes, but it wasn’t helping with the whole comfort level. I didn’t stop watching the door as I adjusted the bandana – never that. I had to be quick, efficient, and deadly. No fuckups. The last fuckup nearly cost me my life and had ended with me exiled to the desert for months, and that was just for killing the wrong guy. Missing the right one would be a lot worse. Of course, I couldn’t hit or miss him if he didn’t show up where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there. “Calm, Arden.” I blinked as I realized I was actually talking out loud to myself. Not good. I didn’t like that shit, so I clenched my teeth a bit to remind myself not to do it again. Everything had been perfect up until this point. After a week of scouring the Chicago city skyline,

I had found the perfect building with the perfect view of the front doors. No visibility from the street directly below and nicely shielded from view of both the Willis Tower and the John Hancock Observatory. I only needed to be patient until… …there he was. I had no doubt the man in the grey trench coat was my target, though I had never met him before. I had studied his picture for hours yesterday to be sure I wouldn’t make a mistake. I’d probably been through his family photos more often than his wife had. I blinked once, placed the crosshairs in position, and smoothly pulled back on the trigger. Only a muted thump could be heard as I sent the bullet down the barrel and into his left eye. Before he hit the ground, I was already back away from the ledge of the building and disassembling my rifle to shove it into a gym bag. I moved the clothes around inside to cushion the metal and make it undetectable from the outside of the bag and then headed swiftly to the rooftop entrance. Three minutes later I was on the other side of the building, out the door, and then taking the stairs into the parking garage across the street. At the top of the garage was a gym where I held a membership, and I made my way to the locker room inside. With my bag padlocked into a locker, I hit the Nautilus equipment. It felt good to work out a bit. I had been slacking. All thoughts of Thomas Farmer, chief board member of Electro Industrial (now deceased), vanished from my head by the time I had done my third set of weights. If it sent the right message to others about which crime lord you should align with, I might get a bit of a break, and Moretti might put me back on my normal pay scale. Probably not. Sweat replaced the rainwater in my hair, and after I’d done a rotation on the Nautilus, I went for the treadmill. From the front counter, there was a chick there who kept giving me the eye. She even brought me a towel when I finally got off the machine. She’d done the same thing the last time I was here, but I didn’t see her do it for anyone else. “How was your workout, Evan?” “Fine,” I replied. “Thanks.” Great – she even bothered to look up my name. She was twenty-four or twenty-five, five-foot-seven, blonde, and she had recently gotten a haircut – the ends were crisp and blunt – but she didn’t like how it had turned out. She was trying to pull off a little ponytail for a hairstyle that was far too short, using a rubber band from around a newspaper. She didn’t normally wear it that way, or she’d have one of those scrunchie things. The first thought in my mind regarding her hair was to agree – it was too short. It also wasn’t dark enough. She didn’t have that classic Italian beauty look I preferred. Preferred?

I wasn’t actually aware I had a preference, and I considered this as I gave her a smile, a quick thanks, and then headed to the shower. While the water poured over me, images of long, smooth dark hair – almost black, but not quite – and matching dark eyes flooded my mental vision. I could almost feel her smooth skin against my palms. I shook water from my head and quickly changed my thoughts. I was probably going to have to change gyms even though I had only recently joined this one. I didn’t need anyone paying attention to me, remembering me, and hitting on me. It was too bad, really, since the place was big enough to have a short wait time for the machines. Oh well. I could always work out at the gym adjoining my apartment, but the wait time for a treadmill meant spending half the day there for a sixty-minute workout. Home again. My apartment was a high-rise building right near the Chicago River. My boss owned the place, and it came with the job, so I didn’t have to pay any rent or anything. It was a nice perk, though I would have preferred living in the country somewhere. I had never lived in the country, but I always thought I would like it – open spaces for target shooting and enough room for Odin to run around and chase squirrels and shit. I nodded at Pete, the security guard, as I walked by. I had no idea what his last name was, but he was on Rinaldo’s payroll. He smiled back at me, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did. I glanced over him and quickly took in other changes. He was usually dressed pretty nicely, but on this day his normally ironed shirt was wrinkled, and the tie didn’t match. His eyes were a little bloodshot from either lack of sleep or possibly actual crying – I couldn’t really tell the difference. It made me wonder if the wife had left him or if he left the wife, and then I decided it was probably the former. He had a kid, too – a young one not yet in school. I wondered if she found out about who he worked for and walked out. I wondered if I’d have to kill him. Or her. Maybe the kid. Nah, probably not. Rinaldo was a businessman, and killing a kid rarely achieved anything that couldn’t be achieved just as well by killing the parent. The elevator dinged, and I pressed the button for the seventeenth floor. My apartment was the perfect location as far as I was concerned – right on the corner of the building, up high enough for my rifle to be very effective from a distance, and just two stories above the adjoining building. If I needed to get out via the balcony, I could. I usually took the elevator up and the stairs down but not for any particular reason. I was used to doing little things like that to keep myself in shape, and it was just a habit. My eyes traveled over the door to my apartment, automatically looking for any signs of forced entry. There were none, but you couldn’t be too careful. I slipped the key in the lock and opened the door. “Hey, bud.”

Odin jogged his way across the living room to greet me, and I rubbed his shaggy head. It was good to see his hair growing back in again – he looked better with it longer. Well, he at least looked more like a giant mop, a.k.a. a Great Pyrenees. When we had been out in the Arizona desert all that time, I had to keep it closely clipped to keep him cooled down. His buzz cut had been nearly as short as mine. Maybe dogs did end up looking like their owners. Or was it the other way around? Whatever it was, if dogs were man’s best friend, Odin did his best to live up to the job. He had been with me for years and was about the only living thing around me I felt like I could actually count on. He would always be there when I got home from whatever I was doing. He never judged, never asked me a bunch of questions about why I was the way I was, and he never looked at me with fear. He was my buddy, and it was one of the few things that scared me. I kept quiet about him because making it known I had something to care about – even a dog – was enough to bring those who had something against me out of the woodwork and into my private life. I didn’t need that shit, and I couldn’t always be around to protect Odin. As big and ferocious as he could look to some people, he was an easy target to others. I started up my netbook computer before heading to the kitchen for some orange juice. It was the good stuff – fresh squeezed. I had been splurging on little things like that since returning to Chicago from the cabin in Arizona. The little things were so much more important than people realized when they had to go without. Not that I had taken any of the small creature comforts for granted beforehand, either. It had been like that in the Iraqi desert, too, even at our base. Ration everything was the rule. It sucked, but it beat being left for dead in a hole. Odin rubbed up against my leg, and I realized I had been lost in thought for a moment. I patted him in thanks and wondered for the hundredth time how he knew to do that. Like those service dogs that would get epileptics to lie down on the floor before a seizure starts to keep them from hurting themselves, Odin always seemed to know when I was thinking too much about the past. He worked better than the drugs the doctors had prescribed. I finished the OJ, took Odin out for a quick walk, and checked my email. More lotto winnings. Amazon would like me to review my purchase of a new set of headphones. I hadn’t actually tried them out yet, but I’d be hanging out with Jonathan tomorrow and would probably need them. The dude smoked a lot of weed and usually started babbling when he was stoned. A dating site called Lost Connections wanted to hook me up with an available woman in my area. I licked my lips and thought I was going to need a little company for the weekend but not from a fucking dating site. Lost Connections. Before I could stop it, expressive and soft brown eyes in the center of a heart-shaped face invaded my thoughts. Long, dark hair and a fucking luscious ass came next, but I pushed the rest of the memory away before it could really take hold and turned back to my email.

Pizza Hut had free cinnamon sticks with any large pizza. “That’s what I’m talking about,” I muttered to myself. I clicked on the pizza link and quickly ordered a large stuffed crust with mushrooms and pineapple to be delivered. Hey – it’s what I like. Fucking sue me. When the pizza showed up, I sat on the floor of the living room with my back against the couch and dug in, tossing bits of crust to Odin as I ate. It was a good thing I had gone to the gym today because I had eaten a shitload of pizza since returning to the city. More thoughts about the simple things spun around in my head. Pizza, beer, coffee – even a gym where I could work out properly. For some reason, my pleasure at the thought of the mundane alarmed me. My tongue moistened my lips, and I grabbed the remote to find something to watch on the television. I was definitely thinking too much. I had to stop. Television wasn’t a necessity; it was a luxury and a way to pass the time. I never really liked television much as a kid but found it was good for helping me relax now. This History Channel was always good for a few z’s, and it was playing something about dinosaurs. I tossed the half empty pizza box up onto the coffee table and lay down on the couch. The throw pillows picked out by Luisa were soft and comfortable, and I wondered how Rinaldo’s youngest daughter was doing. I hadn’t seen her in a while. Not that I would go too close to her – I wasn’t stupid. You didn’t date the boss’s daughter unless the boss told you to. He hadn’t done that, though she was my age and I was considered one of Rinaldo’s favorites. Had been, anyway. If he ever gave his blessing, I’d do her. She was hot and had a smart mouth that made me laugh. It didn’t seem too likely now, not with me on the shitlist indefinitely. It was enough to make anyone paranoid, and I was already a little bit on the unstable side. An animated T-Rex took a bite out of a Stegosaurus as my vision blurred. Head throbbing…and the taste of dirt in my mouth. On my stomach, coughing, trying to get the dust from my lungs…but only inhaling more of it. Hands bound behind me, and I can’t turn enough to the side to get my face off the ground… I woke, startled, and glanced up at the television to see a bunch of World War II footage on the screen. I quickly shut the damn thing off. I sat up and put my head in my hands, trying to clear the memory-dream from inside. A large wet tongue against my forearm centered me, and I reached over to scratch the base of Odin’s ears. “I need a better distraction,” I muttered to myself. Odin huffed at me as I grabbed my jacket and keys and shoved a Beretta down the back of my

pants. He was probably looking at the clock and assuming I was going to work, but I’d gotten my job done earlier. Now I needed to spend some of my cash. My parking spaces in the garage held two vehicles – a used black Mazda hatchback I had purchased on my way back from Arizona about an hour after my old Chevy truck died and a silver Audi R8 convertible that I rarely ever took out unless it was one of the high-end social occasions I sometimes felt obligated to attend. The public transportation in Chicago was awesome, and I was a big fan of it ninety percent of the time. Every once in a while there was a need to get from one place to another door-to-door, though, and that was what I needed on this night. I slipped behind the wheel of the Mazda and headed south to the area where the gentlemen’s clubs tended to spill out onto the street corners. There were a hundred reasons I loved Chicago. Someone could live here for twenty years and still have new stuff to do. Jobs were everywhere, despite what the dudes sitting in the doorways of rundown buildings holding out cups and signs claimed. They might not have been good jobs, but there was shit to do and ways to make money. I loved the buildings the most – the whole concrete jungle idea. I loved figuring out how to get to the top of them and look down over the whole city. The Skydeck on top of the Willis Tower was an awesome place to relax. Okay, maybe not to everyone, but I loved it. I slowed the car as I approached the corner, and a half dozen girls and one guy took a few steps closer to the passenger side door. One of the girls actually came around to my side and laid her boobs over my windshield, smiling and grinding away at me. She was way too skinny though and had that junkie look about her. I checked the rest of them out quickly, and it didn’t take me long to decide on the one with the biggest ass. My finger depressed the window button, and the guy placed his hand on the roof of the car to lean it. “You lookin’ for somethin’ special tonight?” “All-nighter,” I told him. “Gimme the dark-haired girl with the round ass.” The dude leaned in a bit more, and I tilted my head a bit so he could get a good look at me. “Yeah, I know you,” he said. “One of Rinaldo’s guys. Arden, right?” “You got it.” “You sure you want that one? She’s new and givin’ me a bit of trouble.” He snickered. “Nothing you couldn’t handle. Fuck, might use you to make an example out of her, ya know? You do side jobs?” “Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug. “She won’t give me no trouble, though.” “Well, you give her a little discipline if ya need to, ‘kay?” “’Kay,” I repeated. Like I was really going to fuck up a girl I was fucking. Pimps were assholes, no doubt about it. “Employee discount!” he announced with a laugh and a wink. “Come over here, Bridgett.” The black-haired girl walked over to the side of the car, and the pimp opened the door for her.

She looked up at him with a bit of concern. “You’re gonna be taking care of Mister Arden tonight,” he said as he gave her a little push inside. “He’s a good customer, so you be good to him.” She only hesitated a moment before getting inside. Her tiny skirt rose up and gave me a view of her little black panties. She had on stupidly high heels – like they all did – which were going to look pretty good over my shoulders. She shivered, but I didn’t know at first if the motion was from the temperature change or from nervousness. I gave the pimp half the cash before I drove off with her. I’d owe him the rest when I brought her back, assuming she took care of me the way she was supposed to. I knew she would. However she ended up in this business, they all knew better than to piss off a client. Those who didn’t know the rules ended up in the river or the lake. “What’s your name?” I asked. I knew what it was – the pimp had called her by her name – but I wanted her to say it. “Bridgett,” she replied quietly. She looked down at her hands on her lap and then tried to pull her skirt down a bit. I saw her hand tremble slightly before I looked back up at the road. “I’m Evan,” I told her. “Evan Arden. You haven’t been doing this long.” “A while,” she responded. “You’ve never had anyone take you home before.” She glanced sideways at me and then shook her head. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I told her. “That ain’t my thing. I’m an ass-man, though. You take it in the ass?” She blinked rapidly a few times, and her fingers tensed around themselves. “I have,” she said quietly. Her throat bobbed up and down, and her eyes tightened along with her jaw. She’d been hurt – I didn’t have any doubt about that. Hookers often were, and I didn’t think there was such a thing as one who wasn’t broken in some way or another. This one was new, though – recently damaged. I pulled the car over to the curb and turned sideways. Her whole body tensed up, and she pushed herself a little towards the door. I reached over and took her chin in my hands. “Hey,” I said. “I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you, right?” “Yeah.” She nodded rapidly as her eyes widened. “I meant that. I got lube, we’ll go slow, and if you decide you don’t want it, we’ll stop. I can always just fuck you from behind – I’m good with that. Okay?” She nodded again and relaxed slightly. I leaned over the console and placed my lips against hers firmly. She responded like she was on autopilot, which she probably was. After a couple of kisses, I backed away and looked her over once more as I tried to decide if she was going to be all right with this

or not. She looked good, though – the right hair color, at least. Her eyes were light brown, though. I wasn’t sure what her nationality might have been, but she wasn’t Italian. Regardless, I really wanted to keep her. It was too much trouble to go all the way back and pick out another one. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded her head a few times, so I pulled back into traffic. Bridgett was obviously new. She was young – maybe twenty or so – and definitely didn’t have the demeanor of a street-hardened hooker. If I was a different kind of guy, I would have just taken her to some motel and given her the night off or whatever, but I was more pragmatic than that. If I wasn’t doing her tonight, some other guy would be. Maybe he’d be a nice guy and maybe he wouldn’t, but at least she wasn’t going to get hurt with me. At a red light, I looked over at her again, and my mind immediately began to catalog information. Long, soft-looking black hair – maybe Latino, but no accent, so she wasn’t an illegal from Mexico or Cuba or anything like that. She was dressed in the typical whore attire – red mini skirt, thigh-high stockings, black lacy top that showed her lack of bra quite clearly. Nice, big, round nipples. “Bridgett?” I asked quietly. It took her a moment to look from the window over to me. Bridgett wasn’t her actual name, and she hadn’t been going by it for very long. People responded very quickly to hearing sounds even remotely like their own names, and her delay was far too long. “You hungry or anything?” “No, thank you,” she replied. “I’m fine.” “There’s a restaurant in my apartment building,” I said. “We could eat first, if you want. It’s a nice place – good food, maybe get you a drink or two? I know I could use one.” Come on, baby – go with me here. “If you want to,” she finally said. Very complacent. It was almost ten-thirty, and the full menu wasn’t available after ten, but I ordered a couple of sandwiches with chips and a beer for me. I got her one of those vodka martinis that were a lot stronger than people realized. I tried to get her to relax a bit, but she kept glancing around the restaurant. I contemplated for a moment. “No one here cares what you’re wearing,” I told her. Her eyes found mine. “I look like a hooker,” she said quietly. No shit. “You are a hooker,” I said. I waved my hand towards the two servers near the bar. “They all know that. They’d know that if I put you in a cocktail dress, flats, and one of those little old lady red hats, too.”

“How would they know?” I laughed. “Because you’re with me.” I managed to get her to settle down a little after that, and she did eat part of her sandwich and polish off two martinis while we talked about the weather and the Chicago Fire soccer team. Mostly I talked – she didn’t seem to know shit about soccer. I finished my beer, tossed cash onto the table, and led her by the hand to the elevators. As soon as we stepped inside and the doors closed, I could feel her tension mount again, so I leaned over close to her ear. “Not going to hurt you,” I reminded her, and my lips pressed lightly against her neck, just below her ear. Bridgett nodded slowly but still jumped a bit when the elevator went ding, signifying my floor. I led her out into the hallway and to my apartment door. Her eyes widened a bit as Odin came up to sniff at her. He could be a little intimidating, and he didn’t usually let people touch him. However, since he didn’t bark much, he didn’t often end up frightening anyone badly, and Bridgett was no exception. I didn’t give them much of a chance to get to know each other as I grabbed two bottles of water from the kitchen counter and brought Bridgett to my bedroom. My foot connected with the edge of the door, blocking Odin from the show as it slammed shut. I could hear him snuffle at the crack before he gave up and moved away. Placing the water bottles on the nightstand, I sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed and started to untie my boots. “Those look like army boots,” Bridgett observed. “A friend of mine went into the army. Are you in the army?” “No,” I said. Her babble amused me a little. “Ex Marine. Don’t you know what ARMY stands for?” “Um…no.” “Ain’t Ready for the Marines Yet.” She snickered at the lame joke, which I figured was a good sign. Laughing brought people’s guards down, and if she didn’t relax, it was going to pretty much ruin my evening. I smiled up at her, and she returned the look before walking up to me and standing between my knees. She placed her hands on my shoulders, and I tilted my head up to meet her lips as she bent over me. She tasted like vodka and pomegranate juice in my mouth, and she felt soft and warm in my hands. My fingers moved up to her shoulders and then back down again as our tongues moved around each other. She pulled at the hem of my T-shirt, and we broke apart long enough for her to lift it over my head. Her hands came back to my shoulders, and she stroked her fingers down my chest. I watched her eyes as she took me in. I was used to women looking at me in the gym or even going down the street. Even in the military, the chicks I served with favored me. Women usually liked what they saw – toned muscles, six pack abs, no scars.

Well, none on the outside. My captain told me I intrigued them, which was why they seemed to flock to me. I was a quiet guy – a mystery for them to solve. I didn’t know why girls ate that shit up, but he said they did and he was right. As soon as they figured you out – really figured you out – they didn’t want anything to do with you. It was part of the reason I preferred hired company. Bridgett’s soft lips molded against mine again, and her tongue played around in my mouth as her hands continued to explore most of my upper body. I got a good grip on her plump ass, pulled her into my lap and down against my waiting cock. Rubbing against her little thong panties felt good – too good. I needed something a little quicker for now. “How about you blow me first?” I suggested as I pulled back a bit and loosened my belt. “It’s been a while, and I want to be able to concentrate.” “Sure,” she said. “Take all that off first,” I said with a flick of my finger towards her clothes. I flipped the buttons of my jeans open and slid them down my legs along with my boxers. “Leave the stockings and shoes, though. That’s hot.” “Whatever you want,” she said with a smile. Her eyes tightened a bit as she looked at my cock, and I knew what she was thinking. I wouldn’t push her though, and she smiled up at me again like I didn’t scare her. She faked it all well. I hoped she’d get something out of it, too. I sat back against the headboard, and Bridgett crawled over between my legs. My fingers ran through her hair as she leaned over and took me in her mouth. Warm and wet – just what I needed. She licked around the head first, and then tried to go down too far. She gagged a little and moved back, refusing to meet my eyes as she tried again. “Look at me, sweetheart,” I said, and she complied. “How long you been doing this?” “I…um…” “It’s okay,” I said. “Tell me.” “Since Monday.” “Shit, are you serious?” She nodded. “You want to stop?” “No,” she shook her head. “I gotta make a living.” I looked at her for a long time and wondered why I was even asking her. Since when did I care how much experience a hooker had? Even if she had been turning tricks less than a week, she might have already had more partners than I ever did. “Go slow,” I told her. My hand moved over her cheek, and she nodded slightly before wrapping

her lips back around the head of my dick. I spread my arms out across the headboard and let her make the moves. “You don’t have to take it all – just use a lot of tongue. That’s it…look at me…show me how much you love my cock.” Her dark eyes stayed on mine as she sucked, licked, and ran her hand over what she couldn’t get in her mouth. I didn’t try to hold back, just let her work on me as my thigh muscles tightened along with my balls. The tingling sensation rose up, circled the base of my dick, and then focused through the tip of my cock as I let out a muted grunt and poured into her throat with a single thrust of my hips. “Fuck, yeah,” I muttered. My hand passed over her hair again as her throat worked to swallow it down. She moved me back and forth in her mouth a couple more times before I placed my hand on her cheek again. “You’re good…come here.” I gave her one of the water bottles and watched as she drank half of it down while I got my breathing under control. Maybe the asshole pimp wasn’t taking care of her like he should. That shit didn’t make sense to me. Why have expensive pieces of merchandise you can sell over and over again and not take care of them? At least this one wasn’t strung out. I hated junkie hookers. She placed the bottle back on the edge of the nightstand, and I pulled her to my chest. For a minute, I held her to me. Feeling her weight on top of me was kind of nice and made me feel warm and sleepy. Maybe I didn’t need the sex as much as I needed the company. “I’m gonna sleep a bit,” I told her. “You can sleep with me if you want, or there’s a TV in the other room, cable and everything. There’s pizza in the fridge, too.” “I could use a little sleep,” she admitted. “I don’t usually get much.” “Hard to sleep during the day?” “Yeah, it is.” I shifted around until I could pull the comforter and the sheets down enough to get our legs underneath the covers and then pulled her back to my chest. She settled her cheek on my shoulder and closed her eyes. My fingers stroked through her smooth hair, and she blew warm breath over my skin. Sleep came soon, and with the warmth of another body next to mine, it came without thought or dreams. There was just no substitute for a good hooker.

Chapter 2 – Annoying Rival “That’s custom.” Jonathan Ferris tapped the police report on the laptop’s screen right above the bullet hole I left where the board member’s eye used to be. I wasn’t sure how he managed to get into classified information online, but he always had all the same info the Chicago Police Department had in its system. I wasn’t sure if the CPD realized how many people ended up with all their classified records, but Jon was the kind of guy who was brought up sharing. “That’s what you always say,” I reminded him “It’s always true,” Nick replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you actually missing. Well, sometimes you might kill a few extras, but who’s counting, right?” Nick Wolfe had a way of putting a lot of emphasis on various words in a sentence for no particular reason. It gave him a hippie-stoner vibe, which wasn’t totally inaccurate, but didn’t completely fit, either. The guy was a classic chick-magnet, too – both in looks and the ability to get a group of women around him and listen to him tell stories. He’d always leave with at least one of them, sometimes two. He was completely uncockblockable at a club or a bar, but that would be a whole other story all by itself. He could also get away with shit other people couldn’t, like bringing up the reason for my exile without me smashing his face in. I had no idea what he actually did for Rinaldo, but even with all the bullshit, I liked the guy. Everyone liked him. I did narrow my eyes at him, which made him smile and laugh a little. “Just saying, dude.” I rolled my eyes and looked back at the computer screen. “You’re the fucking master, Evan,” Jonathan said, and I thanked him. It had been a pretty nice hit. “It’s good to know you didn’t lose your touch out in the desert, Arden.” I turned towards the voice and watched Rinaldo Moretti walk into the plush office where he conducted a lot of his business. He wasn’t much to look at, my boss – average height, mostly bald, mid-fifties, a bit of a gut on him – but what he lacked in looks, he made up for in power. The man could make shit happen with a couple taps of his finger. He was nervous about something today. Even though he walked with confidence and showed nothing in his face, there was something bothering him. The vein near his temple was beating rapidly, and his left hand kept clenching into a fist. Behind him were two other men – Mario Leone and Terry Kramer. Mario was a huge guy – towering over my six-foot-two frame by a good five inches with enough muscle to deter most anyone from taking a stab at the boss. Of course, that was exactly why he was hired. Terry was a little wiry guy who looked like a dwarf next to the massive pile of muscle. If Mario fell over, Terry would get crushed, and it would suit me just fine if he did, too.

Leone was okay – he would sit down and have a beer with you when he wasn’t working and just shoot the shit. Terry was a whole other story. He was an obnoxious kid who rubbed me the wrong way even before he started trying to take my job. None of them looked unusually concerned about anything – just Rinaldo. “No, sir,” I responded automatically. I gave Mario a nod but ignored Terry completely. I took a long breath in slowly and silently, hoping we weren’t going to spend the entire afternoon reminding me of where I had fucked up. I’d already paid my dues as far as I was concerned. “Good to know because this next one’s going to be a little more challenging.” He dropped his ass onto one of those big, leather executive chairs and leaned back. “Whatever you need, sir.” “Show him the picture.” He huffed a quiet breath through his nose and glanced away from the desk. He was annoyed with this person he wanted me to kill, no doubt about it. Leone walked over and dropped a magazine on the desk in front of me. On the front page was a man I recognized immediately – I’d seen him in at least a dozen Bruce Willis style action films. “Brad Ashton,” Jonathan said. “I saw him in that terrorist movie with the chick with the boobs.” “Angelina Jolie,” I reminded him. “Yeah – that one.” “He’s got round the clock surveillance and never goes anywhere without a guard,” Rinaldo said. “Paparazzi follow him everywhere, too. The guy is never alone. He even fucks in pairs.” “Makes him harder to hit,” Terry said. Like I needed his fucking opinion. “It’s gotta be close,” Rinaldo said as his eyes turned to me. “In his face, you know? Up close and personal.” “I’m a sniper, sir,” I reminded him. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have said them. My eyes closed a little longer than a normal blink as I tried to reset and get my head back on straight. If I didn’t, it was likely going to get knocked from my shoulders. There was no doubt that most of my work was from afar, but I had done plenty of hits up close and personal, too. “Whatever, dude,” Nick snickered. Rinaldo glanced at him, and he replied with a toothy grin. “You tellin’ me you don’t know how to shoot a handgun?” Rinaldo raised an eyebrow at me as he leaned forward a bit in the chair. “Because I happen to know you’ve done that once or twice before.” “No, sir,” I responded. I hoped the tension I felt in my body wasn’t outwardly visible. I didn’t think it was – I tended to stand up pretty straight anyway. I didn’t miss Rinaldo’s jab – the reason I had been sent into temporary exile months ago had to do with putting someone down with my Beretta. Like

Nick bringing it up wasn’t bad enough. I had never heard of James Carson prior to killing him, but he was apparently pretty important to his cousin, Miss Fiona Carson. When the wife wasn’t around, Fiona happened to be sleeping with Gavino Greco, my boss’s primary competition. Her cousin had been a witness to an assassination where Rinaldo had ordered the hit, and I had made it happen. I hadn’t known who the guy was; I only knew he had been behind the dumpster when I killed Robert Franco, the idiot who dared dip into Rinaldo’s casino profits. I thought I had cleaned up the scene, but it was a bigger mess than a witness, according to Rinaldo. “I’ll take care of it for ya, boss,” Terry piped up. “I took care of plenty for ya while he was on vacation.” Vacation. Asshole. I was sorely tempted to show him just how accurate I was with a shorter-ranged firearm. “That you did, Kramer,” Rinaldo said with a nod. “That you did.” I stood there and watched the exchange in silence. Showing any kind of annoyance at this point wasn’t going to get me very far. Rinaldo Moretti was watching me and watching me closely. I wasn’t going to let that stupid little shit Terry get to me. “So this one’s mine,” Terry said with a big, toothy grin on his face. Rinaldo cocked a half smile at the kid, who beamed back. Idiot. Nothing good ever came of that smile. “Not this time,” Moretti said. “I need Mister Arden for this one.” “I’m just as good as him,” Terry hissed back. He started to say something else when Mario placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him. I tried not to smile as the boss turned back to me. “The fact is,” Rinaldo continued, “he knows I’m gunning for him. Anyone who knows I’m gunning for them knows they can’t walk out into daylight, or they’re gonna have a bullet in their brains. Now I have you to thank for that, and I’m grateful, but don’t give me a line of bullshit. Let’s be perfectly clear, now – you are familiar with other firearms, are you not?” “Yes, sir, I am.” “This needs to be done quick, easy, and quiet,” he continued. “This isn’t your usual where you don’t give a fuck who sees you, Arden. Nothing can lead back to my organization. You got me?” “Yes, sir.” “Now you go collect your short-range, in-your-face weapon of choice and kill that motherfucker.”

“Yes, sir.” Everyone was dismissed from the office except for Nick and Mario. I tried to get the fuck out of the building before Terry could catch up with me, but it didn’t work out that way. I maneuvered to get a bit ahead of Jonathan to put some pace between me and Terry, but Jonathan was a quick walker. “You want me to help ya scope him out?” Terry asked as he ran up beside me. He reminded me of those hyper little terrier dogs, and I kind of wanted to kick him. “No,” I replied. I knew exactly where that would end – the little fuck would either get in the way and screw it all up or take the actor guy out himself. Though it would ultimately piss off Rinaldo because it wasn’t Terry’s assignment, credit was credit. Actually, he’d probably try to take me out first. The credit would be a lot higher then. Not only would he have eliminated the target, but he would have done it when I couldn’t. Just taking me out would give him a reputation that wouldn’t be easily matched. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Arden?” he yapped. “You’re annoying,” I replied. “And you’re an asshole!” “Whatever.” I passed Jonathan and shoved the door that led into the stairwell and began clomping down the stairs. As much as I wished Terry would stay where he was, I heard two sets of footsteps behind me. “You think you can treat everyone like shit,” Terry babbled. “Just some,” I countered. “You think you’re better than everyone else,” he continued, “just ‘cause you were all military hero and shit.” “Not a hero,” I muttered under my breath. I quickened my pace as Jonathan moved in a little closer behind me – separating me from the little shit trip-trapping down the stairs in my wake. “Like it takes a hero to get himself captured.” I stopped in my tracks, just at the bottom of the second landing. Jonathan had to veer to the side to keep from running into me. I turned slowly, my narrowed eyes finding the smirking little fucker standing just a few steps above me. “Crack in that armor, hey Arden?” “You shouldn’t speak shit you know nothing about,” I said. My hands were shaking a little but not enough that anyone would notice except for me. “Mention it again, and maybe I’ll go dig a hole and show you what it was like.” Turning on my heel, I quickened my pace down the rest of the stairs. “Fuck you!” Terry called out as I clomped down the steps and out the back door with Jonathan still beside me. The heavy metal door slammed with a bang.

“You all right, brotha?” Jonathan asked as we walked across the parking lot to his white F150 Ford Pickup. “I’m good,” I replied. “Why?” He furrowed his brow a bit, looked back towards the closed door, and then shrugged. He knew me pretty well and knew when to change the subject. “Because since you got back, you’ve been a little off,” he finally said as he pulled a pack of Marlboro’s out of his shirt pocket and fished out a cigarette. He shoved it between his lips as he hunted around in his pants pocket for a lighter. “You were gone a while.” I just shrugged as I climbed into the passenger seat. Jonathan tossed his Luke Skywalker style hair out of his eyes as he maneuvered himself into the driver’s side. “I think that would drive me nuts,” he said, “sitting in some piece of shit cabin for half a year by myself.” “It was just a little over three months,” I corrected. “Not a half year. It wasn’t that bad, and I had Odin with me.” “Still…” He whistled low and shook his head. “Three months without pussy would suck balls.” I glanced sideways at him and raised my eyes at his choice of words. “Just sayin’ it would suck,” he said with a shrug. He turned the key and rolled down his window to blow smoke back past his shoulder. Reaching forward, he fiddled around with the radio controls until he tuned it to a classic rock station. “Well, you know me,” I said, “I always find a way to get shit done.” “You got blisters on your hand?” he snickered as he put the truck into reverse. “Nope.” The corners of my mouth turned up a bit as visions of that long, dark hair spread over the creamy skin of Lia Antonio’s back filled my head. I could almost feel her pussy gripping my cock as I thought about it. Jonathan blew smoke out the open window, shoved the gear shift back into park, and turned to look at me. “No way,” he exclaimed. “What?” I asked. “You were out in the middle of fucking nowhere and you still got laid?” I smirked. “Now that’s custom!” Jonathan had worked in an auto shop prior to his first stint in prison for dealing. He specialized in tricking out people’s cars with all kinds of shit, so anything remotely out of the ordinary was always “custom.” It was mostly his code word for anything he thought was worthy of his admiration.

“I need some deets, brotha!” I rolled my eyes. “You that interested in what my cock does?” I asked. “I just don’t understand how you manage to get pussy to fall into your lap no matter where you go.” “It’s a gift,” I replied. Jonathan shoved the truck back into gear and started backing out. “So who was she?” he asked. “Just some chick lost in the desert,” I told him. “Her boyfriend, or whatever, was an asshole and dropped her off on the road when they were fighting. She didn’t have anywhere to go and it was getting late, so she spent the night riding my cock. That’s it.” “Custom.” “Worked for me.” I leaned back and let the smoke from his cigarette waft around me. I didn’t indulge anymore myself, but I liked getting some second-hand every once in a while. As much as Jon lit up, I probably smoked a couple cigarettes worth any given hour I was with him. “How was she?” “Fucking fine!” I responded. We both had a good laugh until Def Leppard started playing, and Jonathan quickly turned up the volume and started air jammin’ at red lights. I stared out the window at the line of people waiting for Garrett’s Popcorn and tried not to let thoughts of Lia invade my head too much. If I did, I’d start regretting shit, and I tried not to do that. Jon followed me up to my apartment, and we immediately started researching Brad Ashton. There was so much shit on him, it was hard to separate the real stuff from the gossipy crap, but we started with the basics. He was twenty-nine years old, born in Australia, six feet tall, blond hair, and grey eyes. Though he made himself famous with action films, he had his start in the porn industry, and I had to admit some of the footage made me feel a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was because Jon was watching it with me. “Do you really have to play more of that?” I asked as he flipped from a scene with one pair of writhing bodies on a bed to a video with two pairs. “It’s pretty good,” Jonathan said. “Might have to download a full copy of this one.” I shook my head a little, but my mind was wondering about the possibility of Bridgett spending the night again. I must not have hated the porn too much. I was going to have to take a little trip later. I’m going to kill a guy I’ve watched fuck two sorority chicks and a frat boy.

Shaking my head again didn’t seem to completely rid my mind of the thought, so I headed to the kitchen and popped open a couple of beers. “Here’s his schedule of appearances,” Jon said as he yanked a piece of paper from my printer. “He’ll be here in the city three times between now and February.” “Not gonna kill him here,” I said. I silently berated myself for saying gonna. The nuns would have smacked my mouth for such abuse of the English language. I blamed Jonathan’s influence. The “Midwest meets southern twang” of his was addictive. “I think away from here will be better. There are ties to Rinaldo with anything done in Chicago, and I want nothing to look suspicious. Where else is he going to be?” We went over all the various options and finally decided Atlanta was the place. He’d be there the first week of January, and that was when he was going to die. Jonathan headed out, and I fed Odin and tossed his rubber bone around for a while. He actually got tired of the game before I did, which reminded me that he wasn’t a young pup anymore. He’d be nine in the spring, which was getting up there for a good-sized dog like him. I rubbed my eyes; it was getting late, and I was tired. After I tossed the beer bottles in the recycling bin and drank one of those protein shakes, I headed off to bed. Odin followed, whining slightly. I gave his head a rub, but he just kept looking at me. I peeled off my shirt, dropped my jeans, and tossed all of it into the hamper next to the dresser. My watch and keys went in one of those little ceramic bowls for such things, which made them clang against the set of dog tags on a chain coiled up at the bottom of the dish. With a heavy sigh, I lay down in the bed and stared at the ceiling until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. On my stomach…unable to bring my knees to my chest to try and right myself. There’s something cutting into my wrists – wire or those plastic ties – I’m not sure which. It’s pitch black, and I can’t even hear anything around me. The sand below me is cold, and I think I might be underground. Minutes. Hours. Days. I can’t tell the difference. I try to swallow, but I don’t even have enough saliva left to do that. I’m going to die of dehydration, and I wonder if it’s a blessing. Footsteps. Loud voices speaking in Arabic. I can’t make out enough of the words to make any sense of it. I hear and feel a presence beside me just before I’m grabbed by the neck and forced into a kneeling position. Water is poured over my face, and my mouth opens to receive it before it can choke me… Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I woke with a start. My breath was coming in short, staccato gulps, and my hands were shaking. Odin was there beside the bed, whining slightly. I should have reached down to him, but I couldn’t move. Why? Why now? I had barely thought about any of it in over a year. I wiped sweat from my forehead before I shuffled over to the bathroom to wash my face. I stared at myself in the mirror and kind of hated what I saw looking back at me. I was pale, and it made my dark blue eyes stand out in my face like I was in shock or something.

Maybe I was. I reached up and rubbed at the back of my hair. It was getting to be kind of long for me, and I decided midnight was as good a time as any to give myself a trim. The clippers were in the linen closet, and within a few minutes I had a haircut that would make any Marine officer proud. It was very short around the sides and the back with just a little more on the top. It also seemed to make my dark blond hair look a lot lighter and kind of reminded me of how it would look in the summer when it got all bleached out in the sun and from the chlorine in the community pool. I shaved my face while I was at it, too. I hated having a face full of itchy scruff. Odin sneezed behind me, and bits of hair flew up into the air. I brushed some of the hair bits from my shoulders, but I started to itch anyway. Once I cleaned up the mess I made on the floor, I jumped in the shower to get the rest off of my skin. I found myself out on the balcony staring across the buildings towards Lake Michigan. I was wide awake, and I knew sleep wasn’t going to come very easily. It was just a bit past one in the morning, and I didn’t have any early morning plans other than some more research and the usual jog with the dog. I thought about ordering a pizza, but all the good places that delivered would be closed. Some company would be nice. A few minutes later, I was in the Mazda, heading to a particular street corner. Her pimp was there, but I didn’t see Bridgett. I had been telling myself the whole way over that I was coming out to get a hooker, not that particular hooker. That didn’t seem to stop me from looking for her as soon as I pulled up. “Mister Arden!” the pimp called towards my open window. His collection of ridiculous gold chains hung down, and I tensed a little. If it scratched my car, I’d kill him. “Pleasure seeing you again. You going to become a regular of mine?” “Depends,” I said noncommittally. “Where’s Bridgett?” “Blowing some dude in the alley,” he replied. I nodded as I ignored the creepy feeling the thought and mental image gave me. She was a hooker, for Christ’s sakes. Of course she was blowing a guy in the alley. “You wanna wait?” the pimp asked. He took a half step back away from the paint job, which helped me relax a bit. “Maybe you wanna taste of Candy over here?” Another slim brunette sauntered over with her hips swaying. She gave me a big smile and a show of tits as she leaned over the car, practically crawling up on the hood. Long legs, nice shape, cute as hell, but she had a totally flat ass. Definitely not my type. “I can wait a minute,” I replied with a shrug. Candy pouted and licked her lips at me as she backed up onto the sidewalk again. After about three minutes, Bridgett appeared from the darkness of the alley behind the liquor

store. It was getting to be damn cold out, but that didn’t stop her and her coworkers from wearing those skimpy hooker outfits. The cold was making her nipples practically leap right out of her tank top. “Bridgett!” the pimp yelled out. “Git yer ass over here!” She walked up to him and handed him a wad of cash. He counted it carefully, jammed his finger under her chin, and said something in a voice too low for me to hear. She shook her head quickly in response, and he took a step back and pointed to my car. She climbed in and settled into the leather seat. “All night?” she asked quietly. “That’s how I roll,” I answered. She gave the pimp some hand signal, and I drove away from the curb. “It’s a little late for a good night’s sleep,” she said. “What do you mean?” I turned around and started heading back to my apartment. “Last time you didn’t even fuck me,” she reminded me. “We just slept.” “You blew me.” “You could have gotten that for a lot less cash.” “Maybe I’ll make up for it tonight.” I glanced over at her and half grinned. We didn’t say much the rest of the trip back to my apartment. Everything was closed, so we didn’t make any detours or anything, either. Odin was waiting by the door when we came in, and she reached out and touched his nose. Odin sneezed at her before he walked back to his dog bed and flopped down. I snickered as I headed into the kitchen and got myself a beer. I offered one to Bridgett, but she declined. I wondered if she was actually old enough to drink. I popped open the bottle and took a long pull from it. Bridgett looked at me, and I was trying hard to figure out her expression. She seemed almost shy, and it wasn’t just her general newness to the oldest profession but something else. Her cheeks suddenly darkened in a blush. Holy shit. You have to be kidding me. She had some kind of crush on me, and now that I was paying attention, it was obvious. Take the girl off the streets where she’d been hurt and treat her nice for a few hours, and suddenly you were some kind of goddamned hero. “We’re just fucking here, Bridgett,” I said darkly. I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head a little to the side.

She blinked a few times before licking her lips nervously. “I…I know that. What do you mean?” “You know exactly what I mean. You keep that shit up, and I’ll pass you over for another bitch. We clear?” She nodded slowly. I could feel the tension rise in the room, and knew I had taken the whole warning thing overboard. I probably could have blamed it on the lack of sleep, but it still needed to be said. I didn’t want her thinking this hookup was going to change into something else. “Good,” I said. I watched her as I drained the beer. “Now get in my bedroom and take your clothes off.” I followed on her heels, glad to see she wasn’t wasting any time when she passed through my bedroom doorway. As soon as she was inside, she pulled her top up and over her head and then looked at me over her shoulder with one of those little, secret smiles hookers thought they could get away with, but they couldn’t. I smiled back anyway as I moved across the room and sat on the edge of the bed to take off my boots. “Keep going.” I nodded towards her. I pulled my shirt off as well, and Bridgett took a couple of steps to the side until she was standing right in front of me. She rubbed her hands down her sides and moved her hips as she leaned over a little to unzip her mini skirt. “You can take the shoes off, too,” I said. Ditching my boots and socks towards the end of the bed, I popped open the buttons on my jeans before I leaned back on my elbows. It was definitely more comfortable that way as I watched Bridgett strip in front on me. Ultimately, I was still too tired to stand up, but I had to keep up pretenses. Unlike the rest of me, my cock was all too willing to join in a little late night fun, and I could see Bridgett’s eyes move to my crotch a few times as she removed the rest of her clothes. I took a good look at her for the first time. When she had been at my place before, I really hadn’t looked at much more than her ass, which was definitely “custom,” as Jonathan would have said. Now I checked out her equally round tits – not too big, but nice and fleshy – and curved hips. She was built like a woman, not a twiggy little thing, which I appreciated a lot. She had good skin, pale and perfect. “You really want the shoes off?” she asked. I nodded my head, and she removed them before climbing over the top of me and pressing her lips down to mine. I kept myself propped on my elbows and just let her do what she wanted for a few minutes while I kept looking at her. Long, dark hair and a little patch of matching triangle lower down tickled as she ran her hands up and down my sides. She straddled me lower, kissed down the center of my chest to my stomach, and then got off the edge of the bed. I raised my hips as she pushed my jeans down my legs until she was kneeling in front of me. Her hands caressed my thighs, and I closed my eyes as the warmth of her mouth covered

my cock for the second time. “Fuck, that’s nice…” My hand reached down and grabbed her shoulder, encouraging her to come back up and stop sucking me off. I had another idea this time. “Lay on your back.” She did as I said, and I raised a leg up to straddle her this time. I watched her tongue dart over her lips, and I moved up her chest with my dick pointing towards her face. My hands came up her sides and took hold of both tits. My thumbs grazed over the nipples until they stood out nice and hard and then pushed them both together and around my cock. Bridgett sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it a little as I started to fuck her tits. Rocking slowly back and forth, I didn’t quite go up far enough to touch her mouth with the tip. I probably could have, and she would have given me both the tit fuck and her mouth at once, but the angle wasn’t quite right, and I wanted to be done soon. Moving a little faster, I felt the pressure building in my balls as my thighs trembled a little. I leaned my head back and let out a moan as the first shot coated her skin between her breasts. I looked down as the next one went higher, coating her neck, and the third stream further soaked her tits. With a final groan, I climbed back off of her. On shaky legs, I quickly went to the bathroom and soaked a washcloth, then took both it and a dry towel to hand to her. As soon as she took them from my hands, I dropped to my back on the bed. I stretched my arms up over head and yawned loudly as she cleaned herself up. Once she was done, she curled up against my side and ran her hand over my chest. I reached over, twisted my arm a little around hers, and gripped her hip to pull her against me. This effectively cut off her reach to my cock as well, which was going to make it a little easier to get some sleep. My head was getting that foggy feeling again, and I closed my eyes to let myself go. “You’re going to fall asleep on me again, aren’t you?” Bridgett said with a bit of a giggle. I grunted but didn’t open my eyes. A moment later, I felt her fingers against my jaw. “Really?” she asked quietly. “You’re going to spend all that money and not even fuck me? Twice now?” I opened my eyes half way and looked up at her. “What do you care?” I mumbled. I was starting to feel the warm cover of sleep moving over my body, and making sounds wasn’t helping at all. I needed the rest, and she was going to pepper me with questions. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. I ignored her, figuring that was the best way to get her to shut up. I tucked my head into the pillow and subsequently against her arm as well before I closed my eyes again. “You paid for me all night last time for a blow job and this time for a tit fuck? Do you really have that much money to throw away? I mean, I figure if you’re Moretti’s killer then–” I rolled quickly, covered her body with mine, and placed my hand over her mouth. I felt her fingers grip into my arms, but she wasn’t even close to matching my strength and remained immobilized. Completely awake now – unfortunately – I stared down into her eyes with as much menace as I could

muster. “Some things aren’t discussed,” I said slowly and quietly. I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to acknowledge what I said. When she nodded quickly, I released her mouth, but the damage was already done. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye. Part of me wanted to apologize, but she had to know she couldn’t just open up her mouth and talk about that kind of shit – it didn’t matter where we were. Next time we’d be in a bar or someplace, and she’d end up getting us both killed. Pushing off of her, I landed on my back against the mattress. The ceiling needed to be painted, and I spent a moment wondering if I should put on a fresh coat of your basic ceiling white or maybe try something at little more interesting. “I’m sorry,” I heard from beside me. “If you want to…to just sleep or whatever, that’s cool.” Swallowing down whatever tetchiness was still left in me, I nodded and looked at her. Though her eyes were dry now, I knew I had scared her, and that’s not what I really wanted to do. She needed to remember what kind of life she was leading and what kind of people ended up around her because of it. She was young, but she couldn’t afford to be stupid. If she did, she’d die young, too. “I…I sleep better with someone here,” I finally admitted. “I’m not seeing anyone, so…” I let my voice trail off in hopes that the whole conversation would go away, but Bridgett was the most inquisitive of streetwalkers. “You have nightmares?” she asked. “Sometimes.” “Bad ones?” My eyes narrowed at her slightly. I didn’t want to go in this direction, and I also didn’t want to have to throw her out. I nodded once without speaking, but she still didn’t take the hint. “What about?” “For fuck’s sakes,” I growled. I resisted the urge to get up and drag her ass back to the street corner but only just barely. “Look, I’m tired, okay? I haven’t slept in two days because I have shitty dreams, and the last time you were here, I slept really well, okay? Now can you just shut up for a few hours, or do I have to drag your ass back to your pimp and find a new whore?” My heart was starting to pound faster, and if this kept up, I wasn’t going to be able to sleep no matter who was here. Thankfully, Bridgett finally understood and lay her head down beside mine. There was just no reason to go into the details.

Chapter 3 – Conjured Plan “So tell me what brings you here, Evan.” I leaned back against the back of the chair and closed my eyes for a minute. Mark Duncan, the military counselor assigned to me after I was discharged and moved to Illinois, seemed to be a patient man. Though we had only spoken once before – the same month I relocated to Chicago – he understood it took a while for me to get going. He was a short guy with dark hair and glasses. He must have loved what he did because he didn’t make enough money to get glasses that actually fit, and the little marks on the side of his face where the frames bore into his skin were red. There were papers all over his desk, and his bookshelf was disorganized to the point of annoying me. There was a picture of a young woman, but it was an old picture. Her hairstyle and clothing screamed the nineties. There weren’t any other pictures of her, and I figured she must be an ex since she was too old to be his daughter. There weren’t any family-type pictures, though he was prime age to be married with a couple of kids. There were other pictures on his desk and on the window sill behind his chair, but they consisted of what looked to be a build site for a new house and a huge group of people holding tools. There were also pictures of groups of kids holding banners that showcased various walk-a-thons and similar functions. “I’m having dreams,” I told him. He scribbled on his notepad, which made me want to roll my eyes, but I managed to refrain. “Bad ones?” “Not awful,” I said. “Not like I’ve had in the past when they put me on meds. It’s just that I haven’t had any like that in a couple years, and they’re keeping me up at night. I don’t know why they’re coming back.” “Can you tell me about them?” “I…uh…” Fuck. I should have realized he was going to want me to talk about them. Talking about the dreams meant talking about what happened in the desert, and I didn’t want to go there. All I really wanted to do was get some sleep, and this option seemed to be the most expeditious. “Just…just about the past,” I finally said. “I just want to know why they’re back. Why now, when I haven’t really thought about any of that crap for a long time?” “If you don’t tell me what they were about, I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be,” he urged softly. With my eyes closed, I went through some of the deep breathing shit the first counselor taught me to do when I had panic attacks. I didn’t get those any more – not since the first year – but the breathing still helped sometimes when my brain went into overdrive.

“I’m…I’m in the hole.” “Where you were kept prisoner?” “Yeah.” I swallowed a couple of times. “I’m just waking up, like I did every day when it got hot. I kept trying to spit sand out of my mouth, but I never could, you know? There was always more of it.” I swallowed hard, but the dryness in my throat made it feel like I was swallowing sand again. I could almost feel it scratching my larynx. “Fuck.” “Where are you now, Evan?” “Chicago,” I said quickly. “I’m not there. I know that.” “Can you go on?” “Yeah.” I leaned forward, put my head in my hands, and took a minute to center again. “There isn’t much more, really. I’m just in the hole, waking up over and over again, and trying not to eat the fucking dirt. It made me cough, and it would get in my lungs, too.” “You haven’t told me much about what happened there,” Mark said. “Not something I like to talk about.” I hoped my succinct words and terse voice would dissuade him, but he was a fucking counselor, so that wasn’t going to happen. “It was a very significant life event, Evan. You were a prisoner of war for eighteen months. Don’t you think that warrants some discussion?” “I talked about it with the last guy,” I reminded him. “The one in the hospital – in Virginia. He cleared me.” “He cleared you from the psychiatric hospital,” Mark clarified. “Yeah,” I responded as I looked into his eyes, “where I was held for observation only, evaluated, declared unfit for further duty, but otherwise unharmed.” “And when was the last time you talked to…” he glanced down at the file in his hands, “…Doctor Hartford?” “Before I moved here.” “Before you were discharged?” “Around the same time,” I said. “He’s the guy who discharged me.” “With a diagnosis of PTSD.” “Look,” I said, “I know all this, and we went through all this shit when I saw you the first time. Do we really need to do it again? I was really just hoping you could tell me if there’s some kind of sleeping pill or whatever I ought to be taking.” Mark looked over my file, glanced up at me, and then back to the file again. He adjusted his illfitting sports jacket before settling back into his chair with one leg crossed over the other.

“I’m a psychologist,” Mark said, “not a psychiatrist. I can’t prescribe medication, though I can make a recommendation to your regular doctor. Honestly, I think you’d be better off if we just talked for a bit. It was recommended that you visit with me at least every other week after you moved here two years ago, but this is only the second time you’ve been here.” “I don’t usually need it.” “But you do now.” I shrugged and leaned back against the chair. I glanced at the couch, and though lying down did sound good, I had never felt comfortable on a shrink’s couch. It was just too cliché. I was glad he had the high-backed chair as an option because Hartford never had. “I just want to get some decent sleep without…” “Without what?” he asked when I stopped talking. I took a long breath. I was so off my game, I was going to fuck up at my job which was completely unacceptable. I needed sleep to focus, and I couldn’t seem to get any rest without Bridgett, the newbie hooker, in my bed. That was about as fucked up as some of the shit I went through in the Middle East. Well, no, it wasn’t, but it was still fucked up. “I just need some sleep,” I finally said. “I really think if I just got a couple nights of decent sleep, I’d be fine.” “How about I make you a deal?” Mark said. “You tell me a little more about your time in the desert, and I’ll talk to your doctor about the possibility of getting a prescription for sleeping pills.” “I don’t have a doctor,” I admitted. He eyed me again, wrote something down on his notepad, and then looked back up. “Taking care of yourself isn’t much of a priority for you, is it?” Mark leaned back a bit in his rolling desk chair. He put the end of his pen in the corner of his mouth and chewed on it a bit. I wondered if he was a smoker because it reminded me of Jonathan and how he would play around with anything even slightly cigarette shaped. I checked out his fingers and noticed slight yellowing. Inhaling slowly, I detected the slight scent of tobacco smoke in the office. He didn’t smoke in here – it wasn’t strong enough for that – but the scent was on his clothes. I looked up at him through narrowed eyes. “It’s a little hectic at work,” I snapped. “The place doesn’t offer health care.” Quite the opposite, really. “There are still some basics you should be considering. When you were in the Marines, you had regular physicals. Don’t you think that’s important now?” “I’m not sick,” I stated.

“Sickness is relative,” Mark replied. “You are here for a reason, just like you might go to an urgent care facility if you had a cold you just couldn’t shake.” “I’m not sick,” I repeated, “and I don’t go to the ER for a fucking cold. I know what I was diagnosed with, and I know I didn’t go and get every single checkbox checked that I was supposed to after discharge, but I also didn’t see the point. I wasn’t getting severance since I didn’t have six years of active service. Hartford gave me the diagnosis just to make sure I could still see him after I left the hospital.” “And did you?” “No.” “Why not?” I sighed. “This is totally irrelevant,” I said. “I didn’t come here for this.” “Your health is exactly why you are here,” he countered. “Just forget it.” I stood and began to walk to the other side of the room. “I’d like you to stay,” Mark called out. He stood up and took a couple of steps towards me, which emphasized a slight limp. When I glanced down, I could see he wore a shoe with a thicker heel and sole on his right foot. “There’s only twenty minutes left in the session. You can stick it out that long, can’t you? I really would like to talk to you some more.” “Morbid curiosity?” I sneered. “No,” he replied sincerely. “I’m concerned about you.” “I don’t want anyone writing a fucking book about it, all right?” “All right,” Mark replied through narrowed eyes. “What makes you say that?” Tensing a little, I tried to keep myself from actually balling my hands into fists. Whenever I thought about Hartford and his ideas, I wanted to punch something. “Hartford wanted to write a book.” “Ah.” Mark shifted in his seat. “Well, I’m not much of a writer, and I really just want to know how you are doing now, so can we finish the session? I mean, you already paid for it.” Forcing myself not to roll my eyes, I sat back down in the chair and looked at him. “What do you want to know?” I asked. “All I really know is the part that is a matter of public record,” Mark said. “Anything you want to tell me that isn’t still classified would be a good place to start. If you’d rather talk about the known stuff, that’s fine, too. It’s up to you.” There was a lot that was still classified as far as I knew. It wasn’t like there was anyone coming out here to debrief me of any changes, of course. Regardless, it was best to go with the things that could be found by anyone who did some digging.

“You see the video tape?” I asked. An involuntary cold shiver went down my back, and my stomach tightened up. “I have,” he admitted. “I watched it again when you were assigned to me, but I had seen it on the news before then.” “That guy – that writer guy,” I said. Inside my head, tiny little explosions began to commence in the center of my skull. My hands clenched without my permission, and my mind fought to only say the words, not actually see the pictures. “You know the one? When they had us all on our knees in front of the camera – right after the bags were taken off our heads – he was on my left.” “I know who you mean.” “He kept saying he had a wife and kids,” I remembered. “He kept begging them and talking about his two little girls.” I hesitated. Most of this was on the tape – the one they played over and over and over again. There were probably five hundred copies of it up on YouTube. Most of it, but not all of it. There was a whole bunch of it before that part that never got out of the government’s hands. “Before they had us on camera, when the guy was talking about his kids – there was one of them – one of the insurgents – he said someone had to die, and I told them to just shoot me instead of the writer guy because I didn’t have a family. It didn’t make any difference though. They shot him anyway.” Pain in my lungs made me stop speaking for a second. They were trying to go into overdrive or something, and it took all my concentration to stop myself from hyperventilating. My fingers gripped onto my knees in an attempt to stop shaking, but at least my voice remained steady. “Sometimes I think he got off easy,” I said. “Thinking that sometimes makes it hard to sleep, too.” “That’s a change in your thinking,” Mark said. “At least, as far as what you talked about when you were here before. There’s nothing about the video in Doctor Hartford’s notes.” “Maybe it’s still classified and no one remembered to tell me.” I shrugged. “If you see any MPs coming up the driveway, give me a chance to run, okay?” I laughed, but he didn’t smile, and I couldn’t really hear the humor in my voice, either. “It was on the news a lot.” “I was still in Saudi Arabia when it broke out,” I said, “then Germany, and then the hospital in Virginia. I didn’t see it for a couple of months – not until they were discharging me. It was a year old by then, anyway. It’s not like I had paparazzi following me or anything when I got back. Instead, I had freaking MPs. The whole media circus didn’t have any effect on me.” “You think something like that just goes away after a year?” Mark asked. “No,” I said, “but it wasn’t the worst anyway.” “What was?” he asked quietly, but I shook my head. He must have realized he wasn’t getting any of that because he changed tactics. “Did you dream about that time?” he asked. “Did you dream about the video?”

“No,” I said, “just the hole.” “Your focus when we first met was on the others who were with you when you were captured. Your dreams then revolved around feelings of guilt – that you should have been able to do something to save them.” “Yeah.” I cleared my throat, and my head began to pound a little under the effort of not remembering. “Not those dreams. None like that this time.” “You still blame yourself,” he observed. “I fucked up.” “You were ambushed.” “I was the one tasked with not letting that happen,” I said. “I was their officer. I was in charge. I fucked up, and they died.” “Do you expect yourself to be omnipotent?” “Yes.” “Evan,” Mark sighed, “you know that isn’t reasonable.” “I don’t give a shit about reasonable,” I said. “It’s what I should have done. They were counting on me.” “I have the files,” he reminded me. “Full investigation. You were found to be completely without…” “I don’t give a shit about what they said!” I snapped. Mark’s eyes went wide for just a half-second before his carefully constructed therapist’s mask came back into play. He couldn’t completely hide his shock from me. I could almost hear little gears clicking in his head as he considered this new information. He wrote on his notepad while his eyes stayed on me. I could just imagine the words on the page. Evan Arden does actually have an emotion in there somewhere. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I guess I’m a little on edge. Work has been a little hectic, and with the nightmares…well, I’m not sleeping much, like I said. Very sorry for my outburst, sir.” Mark stared at me for a moment, undoubtedly wondering what he could say to make me explode again. “What you went through was horrific, Evan,” Mark finally said. Like I needed to be reminded. “You’ve come a long way since then, haven’t you? You still work at the gym?” “Not right now,” I said. “I took a little extended vacation. Just got back into town a month ago.” “So where are you working?”

“Nowhere at the moment.” “You just said work had been a little hectic.” Shit. “I…ah…” Damnit! What the hell was wrong with me? I never made such stupid mistakes. “I don’t have a real job. I’ve just been helping out a friend.” “Evan, I can’t help you if you keep things from me. You have to trust me if this is going to work. You know whatever is going on, you are completely protected by doctor-patient privilege. Unless you tell me you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else, it will all be totally confidential.” Well, that was the problem there, wasn’t it? “It’s just…not completely on the up and up,” I said as I tried to buy a little time for a plausible story. I was falling into a pit of lies, and I needed something simple so I could keep it straight. I had already said far more than I had planned to say. “Doing what?” he pressed. He wasn’t going to let this go until I gave him something he would take to be me opening up – trusting him more. What I had said before was in the files – he could have read it already. He needed something new. The story actually came pretty quickly. “Well, it’s just…” I hesitated and rubbed my fingers in my eyes. I was surely the perfect picture of angst. “It’s not totally legitimate, you know? I’m doing some roofing work for this guy’s brother. Strictly cash, all under the table, you know?” “Yes, I know.” He did a wonderful job of not showing his disappointment. I was just pleased he bought it. “You’re not pissed?” I asked, supposedly surprised. “Not at all,” he said. “I can’t say I think it is the best thing for you because legitimate work will always be in your best interest, but I’m not pissed, as you put it.” “My Marine buddies would have a fit,” I said. It was the truth, or at least would have been if I had any Marine buddies. “Everything has to be on the up-and-up, you know? It’s a matter of pride.” “And does doing that kind of work hurt your pride?” “Yeah, a little,” I admitted with a shrug. In my mind, I considered what I actually did to make my illegitimate cash. “I know it is ultimately illegal and immoral, but if I don’t do it, someone else will. The gym wouldn’t hire me back since I didn’t exactly tell them I was going to be gone for a while.” “So where did you go on your trip?” “Arizona.” “You went to the desert on vacation?” I looked up at him, and we just stared at each other for a minute.

“Yeah…um…I guess I did.” “And you’re wondering why the dreams came back?” “Well, now that you put it like that…” I leaned forward and rested my forearms over my knees. The throw rug in Mark’s office really wasn’t all that interesting, but I stared at the blue, swirly patterns in it anyway. “Did your vacation remind you of the Middle East?” “I didn’t really think about it while I was there,” I admitted. “I mean – it wasn’t the same at all. Just a little cabin, me and the dog…it never even crossed my mind while I was there.” “What did you do while you were there?” “Nothing,” I said. It was accurate enough. “Sounds like an exciting vacation.” I glanced up and raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm, but Mark wasn’t apologetic. “I wasn’t looking for any excitement,” I said. “I’ve had enough excitement in my life. I just hung out in the cabin. I didn’t go anywhere or do anything, really.” “Did anything significant happen while you were in Arizona?” My eyes dropped back to the rug, and my tongue darted over my lips. I could still taste her there, the brunette beauty who stumbled across my path in the middle of nowhere, spent the night in my bed, and then disappeared from my life. Lia. Did she ever go back to that rickety old cabin? Did she call my name, wander inside, and find the lame-ass excuse for a note I left her? Would I ever know? “No,” I finally said. “Nothing happened while I was there.” ***** Much like the other times I had visited a counselor before I had been discharged, I was left feeling empty inside, more unsure than I had been before I walked into the office, and in need of a lot of distractions to keep my mind from dwelling on whatever was said. Keeping myself occupied usually came in one of three forms: throwing myself into exercise, spending all my free time with a hooker in my bed, or focusing on my work. Sometimes doing all three was the only way to keep my mind off of whatever was bothering me. When I wasn’t even sure what was quite literally keeping me up nights, even that didn’t help. For the moment, my best distraction was work, which meant digging into my target’s life. Brad Ashton was not an easy guy to get close to, that was for sure. The whole Hollywood scene sucked, whether you were in LA, New York, or downtown Chicago.

Red carpet events weren’t overly common in the area, but I guess when you’re into a mob boss for a shitload of gambling money, you do what you need to do. The premier of Ashton’s new movie was all over the place, and this was just the Chicago leg of the tour. I knew I wasn’t going to get close enough to him tonight – not with all the insanity going on at the AMC River East 21. There had to be at least ten thousand people there, and every one of them was trying to get up close and personal with the dude. The vast majority were women, mostly in their mid-forties, and mostly crazy. They had to be. I mean, some of them were actually carrying cardboard cutouts of the guy and trying to get him to sign his own face. That shit’s weird. There were at least two dozen people acting as a human shield at any given moment. They were all decked out in basic B-movie secret service attire – black suits, receivers in their ears, sunglasses regardless of the weather. They were pretty comical to watch. As far as my cover went, they were going to be my best chance to get to him. I heard Ashton was staying at the Embassy right next door, so I made myself comfortable in the bar there and sipped club soda while a scotch sat untouched next to me. It was a long while before the noise of screaming females alerted me to the star’s arrival. He was escorted by the caricature guards to the bank of exclusive elevators and disappeared. Just a little longer. A few more patrons were hanging out and watching various sports on the large screens around the bar, but no one paid any attention to me except for the bartender. The next time he came around, I ditched the soda and started sipping the scotch. Two guys in black suits, sans ties, and unbuttoned white shirts came out of the same elevator where Ashton had disappeared and headed towards the bar. Not surprisingly, they opted for a bar-side seat instead of a table. I watched from the end of the bar. They were both in their mid twenties, which was convenient. As they talked, I picked up that one was named Jim, but no name was mentioned for the other. They drank cheap beer in bottles and watched football until closing time but didn’t talk about work. Jim was apparently a Raiders fan. They sat reasonably close like they knew each other, but not close enough that they might accidentally touch one another in passing. They both had short hair but not military cut like mine, just neatly short. There were little marks around their right ears where the receivers had pinched them. They were career guys, not just hired for this event. They would go with Ashton when he left Chicago, which was exactly what I needed. I kept my head down, turned my body away as they passed me, and finished my scotch before heading home. The next day was a television appearance for the popular actor and then back to the same hotel for

some beauty sleep before he flew out to LA. The same two guys came down to the bar again the next night. I sat in the same spot as well, but this time I was wearing a Raider’s jersey. Fortune was on my side, and after the first drink, Jim’s buddy called it a night, but Jim didn’t seem ready to turn in just yet. It didn’t take long for him to approach me and start talking football. Too easy. “Raider’s fan, huh?” “Like anybody with a lick of sense,” I replied. “Best team in the fucking world!” I held up my glass of beer and clinked it against his bottle. The beer was still light, same as his, but just different enough not to appear suspicious. This guy knew security, and I couldn’t be that obvious. Even wearing his team’s jersey on a day when they weren’t playing was a little risky. “Damn straight!” Jim replied. “I’m Jim Conner – mind if I join you?” “Marshall Miller,” I said as I shook his hand. “You staying here at the hotel?” “Yeah, I’ll be heading out in the morning. I work security, and my boss is staying here.” “That’s cool,” I replied. “I hear the rooms here are really nice.” “You aren’t a guest?” “Nah,” I said. I wiped the back of my arm across my mouth. “I just like the bar. Other sports bars around have kind of a crappy crowd, you know?” “I do,” he agreed. I made a point of scooting my chair a bit so he could sit down without going all homophobic on me or anything. Sports guys could get kind of uptight sometimes, and I didn’t want something that simple to blow my chances. We talked about the team’s performance over the season and their chances for the Super Bowl and then went on to politics. I argued with him about one of the viewpoints expressed on the nightly newscast. I took it just to the precipice of pissing him off and then dropped back down. We eyed each other cautiously for a moment before touching our drinks together once more in a truce sort of toast. It was all about as perfect as it could be until he insisted on shots. I probably should have known better – really wasn’t much of a drinker. I’d have a drink or two, yes, but that was usually it. Being out of control wasn’t my favorite feeling, but sometimes the job called on you to do shit you didn’t want to do. “Did you play?” I asked Jim as I tipped back the third. “Nah,” he said. “I love the game, but I was never good enough to play more than JV. You?” “In college, yeah,” I said with a frat-boy grin. “Tight end freshman and sophomore years and then screwed up my knee. There went my scholarship. I couldn’t keep up with everything after surgery, and I never was the same again.” “That sucks, man,” Jim said. As some sort of celebration-slash-condolences he bought the next shot, which we both downed too quickly to count, so we had another.

“I always thought I’d play for the Raiders someday,” I mused. “I guess since that didn’t happen… well…you know. Life and shit.” “I do know that,” Jim agreed. I didn’t really think he had any idea what he was agreeing with, but it didn’t really matter. We did another shot, and my head was getting a little fuzzy. I didn’t drink often, and it was hitting me a little harder than I expected. “I got laid off a week ago,” I told him. “I was a mall cop, if you can believe it. It was kind of a crappy job – mostly chasing teenaged shoplifters – but it paid the bills.” “Have you been looking for something else?” Jim asked. “Looking, sure,” I responded. I waved down the bartender for two more shots since it was my turn to buy them. “Finding is a whole other thing. I like the security stuff, though.” We did a couple more shots, talked more football shit, and bitched about the economy until the hotel bartender finally tossed us out. Jim and I shook hands, and he wished me the best of luck. I jotted my cell number down on the back of one of the cardboard coasters used at the bar and asked him to call me if he heard of any work. Once Jim was out of sight, I pushed my way through the revolving doors and hailed down a cab to take my drunk ass home. I hadn’t actually planned on drinking as much as I did – I didn’t like the out of control feeling of intoxication – but it seemed to have served its purpose as far as “bonding” with Jim was concerned. I stumbled into my apartment and nearly fell over Odin twice as I attached his leash and took him out the back door. My head was swimming, and I had such a rough time just getting Odin outside in the first place that I decided to forgo the leash law and just dropped the people-end of the thing. Odin never wandered off anyway, and it allowed me time to lean against the wall of the building and debate the merits of puking in the bushes versus puking on the rocks. Splatter was bad, so I maneuvered a little closer to the bushes. The dog went about his business, watered down a couple of sticks that were likely going to be bushes in the spring, and then took a shit next to the sidewalk. That’s when I realized I hadn’t brought any doggie bags down with me. There was no way in hell I was going to make it all the way back up to the apartment and then down again to clean up shit. It was going to have to wait until morning, and whatever neighbor who was out at this time of night to complain could suck my cock. I whistled, and Odin lumbered up next to me. I checked around to see if anyone had noticed my dog-owner’s ultimate sin, but there wasn’t anyone around. Just as I was picking up the end of his leash to take him back inside, Odin decided there was something seriously interesting about the “flower bed” recently constructed in the park. There weren’t any actual flowers or even any dirt – just a lot of slate rocks. I was actually considering puking on them, but Odin was more interested in what was down around the brick base. I sighed and let him continue on – it was easier than moving, anyway. Odin suddenly stopped sniffing at the ground and let out a growl.

I looked up through blurry eyes at the two kids who were walking across the grass of Lake Shore East Park, coming from between the buildings on East Randolph Street. It really was too late for them to be doing anything legal, and the way they looked up at me and nudged each other was so obvious, it was almost pathetic. At least, it would have been pathetic under other circumstances. Normally this situation wouldn’t have concerned me. Two punk teenagers didn’t tend to be much of a challenge, but I was drunk. Aside from drunk, I was also unarmed and feeling pretty damn stupid to boot. The two kids moved off to one side of the walkway where the light wasn’t as good, but I could still see them pretty well. One had dark hair and a pretty beefy build, and the other was smaller, thinner, and had red hair in a greasy mop on the top of his head falling over into one eye. The dark-haired one reached around to the back of his jeans and pulled out something shiny and sharp looking. Whatever doubts I might have had before about motives evaporated. Odin growled again before he took a couple steps to move himself between me and the two teen boys. I put an end to that immediately because the last thing I needed was for the dog to get knifed. I wasn’t in any shape to drive him to the vet. I cut him off with my legs, forcing his bulk behind my knees and partially into the rock garden. “How about you give me your wallet,” the kid on the right said. “Maybe then I’ll decide not to leave you and the pooch bleeding in the street.” I debated telling him that the street was a good hundred yards away but decided against it. The other dude snickered, and I just shook my head a little. That action caused enough vapor trails to make me stop moving immediately. Taking a step back, I almost tripped over the damn dog again. “The dude’s fucked up,” the red-haired kid said. I couldn’t help but look at his hair and remember David Hasselhoff in Piranha 3-DD. He had played himself in the ridiculously campy horror movie Jonathan once made me watch. In the movie, he kept going off on a little red-headed kid who was too stupid to live through to the end. He kept calling him by the same nickname throughout – little ginger moron. I heard myself snicker. “You think this is funny?” the darker kid asked. “Now that I think about it, yeah,” I answered. “You gonna knife me and the dog here in the park and then drag us over to the street? What exactly does that accomplish for ya?” My vision blurred again, and the next thing I knew, there was a sharp pain in my side and I dropped to my knees on the cement as Odin let out a short bark. There was just no way this night could get worse.

Chapter 4 – Patient Research I landed on the ground, not because of the hit – it wasn’t that hard, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought a rib might be bruised – but because my body decided it was just the right time to get rid of the alcohol in my system. Fortitude only goes so far, and I wasn’t able to hold it in any longer. My mind tried to count the number of shots I must have done with Jim, the security guy, as I retched into the shrubs near the edge of the park. The commotion going on around me barely made sense as I fertilized the rock garden and reminded myself over and over again why I didn’t make a habit of drinking too much. I hated puking. Just hated it. Even when I was a kid, the very notion of puking was abhorrent. The slightest feeling of nausea had been enough to nearly send me into a panic attack, and if I had an actual stomach bug, I would cry and scream between stomach heaves. I honestly thought major organs or other important bits of my insides would come out if I threw up too much. I remembered the feeling of terror and helplessness as I knelt over the grimy porcelain bowl at the convent and tried to keep my insides actually on the inside of me. There was one nun who would smack me and tell me to stop being such a baby; I think I had been about four at that time. Needless to say, that didn’t help me get over my fear of vomiting, and though adulthood had given me a more realistic perspective on the whole thing, I still hated it with a passion. By the time I was starting to get a bit of control back, everything seemed to have quieted down. It didn’t make any sense at all, but the commotion that had been all around me as I was sick had vanished. The scent from the ground below me was nearly enough to make me puke again, so I started pushing myself backwards and onto the walkway – trying to get away from the stench in hopes of saving myself. My knees scraped the rough asphalt, and I cringed as I finally regained enough sense to look around me. Odin sat next to me, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue to one side. Some guard dog. He tried to lick my face, which was just disgusting. I pushed him away as a pair of feet came into view right in front of me. Dirty tennis shoes and bright white socks over hairy calves bounced around in my vision as my head spun in a steady circle. I knew I needed to lift my head to see who it was, but I didn’t have quite enough muscle control. “You look like shit,” a familiar voice said. My fingers rubbed into my eyes to try to un-blur my vision while the other hand wiped a sleeve across my mouth. It took a minute, but I was finally able to look around with some clarity only to find both the kids who had come after me were gone. In their place, Terry Kramer was grinning down at me. “What the…” I shook my head, earning me more woozy feelings in my head and stomach. Terry

blurred in and out of existence while I tried to keep myself from puking again. With herculean effort, I swallowed back bile and willed myself not to be sick as I looked up at Terry. “What are you doing here?” “Saving your ass,” he replied with a big grin. I looked around, but I didn’t see the two kids anywhere. There was a little switchblade-style knife lying on the walkway next to the grass a couple of yards away, but no one around to wield it. Looking over the park, I saw no signs of anyone walking around, so they must have gone around the front of the building. It didn’t make sense – they had come from the park. “Great timing I got, huh?” Terry said as I forced myself back onto my feet. Wobbling slightly, I reached down to Odin’s neck and grabbed a hold of his collar. My fingers worked their way around to the edge to the leash, and I wrapped my hand around it. He wasn’t going anywhere, but I needed something to help ground me. I kind of needed him to help get me off the ground, too. With shaking knees and Odin as leverage, I managed to stand up but continued to stare at the concrete as it spun around in my vision. I had to focus. I had to get the shit out of my system, so my body would stop revolting against me. I turned towards the decorative pile of stones and puked again. “Oh, man!” Terry exclaimed. He took several steps backwards to avoid the splatter. “You’re in bad shape!” Responding to him would have been pointless, not to mention impossible given the current situation, so I didn’t. Besides, I had the feeling opening my mouth again would cause problems. “You’re really lucky I was walking by,” Terry said. “Those kids might have given you some hurt.” A lot of potential responses bopped around in my head like a Teen Beat celebrity, some with words and others with actions. At least one response included my knuckles. I might have tried to say something, but I really was a little afraid that if I opened my mouth, I was going to puke again. I needed to brush my teeth and drink half a bottle of mouthwash. “Where you going?” Terry asked as I picked up Odin’s leash and started back towards the building. I pointed at the door of the apartments and then moved up to swipe the security badge you needed to get in late at night. Terry stayed at my heels, but when he started to walk in with me, I put a hand out to his chest and stopped him. “What the fuck?” he said. “I just saved your life, and you don’t even let me in to wash my hands or something?” “Not exactly in the mood for company,” I said. “I just saved your ass!”

There were very few things that annoyed me more than someone who fished for compliments. Whether it was a chick wanting me to tell her she didn’t look fat in the fucking dress, a server batting her eyelashes for a bigger tip, or a punk wannabe thinking I needed to thank him for hanging around my apartment at an opportune time, I found the very act pathetic and undeserving of praise. “What the fuck are you doing around here anyway?” I asked. Now that my mind was going in that particular direction, I did find it odd. I’d never seen Terry around this area before. “You don’t live anywhere near here.” “I was down at Sweetwater’s watching the game and having a beer,” he said. “I needed to walk and clear up my head, so I cut through the park – figured I’d take the Red Line – it’s the only one running this time of night.” The places he was talking about were close, at least. I shook my still fuzzy head and waved a hand at him. “Go home,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” The door shut behind me, and I didn’t look back to see whatever annoyed expression might have been on his face. Instead, I let Odin lead me to the elevator and then down the hall to the apartment. I didn’t even make it to the bed, but just the few steps it took to get to the couch and pass out. As the room spun around and around and consciousness started to leave me, I realized the walk from Sweetwater Tavern and Grille to the Red Line train was the opposite direction from my apartment. There was no way a Chicago native like Terry would have walked the wrong direction to get to the L. He lied to me. ***** Most people probably thought my line of work was always dangerous and exciting. It could be, I supposed, but most of it was fucking dull. There was a lot more research than target practice or killing – that was for sure. I Googled. I clicked. I hovered the cursor over balloon links to other sites. I read celebrity gossip websites and websites that debunked various celebrity gossip websites. Ashton was represented in every one of them, of course. Women couldn’t get enough of him, gay dudes couldn’t get enough of him, and straight ones put up with it because their women came home horny and ready to blow them. I couldn’t seem to find any pictures of Ashton in compromising situations with any of the women, though. No scandalous love affairs with senators’ daughters or the co-star from his last movie. No groupies getting groped at parties or secret rendezvous in shady hotels with cute little American Idol starlets. If anything, he seemed more likely to hang out with the starlet’s brother. Interesting. He wasn’t openly out of the closet, but he hadn’t denied anything, either. I was perfectly straight, but if he wasn’t…well, it was something I could possibly use to my advantage. Whatever got the job

done, got me back on my regular pay and off of Rinaldo’s shit list worked for me. The whole watching every word I said thing was getting old. I didn’t mind being overly polite to the boss – I was used to calling people above me sir, so it came pretty naturally anyway. Still, I felt like he was always waiting for me to screw up again, and I hated feeling like I was being evaluated all the time, especially when he compared me to a second-rate little shit. There was the added little tickle in the back of my head that told me I was going to have to kill Terry Kramer. He was in my thoughts a lot as I lay on my stomach at the local shooting range with my rifle up against my shoulder. With a twelve round magazine instead of a ten, I made multiple holes in the center of the target’s forehead. “Nice shootin’.” “You ain’t supposed ta smoke in here,” I told Jonathan. I cringed as I realized his accent was being extra contagious today. He laughed out loud and made a grand gesture as he looked around for some stupid motherfucker to argue with him about it. I rolled my eyes and squeezed the trigger again. I was pretty sure Terry’s face would look pretty nice with a little round hole between the eyes. At least thoughts of killing him were keeping my mind occupied. It seemed every time I wasn’t thinking about killing someone, thoughts of a brunette riding my cock in a hot, stuffy cabin in the middle of the desert kept coming back into my mind. Terry Kramer’s little appearance at my apartment building at three in the morning hadn’t been a coincidence. He had spent his whole life in Chicago and wouldn’t have gone the wrong direction from a bar to the train, no matter how much he had to drink. Aside from that, he had been perfectly sober enough to lie to my face about why he was there. If he just happened to be at my apartment as two thugs decided to take advantage of a drunken idiot, there were only a couple of ways that was possible. I never considered coincidences to be possibilities. One, he had been following me. Two, he hung out around my apartment a lot but kept out of my sights. Three, he arranged for the thugs to be there. For a dozen reasons, I was going to go with all of the above. Various thoughts, considerations, and scenarios occurred to me as I continued researching Brad Ashton’s movements via the internet. Most of the thoughts started with Terry being a little too power hungry for his own good and ended with a bullet in his brain. First things first, though – Terry wasn’t on my kill list. It wasn’t that he had to be on an official list approved by the boss, but if I went off on a tangent before hitting my target, Rinaldo wouldn’t be overly pleased about it. I needed to take care of Ashton, which meant I needed to figure out everything I could about his Atlanta trip.

I took a few more shots, packed up my rifle, and sat down in the lobby area with Jonathan and Nick. No surprise at all, Nick had found the one and only woman at the shooting range and was telling her some bullshit story about being a makeup artist who specialized in painting women’s boobs. She was totally buying it, too. “You wanna hit the bars tonight?” Jonathan asked. “Looks like I’m gonna lose lover boy over there early.” “Nah, I still got work to do.” “You got a big job,” he agreed. “Terry keeps asking me about it.” “That little fucker needs to stay the hell away from me,” I muttered. “He does push yer buttons, don’t he?” “Doesn’t,” I corrected. “Wha?” “Nothing,” I replied. “I’m outta here. Gotta let the dog out.” “Sweetwater later?” “Yeah, okay,” I said. “I’ll meet ya there.” “Want a ride?” “Nah, I’ll take the L.” “You’re the only fucker I know who has a choice and still takes the fuckin’ trains.” I gave him a wave and a shrug as I headed off. Nick was already feeling up the chick’s tits, saying something about how he thought he could paint her whole chest as a butterfly or something. I wondered what he did when the chicks he conned called him out. Maybe they never did. Maybe he really could paint a titty-fly. With my rifle in a bag up on my shoulder, I moved through the turnstile and jumped on the next Red Line train. I had a ways to go before my stop, and I found myself a seat near the back of a car, facing forwards. I hated it when there were only backwards-facing seats available. Sideways was all right, but riding backwards made me want to puke. I really did hate that feeling. Two nuns in traditional garb got on the train at the next stop, and I watched them carefully. I had been raised by nuns, and though most of them were pretty decent, the ones in power were just as corrupt as the powerful in any organization. It was a lesson I had learned firsthand at a very early age.

“You are turning into a charming young man, Master Arden.” “Thank you, Mother Superior,” I reply with a smile. I feel no love for this particular woman, but I have a plan I intend to see carried out. “You know I have so many questions for you…” It had taken months, but I had eventually worn her down. Found her collection of sex toys and ultimately convinced her to let me out of that hellhole as an emancipated teen. It was either that or I tell everyone about the Harley-themed vibrator in her top dresser drawer. The thing was totally frightening. These nuns didn’t even sit down but got off the L at the very next stop and went on their way. Having them off the train made it easier to think of something else. I watched them walk off, which was when my eyes spotted something round and shiny down by the door. A quarter. Though I rarely admitted such things to myself, I had been doing a decent job of keeping a certain abandoned-in-the-desert brunette out of my thoughts. As long as I kept myself busy, I was fine, but every time I saw a fucking quarter, it was like it all came rushing back to me. “Not going to do it,” I told myself as the urge to pick up the coin washed over me. A couple of college kids glanced at me and quickly looked away again. Fucking awesome. Now I was talking to myself right in front of other people. I stood up and got off the train at the next stop, walked twelve blocks, and then hopped on a bus instead. By the time I got back to my place, Odin was looking like he might actually piss on the carpet. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I can’t even blame work this time – I was just fucking around.” He sneezed once and then stood by the door as I grabbed his leash. I took him out, then spent a few minutes rubbing his head before I left to meet Jonathan at the bar. Sweetwater Bar and Grill wasn’t my kind of place at all – big sports bar with a hundred TVs all around and guys with baseball caps serving your drinks. It was packed both with tourists and locals pretty much ninety percent of the time, which meant the bartenders never really had a chance to talk with anyone. They were quick with the drinks, but the place was just too crowded. Jonathan loved it, but he was seriously into football. It was the most convenient drinking place to my apartment, though, so I was there often enough. I recognized the bartenders immediately – a girl I liked and a guy I hated. I couldn’t remember the dude’s name. I knew since the day the place opened he was far too busy to do anything other than smile politely and make sure whatever you asked for was poured efficiently. Okay, so that was basically his job, but I liked a little more effort. The chick was dark-skinned and had a huge mound of braids all over the place. I couldn’t remember her name – only that it started with a “T.” She was a lot friendlier than the guy, and her smiles more genuine, but it was still the same “I’m too busy” vibe I got from the rest of them.

It was also a total meat-market. Jonathan got up to smoke on the porch, and I held onto our ill-gotten table. “Hi there!” I only glanced at the girl as she sidled up to the booth where I sat. There was a huge line at the door, and I had seen her come in as I was entering. Of course, Jonathan had used some app he wrote on his phone to hack into the waiting list, and his name was up front as soon as a table became available, so we didn’t stand at the door for very long. She peeked over the back of the booth, probably making eye contact with the blonde who came in with her before focusing back on me. Her red-lipped smile only annoyed me as she moved closer, leaned over, and made the tops of her boobs stick out of her shirt a little more. “Watching the game?” “Not a fan,” I answered. I picked up the pint glass of whatever microbrew had been on tap and took a sip. “What do you like?” She tried to give me what I assumed was her version of bedroom eyes, but I just couldn’t be bothered. I wasn’t looking to get laid tonight. If I was, and it was going to be her, I’d end up having to buy her drinks all night and spend nearly as much as I did with Bridgett. “Go wait for your own table,” I muttered just as Jonathan was getting back. The girl glared at me before stomping off. “Hey, dude – she might have had a friend!” “So?” I countered. “Even Nick would have helped me out there, bro!” “Nick would have gone home with her and her friend.” “Point taken.” Jonathan sighed, leaned back in the booth, and tapped his fingers on the table top rhythmically to the beat of whatever song was playing. “Didn’t your mama teach you to be nice to girls? “I don’t even know who my mama is,” I said as I tipped back my beer. Jonathan laughed for a moment, and then looked at my face and the laugh died. “Dude – are you serious?” “No clue,” I replied. “Never met her. Don’t even have a name.” “Man, I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea, brother.” “It’s okay.” The server came back and set his chocolate milk down on the table, and I snickered a bit.

Jonathan loved chocolate milk; he couldn’t get enough of the stuff. He’d move over to booze soon enough, but he always started the night with a big glass of chocolate milk, usually ordered off a restaurant’s kids’ menu. “So who raised ya?” Jon asked. “Your dad?” “Nope. Never met him either.” “So who then?” he pressed a bit. “I mean, if ya don’t mind my asking – I ain’t tryin’ to pry or whatever.” I sipped, considered, and then downed my beer. “I was raised in a convent.” “With a bunch of nuns?” Jonathan laughed loudly. “Are you serious?” “Why do you ask me that?” I looked over at him as I drained the rest of the beer. “When do I bullshit you?” “I get ya,” Jon said with a nod. “I just didn’t know.” He pulled another cigarette out and lit it right there in the bar. I raised an eyebrow. “If they bitch, you’ll be able to order another beer.” I shook my head slowly and stared at the top of the table. I inhaled deeply, and wondered if taking up smoking again might help me sleep. “So what was that like?” Jon asked. I considered for a moment again and figured what the hell? My shrink was only interested in the war shit and had yet to get around to the “tell me about your childhood” shit. He was far more interested in how I was tortured as a prisoner. I was still pretty sure the fucker was writing a book. “Pretty fucked-up,” I answered honestly. “I was the only guy there except for the one priest who came by every Sunday for Mass.” “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes at the word. “Sorry, bro, it’s just habit. So how’d you end up there?” “No one would ever really tell me,” I answered. “When I got older, I figured it was one of the nuns, and they just didn’t want me to know which one. I tried to figure out who it might be, which is when I started watching everyone around me really carefully. I thought if I could read their body language, I’d be able to figure out which one was my mom.” “Did you figger it out?”

“Never did,” I said. “Learned a lot of other shit.” I laughed. “There was a girl there named Marie.” I recalled the heart-shaped face of the redhead. “She was a couple years older than me, and she’d been sneaking out of the convent at night to meet up with some guy. I found out, and she offered to fuck me to keep quiet.” “Did you take her up on it?” “That’s how I lost my virginity!” I exclaimed with a grin. “Ha! Ha!” Jon laughed. “That’s custom!” I finished up my beer, and Jon clacked his fingernails against his chocolate milk glass. “I might be able to find out,” Jonathan said quietly. “I mean, they gotta have a birth certificate on file somewhere, right?” “I have documents signed by the Mother Superior as my legal guardian according to the State of Ohio,” I told him. “What’s the date on it?” I glanced up at him and narrowed my eyes. “My birth date,” I said. “May fourteen.” “Are you sure?” The server interrupted us at that point, and we ordered a round of the same microbrew. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes and thought about it. The idea that the date I had always assumed was my birthday might not be what I thought it was pissed me off. I had to know. “Okay,” I said, “see what you can dig up.” “No worries, bro,” he replied. “I’ll see what I can find on the interwebs.” When we parted ways, I slowly walked between the buildings to get back to my apartment. I passed the drunks and the tourists without a glance, my head focused on two different memories. One was the time I flat out asked Mother Superior if she knew who my parents were, and the look on her face told me she did, even as she lied about it. I reminded her about that particular commandment, which earned me a full day of prayer to reflect on my sins. The other memory was Lia. Again. Her body, her voice, her eyes when she glanced back at me before boarding a bus to Phoenix – it

was stuck in my head on repeat as I reached my apartment and took Odin out for a late-night walk. She was stuck in my head when I lay down to sleep as well, but the dreams I had were of a different sort. The girl is young, maybe seven or eight years old, and she’s wearing a long robe, but isn’t yet old enough to be required to wear the hijab, the traditional women’s scarf, around her head. She watches me from a dark corner as I struggle with the ropes around my wrists. It’s taken hours to shake the bag from my head, and my eyes are still adjusting to the light. “Salam,” I croak from my dry throat. The girl’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t come closer or reply. I’m not sure what I would do if she did say something back – I only know about a dozen Arabic words, and I’m not about to embark on a long conversation. I focus on her eyes, but she keeps looking away. I nod towards a large barrel. “Ma?” Her eyes dart off to the side to the barrel of what might be water, but she doesn’t move. We go back and forth for several minutes, and she finally goes a little closer to the barrel as she watches me. She reaches for a little cup, dunks it inside, and comes back with her fingers dripping water. “That’s it,” I whisper. “Ma…min Fadlak.” She gives me an odd look, and I realize I’ve addressed her as a man, but I can’t remember how to say “please” to a female, and I think she has the idea anyway. My pronunciation is presumably atrocious either way. She takes three steps towards me before a man comes around the corner, immediately begins to scream at her, and she drops the cup into the dry sand. The precious water is soaked up by the sand immediately. I woke in a cold sweat feeling thirsty. After stumbling into the kitchen for water, I was completely unable to get back to sleep at all. The girl’s eyes as the man surprised her, picked her up, and carried her out of my sight made my heart pound in my chest. My memories of her were clear, though I never saw the girl in the compound again. I had no idea what happened to her or what kind of trouble she might have been in for trying to help me. I’d caused so many others, at that point, to die on my watch. I never found out if I had attributed to her undoing as well. The idea haunted my thoughts regularly. What if she was punished for doing what I asked her to do? What would her punishment have been? Further memories – ropes, chains, fists, knees – flooded my head until I felt sick. I tossed and turned, dozed just long enough to taste dry sand in my mouth, and got back up again. I took a piss and came out to find Odin standing there, looking up at me and wagging his tail. I took a step closer to him and reached out my hand to scratch his head. Odin took the affection, then turned and headed back into the main room of the apartment. I followed, assuming he was going to want to go out, but he didn’t. He stopped, looked at me, then went

over to his dog bed near the window. He lay down and placed his head on his paws. “You think I ought to just sleep with you?” I asked him. His tail answered me by thumping against the carpet. I went back into the bedroom, grabbed my pillow, and then came back to the living room again. With the pillow held to my chest, I looked down at Odin. “This is ridiculous,” I said. Odin’s tail thumped. “It’s not going to work.” More thumping. Sighing heavily, I lowered myself to the floor and put my pillow down next to Odin’s bed. I lay down on my stomach with my arms on top of the pillow and looked over at him. His eyes shone brightly in the nighttime city lights reflected from the window, and he panted, which always made him look like he was smiling. He reached out with his tongue and licked my arm before putting his head back down on his paws. “That’s gross,” I told him as I closed my eyes. Sleep came eventually. It wasn’t great, and I still had nightmares, but when I woke, Odin was there, watching me and thumping his tail. ***** I spent the next six weeks in my apartment researching. I took Odin out for walks, but December brought winter and the weather at the edge of the lake sucked, so neither of us wanted to be out there too long. The rest of the time he would just lay across my feet until they went numb, and I would have to throw his rubber bone to get him to move. Sleep was still something of an issue. On a good night I would maybe get three or four hours, but it wasn’t usually consecutive. The dreams weren’t any worse – in fact, they were almost exactly the same every time – but they still woke me up and kept me from going back to sleep. Not sleeping consistently was taking its toll on my ability to think clearly, research thoroughly, and generally pissed me off. It was the not knowing why the dreams had suddenly returned which was going to drive me crazy. Mark’s idea that my trek to the Arizona desert reminded me of Iraq wasn’t a bad idea; I just didn’t buy into it. I didn’t have nightmares while I was there – I didn’t remember a single dream until after I had returned. Maybe there was a connection, but I didn’t think it was the climate. Lia. As soon as the name entered my head, I refused to think about her. I would not dwell on the

woman who wandered into my sights and made me feel something for the first time in ages. There wasn’t any point; no good would ever come of it, and I simply refused to consider her. How well was that working? I stood up from the desk that housed my computer, stomped to the kitchen, and started pulling out frozen fruit. I added half a banana, some pineapple juice, and some flax seed to the blender before turning it on and cringing as the noise invaded my ears. I poured the smoothie into a glass, added a straw, and downed it while my fingers tapped against the counter. Odin walked up, sat down at my feet, and eyed me impatiently. “What?” I snapped at him and then immediately felt bad about it when he looked so happy about me giving him a little attention, even if it was gruff. I’d been ignoring him a lot lately as I dived into the internet. Odin stood, wagged his tail at me, and then walked around in a circle a couple of times before knocking into my hand with his head. I rubbed the velvety spot on top of his nose, and his tail wagged harder. “Fine,” I muttered. I grabbed his leash from the hook near the door and headed outside. Lake Shore East Park was right behind my apartment building. It had a decent-sized dog run, lots of grass and trees, which Odin enjoyed, and was usually less crowded than Navy Pier. There was always a pile of kids at the playground, but we stayed away from that area. Odin had never really been around kids, and though he was quite well-behaved under normal circumstances, you just never knew what a kid might do. If Odin got agitated and snapped at someone…well, that would draw way too much attention to me. Besides, I liked Odin. If he bit someone, and they told me I had to put him down…well, that wouldn’t go over well. I imagined there would be a lot of dead bodies around, but none of them his. At least, not until someone managed to take me out. They would, too. Nice little park like this, surrounded by high-rises – there were plenty of places for snipers to hide out and strike without ever being seen. It was part of the reason I chose to live in the area. That and the dog-run. We traversed all of Odin’s favorite trails, circled the whole park, and paused to rest while I checked out the specials at III Forks. I hadn’t been out to a restaurant for a while and wondered if Bridgett would like to go out for dinner sometime. I could call the pimp up early on and tell him to dress her up for me in something a little classier than thigh-high stockings and see through tops. Hell, I could get her a dress myself and then she could keep it. I nodded to myself and decided to do it. That would be better anyway, since pimps were assholes and he’d probably just take the cost of a dress out of her cut of my money. I wondered how Lia would look all dressed up for a night on the town but shook the thoughts away again. Thinking about it definitely didn’t help, and I had a reason to consider Bridgett instead. My mind wandered to her body and dwelled on the curves of her tits and her ass. My hands

remembered the feeling of her, and I decided she was probably about a size eight. I recalled just exactly how much I needed to bend over to kiss her and figured she was five-six. That ought to be enough information to get a dress picked out for her. “Come on,” I said to Odin, and we started back home. I cringed a bit as the door of the parking garage exit across the street from the dog run opened, blaring out a warning signal that echoed through the otherwise peaceful park. It was a fairly recent addition to the area, and the noise always pissed me off, public safety be damned. We crossed the street and headed over the grass towards my building. As we did, thoughts of obnoxious noises, dinners out, and hookers left my head as my target took over my mind. The more I considered it, the more I knew this job was exactly as described – fucking difficult. I needed to do more recon. As soon as we were back inside and Odin’s leash was put away, I walked back to the computer, pulled up Ashton’s official schedule, and called Jonathan. “I need a plane ticket to New York.” “Chasing what’s-his-name?” “Yep.” “Hold on.” A few moments later, Jonathan provided me with an online account number and all the credentials I needed to get a plane ticket. Ten minutes after that, the dog sitter was arranged. Within a half hour, I was throwing shit into a bag and calling a cab. New York wasn’t my favorite place, but Manhattan did give me a lot of options as far as rooftops went. People didn’t really pay any attention to who you were, either, which made it a good place to be when you were looking to kill people. The food was pretty good, too. From the top floor of a hotel and through binoculars, I crouched down on a balcony and watched the crowd around Brad Ashton and his security crew. There were others there, of course – media people for the most part, but a few fans and other celebrities as well. Some chick who was bouncing up and down like she was on a fucking pogo stick was obviously annoying Ashton. His jaw tightened when he turned to her, and his shoulders would go stiff when she spoke or reached out to touch his arm. He was still smiling and putting up with her, so I could only guess she won some kind of contest. Those things should be fixed. I put the binoculars down for a moment and grabbed a sandwich off the room service tray. I chewed while contemplating which of the four guys around Ashton needed to die. Jim was out of the question, so that left one of the other three. They were all in my field of vision, which meant blocking Ashton. I had originally hoped I would get lucky, but found out soon enough Rinaldo knew what he was

talking about – picking off Brad Ashton from a distance wasn’t going to work. They were all over him all of the time. Besides, if I killed one of the guards right in front of Ashton, he’d be just a bit on the suspicious side. He’d increase security to the point where I wouldn’t be able to get close enough, and that just wasn’t acceptable. I needed to go with a lot more subtlety. As I used my binoculars to scan around me, I could see various security people placed on at least two rooftops and likely on top of the building where I perched as well. They alternated looking around at the ground floor and checking out the skyline. Ashton knew he was a target, no doubt about it – even this far from Chicago. With him on the alert, I was going to have to do a lot more waiting. I didn’t really mind the waiting too much. If it all worked out, it would be well worth it, and I was used to being patient. I followed his tour for two days in New York and then another day in Boston. From there he went to Orlando, which was a nice change of pace from the winter weather up north, and he finally boarded a plane back to LA. That’s when I returned to Chicago to study my notes. There were some definite trends I could use to my advantage. Once Brad Ashton was in the safety of his hotel, the security guys were free to do what they liked, more or less. Mostly that involved the bar and football, though talk of the upcoming basketball season was also prevalent. There was one guy who always stayed behind, but he seemed to be more of a PR guy or agent, not a security guy. He was probably just a manager with a thing for the little earpieces. I knew which one I was going to kill. Henry Jefferson. He joined the group about six months ago, which made him the least senior, the least tight with the group, and the least likely anyone would go looking for when he disappeared. He also lived alone, didn’t seem to have a lot of close friends, and would probably go a few days before anyone missed him. In a week they would be in Cleveland, which was just about the right distance. The timing was also perfect – right before the holidays, a time when everyone would be busy with other concerns, which could buy me a little more time before his death was discovered. Three days after New Year’s they would head for Atlanta, which was where I planned to end Ashton. Up close and personal. Probably more personal than I cared to be, but I had to do what I had to do. I hung out on a bench in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton in Cleveland. The bench was off to the side – near the gift shop – and an unlikely place for Jim or anyone else to notice me. I hadn’t gotten an actual room since I didn’t plan on staying long. I only needed to do a quick job and then get back on the road as early as possible. I wanted to be home before midnight. I hadn’t picked up Bridgett recently, and I was in the mood to fuck. Patiently waiting, I watched various people go by. Families on vacation, college-aged couples with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame T-shirts, and uncountable businessmen and women wandered through

the lobby on their way to the elevator, the lounge, or to inquire at the front desk about their valet parking voucher. None of them seemed to notice me in my business-casual Dockers and navy button down. I blended in, sat back, sipped at a bottle of Evian, and waited. There he was. Like he had most days, Henry Jefferson came back to the hotel around lunchtime to sleep. His was the overnight detail, and his shift officially ended at nine o’clock in the morning. He would go find a place for breakfast before going back to the hotel to sleep. I stood and followed him into the elevator. As he tapped his finger against the round button with the number seven on it, he blew out a long breath and grumbled. Taking a step back, he gave way for me to hit my own number, but I just smiled slightly and nodded at the already indicated floor. There was something definitely off about his behavior. Every time I had observed him before, he had the typical calm and quiet demeanor of a career security guy. He kept his hands behind his back except when he needed to put one of them up to his ear piece to look super cool. His suits were tailored, his shoes shined, and though it wasn’t in his history, he probably would have made a decent Marine. Jefferson was either really tired or agitated. He rubbed at the corner of his eye once, sighed twice between the first and seventh floors, and stared at the elevator door as if he was expecting it to try to clamp down on his arm. He tapped his toe a lot, and his hands kept gripping into fists. Something had pissed him off. Not part of my plan but rather handy. If I had the good fortune enough for him to have had some kind of incident either at work or with a coworker, my plan was going to be even smoother than originally intended. There was nothing better than a convenient patsy. The elevator chime went off, the doors opened, and despite the glare, Jefferson’s arm wasn’t captured by the machine. I still smiled a bit at the mental imagery and followed him quietly out of the car. He glanced over his shoulder once but didn’t pay any attention to me afterwards, so I stayed fairly close. Some security guard. Maybe he wouldn’t have made a decent marine after all. I glanced up and down the hall and was pleased to see there was nothing but a single maid’s cart at the far end of the hallway. There wasn’t even a maid standing near it. Jefferson’s room was right off the elevator, far from the room where the cart was standing. He slid his key card in the slot and stepped through the door. I was right behind him and followed him swiftly through the doorway. I stood just inside, listened for the click as the door closed behind me, and followed up with a bullet in the back of his head before he even had a chance to realize I was in the room with him.

The whole thing took about six seconds. I loved silencers. Grabbing the body quickly, I moved it around the corner of the bed to conceal it a little better before the blood started seeping into the carpet. I failed to be quick enough to avoid a mess, but it would be minimal. Kneeling down next to the body, my gloved hands went through his pockets and came up with his wallet. I pulled out a credit card and used the on-line app provided by the hotel to extend his stay an extra week. That could buy me a little extra time or not, I didn’t really care. I hoped by the time he was discovered, I would be completely done with this whole assignment, but if he was found earlier, I didn’t think it would change much. I stepped over by the door and looked into the room to see if I had hidden him well enough. Of course, anyone who peeked inside was going to see a decent amount of blood and brains on the floor, but it was slightly better than a body. I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door as I left. Interstate 80 wasn’t too crowded, and I made it back home in record time. A half hour later, Bridgett was in the car with me and headed back to my apartment. Ten minutes after we arrived, she was giving me head, and I was finally starting to relax a little. That night I got some real sleep. It was a good thing, too, because the call came a lot sooner than I expected. “Hey there, Marshall!” “Who’s this?” I asked, knowing full well who had called this particular cell phone number. There was only one person who had it. “Jim Conner,” he said. “We met at the Embassy and talked football.” “Raiders fan, right?” “Yeah! That’s me!” We both laughed a bit. “So did you ever find another job?” he asked. “Not yet,” I answered with a convincing sigh. “I had an interview a couple days ago, but it wasn’t very promising.” “Are you still interested in some security work?” “It would be my preference,” I said. “This last one I applied for was more usher than guard.” “Well, I couldn’t really talk too much about it before,” Jim said, “but I might have an opportunity for you.”

“Really?” I smiled as I leaned back in my chair. “Yeah,” he said. “I work for Brad Ashton – you know, the actor?” “Yeah, I know him. Well, I know who he is, anyway.” “As it turns out, we need a replacement security guy for an event coming up, and when he asked if we knew anyone, I remembered talking to you about needing a job. It’s not quite in time for the holidays, but you could start the first week of January. You interested?” Too fucking easy. All right, it wasn’t – there was a lot of work to make it happen, but it always felt good when it all came together perfectly. Before I hung up the phone, I had a job lined up in Atlanta for just after the first. There was just no way it could have gone more smoothly.

Chapter 5 – Tense Situation “Ten minutes.” “On my way.” I dropped my cell phone into my pocket, grabbed my Beretta, and shoved it into the side holster under my jacket. Three minutes later I was in the car and heading to Moretti’s office for an impromptu meeting that was suspicious to say the least. In fact, he sounded a little panicked, and the boss never panicked. It was the day after Christmas, and Rinaldo had just received a tip that Gavino Greco and three of his goons were on their way to his office. Mario Leone had been unexpectedly called away on personal business across town, and there was no way he would get back in time. I was close, though I was going to have to hurry. My tires screeched as I rounded the corner, ditched the car – door still open – at the back entrance to Rinaldo’s office building, and rushed inside. I took the stairs two at a time, and drew my gun out as I got to the fourth floor. I paused, took a calming breath, and then quickly opened the door to the hallway. Left. Right. Left again. There was no one in the hall and no one besides me on the stairs. The elevator showed all cars on the first floor except for one, which was on the sixth. I listened intently, but the only sound was the usual noise from the heating ducts. Walking backwards a few steps, I kept my weapon raised as I made my way to Rinaldo’s office. It was empty, but there was sound coming from the back of the room near the rear door, which was closed. I’d never been through it but always thought it was just a personal room for Rinaldo in case he ever needed a shower or a nap. With silent feet I moved to one side of the door. I was about to knock on it, but it started to open slowly before I got the chance. The first thing I saw was the barrel of a gun, and my hand flew up on instinct. The gun flew into the air, landed on the desk, and then bounced to the ground again. I grabbed the wrist that had wielded the weapon, twisted it, and shoved the body it was attached to against the far side of the door. Which is when I realized it was my boss. “Shit!” I jumped back, released him, and tried to come up with something brilliant to say. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know–” “Shut up,” Rinaldo said. He reached over and rubbed his shoulder and wrist a little before he

retrieved his gun and shoved it into the holster concealed by his jacket. “You got here quick.” “You said ten minutes,” I reminded him. “That was more like four.” “I figured ten was more of a maximum.” He laughed. “I always liked you, Evan.” Rinaldo clasped his hand on my shoulder as he started to say something else, but I heard the distinctive ring of the elevator. “Sir,” I nodded towards the door. “Can you cover this?” he asked quietly. I glanced at the monitors which displayed the view from the security cameras back in the corner of the office. There were four of them, Gavino Greco included. Greco was a man I had met on only a few occasions yet knew extremely well. His family had been around for a long time – back to the Capone days – and he had a lot more support overall in the mob world than my employer. Rinaldo Moretti had only arrived in Chicago about twenty years ago but had made quite a name for himself in a relatively short amount of time. He came from a well respected crime family back in the old country, as they say. “This is a problem, Arden,” Rinaldo said as the four men moved swiftly down the hallway. “I’ve got it,” I replied, hoping I sounded confident. I felt confident…for the most part. I usually did. Of course, a lot of that stemmed from truly not giving a shit if I lived or died. The worst thing that could happen would be disappointing Moretti. Considering there was likely only two ways out of this – winning or dying – I wasn’t too nervous. If I disappointed him, neither one of us was likely to be around long enough to regret it. Rinaldo nodded, placed his trust in me, and sat down in his high-backed leather chair. He rotated his shoulders and adjusted his jacket before placing his folded hands on the desk in front of him. I took the place to his right, since it would be easier for me to cover him from that area, and stood at attention with my hands behind my back. “Greco, my old friend!” Rinaldo said with an overly enthusiastic smile. “You are all the way across town, out of your territories, and unexpected. I hope you bring me good news!” I resisted the urge to glance sideways at my boss to get a better understanding of his words, and decided my eyes were best kept on my opponents. My targets. My potential victims.

Of the three surrounding Greco, I only knew one. His name was Craig Flannigan, and he used to be a gun runner in one of the smaller operations before Greco wiped them out. Flannigan was thought to have been the informant amongst the gun runners that made the hit easy for Greco. He was tall, redheaded, and had a thick beard to match his thick Irish accent. The other two were dark-haired and dark-eyed with big muscles bulging out of their tailored suits. They could very well have been twins, but one had a scar across his cheek, and the other had a mustache. They didn’t speak but flanked their boss closely with their hands placed near their shoulder holsters. These two were Italian-descended and likely related to Greco in some way. Flannigan would rat them all out if the money was right or his life depended on it, but not these two. They would give their lives for Greco if it was necessary. Loyal men. Flannigan stood directly in front of me, blocking his boss from the known hit man. It was defensive, and though it made sense on some level, it showed weakness. It put a man between me and my target, blocking him from me, yes – but also providing me with a shield if I needed it. Flannigan wasn’t even looking at me, so he obviously didn’t consider me a major threat – not when they had numbers on their side. He wasn’t prepared for me to be here, and it didn’t fit whatever plan they had. He wasn’t a bright guy, and impromptu wasn’t his forte. This gave me a significant advantage. “I bring news, old friend,” Greco said. He didn’t bother to hide the menace in his voice, which wasn’t a good sign at all. It meant he had already made a decision and there would be no pleasant negotiating before he intended to carry out his plans. “I do not consider it good.” “Do tell,” Rinaldo said as he leaned forward on his desk. I wanted to tell him to lean back – he would be able to drop to the floor much faster if necessary – but of course I couldn’t. “A shipment of heroin,” Greco said, “a shipment with my hands already around it has gone missing from my docks. It is the third time in two months.” “Unfortunate,” Moretti agreed. “Do you think these thefts of your property are connected?” “I do,” he said. “I think they are connected to you.” “That is quite an accusation,” Rinaldo snarled. “You speak without thought.” “I speak with evidence!” Greco growled back. “Your own man found at the site with some of the goods still on his hands!” “A mistake,” Rinaldo said. “Why would I do such a thing and spark war with my ally, hmm?” “Because your supplier has been hit twice by the feds now, and you are losing money!” “Why do you say this?” Rinaldo’s voice went calm, and he sat back in his seat, thankfully. I tensed as Greco leaned forward slightly and placed his right hand on Rinaldo’s desk.

“Because your own man told me.” “What man is this?” Rinaldo asked. “I would like to know who is claiming to be in my employ under such circumstances. Perhaps he had a Russian accent you failed to notice?” The dig was definitely felt. Greco’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his hand clenched into a fist at the mention of the Russian spy who infiltrated his organization last year and killed one of his sons during a drug deal. “There is only one mistake this time,” Greco said quietly, “and that mistake is yours.” It was Flannigan who acted when Greco tapped his thick finger on the desk – a prearranged sign. I moved without thought. Flannigan was going for his gun inside his jacket, and I wasn’t going to be able to both outdraw him like an old western and protect my boss at the same time. Instead, I went with a more melee approach. My hand moved out, knuckles forward, and collided with the center of his neck. The choking, raspy sound that emerged from his mouth was accompanied by bulging eyes and a rapidly reddening face. He dropped to the ground, and I kicked out at him while drawing my weapon from the back of my pants at the same time. I didn’t bother with the other two men – there wasn’t time to actually shoot anyone. Their weapons were already out and aimed at me. I had to go with a more tactical approach, which meant pointing the barrel of the Beretta at Greco’s face. Flannigan heaved in a breath, and in my peripheral vision I could see him drawing his weapon and pointing it towards my head. This wasn’t part of their plan, though, and he didn’t know what to do next. With three guns pointed at various parts of my body, I remained completely still. My heart was pounding in my chest, and adrenalin coursed through my system, but I refused to let it show in my face or in the steady way I held my Beretta right between Gavino Greco’s eyes. “You know you die if you pull that trigger,” he said quietly. The calm of his voice didn’t match the slight tremor in his fingertips, nor the tiny bead of sweat forming at his hairline. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “So why don’t I just have them fire?” Greco said with a sly little smile. “You’ll be dead before you can retaliate, and your boss there will follow you into the afterlife shortly.” “No, sir,” I said. “If I get hit, even with an instant kill, my finger’s already tight against the trigger. With the angle and the trauma to my system, my finger will pull back in reflex. Yeah, I’ll be dead, but I’ll take you with me. Whatever happens after that…well, honestly? I don’t give a shit.” Our eyes remained locked with each other. I could see the man’s eyes as they looked for lies within my face, but he could find nothing. He obviously played more cards than he watched the Discovery channel, and I could see him ask himself – was I holding aces or deuces? Was my knowledge

of physiology accurate? He had no idea, but he was self-centered enough to not take the chance. “A misunderstanding,” he said softly. “I’m sure the Russians must have been behind it.” “Let’s put it behind us then, shall we?” Rinaldo’s voice floated from my right, but I could hear the odd tenor in the sound. He still wasn’t sure – he didn’t know if we had won or not, but I knew we had. Just the battle, not the war. This was far from over. “Put those down, boys,” Greco said. “We don’t want to be late for dinner.” Three guns dropped towards the ground, but I didn’t alter my position at all. Even as all four of them backed out of the office, turned and raced for the elevator, the business end of my Beretta stayed trained to his face. I did not take chances. Never again. I stood still as my heart pounded, and the adrenaline in my system started to sour. My eyes stayed locked on the hallway, daring one of them to try to come back. The lighted numbers at the top of the elevator showed their descent back to the first floor, and I still watched to make sure none of the elevators started to rise again. When they didn’t, I listened for the echo of footsteps on the stairwell. “I think they’re gone,” Rinaldo said. I didn’t move. “Arden, they’re not coming back. Look at the security cameras.” My fingers twitched on the handle of the gun, and my index finger flexed slightly. “Evan.” “Just making sure,” I said simply. “Well, I’m pretty sure.” I nodded, took a step back, and lowered my weapon. When my eyes turned to the monitors, I could see them in a long, black car leaving the parking lot. “They knew you were going to be alone,” I said. “Yes, I think that’s correct.” “Who knew Mario was across town?” I asked. “A handful,” Rinaldo replied. “There were six others besides Mario and myself in the room when he had to leave. All loyal men, though.” I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

“One of them isn’t.” He nodded. “Apparently.” Rinaldo went through the list of people who knew about Mario’s sudden absence, and it didn’t make me feel any better at all. Two were family in the quite literal sense. Another pair dealt with some of the side businesses – money laundering, mostly. Jonathan and Terry were also on the list I couldn’t consider either one as definitely innocent or definitely guilty – I was too biased against both of them, just in different directions. If I found out about Jonathan being treacherous, I’d have to kill him. On the other hand, I wanted to find out Terry was a rat because he was annoying and I wanted him dead, anyway. I’d shoot first, never bother to ask any questions, and then get burned later if I was wrong. It was probably best I didn’t get involved in this one. “I need you to do a little side job for me,” Rinaldo said. He must have been reading my mind, but not in a way I considered favorable. “What about Ashton?” “When do you plan to take him out?” “In Atlanta,” I said. “He’ll be there next week. “Ashton can wait,” Rinaldo said. “I need this sooner.” Shit. His mind was set, and there was no way I was going to change it. “Whatever you say, sir.” “Do some spying, do some watching – all that shit you’re extra good at. What do you call it? Recon?” I nodded. “I need your top three picks,” he said. “The top three guys you think might have said something to Greco. I want to know why they’re your top picks, and then we’re going to bring them all together for a little party.” “What about family?” I asked quietly. Rinaldo’s eyes darkened. “Your top three picks,” he repeated. “I don’t care whose cunt they’ve been in or come out of, you understand?” “Yes, sir,” I said.

He turned towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t let this go, Evan,” he said. “I need some closure on this one. I can’t take out Greco. I’m not positioned to do that just yet, but I need this – I need this fixed.” “Yes, sir,” I replied. “I understand.” “You will do this for me?” “Yes, sir.” “Now?” “Now?” I repeated. The look in his eyes didn’t indicate he was going with the equivalent of sometime soon. “As in, right this moment, sir?” “Find the rat scurrying around in my business, Evan. Find him and bring him to me. I don’t care about his relationships or how long he’s been here; I need to know who he is.” “Three top men?” “You bring them to me,” he said. “I’ll make sure I get the right one.” “Today?” “Right now.” I swallowed, and my still tense body tried to relax enough to think. If this wasn’t a test, I didn’t know what was. This was it though – this was the real way I got back into his graces. I could read between the lines, too. Don’t fuck up, Arden. Not again. “I will be counting on you, then, Mister Arden.” I nodded, turned, and left the office. There was a lot of work to do if I was going to have any chance at coming up with the right three people as quickly as he wanted them. I also still wanted to make the hit on Ashton in Atlanta – I’d already done so much work to get ready for that, and changing the hit to another place was going to make it ten times harder. I’d practically have to start over again, and I hated to waste work. I had to move fast, but I had to be careful, too. Bringing in the wrong people would be just as dangerous and career-ending as being late. I had to know I was right, which means I had to go the fastest route possible. First and foremost – alibis. Usually I would use Jonathan Ferris and his computer skills for such work, but I was going to have to do this one on my own. It wasn’t my strong point, but I had resources people didn’t know about. I walked into Walgreens and picked up a pre-paid cell phone which I paid for in cash. I examined the packaging as I headed back outside. As soon as I stepped out of the revolving door, I had to jump back against the building to avoid some guy doing a duck-walk down the sidewalk. He had a cup of

something in his hands, which were clasped behind his back. With every step he took, the liquid sloshed out of the cup and onto the cement. A nearly burnt-out cigarette stuck between his lips completed the scene. I shook my head and tried not to laugh as I dumped the phone’s packaging into the trash, activated it, and dialed a number from memory. “Hey Eddie-boy,” I said into the phone. “It’s Arden.” “How goes, LT?” “I’m retired, asshole,” I reminded him. “You’ll always be my lieutenant.” I honestly wished he wouldn’t say that. Edward McHenry, or Eddie-boy as everyone called him, was the communications guy during the first mission I commanded and the only mission I commanded that turned out favorably. We bonded just because we both grew up in southwestern Ohio, and his was the first friendly face I saw after I was brought back from the desert. “Well, how about you do your friend a little favor?” “Anything you want, LT,” Eddie-boy said. “Phone records,” I said. “From the past week from six different people. Just numbers and shit will do, but if you got VOIP logs, that would be awesome.” “Give me the numbers,” Eddie-boy said. I rattled off the phone numbers. “I need this quick,” I told him. “Super quick.” “You paying super much?” Eddie-boy asked with a laugh. “What happened to all that ‘oh, my lieutenant, my lieutenant’ shit?” I asked. “You should have gone for the promotion, war hero,” Eddie-boy responded. “It just doesn’t flow like captain does.” I sighed. “Wire transfer?” “Naturally.” “On its way,” I said. “Half now, half when your information proves good. Double if you get it in the next hour.” “Yes, sir!”

I could practically see him saluting. It cost a shitload of money, but the information received fifty-two minutes later was definitely worth it. I checked out Jonathan first and was glad to see that he ordered a pizza on his way out of Rinaldo’s office and spent the next three hours exactly where I would have expected – on the internet, watching porn. I scrolled through the other numbers he’d dialed and other areas his GPS had tracked him, but found nothing the least bit suspicious, and I was glad. I took a deep breath and happened to glance up at a shop window across from Millennium Park. In the window was a “Save Ferris” T-shirt from the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off movie. Jonathan always took shit for his last name because of it, but I couldn’t resist the irony, so I popped inside and bought him one. His birthday was coming up. For better or worse, Terry was also clean. I had full speech-to-text logs on him going back a month, which was actually kind of handy. He’d gone from the Moretti household to some shit bar by Dearborn Park and hung out with two friends he called along the way. They were still there – or at least his GPS equipped phone was. I wasn’t going to have time to go through all his logs until later, but it would be convenient if I ever needed anything on him. The third one I checked was Steven Hobbs. He did a lot of the grunt work when it came to siphoning funds from the world of electronic payments and turning it into cash that could be used anywhere. The man probably had three hundred bank accounts, credit card accounts, and ACH routing numbers in his pocket at any given time. He was paid well for his services, though he could probably just pay himself any time he wanted. There weren’t any phone logs, but there was one call that looked a little strange. Someone called him from a payphone across town – not an area of town where my boss’ people were usually to be found. It didn’t make him a rat, but he went to the top of my list. I went through the family next with a bit of trepidation. Bad news to a family like the Moretti’s was likely to go from no Christmas card next year to an all out war in just a couple of minutes if the wrong words were said. The last thing I wanted to be was the catalyst for a family war. Fault or not, I’d be one of the first casualties. The two in question were second or third cousins to Rinaldo and not close in the family business. Close enough to not be stupid, I would have hoped, but they didn’t have their fingers in all the little pies Moretti had going. They had been at the house to see Luisa – Rinaldo’s fair daughter. Like Jonathan, she had a birthday coming up apparently, and they were all planning a cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean. I made a mental note to come up with a suitable gift. All the family members checked out, too. Even Steven Hobbs’ boss checked out, which left me – interestingly enough – just the one real suspect. I wondered if I might actually get that lucky that quickly. It was possible.

I needed more intel. I called Eddie-boy back and got Hobbs’ location – a bar over on North Michigan Avenue – and quickly made my way over there. I recognized the guy at the end of the bar when I walked in, but he didn’t look up or notice me. Hobbs was a chunky guy, mid-thirties with bad skin and greasy hair. He was just the sort that spent his life trying to make up for all the times he was picked on in grade school. I had no patience for the type, but that didn’t make him my traitor. If nothing else, I would have expected him to be a little more nervous. Who would betray a mob boss and then sit in a grubby bar with a Miller Lite in his hand? It wasn’t long before a woman joined him. She had short blonde hair, a skinny ass, and ridiculous heels – definitely not my type. She sauntered up to Steven and practically sat in his lap. The music was up a little, and I couldn’t hear her at first. With practiced subtlety, I moved around the bar and sat with my back to both of them where I could hear pretty easily. “So, no calls from work?” the blonde was asking. “I told you, Maria, I did everything I needed to do earlier,” Steven responded. “Part of what I like about working for Moretti – I get to set my own hours.” “He’s a demanding boss, though,” Maria said. “Maybe you’ll get a call about him.” She kept asking questions, and the dumb-ass kept answering them for her. At one point, she said the words I needed to hear. “So, how is Mario’s mother?” “I don’t know,” Stephen said. “Once he left Moretti’s place, I didn’t hear from him again. She went to the hospital in Gary – that’s all I heard. Why do you care so much, anyway?” Why, indeed? She flirted and kissed on him for a while and then claimed she had errands to run and would meet up with him again later. As she left, I tossed some cash down on the table for my seltzer and followed her. She wasn’t all that bright. “He hasn’t heard a thing,” she said into the phone as she walked away. “Tell Gavino no one is on to him – we’re good to go.” It was all I needed to hear. I didn’t even wait – I just moved up behind her while she was still distracted and on the phone. She hung up and started to rummage around in her purse for her keys. By the time she got the car door open, I was on her. An elderly couple and a bum on the sidewalk both watched me as I grabbed her by the arm, covered her mouth with my other hand, and shoved her into her own car. I didn’t care who saw me – eyewitnesses were unreliable at best – and the one person who was sure to remember me later wasn’t going to live long enough to tell anyone about me.

I also just didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was going to go to prison for anything. If I was caught, I’d either be acquitted or dead. Prison wasn’t going to enter into it. Before she really grasped what was happening, I punched her once on the side of the face to stun her, then grabbed her keys and got the car going. By the time I pulled into traffic, I had my gun to her head. “No words unless I ask you a question, and no movement – you understand?” “Y…y…yes!” “What’s your name? And don’t say Maria.” She didn’t respond until I touched the business end of the Beretta against her temple. “If I hit a pot hole, you’re dead,” I informed her. “You might want to answer my question so I can concentrate on my driving.” “Nina,” she said quietly. “Nina Carson.” I knew who she was immediately. Killing James Carson is what had me sent to Arizona, and Nina was his sister. Greco was doing her cousin on the side. “Take out your phone,” I instructed. With a shaking hand, she did as I said. “Now call up Mister Hobbs and tell him you need to see him right away.” “But…but I just left him…” “Tell him to meet you in the parking garage of the Chicago Sun Times.” “The garage?” “You heard me.” She swallowed a couple of times, and I had to wonder what was going on in her head. She wasn’t new to all this, that much was sure. It was entirely possible she knew exactly who I was, but not likely. She made the call like her life depended on it, so maybe she did know who I was. She followed directions and told Steven right where to meet us but not why. She gave nothing away and sounded very convincing. Proper little liar. I pulled her car into a handicapped space in the parking garage next to a small, metal door. I kept my gun at her face, moved backwards out of the driver’s side door, and then brought her through with me. With her upper arm firmly in my grasp, I moved her past the piss-stained cement walls and to a small door. I twisted the knob, and it opened easily. Inside the room there were three chairs on the floor, a rusted metal toolbox in the corner, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

I placed her in one of the chairs and grabbed both her wrists in one hand. From the toolbox I extracted plastic zip ties and secured her hands behind her. “What’s going on?” she asked. The panic in her voice was rising. I still didn’t think she knew who I was, but she was getting the idea. “Please, I won’t tell anyone–” I gagged her with a rag from the toolbox, made a quick call to Rinaldo, and then waited at the door. Steven Hobbs arrived just a minute or two later, and I called out to him. “Looking for a girl?” I asked. I beckoned with my hand. “She’s in here.” The moron came right to the door, where I hauled him in and gave him a slight push towards Nina. He stumbled a little, turned, and looked at me quizzically as I closed the door behind us. “What…what’s going on?” Steven asked. “Have a seat.” I indicated the folding metal chair next to his girlfriend. “Maria?” he said quietly. “Try Nina,” I corrected. He just stared, confused. He was an idiot, like all men who did more thinking with their dicks than actually putting them to their natural use. I didn’t even have to ask him about his past. I knew it as well as I knew my own. Overweight in school, bullied on the playground, and always picked last on the team. He always thought he was much smarter than those who hazed him and thought that someday he’d have a great job and they’d have to grovel to him instead of laugh. Instead, he got a mediocre job, no date for the prom, and was now being used by a woman who probably hadn’t even let him come in her. I raised my gun and indicated the chair again. He sat and stared at me with wide eyes. It was only a few minutes before I heard the sound of additional cars parking just outside the little office room. Footsteps followed, and then four short raps on the door. I took a step backwards to open it. Rinaldo, Mario, and Terry Kramer were outside of the door. They wasted no time in letting Hobbs know exactly why he was there. “Mario, this man here decided it was a good idea to tell your family business to his piece of ass,” Rinaldo said to his bodyguard. “What do you think of that?” “I think he’s an inconsiderate man,” Mario said sternly. I didn’t really care for the games at this point. They were both going to have to die, and we all knew it. I never understood dragging it all out for the dramatic effect. Wasn’t that the same sort of mentality that always screwed up the comic book villain’s plans? They went back and forth between berating him and administrating a little light torture until Steven was blubbering about how he didn’t know anything about her. He went from defending her to accusing

her in a short amount of time, and she struggled against her tied hands and gagged mouth as he told them everything she had said and done. She used him to get information about Moretti’s movements and gave that information back to Greco, who just waited for the proper time to use the information to eliminate the competition and take over his businesses. Fortunately for Rinaldo, I had been there to stop it from happening. “She was nice to me!” Steven finally cried out as Kramer broke another knuckle. Terry laughed. “I believe Mario would like to take care of this man himself, Evan,” Rinaldo said. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “I could help–” Terry started to say, but Moretti interrupted him. “Shut up, Terry,” he said softly. At least Terry had the good sense to listen. Mario hauled Steven up by the back of his collar and hauled him out of the small office. Terry followed, leaving Rinaldo in the room with me and the girl tied to the chair. “Mister Arden,” Rinaldo said quietly. He waved a hand over at Nina. “Would you finish up please? Not here, though – this place is a bitch to clean.” “Yes, sir.” Nina’s eyes were big as I hauled her up out of the chair. Comprehension was washing over her face, and if she hadn’t known who I was before, she definitely knew me now. Whether by name or not, she knew who I was to Rinaldo and his organization. Still in shock, she barely struggled as I hauled her out of the little garage office and back to her car. She did whimper a bit as I opened the trunk and shoved her inside, but I couldn’t blame her for that. It was the last ride of her life after all. I turned off the radio as I drove down to the water. It was late, and there wasn’t much traffic as I crossed the West Grand Avenue Bridge and then drove down a side street. It was a short trip, and I didn’t want to listen to half a song. I pulled into a little drive area with a big sign that said the area was under twenty-four hour surveillance. Sometimes they just made it easy. I barely had to aim since I had shot out this particular camera so many times. It shattered into pieces all over the asphalt as I got back into the car and headed to the parking lot just south of the bridge. I pulled up close to the building and parked in the shadows. Nina struggled as I pulled her out of the trunk and onto her feet. She didn’t come close to breaking away from my grip, and I wasn’t sure where the hell she thought she was going to go, anyway. The building was inaccessible, and there was nothing here but gravel and the edge of the river. Even if she

did make it the full five-hundred yards and over the fence without me catching her – which she wouldn’t – what was she going to do? Hide in one of the nearby ocean containers? My grip on her upper arm tightened, and I hauled her down to the edge of the water. There was a ledge between the building and the water where boats could come up and exchange supplies if any of that shit still happened today. “Please…please don’t,” she begged. Her nails dug into my knuckles, which stung a bit. I didn’t answer her; I wasn’t really listening. I’d heard it all before – the pleas, the promises – they meant nothing to me. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it. Nothing she said was going to make any difference in the outcome. “Go on,” I said. I gave her shoulder a little push ahead and got her walking while I followed closely behind. I wanted her under the bridge where it was darkest. If someone did happen to hear the shot, I didn’t want to be visible from Chicago Avenue. She tripped over the asphalt once in her high heels, but I kept a hold of her so she wouldn’t fall onto the concrete. No reason to die with skinned knees. “Why? Why?” she asked over and over again. As if she didn’t know. We made it to the spot on the ledge in the combined shadow of two buildings and a roadway. I positioned her close to the edge, where there was less than a ten foot drop into the river. She looked over the edge and into the water, turned around, and dropped in front of me. She reached out to me with her hands, like she was trying to reach the hand of some god she saw in my eyes. As if she’d find salvation there. I looked down at the pricey heels on her feet, now covered in mud, and the designer dress strangling her twiggy figure. I pulled my Beretta out of the back of my jeans and fitted the end with a silencer. There wasn’t any reason to make unnecessary noise. “Please,” she cried. “I’ll do anything you want – I swear!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as I raised the barrel of the weapon to her face. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out – that would just be cruel. I pulled the trigger, and her body slumped sideways. One shove from my foot sent her into the water. She’d be found, no doubt – probably before morning. It wasn’t about making her disappear – it was about making sure Greco knew what had happened to her. With the Beretta down the back of my pants again, I climbed into her car and drove it out to the airport to leave it in long-term parking, and then I took the L back into town. I loved riding the trains and buses in Chicago. I was a people watcher, and it was always entertaining as hell to be on public transportation with anything from a drunk, crazy homeless guy to an equally crazy high-class, sorority bitch. If you were lucky, the two would run into each other and some

kind of explosion would ensue. No such luck this time, though. All the nuts must have taken the night off. Instead, I ended up leaning back in the seat and closing my eyes. I didn’t drift off or anything – I still couldn’t sleep – but my mind started wandering. “What’s your name?” she asks. “Evan,” I tell her. “I’m Lia,” she says with a smile. I’m not sure if it is due to her continued nervousness or if she really just wants to be polite. I watch her closely but don’t respond. “Um…Lia Antonio.” Smooth, flawless skin and warm, brown eyes. When I thought about her, I always pictured how she looked when I woke up with my head resting on her stomach and her fingers running through my hair. It had gotten long while I was in Arizona. Well, long for me, anyway. She smiles at me, and it feels like I’ve been turned inside out. I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Stop that shit,” I muttered. “She was just some girl you fucked.” A pair of tourists with shopping bags glanced at me nervously, but I ignored them. It was late when I arrived home, but if Odin was ticked off at me he didn’t show it. I took him for an extra long walk around the park and played fetch with him in the living room for a bit before I had a bite to eat. He appreciated the extra attention when I sat down on the floor and rubbed his belly. “I’m gonna have to ditch you for a while again,” I informed him. He looked at me and snuffed through his nose. “Just a couple days, I think. No more than that.” His tail thumped against the carpet, and I rubbed his stomach once more before I got up and headed to the shower. The water was extra hot, and I loved the feeling of the moist heat. It relaxed me, and I hoped it meant I was going to get some decent sleep tonight. My shower finished, I crawled into bed naked. Just as I was about to drop off, the phone rang. Rinaldo. “Sir?” “You did good today, Evan,” he said. “Real good.” “Thank you, sir. It just needed to be done.” “It’s good to know there’s someone around I can really trust. Damn good thing to know.” “Anything you need from me,” I assured him, “just tell me. It’ll get done.” “I know it will, son,” Rinaldo said. “I know it will.”

Son. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes and smiled slightly. There was just no better feeling than pleasing the boss.

Chapter 6 – Brief Surrender New Year’s Eve. Every year I was invited to Rinaldo Moretti’s house to celebrate the coming of a new year, and every year I went. Each party was exactly like the previous year’s with only the dates on people’s paper hats changing. I clanged champagne glasses with Rinaldo at midnight, kissed Mrs. Moretti on the cheek, and put up with a bunch of assholes patting me on the back and telling me how promising the next year was going to be. Whatever. At exactly one in the morning, I felt I had paid my due respects and had the valet bring my car to me. He dropped the keys to the Mazda in my hand with a look of distaste, but I only took the convertible out in nice weather. Apparently a forty-thousand-dollar car wasn’t up to his usual standards, so I didn’t bother to tip the asshole. The Audi convertible I had was actually acquired without cost to me since I kept it after killing its original owner. I never would have spent that much money on a car. I was a relatively frugal guy, and tended to keep my money liquid and close to me. At some point the winds could change, and having a good escape plan involved a decent amount of cash. Why waste it when the public transportation was so close to my apartment? I liked taking the bus most of the time, anyway – it was always good for people watching. The ride home brought me within a couple of blocks of where I figured Bridgett would be. I had almost considered giving her up as some kind of New Year’s resolution – I was starting to feel dependent on her. If I was in town on the weekend, I almost always had her over for a night. Sometimes two. It didn’t exactly fit my miserly nature, but I needed the release and the sleep. More and more often, I was finding myself unable to think as clearly as I normally did, and it worried me more than I cared to admit. My sessions with Bridgett were more expensive than going to see Mark the Shrink, but they kept me going, and I had a lot to get done. Talking to him left me cold inside – Bridgett was warm. I had seen Mark Duncan again the other day. “How do you think your experiences changed you?” “They didn’t.” “Evan, no one comes out of something like that without some damage.” “Not a mark on me – they were really careful about that.” “There are other kinds of scars.” I blinked a few times to bring myself back to the present. After a bit of internal debate regarding resolutions and finances, I finally came to a conclusion. I

had no actual target to go after for the evening, and I decided New Year’s Eve was really a crappy night to start resolutions after all. The light changed to green, and I looked behind my shoulder before I quickly changed lanes and headed in the opposite direction from my apartment. There were nothing but drunks, cops, and me out on the road, so I drove with caution over to the red light district and the street corner by the drug store where Bridgett’s pimp could usually be found. Two minutes later, Bridgett was in the passenger seat, and I was driving us back to my apartment. “Happy New Year,” she said with a smile. “Nice outfit,” I commented back. Bridgett looked down at her dress, if you could call it that. It showed the top of her nipples, with her tits outlined in red sequins. Happy New Year was scrawled in blue sequins across her bare belly. “You like it?” she asked with another big smile. “It’s atrocious,” I replied honestly, “and you look like you’re freezing.” “I am,” she admitted. I cranked up the heat. “You’re all decked out,” she said as she reached up and ran her fingers over the edge of the bowtie. “A tux? You been out partying?” “I guess,” I said. “I was at a party, anyway.” “You aren’t much of a partier, are you?” “Probably not in the way you mean.” Her fingers made their way down the lapels of the jacket and then to my thigh. “You look nice,” she said softly. Her hand gripped my leg, and my cock seemed to recognize the touch. I was briefly temped to have her blow me or jerk me off there in the car, but it was New Year’s Eve and I was bound to get pulled over with her lips around my dick. “Save that thought, babe,” I said. “I don’t think you want us to get arrested.” Bridgett’s hand moved up and brushed the edge of my dick before she pulled it away and ran it up her own thigh. Her skirt moved up a little, following the motion. “Vixen,” I murmured. Bridgett giggled. By the time we reached the elevator of my apartment, her hands were all over me. She reached

around the cummerbund and into the tux pants, yanked out the button down shirt, and ran her hand down inside and over my ass. “Eagar tonight?” I asked with a raise of my brows. Her response was to crush her lips to mine. My hand grabbed the back of her head and held her there as my tongue explored her mouth. Her fingers dug into my ass, and my free hand moved up to cup one of her tits, which was still seriously cold from the night wind. Then the elevator door opened. Bridgett tensed and jumped back a bit, but there wasn’t anyone there. I took her hand and led her out the door but only just into the hallway. I quickly undid the tux trousers and pulled them open. “On your knees,” I commanded. “Here?” she asked as she glanced up and down the hallway. “What happened to not wanting to get arrested?” “No one is going to arrest me here,” I told her. “My boss owns this place. Now get on your knees and suck me off.” I took a step back and leaned against the wall. Pulling her closer to me, I put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down to the floor. She glanced down the hall once, then back up at me as she positioned herself right in front of my crotch. “Did you think you could just tease me in the car and get away with it?” I asked with a slight smirk. I reached in, took my cock out of my tuxedo pants, and guided her head to the tip. “Suck.” Her warm mouth engulfed me, and I watched her eyes seduce me as her lips moved around my shaft. My fingers traced over the frigid skin of her cheek, and I found myself mildly annoyed that her pimp had them all out in the cold dressed like they were. All hookers should work in Florida or something. “You look good like that,” I told her. My hand moved into her hair and set a slightly faster rhythm for her. “On your knees, out here in the open with your lips around my cock. You love pleasing me, don’t you?” She hummed around my dick, and I tilted my face towards the ceiling as I unloaded into her warm mouth. My eyes dropped back down, and she sucked and tongued until there was nothing left to clean off. She’d definitely honed her skills in the blowjob department. I reached down and helped her up with one hand and put my dick away with the other. Bridgett wiped her mouth, and we went into my apartment. I took Odin out for a quick piss and came back to Bridgett hanging out on my couch. It looked very…familiar. With a slight shake of my head, I went into the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of water, and offered

one to Bridgett as well. “So what party did you go to?” she asked. “Just a basic New Year’s party,” I answered. “That’s all you have to say about it?” “Pretty much.” I took a long sip of my water, leaned back against the couch, and closed my eyes. She didn’t take the hint. “You don’t like holidays much, do you?” “Not really.” “Why not?” she asked. I sighed and opened my eyes enough to glare at her. “I really just want to rehydrate a bit and then go to bed, okay? I didn’t pay you to run your mouth.” Her eyes narrowed at me for a moment, but then she smiled what I assumed was supposed to be an apology and snuggled up to me. I put an arm around her shoulders, leaned back against the couch again, and just felt her fingers trace over my chest. Of course, that didn’t last long. “You’ve been picking me up at least once a week for three months,” Bridgett said, “but you never tell me anything about yourself.” “That’s because you’re my favorite hooker,” I replied, “and not my shrink.” “You have a shrink?” Her head tilted up to look at me, and her hair tickled my chin as she moved. My eyes flicked over to her for a moment as I studied her expression. She was surprised to hear me say it and waited for the confirmation. There was something else in her gaze as well, something that wanted to claim she knew it all along. Her expression softened slightly before she spoke again. “For what happened to you…over in the Middle East, right?” Unexpected words. I was taken off-guard and couldn’t respond right away. “What makes you say that?” I finally asked. I cleared my throat, turned my eyes from her, and sipped my water. I racked my brain trying to remember what I might have told her, but I didn’t come up with much. She knew I was in the Marines, but I hadn’t told her anything else. “You talk in your sleep.”

“What the fuck? I do not.” “Not often,” she said, “but you have – a couple of times.” I watched her carefully, but she didn’t appear to be lying about it. “What did I say?” “Oh no,” she replied. “I’m not that easy.” I had to roll my eyes at her, which earned me a giggle. I set my bottle of water down on the end table and reached over to grab her by the waist and pull her into my lap. With one hand, I held her down against my cock while the other one circled both her wrists and held them behind her back. I brought her up against my chest and leaned forward until our noses were almost touching. “Not easy?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you need to remember who’s paying for you tonight.” “You don’t have to say shit like that you know.” “Say what?” “Say that you pay for me.” “I do pay for you.” Bridgett sighed and looked away for a moment. Her lips mashed together, and her chest rose with a deep, frustrated breath. “It’s only fucking,” I reminded her again. If she kept this up, I was going to have to replace her. Actually, I was already quite sure that was the right thing to do, but something was keeping me from just heading to another street corner for another convenient ass. “It would only be fucking if you ever fucked me,” Bridgett countered. “You don’t fuck me. You just want to fool around and then fall asleep.” I raised an eyebrow at her but had to consider her words. I hadn’t fucked her – not really. Blow jobs, titty fucking, hand jobs in the car – all of that, but I hadn’t actually fucked her. I pulled her down against my cock again and tilted my hips at the same time to push up against her core. She gasped a little, and her tongue reached out to wet her bottom lip. “I want your ass,” I told her. “You don’t like it in the ass.” “Why do you say that?” I rolled my eyes. The sheer amount of evidence I had collected on that subject would have taken a good ten minutes to divulge. “Are you saying you do like it in the ass?” I asked, challenging her. Her eyes stayed on mine for a moment.

“It would be okay with you,” she finally said. There were other words on the tip of her tongue – words about what other men had done to her – but she was smart enough not to say anything about them. When I was paying for her, I didn’t want her talking about other johns she was fucking. “I don’t need this,” I informed her. “You’re here to help me relax and sleep, not to give me a line of bullshit. If I wanted that, I’d get a real girlfriend.” She tensed a little. “Don’t do that,” she said quietly. My fingers grabbed a hold of her chin, and I forced her to look at me. “Do I need to find someone else?” I asked her. “Why are you saying that?” “Because you’re trying to take this someplace it’s not going,” I said. “You are trying to make this shit something it’s never going to be. I told you this was about fucking from the beginning, and you’re still trying to make it something else.” “You don’t fuck me,” she said again. “You want to get fucked?” “At least it would be about fucking then!” she snapped back. For a long moment we just stared at each other. Her fingers flexed and gripped my shoulders, and my hardened cock pressed tightly between her legs. I felt challenged, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the feeling or not. “Get in there,” I finally said coldly. Her tongue darted out over her lips, and her eyes dropped from my gaze to my mouth and then back again. She glanced over at the bedroom door like she didn’t already know what was behind it. I grabbed her chin again and turned her towards me. “You want me to fuck you in the ass or not?” Her head nodded slightly. “Then get in that bedroom, get your clothes off, and get on your hands and knees.” At first, she didn’t move but just looked at me for another long moment. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she suddenly disengaged herself from my lap and rushed into the bedroom. I smiled, gave her a minute, and then walked into the room myself. Just as instructed, she was naked in the center of the bed on all fours, waiting for me. I went from

semi-erect to raging hard-on in about four seconds as I approached the bed. I walked around it, taking in the sight on her spread out and waiting for me. Her thighs trembled a bit as I made my way around the bed to the nightstand. Her eyes followed me as I opened a drawer and took out a bottle and a condom. I could hear her breath quicken as I moved back behind her, reached out, and ran my hand over her backside. “Nice,” I said softly as I let my fingers trail down the back of her leg. “You ready for me?” “Yes,” she said with a breathless whisper. Hesitating, I crawled onto the bed behind her, ran my hands up and down her legs, and then paused at the top. I took her ass in both hands, fondled and played with it, spreading the cheeks and feeling my heartbeat increase as my goal was revealed. I let my hands travel up and down her back once before releasing her and ripping open the condom wrapper. As I placed the condom at the end of my dick, I realized I hadn’t actually had the need to use one with Bridgett before. After three months, we still hadn’t been quite that intimate. I pushed the thought from my mind as I rolled it up my shaft. With a small bottle of water-based lube in my hand, I crawled up behind her and surveyed the sight from close proximity. The globes of her ass were as fabulous as they could be – a little bigger than average, round, and jiggly. I dropped the lube to the side and used both hands to run all over them, squeeze them, get to know them some more. I hadn’t done that with her before – really gotten to know her ass. I usually did with women, but it had been so obvious she had bad experiences with anal in the past that I didn’t want to push it or tease myself. Now I took the time, felt her flesh intimately, and watched it move in the mesmerizing way only ass-flesh could. Bridgett turned to look back at me, and I could see the apprehension in her face, even if she did say she wanted it. Part of me knew better. Part of me knew this was going to take us someplace I didn’t want to go and she wouldn’t want to go if she knew any better. She didn’t though, and I was happy enough forcing the logical thoughts out of my head for a piece of ass. It just looked so good, and I hadn’t really fucked a girl since Lia. I closed my eyes a moment and mentally rolled my eyes at myself for thinking about a girl from the past while I was about to fuck another one. I forced thoughts of Lia away and focused on the ass in front of me. One hand dropped down over her thigh and grabbed the lube. I dispensed a good amount on two of my fingers as my other hand gripped her butt and parted her cheeks. Her little puckered hole winked back at me as I slid a lubricated fingertip over it. Bridgett let out a sharp breath, and I paused for a moment before I started inserting my finger in her ass slowly, just to the first knuckle as I worked that much in her. It was obvious she had taken cock here before, and my finger entered her pretty easily, but I still wanted to go slow. I liked going slow.

Once my finger was inside, I pulled it back, joined it with another, and worked that one in, too. Her body didn’t resist. Whether or not she enjoyed it, she at least knew what to do. I covered my condom-enclosed dick with more lube and positioned myself behind her. With cock in hand, I moved the tip to her hole and slowly inserted it. “Fuck, yeah,” I moaned. Bridgett gasped and her arms shook just a little. “Relax, baby,” I said softly. My hand caressed her butt cheek and then moved up her back. “Just stay up on your knees. You don’t have to hold yourself up with your arms. Lie down and spread your legs a bit more.” She nodded once, then moved her arms out to the side and turned her head so her cheek was against the mattress. Her eyes found mine, and they were still apprehensive. “That’s it, baby.” Slowly I entered her again, going just slightly deeper before backing out. Her ass was tight and warm, and my cock was throbbing to get all the way inside of it, but the slow burn was so worth the reward at the end. I’d keep my slow pace. A little further, back out again, a little more. My hands gripped both cheeks, spreading them to make way for my cock and squeezing them gently at the same time. The sight was beautiful as her body gave way to me, and my dick slipped further inside her bowels. Half way. “You feel so good,” I said, “so tight on my cock.” I closed my eyes and pushed a little farther, back again, forward. I moved slowly in and out of her until I finally, finally, buried myself up to my balls in her ass. I practically collapsed over the top of her for a moment while I got used to the felling of being in her. The muscles in her ass tensed, squeezing my cock and making me sigh out loud. Warm breath traveled over her back, and Bridgett shivered. “You okay?” I asked. “I’m okay,” she replied. Her voice was breathless but her eyes less worried. The tension in her shoulders diminished as I kissed one of them before rising back up onto my knees. With one arm wrapped around her waist and the other reaching up to palm one of her tits, I started moving. Slow, deep, gentle. My eyes closed as I placed my forehead on her back and just felt. If I believed in a god, it would be the god of women’s asses. My hand moved to her belly, running my fingers over her skin. I could feel a couple of the

ridiculous sequins that had been glued to her skin come off as my hand brushed over them. I traveled lower, felt the smooth skin between her legs, found her opening, and slid my finger inside. Bridgett cried out, and her fingers gripped the sheet. They coiled around the fabric tight enough to make me pause briefly, assessing her and ultimately deciding her cries were of pleasure. My fingers moved inside of her, and my thumb brushed over her clit. “Evan!” With one hand on her breast and the fingers of the other sliding in and out of her, she began to push back against my cock. “That’s it, baby,” I whispered. “Feel that.” Bridgett moaned into the mattress, and I decided the sound was a pretty good one. My thumb rubbed her clit in circles, then pressed as I thrust deeper, then rolled again in time with my hips. My fingers kept up with the same rhythm, and though the angle reaching around her was a little difficult, it was worth it to feel her pussy clenching around my fingers as my cock filled her ass. My hand moved from her tit to her hip, and I used it as leverage to set a little faster pace. The grip her body had on my dick was fantastic, and every time I pulled back it felt like she was dragging me right back in. Warm, tight hole and big, round ass cheeks bouncing around as I thrust into her… Perfection. “Do you know how easy it would be to fuck you in the ass from this position?” My own echoed words floated around in my head, causing me to pause for a moment before refocusing my attention on the woman in front of me. She was rocking back and forth on her knees, trying to keep up with my movements. I leaned over her back and placed my mouth against her shoulder blade. “Feels so good,” I mumbled against her skin. “My cock in your ass…love how that feels.” She shuddered, and her hand reached back as if she was trying to touch me – touch us – but she couldn’t quite reach. My hand moved over hers, laced our fingers together, and I started thrusting faster. My thumb and fingers kept pace, and when I pushed down against her I could feel her walls clenching around my fingers, my cock – everything. I pressed against her with the pad of my thumb, and she cried out incoherently. Her legs trembled, and I reached around her waist to keep her from falling to the sheets. I stroked her with my fingers a couple more times as she panted beneath me, then raised myself up, grabbed her hips, and started to move again. Not faster, but deeper and with more purpose. I didn’t hold back but felt her body give way to mine, hugging my cock and giving me everything that was her. I arched my back, thrust into her one final time, and let myself go. My cock shuddered and released into the condom as I held my hips tight up against her ass. My fingers gripped her backside as I

pulled her against me just a bit more and then released her. My hand went to the base of my shaft, gripped the edge of the condom, and then pulled back slowly. Bridgett gasped as my cock left her and dropped to her stomach as I backed away from her and got off the bed. I tossed the condom into the trash in the bathroom and then came back. She was still on her stomach, and her eyes were closed. I climbed back into bed and wrapped my arms around her, holding her against my chest. “You did good,” I told her, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to say it. “It felt good,” she whispered. “No one ever…used their fingers like that. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.” I snickered quietly through my nose and was about to ask her what she thought of the other times I had made her come when I suddenly stopped before the words started. I’d never given her an orgasm before. Blowjobs and coming on her face had been the norms with her – I hadn’t even given it a second thought prior to ramming her ass. Should I have? With my shoulders tensed, my mind wandered to other hookers I’d had in the past – all single night hookups, and as I looked back on it, I hadn’t tried to bring them to orgasm, either. I had paid for the sex, and in my mind that meant they weren’t entitled to orgasm as well. Of course, it had always been a onetime thing before, and Bridgett was over here all the time. It just didn’t occur to me. I wasn’t even sure why it bothered me, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. She was right about not fucking her before, of course, but she hadn’t mentioned the orgasms, and I hadn’t thought about it. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I didn’t understand that, either. So I rolled her onto her back and fingered her until she was screaming my name. And then I did it again. I took her in the ass once more, going slowly and making sure she was moaning in pleasure repeatedly before I took my own. Then later I had her suck me off in the shower, then took her back to bed and brought her to orgasm with my tongue. By the time we actually slept, we were both exhausted. As soon as we woke up, I made breakfast and we started all over again. After nearly two days of spending every minute either fucking or sleeping, I had to admit I was ready to go to work. My target awaited his destiny. All right, he wasn’t waiting for it, but I was ready. I had to be in Atlanta in the morning to start

my new job as his security guard, and I planned on taking the earliest opportunity to end him and come back to my boss with the news. I was packing light so I could get in and out quickly – just a backpack with two changes of clothes. I could have them laundered at the hotel. My plan was to be there only a day or two before I took him out, but I also had to plan for the worst. It was possible I was going to have to earn his trust before he let me that close. I was hoping to earn his lust a little quicker. Bridgett watched me pack. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Don’t ask.” I tossed a small toiletry bag into the front pocket of my backpack and zipped it up. A paperback novel I had been meaning to read went in on top of my clothes to occupy my head during the plane ride to the Atlanta airport. “Why not?” “Don’t ask that, either.” “You suck as a conversationalist,” she said with a laugh. “It’s a good thing you spend a lot of time with my cock in your mouth, then,” I quipped. Silence. The lack of question-barrage was so nice, I didn’t actually notice it right away. I threw a couple more things in the bag, zipped it up, hauled it up over my shoulder, and then started towards the bedroom door. Bridgett followed slowly. Odin sneezed, glared at me, and then ran behind one of the chairs in the living room. He knew when I was going on a longer-than-usual trip. I wasn’t sure how, but he always knew. I coaxed him out from behind the chair, leashed him, and then looked back at Bridgett. She wasn’t actually crying, but her eyes were downcast and her shoulders slumped. It hit me then why giving a whore an orgasm wasn’t necessarily a great idea, especially not this one. She was having a hard enough time remembering what our relationship was, and I had just provided her with quite the holiday weekend. “What?” I asked. I was being rather gruff, but I also had this feeling she was getting in far too deep for anyone’s benefit. If I had to really admit it – which I didn’t, so I wouldn’t – I probably liked her. I wasn’t in love with her or anything ridiculous like that, and I wasn’t about to take her on as my girlfriend instead of my whore, but there was something about her I found intriguing besides the warmth of her mouth on my cock.

She gave me something I needed in the form of comfort and sleep. I didn’t like the idea of needing her for anything. I didn’t want to have to rely on anyone for anything. It just wasn’t a good idea in this business to spread yourself too thin in the loyalty department. I had already been tested when I had to investigate Jonathan for an alibi, and he was as close to being a friend as anyone I knew. The fact was, I had only one person who held my loyalty, and that was because he paid me for it. Handsomely. I walked over and placed my fingers around her upper arms. Her muscles tensed, and I could tell she wanted to back away from me, but she didn’t. “What’s the problem?” I snapped. Odin crouched down behind the edge of the couch and whined slightly. Bridgett glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Nothing,” she replied softly. “It’s all good.” My hands slid up to her shoulders, and I crouched slightly to get a look into her eyes. “You need to get something through your head, Bridgett,” I said as I gripped her shoulders just a bit more. “I’ve said this before, and you don’t have any clever ways of word-smithing it now. This is fucking – nothing more, nothing less. My cock goes in various places around your body for cash. You’re a whore, and I’m a regular john. There is nothing special here.” She didn’t look up, and her muscles remained tense. It occurred to me that she might have thought I was going to hit her. I wouldn’t have – it wasn’t my style. If I was going to kill her that would be a whole other story, but I didn’t usually hit people I was going to kill. Not unless I really needed to do so. “You got that?” I asked once more. “I got it,” she answered quietly. “You need me to cut you off? Find someone else?” She looked up at me, and her eyes glistened. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed twice before she shook her head. She looked away from me and down to the floor. “Truth hurts, huh?” I said bluntly, and she flinched as a tear finally escaped from her dampened lashes. Maybe it was cruel, but it had to be done. The last thing I needed was a hooker who thought she was more to me than she was, and the last thing she needed was for someone in a rival boss’ business getting the idea she was important to me. There was just no way I could give her what she wanted.

Chapter 7 – Easy Murder Atlanta was always one of my favorite towns. It was decently warm, didn’t have the constant wind of Chicago, and the people were as entertaining as they could possibly be. Everyone always seemed just thrilled to death to be where they were, even if where they were was begging on a street corner or drunk in an alley. Even the drunks on the street entertained me. “You see that guy?” “What guy?” I asked the fifty-something black dude who was drinking a foul smelling liquid out of a paper bag. He’d been doing so since I sat down by the steps of the Marquis One Tower near one of the funky statues that may or may not be lions. “The one over there!” He reached his arm out to its full extent, added a pointing finger, and shook it around in the air like a flopping fish on the rocks. I laughed. “There are twenty guys over there!” “C’mon!” he insisted, and I had to get up to follow him. As we rounded the corner, we faced the valet parking area of the Marriott Marquis. It was a beautiful area with a giant fountain underneath part of the hotel. The echo of the water as it moved over the cement structure was more deafening than the noise from the cars waiting to be valeted. “That guy right there!” the drunk said as he waved his arms around a bit more. He reminded me of one of the characters from Sponge Bob, but I couldn’t remember which one. “It’s that guy! That one guy – from the movies!” My ears perked up a bit. I was supposed to meet Jim in an hour at the Hyatt, not the Marriott, which was right across the street. I wondered if something was wrong, though I knew the two hotels were attached by a skywalk. Scanning the motor area, I didn’t see any sign of either of them, so I looked back at my inebriated friend. “It’s Mel Gibson!” the drunk suddenly yelled out, and my shoulders dropped in relaxation. I looked over where he was pointing, and though the guy did vaguely resemble Gibson, it definitely wasn’t him. The drunken dude continued to squeal about Braveheart, but the show had lost its appeal. I gave up on the entertainment and hiked up the numerous back steps of the Hyatt, then followed the escalator to the lobby and bar area. There was a football game on, so I figured it was as good a place as any to be found when Jim showed up. The bartender at the Hyatt was a good one, and I do like a good bartender even though I didn’t drink often. He was a dark-skinned, bald guy who didn’t weigh more than about a hundred and twelve pounds. He had a Caribbean accent of some sort, but I couldn’t quite discern from where. He poured me two fingers of some decent scotch and let me just sit there and watch the game at one of the tall, round tables. I paid just enough attention to figure out who was playing, who was probably going to win, and to take note of at least one egregious foul I could bitch about later with Jim if he cared to talk football.

It was a team Jonathan favored, and I wondered if he was watching the same game back in Chicago. I hadn’t seen him outside of work for a while, and I considered sending him a quick text suggesting we hang when I got back into town, but of course I couldn’t. My regular phone was turned off so I couldn’t be tracked back to the area. Jim showed up just a few minutes late with one of the other security guys I had seen before, though only through my scope. He said his name was Damon, and he shook my hand like someone once told him a firm handshake would impress people. He made a lot of eye contact as well, also something he’d been taught and followed to a tee – not because he saw the value of it, but because someone he believed told him it was the right thing to do. He probably thought he intimidated people, but I just found it comical. It wasn’t like I was going to be told to go home at this point – Ashton was too paranoid to be down a security guy while waiting for all the background checks to be done. A thorough dig might have come up with the death certificate for Marshall Miller in a piss-ant town in Louisiana, but probably not. The rest of his record was clean. Within an hour of his overly enthusiastic handshake, Damon was fitting me with a little earpiece and introducing me to Phillip Tanner, Ashton’s public relations guy. He was the last stop before the man himself, and he spent a good forty-five seconds just looking me up and down. “Umm…hmmm,” he hummed under his breath. “I’m sure Mister Ashton will like this one.” I glanced at Jim, who just looked away from me. Their behavior confirmed my suspicions about Brad Ashton’s preferences. I was also introduced to Alex something-or-another, whose main job seemed to be to stand right outside the door to the hotel room and glare at people. “Marshall Miller,” Phillip announced as he opened up the door to the hotel suite and allowed me and the other security guys through. Ashton was on the far side of the room with a phone up to his ear, looking bored as he leaned back in the office chair by the desk, staring at his fingernails. His eyes moved over to the group entering the room, and he appraised me similarly to the way Phillip had outside. The look he gave me was decidedly less subtle than the one from his PR guy. There might have been some actual drool, which made me wonder if there wasn’t some other plan that might be just as effective. The way he was looking at me made my stomach tighten up. I wondered if Bridgett felt the same way when guys looked at her. We all just stood there for a while, and I felt myself automatically enter the at attention mindset – mostly blank in the head but still listening closely. It was a pose I actually found very relaxing, though training camps used it to drive recruits crazy. I always felt it was a good opportunity to let go and reset, and it usually left me feeling recharged. I could stand still like that for hours, though the others around me began to fidget after only two or three minutes. Once Brad Ashton finally hung up the phone, he stood and walked slowly over to the group. He barely looked at anyone else but looked me up and down more than once. “This must be the new guy,” he said with a smile. “Marshall Miller,” I said as I extended my palm for him to shake.

He took my hand with his manicured fingers and held it a little longer than he needed to for just a handshake. “A pleasure,” he said quietly. “Welcome to the team.” His attention went to his PR guy after that, and we discussed the boring details of the main event of the evening. Ashton would be escorted through the lobby downstairs via the service elevator, over to the ballroom where he’d participate in an interview and a panel discussion with a couple other actors and the director of his next flick. The details didn’t interest me. Now that everyone else’s attention was occupied, I could examine the inside of the hotel room. It was a good-sized suite with a separate room leading to a king-sized bed and a nice view of the street below. In the main room there were two balconies and a wet bar. There was another door on the other side of the suite, which was closed with the bolt secured. With the room’s layout captured in my head, I was now able to watch the dynamics of the group. Phillip mooned over Ashton, barely taking his eyes off the man like he was some sort of golden god. Jim nodded a lot, but his expression told me his mind was somewhere else. He glanced at me a couple of times, and it occurred to me that he might have taken a risk bringing me on without any additional credentials. When the proper time came, we escorted Ashton down the elevator to his interview, then to a table way in the back of the hotel’s restaurant for his dinner with some producer from Universal Studios. I was stationed between the lobby and the entrance to the restaurant to watch for anything that looked suspicious. The next day was pretty much the same, only it was an autograph and photo opportunity thing, and I watched the ticket-takers make sure everyone had the right kind of tickets. The whole standing-at-attention, mind-numbing activity came in handy again. Damon and Jim were much closer to Brad Ashton physically than I ever was, and Ashton hadn’t said a word to me since that first meeting. Apparently, I wasn’t giving off the right kind of vibe. Normally that would be perfectly fine with me, but I needed Ashton to make a move, and he was only going to be in this city for a total of three days. I racked my mind for various ways of giving him the impression I might be interested and could only come up with things I might do to attract a woman, which didn’t seem quite right. What attracted me? Tits and ass, that’s what. No help there. I had about come to the conclusion that I was going to have to get a little more drastic. Every time Ashton went out anywhere, there were at least three of us with him, and usually four. When Brad Ashton retired to his room at night, it was never completely alone. Alex was always outside the door, and Phillip was often inside. I hadn’t caught any additional company outside of the core group, and I didn’t think there had been anyone else sneaking inside, but I wasn’t positive.

I had to be sure, so I watched carefully. Alex was as diligent as they came, and he took no breaks during his shift. No one went in or out of the door to Ashton’s private room without Alex knowing about it. Ashton’s room was connected to a common room as well, which was where we would all meet before heading to the elevator for an event of some kind. Though the room didn’t have its own guard, there were almost always other people in it – usually other actors or people in the business, at least. It was where Jim slept on a roll-away bed when he wasn’t on duty. Still, there was potential with a third adjoining room which wasn’t being used by the group There had to be another way to either get in or out. The two balconies in the common room were just a bit far off the ground to consider climbing up to them. There was no easy way to get up there from the street, and scaling up five stories using other balcony rails would have been beyond stupid. I had to get Ashton to come out, but he never left the damn room without a plethora of escorts. Jim and I walked a few paces behind Ashton as we moved from one area of the hotel to another, stopping every few feet for pictures and autographs. Alex was in front of him and Phillip just to one side. Every time a young woman approached him, Ashton smiled, flirted, and then usually looked a little nauseated once she was out of view again. And he was supposed to be such a great actor. We made our way slowly back to his room, where he moved straight to the wet bar in the common area and started rummaging around. Phillip tried to entice him with a large bottle of wine, but Ashton wasn’t interested. Instead, he found one of those small bottles of vodka in the mini bar fridge. Phillip handed him a glass, which Ashton took roughly from the PR guy before pouring the vodka and tonic water carelessly into it. Some of the liquid spilled on the counter, but no one bothered to wipe it up. “Looks like you are good for the night,” Alex said to Jim. Jim nodded, exchanged some notes with Damon, and then we all started to head out of the room. I glanced back at Brad once more and found his eyes on me. “Why don’t you hang around for a little while, Marshall?” Jim’s eyes met mine, and the little shine in them gave me a pretty good idea that Jim was well aware of Brad Ashton’s preferences. I wondered if he’d ever been asked to hang around as well. Brad held up his cocktail. “I hate drinking alone,” he said. He flashed me a toothy, actor-practiced smile. It was probably known to drop panties or something, but I wore boxers. This was really, really hard to fake. “Of course, sir,” I replied. Jim and the others were waved out of the room, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I had gotten to be left alone with him. Of course, the main problem now was the number of people here in his organization who knew my face if not my name. I just needed to work on getting him away from his room now so I wasn’t a completely obvious suspect.

“Please, have a seat.” I hesitated, and he pointed to the chair next to him. “Please, I insist.” “I’m…ah…I’m still on the clock, Mister Ashton,” I said. “Hmm,” he hummed. “You should call me Brad.” “Brad,” I replied softly. He stood and walked towards me, still sipping from his glass of vodka tonic. He came up very close, though not quite touching me. I went back to at attention, which seemed to make his grin wider. “Am I making you nervous?” he asked as he took another step closer. “Ah…um…a little,” I admitted. At least I didn’t have to fake that one. Brad wasn’t one to be dissuaded that easily, though. He tilted his head to one side as he looked me up and down again. His hand moved out as if he was going to touch me, but his fingers didn’t quite make it. Instead, his hand hovered in the air right in front of me. “You are a…a very well-built young man, Marshall,” Brad said softly. I smiled slightly and looked down, feigning embarrassment. I tried to will myself to blush, but I wasn’t sure if I was pulling it off or not. This whole plan was actually ending up a lot harder than I thought it would be. “You aren’t used to men saying that to you, are you?” “Um…no, sir.” Again, at least I didn’t have to make it up. “Sir,” he repeated, letting the sound draw out a bit. “You keep calling me that.” “Sorry, sir…um…sorry.” I took an exaggerated breath and glanced back up at him. “I used to be in the military. Hard habit to break.” “Yes, Phillip mentioned that,” he murmured as he took one more sip out of his glass before setting it down on the table. Once his hands were free, he came right back up to me again. “You are very attractive, too,” he told me. “I bet you have heard that from someone before.” I swallowed and refused to make eye contact. When I felt his hand on my arm, I followed the motion with my eyes as his fingers traced my flesh down to the end of my sleeve where they met with the back of my bare hand. “You are at least curious, right?” he said. “I’m not completely off base here, am I? I mean, if I am, say something.” I let my tongue dart over my lips. “I…I’m not sure.”

“Have you been with a man before?” He was a straightforward little fucker at least. I had to give him credit for that. “Not…um…not really,” I said quietly. “I mean, there was one guy who…well, nothing really happened, you know?” “I do know.” Glancing away, I shuffled my feet a bit. “Thought about it since then?” he pressed. I swallowed again as I nodded once. I had actually thought about sex with a man – thought about it, sure. Actually, really, truly considered it? That was a completely different question. Brad Ashton wasn’t really interested in any kind of reality, though, so my answer was exactly what he thought he wanted. His mouth curved into a smile as he focused on my lips. One of his hands moved up to my shoulder and then over my jaw while the other one latched onto a belt loop to pull me closer to him. My heart began to beat faster, and I forced my face to only show my feigned nervousness over this whole situation and not my actual nervousness. What Brad Ashton wanted was blindingly obvious, but I’d never given anything up for a guy and didn’t particularly care to now. I hadn’t actually planned to let it get as far as that. Ultimately, I had a job to do though, and this was going to be the best way to get it done. His lips touched mine, and his hand moved to the back of my neck to pull me a little closer to him. I responded reluctantly, both because it wasn’t something I was interested in, but also in hopes of showing Marshall’s hesitance. “Not so sure,” he whispered against my lips. “Everyone…everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t,” I said. “In the military…” I let my voice trail off, figuring the rest of that sentence pretty much spoke for itself. Brad gave me an understanding smile and ran his index finger over the edge of my jaw, down my neck, and to my chest. He rested his palm there, presumably feeling the beat of my heart under his skin. His lips brushed against mine again, softy and unhurriedly. My response was a little more encouraging, but only just. His hand gripped my shoulder a little more before running up the back of my neck and into my hair. “Are you nervous, Marshall?” Brad pulled back and looked into my eyes. I swallowed hard and nodded slightly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he told me. “You are in my employ, after all, but this has nothing to do with that. I’m afraid I chased off your predecessor when he believed it was all part of his job. It’s not, I promise you. This is only if you are interested.” I let my tongue draw over my lips as I looked at his. My gaze flickered back and forth from his

mouth to his eyes as the remainder of my plan began to form in my mind. “I…I don’t know,” I stammered. “Maybe just hang out for a little while?” he suggested. “Get to know each other?” The finger in my belt loop pulled again, and the pressure I felt on my leg was pretty damn obvious. I mean, the guy was just huge. No pressure. Right. “I don’t know,” I replied again quietly. I took a hesitant step backwards, and he released me. “I…I just hadn’t thought about it. I mean, you’re Brad Ashton for Christ’s sake. I’ve seen every one of your movies.” “All of them?” He raised an eyebrow, and I thought I managed to actually blush that time. “Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Even the…ah…the early stuff.” “You mean the porn?” he laughed. “Yeah, that.” “Meaningless,” he informed me with a wave of his hand. “If there is nothing else fame has taught me, it’s taught me to go after what you want, when you want it. I want you – tonight. Who knows what will happen to us tomorrow?” Who knows what might happen to you tonight? I let my tongue lick at my lips, glanced from the floor up to Brad’s eyes, and then over to the door. I wondered what Alex could hear from there and if Phillip would be returning any time soon. “Stay here, Marshall,” Brad said. His head tilted to one side, and he gave me one of those half smiles that seemed to make his female fans start dropping articles of clothing around his feet. “I mean…if you aren’t busy or anything. I was going to order dinner in.” I glanced at the door as it opened and Phillip entered, answering my earlier question. His eyes widened just enough to show his annoyance and possibly a little jealousy. He didn’t look at me or at Ashton as he moved around the room, and I figured this was probably a pretty common occurrence. Staying right now wasn’t a good idea. I couldn’t kill Ashton in his own room – not with Phillip and Alex hanging about. Besides, the plan was forming, and I wasn’t ready for this particular job just yet. Need to get some condoms. No, I wasn’t going to let it get that far…was I? I just needed to do a little recon around the area and pick up some other supplies. “I, ah…” I stammered a bit. “We were gonna go watch some football. Um…Jim and I. He’s probably already wondering where I am. Do you…um…you want to join us?” “Me in a public bar?” Brad snorted. “No, that’s all right.” He took in a long breath and blew it slowly out his nose.

“Go on,” he said, “but think about it, okay?” I nodded and headed out the door and down the hallway. Playing hard to get would make him a lot more likely to agree to go somewhere else with me later, and I needed him to be willing to leave. If he wasn’t, well, I could always drag him out, but he looked like a screamer, and that would definitely cause some commotion. Jim was hanging out around the corner as I left the suite, and he pushed the down button for the elevator as I appeared. “You’re dodging the bullet there,” Jim snickered as we headed down the elevator. I just shrugged at him. After a couple light beers, I claimed to be tired and headed back up the elevator. Reaching into my back pocket, I quickly stepped into the skywalk heading to the other hotels in the area as I called Jonathan with the pre-paid phone. “Hyatt Regency in Atlanta,” I said when he answered. “I need room 555 in the International tower. Can you check it?” “Sure thing, bro.” I could hear clacking of the keyboard as Jonathan’s magic fingers poked around until he announced he was inside the hotel’s firewall or whatever. “It’s open. What name you need it in?” “Marshall Miller.” “Got it.” More clacking. “Give me a few and I’ll call ya back.” After shoving the phone back in my pocket, I headed down the stairs of the Marriott and out onto the street. It was getting late, and it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with what I needed, even if my connections weren’t very strong in this area. Even if they were, I wouldn’t use them. It would just place Evan Arden in this area, and I wasn’t going to chance that. I found a juvenile delinquent near the Hard Rock Café and scored exactly what I needed. “You don’t look like the type that would need these,” the teen said as he handed me a few pills and I handed him some cash. “Depends on what you want,” I answered quietly. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I walked away from the kid and headed up the long stairway to the Hyatt entrance again as I answered. “All set?” “You should be good.” “You rock,” I said. “Thanks a bunch.” I hung up and walked over to the hotel’s front desk. “Hey,” I told the lady at the counter. “I lost my key – can you get me a new one?” I handed her my ID with Marshall Miller’s name on it, and she handed me a new key for room

555. I took the steps – it wasn’t too far – and quickly opened the room. I checked around, and was pleased to find Jonathan had been right – there wasn’t anyone already staying in the room. I didn’t have any luggage to leave around, but hopefully Ashton wasn’t going to notice that. I did mess up the bed and put a couple of the hotel glasses and the ice bucket on the desk to give the place a bit of a lived-in look. I slipped out again, then walked down the hall to the elevators, turned, and headed back in the other direction. When I got to the end of the hall, Alex was there. He raised his eyebrows a bit when I asked if Mr. Ashton was still awake. “I just need to…um…speak to him a minute,” I explained. Alex gave me what I supposed was a look of both disdain and annoyance before knocking lightly. Brad opened up and smiled as he turned to one side and let me in. As soon as the door closed, he was giving me a coy look and smile which were as sarcastic as looks could be. I stared intently at him for about seven seconds, took a deep breath, and then rushed forward, grabbed him by the back of the head, and crashed my lips to his. His fingers gripped my biceps as he tilted his head backwards, giving me control as he opened his mouth to me. With closed eyes, I might have been able to pretend he was Bridgett or some other chick, but the stubble on his upper lip made that impossible. Still, I had work to do, and not all work was the pleasant kind. I performed as I had to and kissed him with as much passion as I could find within myself. I felt his hands move up my back, grip my shoulders, and then one of them moved back down to my ass. He pulled me against himself, and I could feel without a doubt that it wasn’t a rabbit in his pocket. I pushed back a bit, breaking our kiss and breathing hard. “Not here,” I whispered. “I can’t do this here. The other guard – the one outside – he saw me. The way he looked at me – I can’t let him think something is going on. I have a military pension and shit…I don’t want to lose that.” “I understand,” Brad said softly. “Discretion – right?” “Yeah,” I answered. “It’s important. I can’t let anyone know…my family…” “I know,” he whispered softly. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I understand.” “What do we do?” I asked. “We should meet somewhere else.” “Another hotel?” “Exactly.” “But…your fans…” “I know how to be sneaky,” he said with a smile. He lifted himself up on his toes and brought his lips to mine briefly. “What about Alex?” Brad rolled his eyes.

“He knows how to keep his mouth shut.” “About you, yes,” I agreed. “What about me? Seriously, I can’t just…you know…come out. My family…” I let my voice trail off, and Ashton pursed his lips as he looked into my eyes. “I have the room next door,” I said quietly. “What’s that?” “My room,” I said as I nodded towards the door at the other end of the suite, “it’s that one right there. We can’t…I don’t want to stay there, but you could get out that way.” A slow smile spread over his face. “You are a sneaky thing,” he commented. I tried to make myself blush as I looked away. I wasn’t sure if I pulled it off or not, but it was enough for him to grab my head and kiss me again. “You are hot and adorable,” he informed me. “Give me about an hour to convince Alex and Phillip you aren’t coming back and that I’m going to bed. We’ll have the whole night.” I nodded and smiled. Too damn easy. Shortly after eleven that night, Brad and I opened the adjoining suite doors, clomped down the back stairs of the International Tower, and out the side door. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his face and some dark glasses, which looked ridiculous in the dark. You would likely notice that he was hiding something, but what he was hiding would have been anyone’s guess. We quickly booked a room at the Westin just down the street under Marshall’s name again and hurried up the elevator. He was all over me as soon as the door to the room closed, and I had to just go with it for a few minutes to keep him off his guard. His hand dropped down my chest, over my abs, and cupped my crotch. I closed my eyes and thought of all the porn I could remember to get myself to react a little. “You’re still nervous,” Brad commented. “Yeah, I bit, I guess.” Either that or my dick really only worked for chicks. “Don’t be,” he said quietly. “We can go as slow as you want to.” “Okay,” I replied. I cleared my throat. “Maybe some wine or something?” “Good idea.” There was a small bottle in the tiny hotel room bar, which I opened and poured into two glasses. Checking over my shoulder, I quickly added Rohyphenol tablets to one of the glasses, stirred the drug until it dissolved into the liquid, and then handed it to Brad. It didn’t take long for the drug to take effect. Not that I needed any of that to rape him, as had

become the drug’s more common usage, but it did make him nicely stupid and easy to manipulate. Actually, he took to the stuff like I imagined a schoolgirl would. In other words, he just dropped to the bed and started to giggle. “I think maybe that wine hit you a little too hard,” I informed him. “Hard,” he slurred. “I want to see you hard.” More giggling. “Let’s get a little fresh air first.” He agreed. He would have agreed to anything at that point, up to and including taking a leap off the balcony. If I had thought about it beforehand, and if his death should have looked like an accident, I might have gone that route. He was a message, though – like most of my work: Don’t fuck with Rinaldo Moretti. It didn’t matter who you were or how many people there were around you – you were going to get killed. Ashton half fell against me, and I felt his mouth on my neck. “So fuckin’ sexy...” “Yeah, I’m a dream,” I replied. I sat him down on the bed as my phone began to buzz. I glanced at the number, but other than being a Chicago area code, I wasn’t sure who it was. Under most circumstances, I didn’t answer when I didn’t know the number – it was more often someone wanting me to buy something than anything else – but this time I did. “So where you hanging out tonight?” “Terry Kramer?” My eyes narrowed as I looked at the phone again. I had a number in there for Terry, but this one wasn’t it. “What do you want?” “Just wonderin’ what you were up ta,” he said. “I heard you might have left town.” “Who told you that?” “No one in particula’,” he said. I could just about see his ridiculous, nonsensical grin in my head. “Well, your information sucks,” I told him. “So, you wanna go have a drink somewhere?” “Busy,” I replied. “Oh yeah? Doin’ what?” “I gotta date,” I said right before I hung up. I looked down at Ashton, who had flopped over to his side on the bed and closed his eyes. He muttered something as I hoisted him back onto his feet again, but I couldn’t understand a word of it. I carried my “drunk” friend out the back of the Westin and down the street to a quiet, deserted

alley. I found exactly what I needed about halfway down the dank passage, and I helped Brad sit down on the curb by the sewer cover. It was heavy, but I managed to loop my fingers into it and haul it up. “Whatcha doin’, hottie?” he mumbled. “I’m going to kill you, sweetheart,” I answered. With one hand firmly around his waist, I turned his body so his head was right at the top of the storm sewer entrance. “Whoa,” he said with another giggle. “That makes me dizzy.” “It won’t last long,” I promised. I made sure my grip was firm enough to keep him from falling before I was done with him, reached down my leg to the small gun holstered beside my boot, and put it to his head. “Rinaldo says don’t worry about paying him back this time,” I told him. Brad’s eyes widened in recognition, but I fired before he could start to struggle. With his head in the manhole, the spatter all went down and I stayed mostly clean. There was a little blood on my boot, but it would come off easily enough. All I had to do was release my grip for his body to fall into the sewer and out of sight. I stood, replaced the lid, and walked back down the street. A cab took me to the bus station. I leaned back in the seat and let out a long sigh which turned into a big smile. I felt like the end of an A-Team episode when everything worked out, and the heroes all got to go home and live happily ever after while the bad guys were put in jail. Except, of course, I was the bad guy. Whatever. It still felt awesome to have had everything come together so nicely. Ashton was dead, Rinaldo would be happy, and I didn’t have to actually take my clothes off to get it done. There was just no way I could have gone through with that.

Chapter 8 – Wretched Patient I was fucking sick. My head was absolutely pounding, and my knees ached from all the kneeling in front of the toilet I had been doing. Though I still hated vomiting with a passion, I was almost too exhausted to give a shit if my insides did start coming up. I almost never so much as caught a cold, but whatever I had this time was nasty and unshakable. I had no idea where I might have picked it up, but I had spent the last day and a half puking up anything and everything I put in my mouth. Other than calling a dog-walking service to take Odin out on a regular basis, I had barely moved since yesterday morning. To top it all off, every time I closed my eyes, I was hit with hideous dreams of blood, dust, and bodies all around me. Even when I could drag myself out of the bathroom, I couldn’t get any actual sleep. When I got to the point where I was feeling too weak to even get myself a glass of water, which I would undoubtedly throw back up, I reached for my phone. Pride didn’t even enter into it – I knew when I was defeated. “What’s up, brotha?” Jonathan said when he answered. “Haven’t seen ya in a while.” “Hey dude,” I replied, “I need a favor.” I started coughing as soon as I got the words out. My head started pounding in my temples again, and the pain was enough to make me squeeze my eyes shut. “You sound like shit.” “I feel like shit,” I agreed when I could speak again. “Can you go pick something up for me?” “Sure,” Jon said. “Awesome.” I swallowed a couple of times as my stomach lurched and the hammer inside my head began to nail up drywall on the inside of my skull. “You know that pimp dude that hangs out by Mario’s old place? Marvin or something, I think his name is?” “Melvin,” Jonathan corrected. “I know the guy.” “He’s got a hooker named Bridgett,” I said. “Pick her up and bring her here, will ya? I’ll Paypal ya later.” “You got your own hooker?” Jon laughed. “Just pick her up,” I moaned. “Will do,” he replied. “Be there shortly.” It didn’t take him long at all. At least, I didn’t think so. It was also possible I passed out and lost track of time between the phone call and their arrival. Either way, it seemed only a short time later someone was knocking at the door. I dragged myself off the floor of the bathroom to answer it. They were both there – Bridgett in her usual tiny skirt and fishnets, and Jonathan with an unlit

cigarette sticking out between his lips. Odin peeked out at both of them from the edge of the couch. “You are a mess,” Bridgett said as soon as the door opened. “Shut up and get in bed,” I mumbled. Jonathan laughed and chewed on the end of his cigarette. “She’s right, bro, you are a mess.” “Fuck you.” “Yeah, you’re welcome, asshole.” Jonathan laughed and then apologized. “Sorry, bro – that was just mean. You do look like shit, though – I can’t lie about that.” “S’okay,” I muttered. My stomach lurched. “Thanks for pickin’ her up.” “No problem, bro,” he said. “I’m gettin’ outa here – you ain’t paying me to catch this shit.” With Jonathan gone, Bridgett put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step forward and placed her palm against the side of my face. As soon as she did, her look softened again. Her hand felt cold on my skin. “You are burning up,” she said quietly. Her hand trailed down the side of my face and then came to rest on my bare chest. “How long have you been like this?” I shrugged and ignored her question. Any additional actions would have put me in a coma. “I just need sleep,” I told her. “I swear I haven’t slept in days, so get in bed, okay?” “When was the last time you drank anything?” “I’m not that kind of sick!” I snapped. My head began to spin a bit, and standing became quite a chore. “You are that kind of dehydrated!” she retorted. She probably had a pretty good point there. Moaning, I turned and dropped down on the couch because I just couldn’t manage to get myself back to the bedroom. At least there wasn’t anything in my stomach to puke up. Bridgett started going through my refrigerator looking for something to force me to drink. I heard her thumping around, and the noise took the shape of the aching in my head. I leaned sideways until my head hit the arm of the couch and then I closed my eyes. “Do you have any Gatorade?” Bridgett asked. “I have no idea,” I groaned back. She came around the couch holding a bottle of water with a straw sticking out of it. I had no idea where she even came up with a straw, but I let her hold my head up a bit as I took a drink. She disappeared for a minute and then came back out to shove a couple of pills down my throat and make me take another drink.

“It won’t stay down,” I mumbled. “Maybe,” she said, “but it’s better than nothing. How long have you really been like this?” Completely relentless in her questioning, she kept harping on it until I finally told her. “Since yesterday morning.” “Could be worse,” she mumbled. Her hands grasped onto my bicep, and she helped me off the couch and into the bedroom. Once we got there, I flopped down on the bed and went completely immobile. I was actually pretty sure if I did move, it would be my last action. The water and pills in my stomach felt like they were being dragged behind one of those circus shows with the chick on the horse chasing dogs or something. Maybe it was dogs riding elephants – I wasn’t sure. I just knew it was all threatening to come back up again. “Do you have a thermometer?” Bridgett called out from the bathroom. I couldn’t answer her, so I just moaned in response. I only wanted her here to help me sleep, not to play nursemaid. I might have told her that if I could have formed a coherent sentence without my head exploding. “This is the cleanest medicine cabinet I have ever seen,” she was saying from the bathroom located just off the far side of the bedroom. “It would be more useful if there was something in it beside a razor and an extra toothbrush.” “It’s for you,” I mumbled. “In case you forgot yours.” She poked her head out of the bathroom and looked over at me. I returned the gaze, but I couldn’t really focus on her. She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips again. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked rhetorically. “Please lay down.” Yes, I had resorted to begging. With an overdramatic sigh, Bridgett climbed into bed with me. My arms immediately wrapped around her, and I placed my head against her shoulder. Even though I was currently going through an episode of feeling cold instead of hot, it feel good to have her cooler skin against my face. Her hand trailed from my temple down my jaw line. I didn’t open my eyes, but I could both hear and feel her long sigh as she wrapped an arm around my head. My body seemed to melt into her, and I thought for a brief moment that nothing else could feel this welcoming. A warm, heavy feeling came over me, and I wondered if this was how it felt to be on heroin. Then I was asleep. There were times when I knew she was waking me up to get me to take a drink or medicine or whatever. I was pretty sure at one point I heard her take Odin out as well, but I couldn’t be sure. There were also dreams – lots and lots of dreams. Some were benign, but most were far from it. They weren’t awful, though, and when I woke up, Bridgett would be there. Usually she was sitting up in the bed with my head on her stomach or against her shoulder. Sometimes she was reading one of my books, and other times she would be reaching down to scratch Odin’s head with one hand while she ran her fingers over

my hair with the other. One time she was asleep beside me when I woke up. My head had been pounding and was especially achy on one side right near my cheek. Reflexively, I reached up and found a hand there. I pulled it down against my chest as I opened my eyes and looked into Bridgett’s sleeping face. She was curled up next to me with her head pressed into the pillow slightly above where I lay. Her face was relaxed in deep sleep, and her breathing slow and regular. I reached out and touched her cheek, and the touch made her flinch from whatever dream was going on in her head. I moved my arm up around her middle and pulled her against me, which seemed to settle her down. I swallowed a couple of times, which made me wince from the pain in my dry throat. I had to pee, and my head spun around as I tried to get myself out of the bed. I stumbled towards the bathroom and ended up having to actually sit down on the seat with my boxers around my ankles because I couldn’t stand long enough to take a piss. When I stumbled out of the bathroom, Bridgett was there to take me back to bed, give me some nasty tasting liquid medicine, and then tuck herself around me as I fell back to sleep. The dreams came back, but they were foggy and muted. Sand. Constant, relentless sand. I know there is no way I will ever enjoy a vacation at the beach again. It’s in my nose and throat, making me cough all the time. As if that isn’t bad enough, the meager food I am offered contains the shit as well. I still eat it. I’m far beyond being stubborn about taking anything from them. My assumption is that they will kill me eventually – when they decide once and for all that I won’t tell them anything and that the U.S. government wasn’t going to give into any demands to get me back. Trying to move, my shoulder cramps up painfully. I can’t move enough to get it out of the position it has been in for weeks, and I think it’s possible it’s been dislocated. The ache is so familiar; now I barely notice it. A sound. Footsteps in the sand off to my right. I turn my blindfolded head towards the distraction, and open my mouth as foul-tasting water is poured into it. Disoriented, sweaty, and confused, I woke with my head on a soft stomach and feminine scent all around me. My head was pounding, but there was some comfort in the small hand running over the top of my head. I recognized the scene immediately. “Lia,” I mumbled as I tucked my head against her. Her body went a little tense, and her hand stopped moving. I realized how pissed off at me she must be and tightened my grip on her. “I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t want to.” I tried to turn and look at her, but the throbbing inside my temples forced my eyes closed and sent me back to unconsciousness.

“What the fuck?” I hear the sound of a woman’s laugh all around me. “I’ve always wanted to try this. You were in the military – it’s just like the quarter test on the bed after you’ve made it up. “What, on my ass?” “Exactly!” The giggles are back, and they join my own laughter as Lia flings a quarter at my ass over and over again. Every time she misses, it clangs on the floor. “I can’t find it!” she calls out. I roll over to help her look, but the wooden floor of the cabin has turned to sand. As my hand reaches into the dry grains, I feel the round, metal object but can’t quite reach it with my fingers. I push to the side of the bed but lose my balance and fall. Sand fills my mouth… When I woke, I really had no idea how long I had been out – only that Bridgett was still there with me. I recognized her scent immediately and found it comforting. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes. My fingers twitched slightly against her side, and I pushed my nose into the skin of her neck. Her soft voice curled into my ears. The sound was far away, muted and windy-sounding. After a minute or so, the words took form and began to make sense. “I can’t really do that…I would have to wake him up…” My eyes opened a crack to see her with one of those cheap flip-phones held to her ear. Her expression was worried, and her fingers tensed minutely against the device as she spoke softly into it. “You’ll have to take my word for it,” she continued. There was tightness around the edge of her mouth. “I don’t know if…no, Mel, he’s just sleeping…he’s been using me pretty hard.” She shifted a little, and her hand came up to the back of my head. Her fingers moved through my hair. “No, I can’t. I really don’t think he wants people knowing where he lives…” I ran a hand up the side of her body as I stretched and yawned. For the first time in a long time, my head was not pounding so hard that I couldn’t hear anything in my ears outside of my own heartbeat. “Is that your pimp?” I mumbled against her skin. Bridgett’s head turned to look at me, her eyes widened, and she nodded once. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she watched me. I held out my hand, palm up, but she just continued to look at me and not move. “Give me the phone,” I eventually said. I could still hear the pimp’s muffled voice coming from the phone in her hand. “Okay, Mel,” she said quietly, “he’s awake, and he says he wants to talk to you.”

She moved the phone away from her head and out towards me as her teeth continued to try to pierce her lip. With an exaggerated sigh, I took it from her and held it close, but not too close, to my mouth. “What’s the asshole’s name?” I asked loud enough for him to hear through the speaker. “Um…” Bridgett cleared her throat. “Mel…um…Melvin.” I placed the phone against the side of my face. The device felt hot, like she had been talking to him for a long time. “Melvin, this is Evan Arden,” I said smoothly and emotionlessly. My throat was still dry, and I hoped I wouldn’t actually break into a coughing fit, which definitely wouldn’t help with the reputation. “Is there some kind of problem?” “Uh-uh-um…” he stammered. “Excuse me?” I said in the same deadpan voice. I swallowed a couple of times to coat my throat in moisture. “I was just checking up on my bitch,” the pimp said with a little more confidence. “She’s been gone for some time, and–” “Melvin,” I interrupted, “did one of my guys pick her up and say he was bringing her to me?” “Uh…yes. Yes he did.” “Do you think if I kept your property for an extended period of time, or returned it damaged, that I would refuse to compensate you for that loss?” There was a long pause before he answered. I had the feeling he was choosing his words pretty carefully at this point. “Um…you…ah, no, I never thought you’d do that,” he said. “You’ve always been a good customer.” “Do you think I’m somehow not good for the money all of a sudden?” “No! No, man – not at all!” “Do you think that I want to be disturbed right at this time?” I asked. “Uh…no…” “Do you think calling your whore and harassing her when she’s with me is in your best interest?” “No,” he replied softly. “No, sir.” “Then why are you calling and interfering with the business of my dick?” “Sorry, um…” “Don’t call again,” I said. “I’ll bring your bitch back when I feel like it.” The phone closed with a click, and I tossed it on the floor before I wrapped my arm back around

Bridgett and nestled against her soft body. That warm, comfortable feeling was all around me, and I didn’t want it getting chased away by being pissed off at her troll of a pimp. She said nothing as I dozed a little but couldn’t seem to actually get back to sleep. My hip hurt, and I had the feeling I had been lying like that for way too long. I grumbled as I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling. “Do you want to try to drink something?” Bridgett asked. “Not really.” “You should.” “Just thinking about it makes my stomach churn,” I told her. Again, she was relentless and eventually convinced me to drink from a bottle of water. After a few minutes, she was convinced it wasn’t coming back up and made me drink some more. With the partially empty bottle sitting on the nightstand, she sat close to me on the edge of the bed as her fingers traced the side of my face. “You don’t feel as warm,” she commented. “Will you let me take your temperature?” I shook my head. “Come on,” she coaxed, “we’ve done this before.” “We have?” The next thing I knew, there was a thermometer in my mouth. I didn’t even recall owning one, but it was suddenly under my tongue and going beep a minute later. “Normal,” Bridgett announced as she beamed at me like I had just won a fucking triathlon. “That’s good! Do you feel better?” “I feel like I’ve been run over by a tank,” I replied honestly. I closed my eyes and tried to bury my head against the side of her body. I was tempted to go back to sleep, but the ache in my hip wasn’t going to let me. As I lay there and contemplated the idea that I just might survive this shit after all, Bridgett’s fingers moved up my back and into my hair again. They traveled down my cheek and over my jaw. There was several days’ worth of growth on my face, which I absolutely fucking hated. “I should get a shower and shave,” I announced, but the actual idea of standing up to get to the bathroom was less appealing than the idea of having my body magically groom itself without having to move. Someone should invent that. Bridgett’s fingers ran the opposite way up my cheek, which made sounds like sandpaper over a two-by-four, and I grumbled again. “I think it’s kind of hot.” Bridgett giggled. “I hate having a scratchy face,” I replied. “No stubble in the Marines. It’s worse than needing a haircut.”

“You really seem to have liked being in the military,” Bridgett said. “Yeah, I guess,” I replied with a slight shrug. “So why did you leave?” I should have ignored her or told her to just shut up, just like I did with anyone who asked me about that shit. Maybe it was because I still wasn’t in my right mind or something, but for some reason I opened up my mouth. I went against all my good sense and actually answered her question honestly. “I was…discharged,” I told her. I closed my eyes and look a long breath through my nose. It was already more than most people knew, and I still had a strange impulse to tell her more. “You didn’t want to leave,” she finally said softly. I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Not really,” I said. “I had been in the desert a long time. They just…” My chest rose and fell with another deep breath as my fingers tensed against her hip. Visions from my dreams came back into my head, causing the back of my neck to sweat. “They just decided after what I had been through that I was no longer fit to serve.” “I’m fine, sir.” “No, son – I don’t think you are.” “I’m a Marine,” I remind him. “I’m perfectly fine.” A hand on my shoulder that is supposed to be comforting isn’t. “No one expects you to just walk away from that unscathed, Evan. Consider it early retirement for a job well done.” Fingers over my cheek again brought me back to the present. Another long, drawn-out pause ensued until Bridgett finally asked in a whisper I could barely hear, like she thought I might kill her for uttering the words. “What did you go through?” I felt her body still beside me. She didn’t quite go tense, but I could tell she was just waiting. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she knew there was more, and she was going to try to outpatience me, and I let her. I never should have – I never should have let her get as close as she did. I never should have said anything at all to her. It could only end in tears. Or blood. “I was a POW,” I finally told her. “I was captured and held for a year and a half somewhere in the Middle East – Iraq, Afghanistan, or possibly both. I couldn’t really tell, and the people who did it weren’t exactly forthcoming with a lot of information. Once I was found and brought back to the States, the Colonel didn’t think I was fit for the military anymore.”

“You were…captured?” I could barely hear her words, but I knew what she was saying – I’d heard similar reactions many times. It was part of the reason why I didn’t talk about it. It was everyone’s initial reaction – the disbelief that seemed to turn itself to some sort of plea to be told it was all a sick joke. Like anyone would joke about that shit. “The rest of my unit was killed a mile from our camp,” I told her. “Since I was the only officer, they figured I must have information, so I was taken prisoner and tortured for eighteen months.” “Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath. “Don’t do that,” I growled. I turned my eyes on her and glared. “It was years ago. I don’t want that shit from you, got it? That’s just why I left – they said after all of that, the doctors didn’t think I was fit for combat any more, and I didn’t want some fucking desk job, so I was discharged.” My head was pounding again, and my chest ached with the labor of breathing. Aside from that, I still felt absolutely grimy, and talk of what had happened to me just made me think of sweat, sand, and dust. “I need a shower,” I muttered as I tried to push myself back out of bed. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I got dizzy and stumbled. I didn’t quite fall, but I had to put the palm of my hand on the mattress to keep the floor from coming right up to my face. Bridgett practically had to walk me all the way to the bathroom. Once I was there, the dizziness left just long enough for me to take a piss in private. I turned on the shower but immediately starting cussing the damn thing out when I couldn’t get the temperature right. “How about I help you?” Bridgett opened the door and moved up beside me. She reached around, adjusted the water, stripped, and then got in with me. “I need to shave first,” I told her as she reached for the bottle of shampoo. She looked up to my face. “I’m not sure I could do that for you.” “I can do it.” I wasn’t sure, but it was going to drive me crazy if I didn’t. She got the razor for me and helped me lather up my face, and then I used the little round mirror in the shower to make sure I didn’t miss anywhere. I felt a thousand times better. “We’re going to have to make this quick,’ Bridgett said when I was done. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Just lean against the tiles.” I was too weak to argue with her. The tiles were cold on my back, but the water and Bridgett’s hands were warm. She started with a small handful of shampoo, and I had to lean forward a bit so she could reach around my head and wash

my hair. Her fingers massaged my scalp, and I didn’t want to think about how good it felt. She moved down my neck to my shoulders, filling her hands with liquid body-wash and coating my skin in lather. She washed my chest, my stomach, and down my legs. My eyes closed as she ran her hands all over me, and my cock remembered the way she had touched me in the past. With my eyes opened just a slit, I watched her mouth move close to the head of my cock as she washed my feet and legs. As my body reacted to her on her knees in front of me, Bridgett glanced up at me – her look questioning. I shook my head. “I’d just fall over,” I informed her, and she nodded. Her hands still ran over me, cleaned me from top to bottom, and I made a mental note to bring her back in here when I was healthy again. Images of her sucking my cock or with her back up against the tiles floated around in my dizzy head until she pulled me into the water, rinsed and dried me, and then hauled me back to bed, naked. By the time she got herself dried off, I was already asleep. * * * * * The next morning I was markedly better. I even took Odin out for a quick trip to the grassy area of Lake Shore East Park. It ended up being all I was up for, but I figured it was still progress. The air was warm for the end of February, and after I brought Odin back up to the apartment, I went out on the balcony and looked over at the lake. “You have such a beautiful view up here,” Bridgett said as she came up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her head against my shoulder. “Is that Millennium Park over there?” She pointed off to the south. “Yep,” I replied. “It’s on my list of places to visit,” she said quietly. “Visit?” “Yeah, when I first moved here I had this big long list of places I wanted to see – the Art Institute, the Shedd Aquarium – all those places. I haven’t been to many yet.” “What about The Bean?” Bridgett snickered. “Never been there,” she said with the emphasis on the pun, which I ignored. “What do you mean you’ve never been to The Bean?” Bridgett shrugged. “I only moved here a few months ago,” she said. “I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to check out

the city. It was always part of the plan, but then again – there are a lot of things I had planned that didn’t happen. Ultimately, I have to make a living, and that pretty much takes up all my time. I never got around to doing any sightseeing.” “So what places in the city have you gone to?” I asked. “A friend took me up to the Observatory when I first arrived,” she said. “I’ve been out to Navy Pier and went to the area where all the museums are but never actually saw the exhibits. I was just applying for jobs.” “Why didn’t you go work at one of those places?” “I didn’t get hired,” she shrugged. I looked over to her and carefully observed her posture as she looked out over the balcony rail, obviously not actually looking at anything outside of her own mind. I watched her hidden memories move around in her head as her tears formed in the corners of her eyes but wouldn’t fall from her lashes. She’d come here – from where? – looking for something new, something better. So many people did. She was actually far luckier than a lot of those who ended up homeless and strung out on the street. Not that she was in the best of places, of course, but I had seen far worse. She had a good head on her shoulders, and had found a practical way she could get by. It was far from the ideal, but there were far worse options. Part of me wanted to keep asking questions – to pry into her background, her history, and get to know her better. The rest of me knew that was a really, really bad idea. This was just fucking. “You should see The Bean,” I finally said as I turned to go back inside. There was just no way she could live in Chicago without seeing The Bean.

Chapter 9 – Evening Interlude “There’s something in the back for you.” I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but I was really looking forward to tonight. Reservations were made, certain people expecting us, and I even suited up, which I didn’t do often. I was decked out in a pinstripe suit, white button-down, dark purple tie, and dress shoes. I wasn’t wearing any socks – a habit I picked up from my Italian co-workers. I had planned for tonight far more than I had for anything that didn’t involve my Barrett and a hole in someone’s head. Bridgett glanced at me over the hood of the car with suspicion in her eyes. She’d been giving me the same look since I picked her up, and she asked why I was all dressed up. She leaned back a bit and looked at the package on the back seat of the car before she looked up at me again. “Get it,” I said with a nod, “but don’t open it until we get upstairs.” She pulled the box out from behind the seat and followed me up to my apartment. “I didn’t have you pegged as the gift-giving type,” Bridgett said as she sat down on the couch with the box in her hands. “Just open it,” I said as I rolled my eyes. Bridgett’s eyes opened wide as she stared into the box with the Armani name on the lid. The sleek dress inside of it was deep purple, matched my tie exactly, and had a black, wool shawl to go with it so she would stay warm. There was also a pair of black heels with straps that would go around her ankles. They weren’t too high, so she could still walk comfortably, but they were sexy as hell. “Put it all on,” I told her. “We’re going out to dinner.” “Are you serious?” “Of course I am.” She looked back to the box and slowly pulled out the dress. “It looks like the right size,” she commented. “It is the right size,” I said. She looked up at me for a moment but didn’t say anything else. Her eyes went back to the dress and then the shawl below it. “This, too?” Bridgett asked as she held it up. “Of course,” I said. “That fucking rodent in Pennsylvania might have thought spring was coming, but he’s an idiot. It’s cold out there, and I don’t want you to freeze your ass off. I have plans for it later.” I raised my eyebrows at her, and she shook her head at me. Moving up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m taking you for a night on the town – dinner, drinks, shopping – everything. You go get yourself ready.”

I smacked her ass with the palm of my hand, and she shrieked as she ran to change in the bedroom. I leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from a bottle of flavored water, which didn’t taste too bad. Jonathan had been going on about them lately, so I had finally given them a shot. They were all full of vitamins instead of sugar, so they had to be better for you than a soda. Bridgett came out of the bedroom looking like she belonged on the television as a fucking fashion show celebrity. I had to admit that I had done a great job picking out the dress – it fit her perfectly – but the rest was all her. Round ass, long legs, face cleaned off of whore paint and just lightly made-up. She was all looks. “Beautiful.” She blushed. For dinner, we went to the restaurant on the other side of the little park behind my apartment building. It was a nice steak place, cozy and quiet enough that Bridgett didn’t seem to be overwhelmed or anything. Once we were done with our meal, I wrapped the shawl back around her shoulders and walked her out the front and over to Millennium Park. She started laughing immediately. “It is a giant bean!” she squealed. I couldn’t help but smile. I also couldn’t explain why I loved the sculpture. Sure, there were a lot of people who considered it more comical than artistic, but I thought it was absolutely brilliant. And shiny. I took a picture of our reflections in the polished silver with my phone before we walked back towards my building. I held her hand and helped her down the long staircase on the east side of the park, then across the sidewalk and into the parking garage. “We’re not going upstairs?” Bridgett asked. “Not yet,” I said. “We’re going to the Magnificent Mile.” I led her over to my parking areas but steered her away from the car she was used to being in. “This is your car?” Bridgett’s eyes widened as she examined the exterior of the Audi R8. “Shut up and get in,” I replied with a smile. It wasn’t quite warm enough to put the top down, but it was still a nicer ride than the Mazda for the kinds of places we were going. I drove in silence across the Michigan Avenue Bridge and up north towards all the best shops. Bridgett just stared out the window at the people going by, most of whom were looking over at us. Once I got to the general center of the area, I pulled off in front of a hotel and let the valet take the car. “Checking in, sir?” “No, just shopping,” I replied as I handed him some cash. “Very good, sir.”

I took Bridgett’s hand again as she stepped out of the car and then escorted her across the street and up the sidewalk to one of the shops. I held out my hand to allow her to enter first. “Evan, what are you doing?” “Taking you shopping on the Magnificent Mile,” I informed her. “Once we’ve hit the highlights, we’ll have drinks at one of my favorite bars. It’s got a great view of Michigan Avenue.” “You can’t be serious,” she said quietly. “You aren’t going to buy anything here. The dress I can understand for the place we had dinner, but …” Her voice trailed off, and I just gave her a half smile as I grabbed her waist and shoved her through the revolving doors and into Tiffany and Co’s. The thing I found most noticeable about the store was just how sparkly everything was. It was like walking into a place full of tiny little disco balls – there were rainbows everywhere. I thought that chick who wrote about the sparkly vampires must have gotten the idea by standing in the Tiffany’s store and staring at the diamonds. I had a feeling Bridgett wasn’t going to just pick something out for herself, so I already had something in mind. I led her to the back where all the charms were kept. “Mister Arden?” A tall, lean blonde walked around the counter and held out her hand. “Hello,” I replied. I reached out and shook the salesperson’s hand. She smiled at Bridgett before leading us around to the back counter. She brought over a velvet box and opened it up as I watched Bridgett’s expression go from curiosity, to surprise, to bemusement. “That’s a gold bean, isn’t it?” she asked. “It is,” I said with a smile. “Rose gold with earrings to match.” The salesperson held Bridgett’s hand and slipped the gold chain around her wrist. The bracelet included a rose gold bean as well as a traditional Tiffany’s padlock charm. “Beautiful,” the salesperson said as she affixed the charm around Bridgett’s wrist. It jingled as she moved, and when she turned her wrist slightly, the charms sparkled in the store’s lights. “Evan…” Bridgett’s voice evaporated again, and her eyes started to brim over with tears. “Stop that,” I said quietly. I took my finger and placed it under her chin. “You deserve a night on the town after putting up with me for all that time when I was sick, and I’m going to make sure your night is perfect. This is just a little memento of the evening.” “It’s hardly a little thing,” she argued. “This is…” She glanced over at the salesperson, but she was now ringing up the bill and a bit out of earshot. Bridgett lowered her voice anyway. “This is more than you would pay for me for a whole week,” she said. “So?” I ignored her remaining protests, took her by the hand, and led her back out onto the street. We

stopped at a few more stores but mostly just window-shopped. I pointed out the window of the Armani place where I had acquired Bridgett’s dress – she hadn’t known Armani catered to women as well – but we didn’t go inside. I wasn’t in need of a new suit just yet and probably wouldn’t need one until Moretti’s daughter got hitched or something. Then I’d come get one. Ice cream at Ghirardelli’s Chocolate and a quick carriage ride down a few blocks to my favorite drinking establishment came next. The 676 Restaurant and Bar was just a block down from the famous Tiffany’s jewelry store and in the same building as the Omni Hotel. I helped Bridgett dodge the drunks and other pedestrians as we made our way into the building. The downstairs was your usual hotel stuff – front desk, concierge, bellhops – but upstairs there was a small restaurant and bar that mostly catered to the hotel’s guests. I wasn’t sure what was better – the food, the drinks, or the banter between the staff. “This place is…nice,” Bridgett said softly. “Good service, too,” I informed her. “They have the best martinis in the city. You like martinis, right?” “Sure, I guess.” Her hesitation caused me to stop in front of the elevator and take her by the elbow. “It’s okay?” I asked. I had no idea why I was feeling suddenly hesitant. I hadn’t been to 676 for a while, but I was there enough in the past to be considered as much of a regular as anyone was. I’d never actually taken a girl up there with me, though. I’d taken a couple away – or at least as far as their hotel rooms upstairs – but never brought one in with me. “Whatever you like,” Bridgett responded. I scowled at her lack of answer, which seemed to make her smile. Her hand reached up and touched the side of my face. “It’s fine,” she said. I leaned over and placed my lips against hers. “You’ll love it,” I swore to her. I took her up the elevator to the fourth floor and held her hand as we walked into the bar area. I recognized almost everyone there immediately and was glad to see familiar faces. Michele was tending bar, and Patrick was managing. They were an interesting duo – and just watching the two of them interact was worth the price of the drinks. The drinks were damn good, too. “What do you want?” Bridgett said. “A beer or something?” “No,” I said, “definitely not. Do you like raspberries?” “I guess so.” “Hey, Michele!”

The bartender smiled and waltzed over to me. Her dangling silver hoop earrings danced around on her shoulders as she moved, and her mahogany hair swung back and forth in a high ponytail. She had on basic black from head to toe, like pretty much every bartender there, and her smile earned her a lot of big tips. “Hey there, Evan,” she said with that award-winning smile. “What can I get for you?” “Give me one of those raspberry martinis you make,” I said, “and Lagavulin, neat.” “Who’s this?” she asked with a sly grin as she started to make the drinks. “Michele, this is Bridgett,” I said. They both smiled at each other. “Bridgett, this is Michele with one ‘L.’” “Don’t forget it!” Michele laughed and nodded her head, which caused her ponytail to bounce around. She reached up on a high shelf to retrieve my scotch and then moved farther down the bar to gather the ingredients for the martini quickly and efficiently. “You really are going all out here, aren’t you?” Bridgett commented as Michele set our drinks in front of us. “I figured after last week, you kinda deserved it,” I said with a shrug. “A night on the town is the least I can do to make up for a night with me sick as a dog.” “Four nights,” she reminded me. “Right.” I sipped my scotch and watched her take in the surroundings. It was a nice place – posh, in the heart of the Magnificent Mile, and with a good view of Michigan Avenue. Michele exhibited her usual rockin’ service and seemed to be going the extra mile to be nice to Bridgett, even if she did keep glancing at me sideways. The way she raised her eyebrows, I wondered if she suspected Bridgett’s occupation. Not that it mattered to me – I didn’t give a shit what she thought of my date. Patrick stopped by and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you again, Evan!” he said with a big Doogie Howser smile. “Haven’t seen you in ages!” “Been busy,” I replied. My eyes bore into his. “I’ve been working a lot lately.” Patrick removed his hand, cleared his throat, and gave me another managerial smile. “Make sure you treat this guy well, Michele!” She gave him a “thumbs up” as she went back to mixing drinks for a couple farther down the bar. I tried not to watch Michele too much. She was hot – no doubt about it – but she was also married. Not that I gave a shit; I didn’t. I did actually have some scruples, just not in that particular area. However, she had turned me down every time I came on to her over the past year since I first found the place, so I had given up. Still, I liked watching her work, but I had to make sure I wasn’t paying too much attention to her shakin’ and stirrin’.

I ordered a PB&J waffle, and Bridgett just stared at me like I was nuts. “I’ll give you a bite,” I promised her. “You won’t regret it.” “I already do,” she stated. Michele brought out another round of drinks and rolled her eyes at me once she got a good look at Bridgett, which confirmed my suspicions. I wasn’t sure how she knew, but I could tell by her expression that she understood the situation. I gave her the evil eye back – the last thing I needed was someone who served me drinks judging me for the quality of my date. Thankfully, Bridgett didn’t seem to notice, not that I cared what Michele or anyone else thought about me or my date. However, this was supposed to be a nice night for Bridgett, and I didn’t want something stupid to ruin it. So far, everything had been perfect. “These drinks really are fantastic!” Bridgett said as she sipped the fruity martini. “All of the drinks here are great,” I told her. “They have awesome food, too.” We ordered a couple more drinks, and as crowds rolled in, the manager tried to help out at the bar. He scratched his head, stared at the rows of bottles on the shelf, and looked lost. It was kind of like cabaret. “You put cranberries in it, right?” he asked. “It’s a raspberry martini,” Michele replied, “so you put raspberries in it.” “Got it.” Patrick looked around the bar, then under it. “Umm…where are they?” “You need a glass,” Michele informed him. She pulled four beers and placed them neatly on a tray before walking off. “Do you know what vodka Michele was using?” Patrick asked me as he held up two bottles. “The good shit,” I replied, which made Bridgett giggle. He put both bottles back and grabbed a tall bottle of Grey Goose. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” Michele mumbled as she came back and took the shaker from him. The drinks were made, and the banter continued. “Did you need a glass, George?” “You have to pour it in the mouth!” “This shirt keeps coming un-tucked – I look like a total loser.” “You are a total loser.” “You can’t talk to me like that!” “So, where can I go to find a hooker?”

Maybe the patron thought he was being quiet or subtle, but he wasn’t. The concierge chuckled and rubbed the spot between his eyes, which made his glasses bounce up and down on his face. I glanced over at Bridgett, who had obviously heard the guy’s question. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of her new drink and stared at the floating fruit. I reached over and placed the end of my finger under her chin to turn her towards me. For a long moment, we just looked at each other, and then I leaned in to press my lips against hers. My tongue tasted the raspberry drink as it reached into her mouth. I tilted my head and kissed her again. And again. Her fingers gripped my arm through my suit jacket as she pressed harder against me. When we parted, her eyes were glassy and her chest rose and fell with her breaths. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at her expression, which seemed to cause her to blush. She was a fucking sexy sight. One of the other patrons noticed her, too, but one glare from me and he kept his eyes to himself. “You are beautiful tonight,” I whispered. Before she could respond, the manager walked behind me, grumbling. “I hate it when people wave their hand at me,” Patrick mumbled under his breath. “What does she want me to do, jump over and serve her a drink?” I glanced at the overweight woman with her hair up in a bun. She was waving frantically from one of the window-side tables. Patrick managed to put his smile back on before facing her, and Bridgett snickered. “He’s an interesting one,” she said quietly. “You haven’t seen the half of it,” I told her. I leaned in a little closer and pushed her hair off her shoulder. “I was in here once when Michele was on vacation – the guy couldn’t figure out how to make a rum and Coke.” Michele brought out my PB&J waffle. “Are you really going to eat that?” Bridgett asked as she looked down at the plate. “Most definitely,” I told her. “This shit is the best soul food in the world, right, Michele?” “Better than chicken and biscuits,” she agreed. “Actually, that’s the only thing that could make them any better – put a piece of chicken in the middle and cover it all with gravy.” “We should totally try that!” Patrick said. “I’m gonna see if they’ll make that in the kitchen.” Patrick disappeared, and Michele laughed. Bridgett shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. I took my fork and cut off a little piece of the waffle, which was oozing jelly. Picking it up with my fingers, I turned towards Bridgett and held it up to her mouth. “You want to try this,” I informed her.

“I really don’t think I do!” she cringed and mashed her lips together. With one finger, I traced up the side of her neck. “You would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t try it.” “I’m okay with that.” “Come on,” I urged. “If you can swallow guys’ cocks all night, you can definitely try this.” She glared at me, and I realized what I said was pretty douchebaggish but ended up rolling my eyes back at her. “Just try it.” With her eyes still slightly narrowed, she opened her mouth and took the little piece inside. As soon as she sunk her teeth into the homemade waffle oozing peanut butter and strawberry jelly, I knew she was hooked, and she had totally forgotten what I had said. “This is incredible!” she exclaimed. “It’s awesome, right? Food of the fucking gods.” “I have never eaten anything quite like this,” Bridgett said. “It’s amazing.” We shared the remainder with me feeding her chunks of it alternated with my own bites. When it was gone, Bridgett excused herself to wash the sticky jelly off her face where I kept missing her mouth. “What the hell, Evan?” Michele with one “L” stepped up in front of me from the other side of the bar. She was giving me one of those looks that, despite my other observation skills, I had never understood. It was a look I’d only seen from women, and though it seemed to coincide with something whatever guy she was with did, I never understood what it was actually supposed to mean. It always ended up with the husband or boyfriend in trouble, though. Often, he ended up alone. “What?” I asked. Michele leaned over the bar on her elbows and looked up at me. “That’s a hooker,” she stated. “So?” “So, what the hell?” “I always fuck hookers.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you always dress them up like they spend half their lives at Saks for a night on the town?” I glared at her. “What difference does that make?” I leaned back on the stool and folded my arms across my chest. “If I’m paying for her, what the fuck difference does it make what I do with her?”

“You are such a man.” She tossed her hands up and started walking away. “Well, yeah!” I called back. “You want to check out my dick?” She looked quickly over to Patrick, her manager, to make sure he wasn’t looking in her direction, flipped me off, and then moved to the far end of the bar to serve someone else. Bridgett came back, and I never did get the chance to ask Michele what she was going on about. Bridgett and I still spent a couple hours at 676 just talking and hanging out. At some point we moved over to the more comfortable chairs near the windows overlooking Michigan Avenue. I put my arm around Bridgett’s shoulders, and we watched the traffic go by. When the fascination with the view seemed to have waned, I took her by the hand and led her back downstairs to the valet. Bridgett was quiet as we drove back to my place and continued her silence as we parked the car, went up to the apartment, and then took Odin out for a walk around the park. Though technically closed in the later hours of the night, we made our way over to the dog run where I could let Odin off his leash so he could run around a bit. I leaned against the fence at one side of the park and tried to ignore the beeping sounds from the parking garage behind me. Ever since the day the damn garage went in, the electronic warning signal when the parking garage door went up had been driving me nuts. When the balcony door was open, I could hear it from the living room. I glared at the large metal door as the wind from the lake picked up and blew some trash down the street. Bridgett shivered and pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Reaching out, I took her by the waist and pulled her back against my chest. My lips found her neck as I began to remember the feeling of her tight ass gripping my shaft. My hand moved from her hip to her stomach and then farther up to palm her tit. Odin raced from one shrub to the other, watering and fertilizing as he went. “Did you have a good time?” I whispered into her ear. Bridgett nodded quickly. My tongue flicked out over her skin. “You look so good tonight,” I told her. “I thought I might have to kill one of the guys at the bar for staring at you.” She stiffened and took a step away from me. Her hands pushed at my arms until I let go of her, and she moved out of my reach. “What are you doing, Evan?” Bridgett turned and glared up at me with tears streaming down her face. “What the fuck is this, huh? What happened to all that ‘it’s just fucking’ garbage? Is that what this is?” She ripped the bracelet from her wrist and shook it at me. “You going to fuck me with this?” I took a half step back as my insides began to feel as if they were slipping down into my feet,

leaving the top half of me cold. “I just…I thought since you…” I stopped and shook my head to clear it. “You took care of me when I was sick – I wanted to thank you.” “Thank me?” she scoffed. “Why did you even have that guy come and get me, huh? What made you think I’d come and take care of you, Evan?” Another half step backwards and I hit my back on the fence. The tension that immediately flowed through my body was familiar and frightening. Bridgett was too close to me to get around her effectively, and I couldn’t turn and jump the fence without hitting her in the process. I looked up towards the skyline to try to free my head of the enclosed feeling, but it was a cloudy night and I couldn’t see any open space. There were high rise buildings all around us. The closed-up feeling increased, and then the fucking parking garage door began to beep again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled at her. “You said you had a good time!” “I did have a good time!” she yelled back at me. “Don’t you see? That’s the problem!” My mouth probably dropped open as I tried to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Though normally pretty apt when it came to reading people’s body language, the combination of the claustrophobia and Bridgett’s sudden change in behavior completely took me aback. Not a feeling I liked. Not at all. “Damn, you bitches make no sense!” I snapped at her. Odin was suddenly at my side, snuffling at my hand. I grabbed it away from him and pointed a finger at Bridgett. “I told you what this was,” I snarled at her, “and you know full well what I am. I give you money, and you let me use your body for whatever the fuck I want. That’s what this is, and that’s how this works.” “You are so full of shit,” she snapped back. “Who sends for their favorite whore when they have a tummy ache?” Irrespective of the point made, I refused to back down. In fact, knowing she had such a good point made me have to take it that much further. “And what kind of whore falls for her hit man john? Didn’t it occur to you that the only way this ends is you with a bullet in your brain?” I stood there glowering at her as Odin whined by my side, and Bridgett stared at me for a long moment. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the park and up the stairs towards Columbia Drive. About half way up, she stopped, cursed loud enough for me to hear from where I was, reached down, and took off her shoes. A moment later, she was completely out of my sight, and I was left alone with the dog.

My heart was still pounding in my chest. “What the fuck?” I muttered. I took Odin back up to the apartment, ditched the tie, and then went back outside. There was no way I was going to admit to myself or anyone else that I was looking for her. I wasn’t. I was only going for a nice walk in the evening. Well, nearly midnight. I walked between the buildings and past various sculptures on which the good people of Chicago spent a lot of money just so I could have the privilege of walking past them in the middle of the night. They were mostly modern art – swirly shapes and strange, metal animals. Modern art didn’t really make any sense to me, though some of it definitely caught my eye. No Bridgett. Not that I was looking for her. A homeless guy wandered out from between the metal animals and tried to talk to me. He didn’t have any teeth, and I couldn’t figure out if the napkin-wrapped beer bottle he was holding out was an offering or a request. I finally shoved past him and made my way back out to Michigan Avenue and the nearest bar. Unfortunately, that was Sweetwater and the place was a zoo. Without Jon’s mad skills and phone apps, I was going to have to wait forever for a table, which just wasn’t going to happen. My least favorite dude was tending bar, and though the drink he made was fine, I wasn’t comfortable just standing around staring at the television screens showing games I didn’t give a shit about. I stood by the bar for all of five minutes before I gave up on my vodka, threw ten bucks on the counter, and walked out. My mind was still spinning, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt completely lost and out of control, and I was fighting the urge to pull out a gun and start shooting. Without any better ideas in my head, I wandered back to The Bean and stared at the skyline reflected in the shiny surface. The chilled wind from the lake picked up and blew my clothing around as the tourists took pictures of themselves. I wanted to pretend I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but I couldn’t quite manage it. I’d wanted her to have a good time. I’d wanted her to feel like it was more than it was. I just didn’t want her to notice it felt like more than it was because that would screw it all up. There was just no way this was happening.

Chapter 10 – Abrupt Change “You’re on edge today.” “Not sleeping.” My hands were jittery due to the lack of sleep, and there was absolutely nothing that pissed me off more than something that could affect my aim. Caffeine made it even worse. I was also ticked off at the dirt on my jeans, which I got courtesy of my shrink’s car. As I walked past it, I managed to bump the fender, which was covered in mud – just like the rest of the Land Rover. I’d seen the vehicle before but never all muddy and figured the driver usually got their car washed during their lunch hour; my appointment had been moved up from the afternoon when I usually saw Mark. I considered putting a bullet in the tires until I looked at the license plate that read “ID V EGO” and realized it had to be Mark’s. There was also a toolbox on the passenger seat containing a bunch of those Habitat for Humanity fliers. “I thought you had been doing better on that front.” I glanced up at him and scowled at his choice of words. His expression told me he hadn’t realized what type of metaphor he had used. “I was,” I stated bluntly, “and now I’m not.” “What changed?” My eyes dropped back to the area rug and its swirly, uninteresting patterns. My eyes followed a blue swirl around a green one. Did I really want to go into this with him? Did I want to tell him how apparently my pathetic, empty self had developed the need to share his bed with a hooker – not for the sex but for the sleep? Did I want to tell him she left me? How does a whore get the option anyway? A shiver went through my body, my stomach clenched, and I tasted bile in the back of my throat. “What’s her name?” “She’s no one,” I replied. “Yet you have someone in mind when I ask the question,” Mark said. “That pretty much makes her a someone.” I glared at him again. “It’s not what you think,” I said. “What do I think?” “She’s not a girlfriend or anything. She just…slept with me.” He paused and tapped his pen against his wrist before jotting something down.

“A prostitute?” “Yeah.” I clenched my hands into fists a couple of times to try to get rid of the shaking. I couldn’t have been much worse off if I had been going through the DTs. “She’d stay overnight with me, and it helped to have someone else there. The dreams weren’t as bad.” Saying it out loud made it sound even more pathetic. “And she’s no longer in the picture?” “She’s not.” “What happened to her?” I ran my hand over the top of my head, mildly annoyed with myself for needing a haircut. I took in a long breath and figured it couldn’t really make it any worse to tell him. “I took her out, showed her a great time, fed her waffles, and then at the end of the night, when everything seemed to be going great, she took off.” “Why did she leave?” “I have no idea.” “Seems like you missed some details in there somewhere.” “I don’t miss details,” I snapped. “Apparently, you do.” The tension in my body had to be noticeable to Mark as I glared at him. I could almost see the crosshair on his forehead and figured I’d try a more mental shot than a physical one. “You do a shit load of charity work,” I told him. “You aren’t married now but you were once, or at least engaged. No kids. You drive a Land Rover, and you like off-roading on the weekends. You probably tried to get into the military, but because of your foot, you didn’t qualify for active service, and you used it as an excuse to go to school. Your dad probably hated the idea of you becoming a shrink, which is why you don’t speak anymore.” Trying to keep my breaths calm, I stared at him as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Eventually, he cringed a bit and found his tongue. “Evan, have you been…spying on me?” “No,” I snapped. “You told me all of it, just not with your mouth. Don’t ever think I miss the details.” It took him several minutes, but he eventually gathered his wits about himself again and continued on. “I meant you might be missing some of the…nuances of female behavior.” “She was having a good time,” I said. “I know how to tell when a chick is happy.” “And then…what?” Mark asked. “You are obviously observant, so tell me what you saw.”

My tongue ran over my lips as I conjured up images of Bridgett running across the park and away from me. Playing the whole scene in reverse, I brought myself back to the dog park and her back pressed to my chest. “I told her…I told her none of this shit was serious,” I paraphrased. “She already knew that.” “She wanted more.” My eyes moved from the rug to his face, and I stared at him for a long moment before shaking my head and returning my gaze to the swirly patterns. “There isn’t anything else.” “You don’t think you have anything to offer a woman?” “I don’t think anything I have to offer a woman is in her best interest. Seriously, you’ve got a better idea of how…of what I’ve…of what happened. How could I ever try to explain that to a date?” “Lots of people deal with PTSD every day, Evan,” he reminded me. “You don’t do too badly for yourself. I know working under the table isn’t ideal, but at least you’re not a criminal, right?” I tried not to actually laugh. “Tell me one thing,” Mark said as the session ended and I got up to leave, “how did you know about my father?” “Your jackets don’t fit right.” “What?” I took a long, deep breath. “You’re fine in jeans and polos, but whenever I see you wearing a button down shirt, dress pants, or a jacket, they’re wrinkled and they don’t fit right. Rich kids get taught that shit. You’re a blue-collar guy.” “You still haven’t said anything about my father.” I rolled my eyes. “No blue-collar guy goes into a white-collar profession without pissing off his dad.” Mark laughed, and I took the opportunity to get the hell out before he asked me anything else. Besides, I had a little side trip I wanted to take, and I needed to do something first. I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. “Hey, Nick,” I said when he answered. “Hey there!” Nick replied. “Am I interrupting anything?” I asked. “Nah,” he replied. “I’m just hanging out, shootin’ the shit with some buddies. What’s up with you?”

“Just wondering…” I paused, suddenly unsure how to even ask. “You still there?” “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I was just wondering…what’s the best way to apologize to a chick?” “Oh, that’s easy,” Nick replied. “You gotta go down on her.” “Don’t I have to get her to speak to me first?” “It helps!” Nick laughed. “So, how do I get her to talk to me again?” “Just do something nice for her,” Nick replied. “It doesn’t even matter what, ‘cause guys never do anything nice for chicks, so anything works. That’s why the flower business is so good.” “So, buy her fucking flowers? That’s it?” “Yeah,” he said. “Or one of those fancy vibrators.” Yeah – not gonna happen. “I dunno.” I leaned back and stared up at the cloudy sky. “Flowers seem kind of…cliché.” “There’s a reason for that,” Nick said. “They work.” I couldn’t argue with him, so I stopped at a florist shop and wondered what kind of flowers said whatever it was I wanted to say. There were too many varieties – too many colors to choose from to actually come up with something that looked right. They all looked right. They all looked wrong, too. I couldn’t think of any words to put on the card, either. Maybe the basics were best. Roses are red, Violets are blue. I’m just a fucked up hit man, And nothing rhymes with that. It was entirely possible that poetry was not my strong point. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Sorry. SORRY. The ridiculously simplistic note I left on top of the skewed sheets covering the worn out, twinsized bed in Arizona fluttered down and landed at the forefront of my mind, mocking me. If there was anything I knew, I knew that I wasn’t any good at this kind of shit. I left the flower shop, ripped four daffodils out of the window box on someone’s deck, and drove myself over to Bridgett’s corner. Traffic was heavy since it was still the tail end of rush hour, but I was patient as I crawled along with the other travelers. I still wasn’t sure what I should say, so I let different

scenarios clamber around in my head while I waited for people and cars to get the fuck out of the way. Once I reached the right corner, I saw Melvin, the pimp, leaning over the car in front of mine. My eyes scanned the area, but there wasn’t any sign of Bridgett. “Hey, baby. How about some sweet stuff?” I recognized Candy as she swayed around from the back of my car and up to my window. She leaned over enough to put her tits in my face and asked what all she could do for me. She didn’t seem to know where Bridgett was, though. “Haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday,” the girl said. “She’s got a regular john, so that’s not so unusual.” Yeah, maybe – except I was the regular john. “Where’s she stay when she’s not here?” I had to give the whore fifty dollars to talk, which she slipped inside her shirt while watching Melvin out of the corner of her eye. I figured out what building Bridgett lived in by Candy’s description, and it only took a minute to drive there. There was only street parking, so I drove around the block twice before I found a spot. The sky was pretty much dark by the time I pushed open the door, found her apartment number on the mailbox, and went down a handful of stairs to the lower level units. I looked down at the daffodils in my hand and wondered just how ridiculous I was – apologizing to the chick I paid to fuck me – but I needed to sleep before I went completely over the edge. I knocked. I had to physically force myself to not tap my toe on the ground, stare at my watch, or start whistling. There was no way I was going to pull off any kind of casual encounter anyway – it was obvious what I was here to do. The daffodils kind of gave it away. I knocked again. There was that distinct feeling moving slowly up the sides of my spine that I had rarely felt outside of combat. It was a completely irrational knowing that came from nothing other than gut instinct, but it had served me many times in the past. It was a gut instinct I trusted. My mind and the memories within took over for a moment, and I felt the dry, stale heat of the desert air around me. It had been mid-summer in the desert, and the heat was absolutely unbearable. I had walked around the corner of a small building to reach just a bit of shade to relax a moment and take a piss when it all started. One hand had touched the wall of the building as I leaned against it, while the other loosened my fatigues and pulled out my dick. There had been a noise from the other side of the building that I couldn’t identify – something that didn’t sound quite right. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. There was something very, very wrong. I was sure of it.

“Bridgett?” I called as I brought myself out of the memory and banged harder against the door. “Bridgett – open the fucking door!” Still no answer. I didn’t think – I just leaned back and kicked the handle. I had to kick twice before the shitty lock splintered the weak wooden doorjamb and the apartment was open to me. I took everything in. It was a small place – one room efficiency with a small cubby bathroom off to the side. There was a little half window with a view of a brick wall. It wouldn’t have let any light in at any time of day and was probably too small for the fire marshal to allow without some kind of bribe involved. The stove looked like it might have worked well in the seventies, and the fridge was one of those half-sized ones you find in college dorm rooms. Despite the size, the room was neat and orderly. Everything seemed to have its place, including a small shelf with books and an aloe plant, a box for mail, and a small candle. No pictures – none at all. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture – just a card table with four plastic chairs, the book shelf, and a futon along one wall. It wasn’t pulled out into a bed, though there was a body lying across it. I knew she wasn’t dead – there was no tell-tale smell of death, and the slight rise and fall of her shoulder made it obvious. Her back was to me, but I didn’t need to see her face to know she was unconscious. The lack of reaction to having her door kicked in was evidence enough that she wasn’t just asleep. Hesitating only slightly, I moved across the room and knelt next to the futon. With my hand on her shoulder, I pulled her body towards me. The black and blue bruises that covered her face and shoulders were maybe a day and a half old, not much more than that. There was a cut over her lip, and her chin was streaked with blood. As I pulled her closer to me, her arm fell away, and I could see the bruising on the rest of her naked body. Clear hand prints in purple circled her wrists, and the circular bruises on her thighs were clearly fist marks. The scent of stale semen on her was unmistakable. “Bridgett?” I said and felt her jerk in my arms. My hand touched the side of her face where she wasn’t bruised. “Open your eyes.” They fluttered at my order, and the lids parted. Her expression quickly moved from fear, to shock, and then to sadness. Sobs began to shake her body as her forehead pressed against my shoulder. “Evan,” she croaked. Her voice didn’t sound right – it was rough and scratchy. I tilted my head to get a better look at her neck and saw the finger-shaped bruises there as well. “Can you hold on to me?” Her fingers gripped my shoulder as I wrapped the sheet back around her and lifted her up into my arms. I held her against my chest as I walked out the door, crushing the dropped daffodils as I left. I got a few looks from the bums on the street as I carried her off and lay her down in the passenger seat of my car, but no one said anything or tried to stop me. I was carrying a beat up girl, naked and wrapped in a sheet, and no one cared.

Nice fucking neighborhood. Back at my apartment, I was a little more concerned. Since I was in the parking garage, it was easy enough to get to the elevator without anyone laying eyes on me or what I was carrying, but being in the elevator had me on edge until we got to my floor. Luckily, there was no one else around. The elevator doors opened, and I glanced quickly down the hall before carrying her to my apartment. I dropped the sheet in the hallway, figuring I’d come back in a bit and throw it out. It stank of sweat, beer, and semen. “I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?” I said as I carried her through the bedroom door and into the master bathroom. “Can you stand on your own?” I took off my jacket but couldn’t seem to get my shirt unbuttoned while I kept Bridgett from falling, so I ended up taking her into the shower with my clothes still on. She kept her arms wrapped around my neck as I filled my palms with liquid soap and ran them over her skin. When I washed between her legs, she flinched and started crying again. I ended up holding her for a minute, not having any idea what I was supposed to do. Eventually, she steadied enough for me to finish. Once she was rinsed, I stood her on the bathmat and tried to dry her off, but it wasn’t easy with one hand holding her up. “I can do it,” she said with a scratchy voice. I steadied her as she ran the towel around and then rubbed at her hair. “Do you…um…do you have a hairbrush?” I laughed and ran my hand over my closely cropped hair. “I guess you wouldn’t, huh?” She smiled a little, but it seemed to hurt her busted lip. She sat on a towel at the edge of my bed, wrapped up in my robe as she ran her fingers through the strands of brown hair. Her hair was a lot darker when it was wet, and I tried to force thoughts of another woman from my head for a while, but it didn’t really work. It never did. I peeled off my wet clothes and hung them over the shower door. Once I was dry, I pulled on some clean ones and grabbed my phone. “I could use a little help at my place,” I said into the phone. “You get shot?” the voice on the other end asked immediately. Franklyn Johnson might have been a doctor once, and he might not have been. No one ever called him Doc or anything like that – just Franklyn. Still, he knew how to take a bullet out of a leg, stitch people up, and do a lot of other emergency room kinds of procedures. He did stuff like that when Rinaldo’s people were hurt, and a hospital visit would end up causing questions. He wasn’t expecting a beat up hooker at my place.

“She’s been through the wringer,” Franklyn said when he left the bedroom. He reached up behind his head and scratched at the overgrown, graying mop there, which reminded me of Christopher Lloyd’s character from Taxi. “I sedated her and gave her a morning after pill, but there isn’t much else I can do.” “Anything more serious?” “What, aside from the multiple rapes? What else do you think she needs?” His eyes shot daggers. “I found her, asshole,” I growled, and his look towards me softened a bit. “Nothing permanent,” he finally said. “Well, not on the outside. I doubt she’ll ever be the same on the inside. No broken bones, no internal bleeding. Dehydrated a bit – make sure you get some more water in her when she wakes up.” He left, and I went back inside to see how she was doing. She was asleep, and Odin was right there beside the bed, watching her. “Are you finally going to make yourself useful as a guard dog?” I asked him. He sneezed and then peered up at me through curly white hair. “She’ll be okay,” I informed him, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to do so. Odin dropped down on the floor next to the bed, and I moved around to the other side to get in. As soon as I lay down, the exhaustion hit me. My mind didn’t race from one horrific image to another but focused on the sweet scent of the woman beside me. I reached out and carefully wrapped my arms around her, making sure I didn’t cause additional pain. With Bridgett nestled against me, I finally got some sleep. ***** It was hours after I woke up when Bridgett finally came down from the sedative, but she fell back asleep almost immediately afterwards. I made her drink some water before she dozed off again and then just watched her for a while. When she woke up the second time, she seemed a little better, even with her black eye and bruised cheek. “Do you know who it was?” I asked. She didn’t answer. “Was he a regular john? Someone you’d seen before? Can you describe him? Or…um…them?” Again, she said nothing. I watched her carefully as the edge of her eye constricted a little, and her lips pressed together tighter. She knew who it was – she definitely knew. Why wouldn’t she tell me? There was really only one possible answer. “It was him, wasn’t it?” I asked. “That pimp of yours.” “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.

I brushed a bit of hair off her forehead and was pissed off at her reflexive flinch from my touch. “It was him, wasn’t it?” I pressed. “Who else?” “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I never saw them before.” I shoved myself off the bed, found a pair of jeans, and hauled them up over my hips. “Evan, what are you doing?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed a T-shirt out of the drawer and pulled it on over my head. My boots went on my feet without socks, and I didn’t even bother with my watch or anything like that. This was going to be a short trip. “Evan!” Bridgett called out. I glanced back to see her sitting up in the bed, her bruised face making her nearly unrecognizable from the girl I was used to seeing there. Before she could say anything else, I walked out of the bedroom and out the door. I could hear her calling my name and telling me to stop, but I ignored her. The pimp was easy enough to find – right there on the street corner with his bitches all around him. He reached into a car window, pulled out some cash, and then shoved one of the girls in the backseat. There were at least three guys in the car, and they drove off with a screech of tires. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and my teeth ground together. There wasn’t any actual parking on the street, and I wasn’t about to go find a garage, so I pulled right up over the curb and onto the sidewalk. I got out of the car, leaving it running, and headed right for him. “Mister Arden!” Ignoring his words, I walked up to him quickly, grabbed him by the collection of gold chains around his neck, and shoved him backwards into the alley. Two of the girls started screaming, and a blonde one grabbed my arm. I flung my fist backwards, and she hit the sidewalk with a grunt and her heels in the air. Melvin the pimp clawed at my hand, drawing blood. It didn’t even register in my head that I was bleeding – I was far too focused on getting him off the street where we could have a little private moment. The most convenient place was the alley right next to his usual hangout, so that was where I dragged him. I stepped around a foul-smelling puddle next to a dumpster and shoved Melvin up against the brick wall on the other side. He gasped and grabbed at his throat. “Mister Arden,” he croaked. “Do you think being polite is going to help you right now?” I asked calmly. Moving forward, I pushed my forearm across his neck, pinning him to the bricks and partially cutting off his air supply. Again he clawed at my skin, but I just leaned forward and stared him in the eye until he stopped struggling.

“You scratched my car,” I said quietly as I stared into his widened eyes. “Maybe it was a rental car, but you still scratched it. Now when I drive it, it just won’t quite be the same.” I used my free hand to punch him in the face. “I-I-I…” he stammered. “I didn’t touch your car!” I shook my head slowly at the asshole’s ignorance and then punched him in the gut twice. He struggled to breathe as I shoved him up against the wall again. His skull knocked against it, and his eyes rolled for a moment before he could focus again. “Okay! Okay! You mean that bitch…that girl of mine you like – Bridgett.” “Aren’t you clever?” I replied coldly. “I thought you were done with her!” he exclaimed. “You hadn’t been around…she’s been acting up and not bringing in her worth, ya know?” “I have no idea,” I said, “but I know little boys who don’t take care of their toys end up losing them.” “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know you still wanted her…” I stopped listening to his blather. My hand reached behind to pull my piece from the back of my jeans, but it wasn’t there. I’d left so quickly, I hadn’t even taken a gun. Mario was pretty good at beating people to death when it needed to be done. There were several ways – collapsing the trachea could do it, and you could always punch someone in the head enough to cause brain damage. I could have strangled him as well, but that took a lot longer than it looked like in the movies. If someone were to ask, I’d probably admit to being a lazy killer. “You have a piece on you?” I asked. He blathered nonsensically until I punched him in the face again, busting his nose and spraying my shirt with his blood. “I said, do you have a gun on you?” “Y-y-yes!” he cried. “It’s on my right ankle!” “Raise your leg up,” I instructed. He obeyed, and I kept a good grip across his neck and chest with one arm while reaching for his pistol with the other. I pulled it out and put it in his face. “You don’t take care of your things,” I told him bluntly. “I don’t think you deserve to have them.” “It was just business!” he cried out. “They paid good money!” “Oh yeah?” I asked. “How much?”

“A grand for an hour!” he told me. “You pay that for the whole night! You can have her right now – all night! No cost!” I hummed and tilted my head to one side, lowering the gun a bit. “Yeah, all right,” I agreed. “I think I will take her tonight, no cost to me. Tomorrow, too.” “Anything you want!” he promised with a quick nod of his head. Sweat poured from his temples and down his neck. “I think she’s gonna keep the money from that last trick, too.” His brow creased, and for a moment he looked like he was going to argue. He thought better of it, though, and agreed with me. “Whatever you want, Mister Arden,” he said. “She can have it.” I nodded. “Whatever I want, huh?” “Anything!” he confirmed. I nodded again. “Okay.” I raised the gun, kicked back the safety, and blew his brains into the bricks. Several feminine screams came from behind me, but they were lost in my own personal disgust at the blood and tissue that sprayed back at me. I hated close range shots like this – as if that actor dude hadn’t been bad enough. At least I had the manhole cover as a shield then. I hadn’t thought enough about this one to avoid the mess, and I hated the mess. I needed to kill someone from a distance again. All this up close and personal shit didn’t settle well with me. I tore off the bottom of his shirt as I let him fall to the ground and used a bit of it to wipe off my face. It was better than nothing, but only barely. I threw the torn cloth to the side, skipped back around the puddle, and headed out of the alley past the hysterical whores. One of them grabbed at me like she was going to be able to do something to stop what had already happened. I looked her in the eye, and she stepped back away quickly. Running around to the other side of the car, I jumped into the driver’s seat and sped off without another word. Bridgett was still lying on her side in my bed when I returned. Our eyes met, and I knew she had been crying. I didn’t understand that, though. I didn’t understand why she would cry for that shithead of a pimp. I glanced down at my blood-covered hands and shirt. “I’m going to take a shower,” I said quietly. Her eyes watched me, but she said nothing. I took off my bloody clothing and dropped it on the bathroom floor before stepping into the shower. I hoped it would clear my head a little, but it didn’t work. I was just as tense as I had been before, and my head was full of…of…what was this? Confusion?

My stomach was uneasy, and not from the blood that washed down the drain. There was a bizarre feeling of near-guilt, but that wasn’t quite right either. I didn’t regret killing that asshole. I never regretted anything, so I didn’t know what this feeling was. I guess that made it confusion. Since Bridgett still had my robe, I walked over to the dresser naked, pulled on a clean pair of boxers, and then climbed into bed beside her. She didn’t move to look at me when I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my chest, but she didn’t resist, either. I lay my head just above hers on the pillow, inhaled the scent of her hair, and pressed my lips to her temple. “You killed him,” Bridgett whispered, “didn’t you?” My fingers trailed up her arm, over her shoulder, and to her lips. I didn’t press down because of the cut there, but still made the point. “Shh,” I replied. She turned then, and her red-rimmed, black-and-blue eyes turned to mine. “Why?” “Why what?” “Why did you kill him?” I raised an eyebrow at her. I wasn’t going to answer a question when I had already refused to admit there was anything she could ask about anyway. “What am I going to do?” Bridgett’s voice cracked as her hand moved to cover her mouth. “I can’t be on the street with no protection!” “Carry a gun,” I suggested. “I’ve never even fired one!” she exclaimed. “Then find another pimp,” I said. It occurred to me that I could teach her to shoot, but making this about more than the sex had already caused an issue once. I didn’t want to do that again. “That isn’t the only street corner in the city, you know. You probably don’t even have to go anywhere – some other dude will come up and take over the girls there.” “What about the other girls?” “I don’t really give a shit about the other girls,” I said. She glared at me. “What if the new guy is one of the ones from across town?” she asked quietly. “The ones over by the warehouses.” I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t work for the fucking competition,” I snarled. “What competition?” she asked with feigned innocence. “You don’t seem to actually have a job.”

A couple hundred potential rebuttals went through my brain, but I knew when I was being baited. I also knew when a situation was likely to escalate quickly, and silence was the best way to combat it. We watched each other for a full two minutes before she sighed and put her head down on my shoulder. “What am I going to do?” she asked again. “Even that apartment is in Melvin’s name.” “I got some money for you,” I said. I hadn’t actually taken any cash from Melvin, but she didn’t have to know that. I had twenty or thirty grand lying around in the back of my closet. “You already earned it.” “I’m not taking your money,” she said. I took her chin in my hand. “First off, you will take the fucking money because it’s yours, not mine. It’s the money from those fucking bastards who hurt you. Secondly, if I decide to give you fucking money, you’re going to fucking take it.” “Fucking am I?” I tried to scowl, but she grinned at me. “You can earn that money, too,” I said. “As soon as you’re up for it. You don’t even have to have any other clients.” She gave me a strange look, like she wondered what the hell I was suggesting. I wondered myself until I heard it come out of my mouth. “Just stay here,” I said. So much for keeping it only about the sex. Immediately, the atmosphere between us changed, electrified, and heated the air. Bridgett’s tongue darted over her cut lip as she processed what I had said. “You want me to…what?” she asked. “Stay here and be your personal whore?” I paused, thought about it, and decided that yes – that was exactly what I was suggesting. It made sense, in a way. She was here often enough before, and she wouldn’t have to worry about bills and food – just fucking me. That way, it was still just about the sex. More than anything, I’d sleep better if she was here every night, and I couldn’t help but see that as a positive thing. I looked in her eyes. “Stay here,” I said again. “No bills, no pimp, no worries.” “You’re asking me to move in with you.” I hadn’t quite thought of it like that. “I’m saying, instead of me picking you up on some other street corner, you just stay here, and I can fuck you whenever.”

“You can’t be serious.” I watched her look at me and saw the last thing I wanted to see – the desperate need for it to be true. She wanted it. She wanted to stay here – to live with me – not because it was convenient, but just because she wanted to. “It doesn’t change anything,” I told her. “This is still what it is.” “You don’t even try for anything else,” she said quietly. She was right, of course. I didn’t. I wouldn’t, and I won’t – ever. My fingers moved a strand of her hair away from the bruise around her eye. “I don’t have anything else to give you, Bridgett,” I told her. “This is all there is.” There was just no way to make it something it wasn’t.

Chapter 11 – Painful Betrayal “You better git yer ass over there,” Jonathan informed me. “I didn’t get the deets, but Mario was on edge and Rinaldo wasn’t sayin’ a damn thing. I read through his email but didn’t see nothin’ there.” “You hacked the boss’s email?” I rolled my eyes at the phone as I slid into the back seat of the bus. “Are you crazy?” “What? It ain’t hard – the password’s always ‘Luisa’ with a number after her name. He just increments it every month.” “Why does he do that?” “I told him it was safer to change it every month instead of leavin’ it the same.” Another eye roll before I hung up the phone. I could have sworn he did that kind of shit just to prove he could get away with it. I remembered that I hadn’t given him the Save Ferris T-shirt yet and made a mental note to toss it in my car when I got home. It was the first really hot day of spring, and the jacket I wore to conceal my Beretta was too warm for the afternoon sun. I rolled the sleeves up, but I was still sweaty and uncomfortable. I wished I had driven myself for once, but I jumped off the bus and walked the three blocks to Moretti’s office. Mario was there and Terry was just leaving. Rinaldo was standing behind his desk, waiting for me. He motioned for me to come in the office, and Mario stood just to one side of Rinaldo’s desk chair. He gave me a nod, which I returned as I stood at-ease in front of them both. Moretti didn’t waste any time. “You want to tell me why you decided to take out a pimp on my payroll?” Rinaldo asked simply. “No, sir,” I replied. I wasn’t surprised by the question – I kind of assumed it was why Jonathan had told me to high-tail it over here. The only real surprise was that it had taken a week for him to call me out on it. I’d made two other kills for him during that time and had been glad to get back to sniping. “You know his whole stable is all over the place now – a bunch of trained birds scattered to the winds and looking for a cage to nest in. It’s not my favorite line of business, but now some of his property – property I had a vested interest in – is lost.” I looked up at him carefully but couldn’t see any actual anger in his face or posture. He wasn’t thrilled, but he wasn’t all that pissed off, either. I hadn’t expected him to be, but I had still prepared myself for the conversation. “My apologies,” I replied. “You want me to pay for it?” Rinaldo laughed, and the tension in the atmosphere died down. “No,” he said, “I had another task in mind. Something more along the lines you’re most comfortable with achieving. I’ve received some troubling information that a woman has been giving information about my business to Greco’s men. No one seems sure exactly who she is, and I’ll need you to find that out and take care it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. Rinaldo handed me the picture, and I tried not to show any reaction in my face as my mind starting jumping around and doing flips in the air. “You sure this is the target?” I asked. I tapped the edge of the picture with my forefinger. “This girl?” “You think my sources are unreliable?” “No, sir,” I replied. “I’m just…not sure what they’d want with her.” Rinaldo stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Evan, do you have something to tell me? You know this bitch?” I was going to have to play this very carefully. I kept my expression completely lifeless, shrugged one shoulder one time, and then looked to Rinaldo’s face as I tossed Bridgett’s picture back onto the desk. “I’ve been fucking her,” I said simply. “So finding her isn’t an issue.” Rinaldo’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows tried to meet each other in the middle of his head. “Explain,” he said quietly. “She’s a hooker.” “A hooker?” he repeated. “Yes, sir.” His face darkened, and his jaw tightened. He took a step over to his desk chair and sat down heavily. “She belonged to that pimp you killed, hmm?” “Yes, sir.” Rinaldo leaned forward over the desk and pulled at his cuffs to straighten them. “You better tell me everything,” he said quietly. I didn’t like the tone of his voice, not in the slightest. It sounded way too much like the tone he used right before he exiled me to Arizona, and I did not want that happening again. The very thought of him being pissed off – disappointed in me – made my skin crawl. “There isn’t much to tell you, sir,” I informed him. “I’m one of her regular clients. I pick her up on the street; she comes to my apartment. I fuck her, and she leaves. That’s it.” “Until something happens and you kill her pimp.” “He crossed a line,” I replied steadily. “Beat her up, huh?”

I nodded my head once. “Is this the same girl I hear you took out on the town?” Fuck. “Yes, sir,” I admitted. “Sounds like she’s more than just a hooker you fuck.” “No, sir,” I replied. “That is all she is.” He eyed me meaningfully for a moment, and I couldn’t help but see it for what it was – fatherly concern for me. I liked that he did that, even if it was annoying at the same time. I had the feeling it was the way fathers were supposed to behave, and it made me feel strangely warm inside. I’d seen him do the same thing with his daughter on occasion. And with Nick, for that matter. “We’ll see,” he finally said. “Regardless, there’s been talk that this girl is feeding information to one of Greco’s boys about heroin shipments coming in from up north and about the Russian connection who came up dead the other day. Information you are privy to hearing.” My eyes met his, and I knew immediately what he was thinking. “No,” I said definitively. “No, sir. I do not discuss business while I’m fucking whores. Absolutely not.” Our eyes remained locked together as he seemed to be deciding something – most likely my fate. His chest rose as he took in a sharp breath and then huffed it out through his nose. “All right, Arden,” he said. I hated that he was back to calling me by my last name. I glanced towards the door to make sure my face didn’t show how I felt about it. “You find out what’s going on here,” Rinaldo said, and he tapped his finger against the surface of his desk. “If what I’ve been told is correct…” His voice trailed off, and I leveled my gaze at him. “I will take care of it,” I said. I tried to keep my voice completely steady – completely normal. I didn’t though. The very last syllable dropped as my throat went dry. It was enough for him to notice. “Getting close to a girl,” Rinaldo said, “can be a good thing. If you were someone else – someone less complicated – the worst that can happen is you don’t work out. You’re a complicated man, Arden, and you are in a complicated position. Bitches make it even more complicated.” “I’m aware, sir.” “You’re aware,” he mocked. “Will that change anything when someone finds out you give a shit? What better to hold over your head than a warm cunt, huh? You take better care not to show your affection

for her. You’ve done a shit job on that front with that pup of yours.” His dark eyes darkened further as we stared at each other. “You know Greco will use what he can to get at me,” Rinaldo reminded me. “You are a good way to get at me. One of the reasons that makes you ideally suited for your job is because you have no attachments that could be used against you to get to me. You were always careful not to show your affection for the dog in public. You aren’t as careful anymore.” “I’ll remember that,” I said to him, “but that still won’t happen.” At least my voice stayed steady this time because if I thought about it deep inside, I wouldn’t give Odin up. Not a fucking chance. I’d blow them all away first. “You like this girl,” he said. “She’s a whore,” I replied. “And my wife used to dance on a pole in one of my clubs,” he retorted. “Married twenty-five years now with Luisa in our lives. You think that doesn’t concern me sometimes?” “I know it does, sir.” He paused significantly, and I didn’t move. “Divided thoughts,” Rinaldo said softly. “That will never do for you.” I continued to look him squarely in the eye. “I only have one loyalty,” I informed him and then nodded my head towards him. He returned the nod but gave me a long, increasingly sad look. “No good can come of what you’re doing, son,” he said. “One of you will get hurt.” I looked up at my boss and shrugged one shoulder again. The word “son” flowed over my skin and warmed me as I answered him. “It won’t be me.” ***** Finding Bridgett was supposed to be fairly straightforward because she was still supposed to be in my apartment where she was when I left. Like a typical woman, she wasn’t going to be that easy, even if she was a whore. Aside from Odin, the apartment was empty when I got back – no note or anything. She had been there for several days, and though she had gone out before, she usually told me first. I tried her cell, but she didn’t pick up. I took a deep breath, jumped in the Mazda, and cruised around looking for her but to no avail. When I returned, she was still gone. She wasn’t back the next day, either. I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter because there was a lot more I needed to figure out before I talked to her again. If there was even the slightest possibility that

someone was framing her, I had to know who it was and quickly. Who even knew about her? I spent the next several days wandering around town, trying to catalog all the possibilities in my head. As sleep deprivation mounted, my thinking was a little less clear. The main problem was a lot of people knew about her. Just like Moretti had said, I wasn’t being as careful as I usually was. I blamed it on the lack of decent shuteye. I had taken her to all the best spots around the Magnificent Mile on a freaking date, and anyone could have seen us together. Those at the 676 Restaurant and Bar certainly knew about her, as well as the people at the restaurant where we had dinner, and the saleslady at Tiffany’s. Rinaldo knew I had been seeing someone prior to showing me the picture; he just didn’t have a name to put with the face. “Seeing someone?” I shook my head to clear it. Jonathan had picked her up and brought her to my apartment when I was sick. Just like it had been when Greco moved on Rinaldo, I had to consider him. Terry was always a suspect for anything, as far as I was concerned, because he was a douche. For the next several days, I continued to drive around trying to find her. She didn’t appear to have returned to her apartment. None of the other streetwalkers were admitting to seeing her, and she didn’t come back to my place. She seemed to have disappeared completely. I had to consider that it was all true, and the very thought sent me to the shooting range. The idea was so distasteful, I pushed it out of my tired mind, missed the bull’s-eye twice, and left in a pissier mood than when I had arrived. I just couldn’t keep myself occupied anymore. With no better direction, I continued to consider who knew of my relationship – however that was to be defined – with Bridgett. Pete, the security guy in the apartment lobby – he saw her come up here to the apartment all the time. He’d been having trouble a few months ago with his wife, but I never followed up on the details. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he did something. Why did I continue to assume she was being framed? Because that made the most sense. If someone had seen me with her, then they might think they could use her to get to me. What easier way would they have than to plant the idea in someone’s head that she’s divulging information to Greco? I also couldn’t fathom the alternative. Bridgett wouldn’t betray me; I was sure of that. She wanted to live with me and set up house, for Christ’s sakes. She wouldn’t tell other people about my business. I never told her about shit I was doing, so there wasn’t even anything for her to tell. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I was getting a headache from the lack of sleep. I

hadn’t had two hours of sleep in a row for a week, maybe more. I was starting to lose track of time a little. I pulled out the phone logs Eddie Boy had dropped by – all paper copies instead of electronic. I couldn’t take a risk of the information being intercepted electronically. I was combing through Jonathan’s a bit more, and anytime I used my computer, he seemed to know about it. I didn’t find anything interesting or unusual at all, except that he’d been calling his dad a lot. Focusing was becoming more difficult, and I knew it was making it harder for me to figure out what the hell was going on with Bridgett and Greco, assuming there was a connection at all. That knowledge didn’t offer me any answers, though, nor did it help me sleep. Sleep. “You talk in your sleep.” “What the fuck? I do not.” “Not often, but you have – a couple of times.” “What if I said something when I was sleeping?” No. No way. “If I talked about Iraq, I could have said anything.” Odin snuffed at my shoe, and I realized I had been talking out loud. I reached down to rub the top of his head while my brain started forming a less-than-pleasant picture. My eyes moved across the rooms in the apartment until they came to rest on my laptop, which I hadn’t even had time to use for surfing since all of this started. I walked over to it carefully, like I was afraid of what might happen when I opened it. As the screen refreshed, the user ID and password screen popped up with the user ID already saved. I entered my password incorrectly. Incorrect password! You have reached the maximum attempts, and your account is now locked. Please contact your system administrator for assistance. There were supposed to be three attempts. Always three attempts with three warnings before the system would lock you out on the fourth try. Someone had already tried, received the message, and then stopped. Unless Odin had some opposable thumbs hidden in his shaggy fur, there was only one other person who had been in my apartment. “Motherfucker.” A few phone calls and a bus ride later, I was in front of Moretti. “You found something.” “Not exactly,” I admitted, “but there is a…a possibility.”

He looked at me and waited for me to go on. I didn’t miss Mario slightly shift in his footing, placing his weight at an easier distribution if he needed to draw his gun. I didn’t think it was going to be necessary, but it depended on how Moretti took my news. Full disclosure. “It was more than fucking with that whore,” I told him bluntly. His expression didn’t show any surprise, but I also knew it wasn’t what he was thinking. “She also…well, sir, she slept with me.” Mario snickered, and I glared at him. He raised both eyebrows back at me. “Isn’t that the same thing?” he asked. “I mean, she’d stay at my apartment overnight,” I clarified. “She slept in my bed with me, lots of times.” Moretti leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “What did you tell her?” Rinaldo asked coldly. “Nothing,” I swore. “Nothing intentionally.” Mario shifted again. “I just remembered something she said a while ago – something she said about me.” “And what might that be?” I took a deep breath. “She said I talked in my sleep.” Mario laughed out loud, and I considered just shooting the bastard, but that wasn’t going to help me out here. “I haven’t confirmed anything,” I told him, “but I admit there’s a…a possibility she heard something. I just need to know who told you she was squealing because that could help me figure all of this out.” Rinaldo nodded his head. “You aren’t going to like it,” he said. It was all I needed to hear. “Terry Kramer.” Rinaldo’s lips tuned up in a sardonic smile. “You believed him,” I said, trying not to sound accusatory. “He had good information,” Rinaldo corrected. “He knew things he shouldn’t know about.” “I’ve caught him following me.” “Then you do have some detective work ahead of you,” my boss agreed. “I want whoever passed

sensitive information from my organization to Greco’s dead. As long as that is your end goal, whose head you bring me isn’t of consequence.” “I’ll take care of it,” I promised. Moretti leaned forward on the desk and gazed at me. I tried to be patient, but all I really wanted to do was figure out what the hell was going on and kill whoever was trying to turn the small amount of comfort I had found upside down. “You know what you need, Evan?” Rinaldo questioned. I shook my head. “A good woman, that’s what. A woman who is actually capable of getting through that thick head of yours.” I half smiled and blew a sharp breath out of my nose. I blinked away thoughts of the flowing dark hair of the woman in the cabin. “You got any suggestions, boss?” He looked me in the face, and his expression changed as his smile faltered. His face became a mask of worry as he motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite his desk and told Mario to wait outside. I sat down somewhat hesitantly. As soon as I sat, the heavy feeling of near unconsciousness shoved inside my brain and made me feel like I was going to fall over. I was pretty sure if I closed my eyes even for a second, I’d fall over onto the floor. The problem was I’d be awake ten minutes later – sweating and maybe even screaming. I had to get some sleep. “I’ll tell you something, Evan,” Rinaldo said as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. “There is something I was considering.” “Considering, sir?” “My daughter, Luisa.” My muscles wanted to stiffen significantly, but I forced myself to remain still and calm. Something wasn’t right – he wasn’t smiling or anything like he might have been if he was going to suggest I date her, but he didn’t seem angry at all like he might have thought I touched her without permission. I couldn’t read him – not at all. I definitely needed some sleep. I was totally off my game. “Your daughter, sir?” “You know her.” It was a statement, not a question, but I nodded anyway. “You are only three years apart in age,” he remarked. “She is a beautiful girl.” Again, I nodded as I watched him closely, but he wasn’t giving me any signs to indicate where this

conversation was going. My hands went clammy, and I could feel my heart pounding in my wrists. “I considered you for her,” he finally said. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk as his hands folded beneath his chin. “I considered you for a long time.” Considered – past tense. Considered only – not offering. I had done something wrong, but I had no idea what he was getting at. Was it because of my fuckup last year? I thought all had been forgiven at this point. Did finding Ashton’s body somehow cause concerns? Every indication in the news said the authorities were stumped. Because I killed the fucking pimp? It wasn’t that I wanted Luisa. She was beautiful and obviously from a very powerful family, and that came with a whole lot of perks I found interesting, no doubt. However, I didn’t want her any more than I wanted any other woman in my life. Well, except maybe one. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just kept the eye contact and waited. I had to be pretty damn patient, too. “In many ways, you are the perfect choice,” he said quietly when he finally decided I had sweated it out enough. “I have no son – so this is all hers.” Rinaldo waved his hand around the room, but of course he didn’t mean the office or the building – he meant all of the businesses. I raised a brow but wasn’t stupid enough to ask about Nick at that point. Biology aside, he wasn’t going to let the illegitimate child that far inside. He was lenient enough with the guy as it was. “Luisa is a strong woman like her mother, and she could take care of it, but having a man such as yourself looking after her would be a substantial bonus. It would keep those who might believe her to be an easier target at bay. There are also some who might feel a woman is not to be taken seriously, and I would trust you to take care of anyone who insulted her.” “Thank you, sir.” He went quiet for a moment. “I trust you with my life, Evan,” he said. “My life – the life of my daughter, the running of any of my businesses – I would trust you to be loyal to this family as much as I would anyone who shared our blood. Yes, in many ways you would be the perfect choice for her.” His lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed. I felt my muscles tense a bit because I knew the answer was coming. His focus on me was acute and palpable. “You would never love her, though,” he said, “would you?” I blinked a couple of times. “What, sir?” “You would never love my daughter,” he said again. “Even this hooker you killed for, you don’t have any real feelings for her at all, do you?”

“I…I don’t understand.” “If you had gone back to your apartment, found a letter from her saying she was moving out of the city, and you never saw her again, would you care?” I didn’t even know how to answer. “I didn’t think so,” Rinaldo said. “That’s why you will never touch my daughter. I hope you’ll always be there to protect her if I am unable to do so myself.” “Of course,” I responded immediately. “That you understand,” he commented. “Killing to keep her safe – you know just what to do with those instructions. But matters of the heart? You’re lacking there, son.” My chest tightened up, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Cold sweat had formed on the back of my neck and trickled between my shoulder blades. The rest of my body tensed completely before I could stop it. I tasted sand in the back of my throat, but when I tried to swallow past the sensation, I couldn’t. “You don’t even really understand what I mean, do you?” he asked. “You don’t let anyone in that head long enough for you to understand them or to let them understand you.” “I have a shrink,” I heard myself say. “I know,” Rinaldo replied. “I know everything, Evan. You don’t think I’d let your past not be of my utmost concern?” “I…I never thought about it.” I hadn’t, either, and now the sleepy feeling waned as it was replaced by feelings of stupidity. “You endured more than most men ever will,” Rinaldo said quietly. “You’ve had it worse than anyone you ever killed. They died quick and easy. You’ve been dying since they brought you home from that war.” I forced myself to swallow hard and found I was having a hard time looking at his face. “You are going to crack someday, aren’t you, Lieutenant?” My eyes flashed to Rinaldo’s, and I couldn’t stop my hands from clenching into fists. The anger boiling inside of me had nowhere to go, and I was dangerously close to letting it loose on the one man whom I didn’t want to hurt. Had Mario been in the room, he would have noticed. He would have seen how close I was, and he probably would have shot me. Rinaldo only nodded slowly and sat back again. “If there comes a time I need to put you down, I will,” he said. “If there comes a time you want me to put you down, you let me know. You can go now, son.” I stood up, trying not to let my knees wobble as I did. I turned and walked as quickly as I could out of the room, trying not to comprehend what Rinaldo Moretti had just said to me. *****

I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. Even though spring was in full force, the temperature had fallen and the wind was bone-chilling. I dropped down on the bench inside the dog run and unhooked Odin’s leash from his collar, so he could run around and sniff at the other neighborhood dogs. I needed to think – my head was just too jumbled up with all the recent information inside of it, but every time I tried to figure out what was happening to me, my head ached and reminded me how long it had been since I’d slept. Well, kind of reminded me. I’d really lost track of how long it had been. I couldn’t focus anymore – that’s what I knew. I jumped at fucking everything, too, just like I had in the hospital after I had been brought back from the Middle East. It had been years since I felt that kind of paranoia, and I wasn’t even sure how to begin to cope with it. Where did things start going wrong? Without warning, Lia’s face came back into my head, and for once I just let it happen. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bench as the whole time she was with me raced through my brain. I remembered seeing her out there on the dry, dusty road walking aimlessly towards my cabin, and I remembered thinking I might just have to shoot her. I didn’t do it – I made her dinner instead. Once night fell, she crawled into the little twin bed and I ended up inside of her minutes later – really inside of her. I didn’t push for a blowjob or anal – we just had straight sex. No condom, no barriers, no pretenses. I came in her over and over again, and I couldn’t get enough. Even though I had told her I’d be there when she got back, I knew it wasn’t something I could ever have. I didn’t get the kind of promises she could offer. I didn’t deserve them. According to Rinaldo, I didn’t even understand that sort of shit. I did, though. I knew exactly what I was missing. Why did I keep thinking about her? I didn’t want to think about her. I’d been spending all my time since I left the cabin in Arizona doing things to stop myself from thinking about her, and it still wasn’t working. Whether I was sweating at the gym, researching the next target, or firing at the shooting range, she was always in my head. Silk-soft hair running down her back, easy smile that made my heart beat faster for no reason at all, and that shy, quick blush that had my cock ready to go again at a moment’s notice. From right behind me, the obnoxious sound of the parking garage door warning system went off and brought me out of the memory. I scowled over my shoulder at the car that moved out of the garage and around the loop North Field Boulevard made as it circled the park. The garage door went back down again. What was I going to do about Bridgett? Did she really hear things I said in my sleep and tell Greco’s men about them? Who did she even know in his organization? I couldn’t quite fathom how she could have hidden such things from me, but then again, I was usually completely exhausted by the time I went to pick her up.

I remembered how quickly she talked about going to work over by the warehouses and considered maybe she had been working for them the whole time. Maybe her connection had always been there. Maybe she contacted Terry. I wasn’t sure. They had both completely disappeared. That didn’t make sense, though. What would she have been doing on Melvin’s corner, then? Not waiting for me – I had never even picked up a girl at that location before. I had always gone further south and used one of the hotels you could pay for by the hour. She was chosen because I was in a hurry, wanted to fuck her at my apartment, and because she had the roundest ass of the group. There was no way that was a plant. Someone had to have gotten to her after they realized I was fucking her regularly. I was back to the list of those who knew about her and frustrated that I had been so stupid as to take her out in public where we could have been seen by anyone. It made the list insane. Top possibilities, then. Melvin. Jonathan. Terry. Mario. One of the other hookers – Candy, maybe. What did I know about her? Michele with one “L” at the bar. There were too many and very little else to go on. Maybe I needed to figure out just which one of Greco’s boys was getting the information and see if that led me in the right direction. Something had to show itself, but it wasn’t going to happen out here in the park. The parking garage door was going to drive me over the edge before I came to any reasonable conclusions. I grabbed Odin and headed back upstairs, knowing there was one name that came up more than anyone else’s. Only name that really made any sense. Terry Kramer. His phone logs were far more interesting than Jonathan’s with several to a prepaid phone that seemed to find itself in the vicinity of my apartment pretty frequently, especially at night when a certain hooker should have been asleep in my bed. I dug back to earlier in the year and found two calls to Bridgett’s number from the last surviving payphone in Chicago, as far as I knew, which happened to be near Terry’s place. There was no doubt that Terry would look for an excuse to get me run out of Moretti’s organization – I was his superior in skill and position, and he knew it. As long as I was around and the favorite, he couldn’t move up from where he was – nothing more than a two-bit thug. Was Terry stupid enough to be working for the competition or just trying to get me out of the way? My hands were jittery, and I was starting to feel really nauseated. I lay myself down to try to get some sleep, but it didn’t come easily. When it finally arrived, it brought forth some of the worst of the

nightmares, and I woke sweating with a scream in my throat. I took the dog out for a midnight walk to clear my head. It wasn’t particularly successful, but it was probably better than nothing. My cell phone began to ring just as Odin and I returned to the apartment. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it. “Evan?” I froze just inside the doorway, paused for a moment and then reached down to unhook Odin’s leash. I wanted to yell and scream, but I knew I had to at least appear calm. “Bridgett. You’ve been a little out of touch.” My voice was cold. “I need to see you,” she said quietly. “I need to talk to you.” “Where are you?” “Would you meet me somewhere?” She didn’t want to come here or have me pick her up. She wanted to meet somewhere – somewhere else, somewhere not alone. Could she be any more suspicious? “Where?” “What about that place you took me on Michigan Avenue? The bar with the martinis and the waffles?” “676,” I said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I knew what she was doing – trying to get me to meet her in a public place because she had something to say she knew I wasn’t going to like hearing and she was afraid of my reaction. The fact that she had stooped to such a level didn’t give me any kind of calming feeling. I was as tense as I could be. “What did she fucking do?” I took the Audi, drove up to the valet in front of the Omni, gave the guy a fifty to just hold my car there for a minute, and headed into the lobby. When I turned the corner to head upstairs, I saw Bridgett right by the elevator, waiting for it to arrive and carry her upstairs. Not going to happen. I walked over swiftly, took her by the elbow, and began to lead her back to the front of the building. As I had hoped, she was taken off guard enough that she didn’t have time to scream or consider what was happening until I had her outside the building. “Evan–” she started, but I shushed her. “Not a fucking word,” I growled. “Don’t you say anything; don’t you do anything. Just get in the fucking car.” I escorted her around to where the valet was holding open the door, seated her with a smile, and

then quickly climbed into my side. I drove off before anyone had a chance to even consider what had just happened. “Evan,” Bridgett whispered from the other side of the car. I glanced sideways at her, my jaw tight. “Tell me,” I snapped. “Tell me everything. Tell me how you know Greco, and tell me what your relationship with him is. Tell me what the fuck you think you are doing!” The precious little grasp I had over my emotions was waning, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to stop it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried. As I looked ahead into traffic, I could still see her press herself against the car door like she might jump out and make a run for it. It wouldn’t work, though. I wouldn’t let that happen. “I came back; you were gone.” I turned around the block and started heading down Grand, over the bridge, and towards the boss’s office. “You want to start by explaining that?” “I-I-I went outside,” she said. “I just wanted to get some air, but he was there. He said I had to go with him, and we went to an office building – he had a room there in the basement.” “What office?” “Just a small one,” she said quietly. “It was brick and didn’t have any windows at all.” Could he really have been hiding out in the basement of the boss’s main office building? Had he been there, right under my feet the whole time I was looking for him? Was it even who I suspected? “Who?” I demanded. “What’s his name?” She didn’t answer. “Who did you go with?” I snarled through clenched teeth. I already knew the answer. The little fucker had been trolling around my apartment, and he had sucked Bridgett into whatever his sick little game was to take my position in Moretti’s organization. “Take my position in his life.” “What?” Bridgett whispered. “Tell me his name!” “His name is Terry! I didn’t know him. He just found me!” “And you told him what?” “I didn’t want to tell him anything,” she said. “I stopped talking to him a long time ago.” The cold feeling I always associate with what it must feel like to drown coated me from my head to my feet. My knuckles went white as my hands gripped the steering wheel, and I made a quick turn towards the boss’s office building.

“A long time ago?” I repeated. “Yes,” she whispered back. “He used to…to ask me about you all the time.” “What did you tell him?” I asked in a low voice. “Nothing,” she replied. I didn’t believe a word of it. We were nearing Moretti’s primary office building, and the parking lot behind it was devoid of any cars this late at night. I pulled up to the side of the building near the door and then thought better of it. “What are you doing?” Ignoring Bridgett’s question, I maneuvered the car back behind the row of dumpsters on the far side of the lot instead. I got the car mostly out of sight before turning it off. “You have to explain,” I informed her. “It doesn’t make any fucking sense, and you have to explain it!” “Please, Evan, you’re scaring me!” I looked over to my passenger and smiled. “Maybe you ought to be scared,” I suggested. “Get out.” “How did you know this was the place?” she asked. “Just get out of the car.” Moving swiftly around the Audi, I made it to the other side before she was completely out the door. I took her elbow again and led her across the lot and down the back stairs to the basement. There weren’t many rooms down there, and Bridgett showed me which one she had been staying in. I’d been in it before once or twice, though it didn’t serve any specific purpose. There was a time I recalled some goods being stored there very briefly before they were moved over to the docks by the river for shipment, but that was it. Now there was a twin sized bed in the room, a small table, and a suitcase with women’s clothes in it. The whole scene reminded me of Arizona, which made my already pissed-off self angrier. There was no one there. “Damnit.” I turned back to Bridgett. “How do you know him?” I interrogated. “Who?” My hand reached back into my jeans and wrapped around the handle of my Beretta. I pulled my arm back around and pushed it against her shoulder as her face twisted into terror. “Do not,” I said, “play any fucking games with me. Tell me how you know Terry Kramer before I put a hole in your head.”

“I didn’t know what he wanted!” she said. “He kept following me and telling me he needed to talk to me. He said I couldn’t tell you about it, or we’d both end up dead. He said if I just told him what you told me, then…then…” “Then what?” I snarled. “Did he pay you?” “No!” “Did you fuck him?” The very idea that Terry, the motherfucking piss-ant wannabe, had his cock in her made me livid. She didn’t answer, which was answer enough. I leaned forward and slammed my hand against the wall right next to her head. “Tell me why you did it!” I screamed. “What did you tell him, and why did you do it?” “He said…he said he’d kill you if I didn’t cooperate!” she finally cried. “You…you thought he was a threat to me?” What had been a cold snarl escalated into a scream. “That little fuck was somehow a danger to me? Me?” “He…he….he said–” Her words were too choked to be understandable. “I-I-I thought–” “I don’t give a fuck what he said!” I screamed back in her face. “There is nothing – nothing – he could have said that would ever, ever make you…make you…” I couldn’t even say the words. Like some kind of primordial ooze making its way out of the ocean, Terry chose that moment to walk into the dimly lit room. There was no consideration to my actions. No thought behind them – just movement and quick, practiced muscle memory. My arm rose. My gun aimed at his face. I pulled the trigger. Bridgett stifled her scream as Terry’s face exploded in blood and his body hit the floor. “You see how big a fucking threat he is?” I growled as I turned back to her. My head was spinning. The pit of my stomach felt heavy, and the back of my throat tasted sour. I felt like I was trapped in some never-ending fog, and I couldn’t see in which direction I should go. There was no end or beginning in sight and no answers in any direction. “You never really said anything to me.” Bridgett’s voice was barely audible. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think what I said to him was a big deal, and he always seemed happy enough with what I had to leave you alone…leave us alone.” The drowning feeling came over me again, and my eyes burned as I pointed the business end of the Beretta towards Bridgett. “You fucking betrayed me,” I said.

“No, no!” she cried as she shook her head violently. “Evan – no! I didn’t; I swear! I never meant it like that!” “But that’s what it was,” I said. “You were right there in my bed listening to shit I said when I was asleep. Then you took what you thought he’d find interesting, and you told him about it.” “I didn’t think any of it was important,” she whispered through her tears. “I thought if he kept hearing all this stuff that didn’t matter, he’d leave me alone – leave us alone!” “Us?” I laughed, but there was nothing friendly or amusing about the sound. I tilted my arm up and tapped the side of my head with the barrel of the weapon. “You were delusional from the beginning, weren’t you? Was this your way of getting closer, huh? Be a part of the business, but on the wrong side?” “No…Evan, I swear!” “Yeah, your promises aren’t holding any weight at the moment.” My head throbbed along with my heart, and nausea crept up from my stomach to the back of my throat. “What kind of stuff did I say?” “Nothing important,” she said quietly, her eyes refusing to meet with mine. “Sure.” I flavored the word with enough sarcasm to drown a horse. “That’s why he kept coming back for more. That’s why you’re shacked up with him now.” I could tell by the way her eyes widened that she knew exactly what I meant. I nodded, knowing that my deductive skills were still in full effect – just like they always were. My chest tightened, and the nasty taste in the back of my mouth worsened. My temples throbbed, and for a moment I couldn’t see anything around me. “Evan, please…” Her voice trailed off. My feet stumbled slightly; I regained my balance, and faced her fully. “Please what?” I yelled. My arm rose up, and the Beretta in my hand found its barrel pointed in her direction again. “What exactly do you want? More information?” “No! I don’t want anything, please – just let me go!” “Let me go! Please, just let me go!” “Not until you tell us what we want to know!” “There weren’t any more units! Ours was the only one!” “We found two others near you, so I know you lie.” A blow to my head rattles in my skull. “I wasn’t privy to…to any…information…” “You’re an officer!” I grunt as a sack full of hard, lumpy objects makes contact with my stomach again. It moves around to my kidneys with another blow, and then the lower half of my chest, knocking the wind from me and causing me to vomit onto the sand…

“Let you go,” I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.” The noise in the small room was deafening. I dropped to my knees, and the cold cement floor sent a shockwave through my body as she slumped to the floor against the wall. I looked to her face and the neat hole in the center of her forehead, willing the impossible. “Fuck…no…” My mouth and throat felt as though they were filled with sand, and I coughed to try to rid myself of it. I could feel it – taste it – but when I touched my fingers to my tongue, there was nothing there. I couldn’t swallow, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe, either. “What the fuck did you do?” I coughed again, and the coughing turned into choking. Choking sobs that were completely uncontrollable filled the air as my Beretta dropped to the floor with a clang. I scrambled for it quickly, cradling it against my body. “Why did you do it?” I screamed at the slumped figure in front of me. “Why did you listen to him? Why?” There was no answer. There would never be an answer. Like so many other questions, I’d never know the real answer. My fingers reached out and touched hers, as if somehow that would make any difference. It didn’t, and though they were still warm, I knew they would be cold soon enough. “I told you it was going to end this way,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” Too many whys. I dropped back on my ass, wrapped my arms around my knees, and began to rock back and forth. I didn’t understand what was happening inside me, and I didn’t like it. My thoughts couldn’t seem to stay in one place, and instead, they bounced around from one memory to another. The first time I saw her on the street corner. The feel of her fingers across my chest in the shower. The scent of her skin. Holding her against me as we slept. Would I ever sleep again? There was just no way I was going to survive this.

Chapter 12 – Lost Sanity My feet felt oddly disconnected as I plodded up the stairs of the CTA 146 bus heading north. It was pretty much completely full, and I had to stand there holding the bar for a couple of stops before there was a seat available. At the next stop, a bunch more people got on again, and I could barely see anything except asses. A little girl nearly fell in front of me as she tripped over people’s feet, and her father leaned down to pick her up and hold her to his chest. After a couple more stops, they also found seats right at the back. She was an African-American girl of about four years old, and her head was covered with a hat that looked like it had been cut from one of those fuzzy bathroom rugs in bright pink. There were two long pieces of fuzzy fabric that I figured were supposed to form a scarf, but instead of wrapping around her neck, they just hung down on her shoulders. At the end of them were felt pieces made to look like an animal’s face. It was obviously warm and looked both ridiculous and adorably cute all at the same time. What the fuck did I do? More people crowded on, and the driver yelled at everyone to step toward the back of the bus to make more room. A couple in Muslim garb slipped past some of the other people standing in the middle of the aisle and moved near the back door to my right. She wore a black dress, and her head was covered in bright blue fabric. He was in a button-down white shirt with a high collar, and his beard was dark and full. I wasn’t so far gone as to believe that the pair were Al Qaida sympathizers or insurgents just because of the way they were dressed or what holy book they happened to read on which day and in which building. Usually my reaction was no more than a slight flinch if they got too close, and then I would be silently berating myself for a couple minutes about being stupid. This time was a little different. I reached up and rubbed my hand over my face to rid myself of the sweat forming on my forehead. My eyes looked back towards the other end of the bus, but the hairs on the back of my neck continued to stand up and tickle at the inside of my head. My bladder felt the need to empty itself, and when I closed my eyes it all came back. Middle of the afternoon, just east of base but right along the border. Insurgents had been taking potshots at the base, and we’d already had one suicide bomber blown to bits near the motor pool. Send in the snipers. We’re tasked with taking out the guys hiding in the hills, but the day’s been a wash. No people, no shooting. “Where are you going, LT?” “Thirty seconds, Private,” I respond. “Nature calls.” He laughs nervously, and I move around the end of the pale beige building. I flip my rifle over to my back and release my dick from my fatigues. Something doesn’t feel right, but I shake off the

feeling, and I sigh as a steady stream wets the sand in front of me. Shots. Screams. The perimeter alarm begins to blare. Trying to get my rifle back around my shoulder while simultaneously getting my dick into my pants. I stumble backwards, right myself, and then aim my weapon as I move around the building. Bodies everywhere. Ortega, Matthews, Davis, Ryans – all on the ground, none moving. Pain in the back of my head, and the sand rushes up to connect with my face. My eyes flew open, and I had to blink several times to get myself back into the present. The bus was even more crowded than before, and the Muslim couple had moved closer to me. My chest tightened as I tried to take a calming breath and failed. “She’s dead.” The guy across from me looked up and narrowed his eyes a little, but I ignored him. The bus stopped again, and though I hoped the couple might get off at this stop, they didn’t. Instead, a guy in a camouflage-colored coat stepped on, and I felt myself tense. It wasn’t desert camo, at least, but for some reason it still set my heart beating faster. I looked away quickly and crossed my arms in front of myself. As I closed my eyes and gripped my biceps with my fingers, I could feel Bridgett’s phantom fingers run down the side of my face, cooling my heated skin when I was sick. “Stop it.” But it didn’t stop. The rumbling of the seat below me felt like the aftershocks of bombs going off around me. The sound of the bus against the street as it took off again was transformed to tank movements on grimy sand. The bus lurched to a stop, and I felt myself bump into the woman next to me on the bench seat. Again, my muscles tensed, and the butt end of my weapon dug into my back. I considered pulling it out of my waistband. Of course, everyone would have been able to see it then – not such a great move. Was it? I closed my eyes again, and various visions of high school shootings and gunmen from rooftops invaded my head. Despite the carnage of the scenes played for everyone’s viewing in the media, my mind found peace with the idea. There was always the same ending to the instigator of that kind of violence. End being the focus. “Tired.” Tired of playing this role, tired of just moving through the city like I was some kind of god or

demon here to bring Rinaldo Moretti’s version of justice to those who crossed my path. None of it even mattered to me – all I got out of it was a wad of cash and a twisted idea of loyalty to someone who told me I did a good job and occasionally called me “son.” When I opened my eyes, the Muslim woman was looking at me. My already tense body coiled, and my hand slipped down to the end of the seat – closer to my weapon. I had seven rounds loaded and two more clips on me. My mind counted how many people I could take out with what I had. I could easily build a barrier of bodies around myself. How would that look to the woman who was eyeing me? Would she try to come at me? Would she throw herself in front of her husband or he in front of her? It wouldn’t make any difference. They would both die. So would the guy wearing that stupid camo coat and the plethora of oblivious teens with their earbuds shoved into their ears and their electronic devices shoved in their faces. They had no idea what was going on around them, and it was about time for someone to wake them all up. I couldn’t save those in my unit – couldn’t protect them. There was nothing I could do now – no one to save, no one to protect. The deaths would be meaningless and senseless – every last one of them. All deaths were. My fingers reached behind my back and touched the warm handle of my Beretta. It felt good. I maneuvered the weapon around to my front, though still underneath my jacket. My mind continued to swim around me, but there wasn’t any war going on inside. Even when I tried to come up with shit I might regret not knowing or not doing, I couldn’t come up with much. I wished I had a pizza for lunch instead of the damn hotdog I’d grabbed from a cart. I wished I’d seen that new GI Joe movie that was supposed to come out soon – the previews looked good, and I had always liked GI Joe. My head moved up slowly, and I opened my eyes. There really wasn’t any reason to delay. “It’s decided.” This was how it was going to end. I looked around from right to left, starting with the Muslim couple. My eyes traversed the teens, the camo-coated guy, a woman with a Macy’s shopping bag, and the guy holding his little girl. The little girl’s eyes left her father and focused on me. Our gazes locked on each other, and the fuzz of the pink hat blew around in the wind from the bus doors as they opened and closed at the next stop. My heart beat louder in my chest, and I could feel the blood flowing rapidly through my veins. I didn’t know how long she and I just looked at each other. I only knew that she would be collateral damage in my half-assed plan. The doors of the bus opened, and the fuzzy hat blew around in the cool breeze again. I shoved off the seat, pushed my gun into the front waistband of my pants, and got the fuck off the bus. I was far past my own stop – up north on Michigan Avenue near the John Hancock Observatory. I

crossed the street but didn’t bother to get on another bus – it seemed risky. My feet carried me past the Water Works and the Columbia sportswear store. I went by Tiffany’s and Co and tried not to think of my date with Bridgett. The smell of tomato sauce and cheese dragged me into a nearby pizzeria, where I ordered a cheese stuffed pizza with extra sauce, ate half of it, and then leaned back and wondered if my stomach was going to explode. I walked back home and dropped down to the floor as Odin came up to me and whined. He sniffed at my hands, and I swear he knew what I had done. “I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t even know why I did it.” My throat tightened, choking off my words. “I could have taken a piss on the other side of the building where I might have seen them coming up. If I had, I could have taken them out from there – lots of cover.” Dizziness tried to knock me further to the ground, but I fought my way back to my feet. Maybe I was dehydrated – my throat was certainly dry. After guzzling a bottle of water, I decided to take Odin outside. He wagged his tail at me, and I felt like a total schmuck for not even thinking about what would happen to him if I was gone. I rubbed his shaggy head and attached the leash to his collar. The weather was about the perfect temperature for his coat, and he seemed pretty thrilled when I didn’t steer us towards the park but headed out down Wacker and towards Navy Pier. It was a good distance, but Odin loved to walk out by the lake. He moved towards a group of seagulls, and I ran with him so he could chase them. My feet pounded the ground, and my head filled with memories. Heavy artillery fire and an explosion. I can barely lift my head at this point, but I want to know what’s going on outside. Something big. Something noisy. I can only hope whatever it is will finally end me. There is shouting, the sound of feet running, and the added sound of a helicopter way too close to the ground. More explosions, more shouting – this time in English, but I assume that is nothing more than a dream – another hallucination. I can’t even pretend I still have hope. Tired from the run, we walked back to the apartment. I fed Odin and sat down at my computer to check email. Maybe if I just kept myself occupied with the mundane, I could manage to pull out of this. “You killed her. She fucking trusted you – depended on you.” “Shut up.” Email never changed.

Some attorney in the UK was sure I was the long lost relative of some Irish land baron and would like to send me a lot of money. The Art Institute had free admission to Chicago residents to the Picasso exhibit on Monday. The place where I just had dinner wants me to save ten bucks on my next visit. Nothing interesting, so I closed it and sat on the couch for a while, flipping through channels. It didn’t work, of course. I even tried some pay-per-view-porn, but it did nothing for me. My head was pounding too much. “Better off with a hooker; they’re just not better off with you.” “Shut up.” I had to do something to clear my head, so I grabbed Odin’s leash and led him back outside and over to the dog run. The sun was beginning to fade behind the buildings, but there was still plenty of daylight and lots of people around. The kids on the playground were loud, but all seemed to be having fun. The damn parking garage door sang out to all around that a car was about to exit, and I tensed at the blaring noise. Shaking my head to clear it, I sat numbly on the bench and let Odin do his thing. My head was still throbbing, and I rubbed my fingers over my temples. When I brought them back down again, I saw a spatter of blood on my thumb. “Is it hers? His?” I rubbed at it and then laughed at myself. “Out, out, damn spot!” “Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!” My arms tightened around my body, and I doubled over a bit. I hadn’t realized it before, but the sound was just a little too close to the perimeter alarm that blared in the middle of the night, signifying that someone had breached the exterior of our base. It was usually a false alarm, but it still woke everyone up. “Too tired. Need sleep.” Odin ran up and slobbered on my leg. “Disgusting,” I told him, but I rubbed his head anyway. With our connection reaffirmed, he ran over to a yippie terrier and chased it around a tree with funky orange bark. The damn garage door behind me went up again, accompanied by the detestable and continuous warning sounds. My back and shoulders tensed, and my heart rate increased. My mind continued to flash back and forth – the Iraqi desert, Bridgett’s body on the floor of my boss’s office building, Lia’s moans as I slid inside of her, and the taste of sand. It was too much…just too much.

“Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!” “Motherfucker!” I growled low as the sound from behind me made my teeth clench. My right index finger gripped back against my palm, letting me know what my body wanted. The woman who apparently owned the yippie terrier glanced over at me dubiously. My eyes met hers, and I held her gaze until she looked away. She quickly moved herself and her dog to the other side of the small park. “Like that’s gonna help you.” Thirty seconds after it stopped, the blaring, beeping sound began again. I capitulated to the growing need inside of me. Whistling for Odin, I snapped his leash back on his collar and marched across the park to my apartment building. Odin whined at me and actually pulled back a bit at his leash, which he never did. I glanced back at him, and he nearly cowered. I didn’t have time for that, though. I had other things to do, so I hauled him to the building against his will. “Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered as the elevator took forever to get to my floor. I pressed the button several dozen times, but it didn’t seem to help. As soon as the doors opened, I hauled Odin down the hallway and into my apartment. I released his leash, filled his water dish, and then turned to something far more desirable. In my bedroom closet, way in the back, were my desert fatigues. I hadn’t worn them since my forced retirement, but they still fit pretty well. I pulled the dog tags that sat at the bottom of the ceramic dish on my dresser over my head, and then I turned back to the closet. Odin whined from the doorway. I pulled my Barrett rifle out of its duffle bag, assembled it, and opened up my balcony door. I knelt down on the ground and opened up the bipod to stabilize the weapon and then lay down behind it. With my feet sticking out through the balcony rails on one side, I took careful aim across the park through the scope. I placed the cross hairs right at the light next to the door and waited. It was only a minute or two before the light started to blink, the door started to open, and the bleep bleep bleep warning signal screeched across the area. “You are going to crack someday, aren’t you, Lieutenant?” “Sure am.” I fired. The light exploded, but the noise continued. In a smooth arch, I moved my aim and fired at a box to the left of the door, which sent shrapnel around the sidewalk but still didn’t end the noise. There was another small electric box up near the corner of the garage door, and my third shot destroyed it and left the park in blessed electronic silence. The people noise, however, increased significantly.

There was screaming from around the park, people rushing out of the Mexican restaurant at the end of the strip mall, and barking dogs from the dog run. There was a row of windows in the red brick building that housed the offending garage, and I blew them out one by one. The glass fell to the sidewalk and shattered further as spent cases began to cover my balcony. The parents of children on the playground wrapped their arms around their offspring and ducked under slides and swings. Owners tried to leash their dogs and get out of the open. I switched to a new magazine and then kept firing. My ears were ringing, and I could hear Odin barking from the room behind me, but I shut out everything I could. The remaining windows in the building shattered as I fired repeatedly. It was just me, the trigger, and the recoil of the weapon against my shoulder. I wanted more, though. The crosshairs found one of the restaurant patrons, and I focused right above her eye. “You don’t even know her.” I shook my head, closed my eyes tightly, and tried to catch my breath. “And you’re fucking talking to yourself!” I spat back. I looked down the scope again, but the woman had disappeared inside. Refocusing, the crosshairs found the woman with the terrier. She had scooped up the small dog and was running across the park with a couple other screamers. I was pretty sure I could take them both out in one shot. “Why? What’s the fucking purpose?” “Shut up!” My hands started to shake, and sweat poured from my forehead into my eyes. I hadn’t put on a bandana to keep it away, and my accuracy was going to suffer. The shaking was totally fucking me up when it came to placing the crosshair over my target, and when I fired, I missed completely. Sirens. “Waited too fucking long.” I let go for a moment, wiped sweat and whatever out of my eyes, shook my hands, and took a deep breath. “You can do this shit. You’re good at this shit.” As I glanced away from the scope and down the side of the building, I could see multiple people in flak jackets and helmets beginning to evacuate the park and surround my apartment building. I could have gone over and down the side of the building at that point, but figured it was probably too late, so I went back to firing. Seven cars lost tires, but nothing was as satisfying as the parking garage door. I switched to my last magazine and shifted my aim to the right. The SWAT team hadn’t surrounded that area yet, and there were lots of bystanders around. If I killed one of them, they were probably going to locate their own sniper to take me out. I could hear a helicopter in the distance and figured that’s where he’d be. It was

either that or open up fire on the SWAT guys, but the helmets made it more difficult. I blew out the windows of the residential building on the right side of the park and then focused on someone standing half way down the stairs leading to North Columbia Drive. The crosshairs found where an ear was hidden underneath dark, silken hair. Beautiful hair. She turned, and the fading sun glittered off the necklace around her throat. It was a simple, silver chain with a large, round pendant of some sort. No wait, not a pendant – it was a…a… “A quarter.” My finger stopped moving. My breath stopped. Hell, my heart might have stopped beating at that point. “No fucking way.” Odin barked, yelped, and then went silent. The noise from the screaming people below was overshadowed by the noise from behind me. Their words meant little, even though I knew they were likely screaming at me to let go of the weapon and stop trying to blow up the fucking neighborhood. Whatever. I couldn’t take my eyes from the shining quarter necklace and the familiar face above it. “Lia.” “Release the weapon now!” It had to be a hallucination. There was no way – no way she could possibly be here. Absolutely impossible. “Release your weapon now, or I will be forced to fire!” Fatigue covered me. I couldn’t fight it anymore. My hands moved to the ground below the gun, and I pushed back away from it even as I kept my eye on the scope. I had already dropped my hand from the trigger, but nothing was making any sense to me in the slow motion events to follow. I didn’t want to be there, and I didn’t want to be doing what I was doing. I never wanted any of it to come to this. Rinaldo wouldn’t like it – this wasn’t something he would approve of at all, and I couldn’t take it back now. The figure in the crosshairs turned, held her hand up to shade her eyes, and looked up towards me. The same eyes, the same swishing motion of her hair as she turned, and the same curve of her bottom lip as her teeth sank into it. Then she was gone. My hands were wrenched behind me, and I was abruptly facedown on the balcony floor, my cheek

scraping on the concrete. Immediately, I could hear the muffled, distant-memory sound of gunfire and explosions. I could taste the sand and feel it in my lungs. “Please…no – please don’t kill me! I have a wife! Her name’s Marie, and my daughters, Evelyn and Jennie…” A muffled click, and when I turn towards the sound, someone grabs my head and pushes it down again. “Kill me! I don’t even have a fucking family! Just kill me!” I didn’t move, didn’t resist. I barely felt their hands on me. “Kill me,” I whispered. “Kill me, please…just kill me.” More voices joined the conglomerate around me. There was a new set of hands holding one of my shoulders down. Radios crackled, and the sound of a helicopter overhead made me try to lift my head to see what kind. Police? Traffic? Military? Was there a sniper inside, as I suspected, ready to end me? The gunfire in my head continued, occasionally causing me to flinch. Whenever I did that, the two people holding my body to the ground leaned harder against me, though I wasn’t resisting. My head dropped back to the ground, and I could see out over the edge of the balcony towards the park, which was now devoid of people. There was no one there at all now – not a woman, a man, or even a dog. “Odin?” I tried to get my head up enough to look into the apartment, but I was shoved back down. “Odin!” I heard nothing in response. My chest started to seize up, and I couldn’t breathe. He had been barking, something he almost never did, but was now silent. Where was he? What did they do to him? Did he go after them in order to protect me? “No…no…” Odin…God, no…Odin… I squeezed my eyes shut. Someone was holding the back of my neck, and I could taste sand in my mouth. I could feel the wire wrapped around my wrists as it cut into my skin, and I could hear desert winds blowing around me. “Not real.” Forcing air into my lungs, I traded not breathing for hyperventilating. I glanced over my shoulder and saw four men around me, holding me to the ground as cuffs were placed around my wrists. Another man near the sliding glass door held a shotgun at my head. “Where’s my…where’s my dog? Odin!” No one replied. No one said a word.

The dizziness in my head threatened to end my consciousness as they hauled me to my feet. I stumbled as I stared towards the stairs where the figure with the quarter-themed necklace had been, but there was no one there now except a man with a rifle and a SWAT uniform. “He’s got dog tags.” The chain around my neck is tightened, cutting off most of my airflow. When he shakes it, I feel the skin from the base of my throat scraped clean as my tags jingle in his grasp. “You think this means something to me? To us? You are nothing! They are nothing! You have been here how many months? Do you even know? There is no rescue for you - they care nothing for you! One of your own men told us where you were!” The private had betrayed me. “Doesn’t mean anything.” “Lieutenant?” My head turned towards the sound – a reflexive action. I didn’t know the man standing in front of me with the round face, blue uniform, and flak jacket. I’d never seen him before. “Where’s Odin?” I asked. “I’m going to read you your rights,” the man said. The familiar words flowed from his mouth, and I was reminded of a thousand movies and television shows where similar words were spoken. “Do you understand these rights?” “There was a girl down there,” I told him. “Did you see her? She had a quarter around her neck.” “He’s gone, sir.” “Let’s just get him in.” I was pushed through the opening and back into the apartment, through the bedroom, and into the living room. My breath caught in my chest as I saw the pile of white fur near the couch, but before I could react to the sight, Odin’s muzzled head came up and his tail began to thump against the floor. An officer had a leash around his neck and kept him from coming closer to me. I gasped out a breath and nearly fell in relief as I was escorted across the room, through the open door, and into the hallway. The elevators were blocked open down at the end of the hall, and there was an officer arguing with a woman near the stairway. Not a woman – the woman. Lia stood with her hands on her hips and her hair pulled up into one of those ridiculous, lumpy buns at the top of her head. Strands fell all around her neck and moved with her as she turned to look towards me. Her mouth opened, and she tried to take a step forward. The officer blocked her path, so we just continued to look at each other.

I remembered everything I thought about while driving back to the cabin after dropping her off at the bus stop. This was exactly why I didn’t want to bring her into my life, but here she was anyway – watching me get dragged to jail. She was damn lucky I didn’t shoot her. My stomach tightened at the thought. The officers on either side of my body urged me forward towards the elevators. It was the closest to her I would get. “Evan?” My name was a plea on her tongue. I could only stare at her in return. “What…what happened?” she asked, as if I would have an answer that made any sense. I didn’t. I probably never would. I turned away from her as they started to shove me into the elevator. There certainly wasn’t going to be any kind of understandable reason for anything I did. I couldn’t even understand it myself, so how would anyone else? They’d be better off talking to the dog. “Lia!” I turned back to Lia and caught her eyes with mine. “Take Odin – please. Please take him with you – make sure he’s okay. Please? Will you? Please?” “I will,” she said quietly. “Let her?” I begged the guy holding my left arm. “Let her take my dog, okay?” He said nothing. “What are you going to do with him?” I demanded as I was shoved towards the elevator. “Let her take him! Please!” “It’s all good, Lieutenant,” the round-faced officer said as he came up in front of me. “The dog’s fine, and after a little processing, we’ll make sure he ends up in the young lady’s care. All right?” I nodded. My eyes met Lia’s again, and I saw a single tear escape her lashes and roll down her cheek. The need to wipe away the tear was overwhelming, but I couldn’t move. “Sorry,” I whispered. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and more tears flowed as she whispered my name again. “I’ll take care of Odin,” she told me. “I’ll…I’ll figure it out. You just need…you need…” Her voice trailed off, and I had to give her a half smile for the effort. I didn’t need anything other than what Moretti had said he would do – I needed to be put down. They were supposed to take me out. Why did I stop firing? If I hadn’t stopped, they would have ended me. Glancing back at Lia again gave me the answer – I couldn’t continue knowing she was in the area. There was nothing else to be done, and no way were my usual tactics going to be able to keep me

from thinking about her constantly now. I had seen her again, no longer just a memory, and I could feel myself drawn to her presence. Even as the police officers blocked us from actually coming into physical contact with one another, it felt as though we were touching. I didn’t need to touch her – I could feel her from across the hall. I had felt her all along; from the time she boarded the bus to see her mother until the moment our eyes met in the hallway. I might have found some ways to push her to the back of my mind, but I knew she was always there. It was like she was inside of me, and there was no way she was going away, no matter where I ended up. I would be the death of her, quite possibly in a very literal sense. There was no way I could let that happen. I couldn’t allow her to become a part of my fucked up life without her ending up just like Bridgett – either with my bullet or someone else’s. I wasn’t going to allow that, because…because… Because Rinaldo Moretti was wrong about me. I knew exactly what he had meant – I felt it. Looking at her one final time, I soaked in everything about her that I could. My mind captured her long, dark hair, eyes glistening with tears, the shining quarter hanging around her neck, and committed it all to permanent memory. I knew this would be the end of it, and that was what was best for her. I knew it with all my warm, beating heart. The only thing left was to find a new way to get her out of my head. Prison seemed as good a distraction as anything. So I let them haul me out. Cuffs around my wrists. And remained otherwise occupied.

Epilogue Lia This was fucking crazy. What had I walked into? The hallway was bright, clean, and expensively decorated. It wasn’t quite posh but certainly counted as upscale. The scene filling the corridor didn’t fit in the slightest. Several SWAT team members lined the walls, some of them with guns drawn and pointed at the man their comrades brought out of the apartment at the far end. They tensed as he emerged, and their fingers twitched against the triggers but not enough to fire. My gaze was drawn to their target. The face I looked at was the same one that had obsessed me for months, but the clear blue eyes were red and swollen, and the tight, military haircut outgrown and unkempt. The desert-style fatigues I had never seen before, but at least the look fit what I was expecting. The rest of the scene and the look on Evan Arden’s face were completely bizarre. For months I had been searching for this man based on nothing more than a name and military affiliation, but all records of him seemed to completely disappear after he returned from the Middle East. My search had led me to the terrifying video of him on his knees while the man next to him was executed and pictures of him being brought back to the United States after he was found in an undisclosed location during a raid on a suspected Al Qaida base. Though faded, the bruises in the photos were still quite visible. His arm had been in a sling due to a dislocated shoulder, but he had been reported to be otherwise unharmed. But his eyes… They had been haunted and haunting. The somewhat hesitant but bright and alive glimmer I had witnessed in Arizona was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t been able to reconcile the pictures of the man brought back from war with the cool and confident one who locked eyes with me in his tiny bed and told me to touch him. Now that I had found him, I was watching him with the exact same look in his eyes, being taken away in handcuffs by a half dozen men. He had been shooting at people. Still, it wasn’t the look of a callous murderer, but more like a lost puppy – desperate, hungry, and terrified – biting at the ominous hand reaching underneath the couch to pull him out. There were tears streaming down his face, though he seemed oblivious to their presence. All of the fantasies that had cavorted around in my head while I searched for him fell apart. There wasn’t going to be a passionate kiss as he held me against his chest – his hands were secured behind his back to protect those around him. I wouldn’t be throwing myself into his arms and feeling that sense of security and want I had felt with him in Arizona. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to get his attention. What happened to him?

Evan’s eyes moved to mine, and for a moment he closed them for a little longer than it takes to blink. Once he opened them again, the vision of an already broken man seemed to collapse into an even darker hole. Instinctively, I stepped forward. I needed to reach him, touch him, and be sure all of this was real and not some sick nightmare my desperate mind had contrived. I wasn’t afforded the opportunity; the police officer who had been arguing with me a moment ago blocked my path. He spoke bluntly, but I wasn’t listening to his words. “Evan?” Evan’s reddened eyes looked away in defeat, and he allowed his escorts to maneuver him towards the open elevator door. Just as he crossed over the line on the floor, his eyes widened, and he looked back to me and called my name. “Take Odin – please. Please take him with you – make sure he’s okay. Please? Will you? Please?” Odin, of course. He was the shaved-nearly-bald, huge, white dog with a rolling tongue. He kept licking my hand when I tried to fall asleep in the Arizona cabin where I met Evan. I had been amazed at how well-behaved the canine was and how quickly he reacted to anything Evan commanded. I agreed, naturally. What else was I supposed to do? My head felt like it was full of mush – I couldn’t even make any kind of sense of the scene – but of course I would take the dog. As Evan’s panicked words to the police captain flowed in and out of my head, I tried to get past the officer near me but wasn’t able to push him away. “Let me talk to him!” I snarled under my breath. “I can’t do that, ma’am,” the police officer replied. “You have to understand why I can’t do that.” I did, too. “I’ll take care of Odin,” I called out to him, and I could see his face relax. “I’ll…I’ll figure it out. You just need…you need…” I didn’t know what he needed, and the half smile I got in return told me he didn’t know, either. His eyes stayed on me as they pulled him backwards into the elevator, and I felt the same connection to him I had felt in Arizona when he handed me a bottle of water and our fingers touched as it passed from one hand to the other. “Sorry,” he said softly, and the elevator closed. Watching him disappear behind the doors, I knew I would have done anything just to be able to take him back to that moment. I had recognized then how different he was inside despite the hardened outward appearance. William had always looked soft and cuddly on the outside, but inside he was dark, cruel, and vindictive. Evan had the look about him that screamed “stay away from me,” but as soon as our bodies intertwined, I had been his. I didn’t know how he had arrived at this point, and I knew if I would have asked Mom, she would have told me to run away as fast as I could in the other direction. I couldn’t do that, though. I couldn’t just leave him to his fate. If he had done the same to me, I wouldn’t have survived alone in the desert.

I wouldn’t allow it. He was the only good thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life, and I wasn’t going to let him be dragged away from me like this. I would figure out what needed to be done to help him and get him out of this mess he was in. Evan needed someone to help him – to save him. There was just no way I would turn my back on him now.

Uncockblockable Shay Savage

Chapter 1 There’s a big difference between fame and infamy. I placed my arm on the back of the booth. The pretty redhead next to me looked up and batted her eyelashes a little before tilting her head and sticking the tip of the straw in her mouth. Her fingers wrapped around the glass and made patterns in the condensation. I wasn’t really sure how many Long Island Iced Teas I was going to have to buy this little soon-to-be notch on my bedpost, but watching her take that straw in her mouth was heating me up. “I have an early morning, love,” I said in an absolutely perfect and totally fake British accent. With practiced ease, I glanced down at my illuminated phone to get the time but then quickly turned my focus back to her bright green eyes. “I think it just might be time to pay the tab and think about heading back to the hotel room.” It’s just about time to get you on your knees and up close and personal with my cock. From across the bar, Lee gave me a wave and pointed towards the smoking patio. I gave him a slight nod but mostly kept my attention on the chick next to me in the booth as she slurped on her drink. Keeping your attention someplace other than on the girl you’re with is a surefire way of not getting laid, and I intended to get laid. My heart thumped a little faster when I thought about the pink-coated lips currently wrapped around a straw wrapped around my dick instead. Getting laid was the only reason I even agreed to split a hotel room with Lee in the first place – the dude was married, and though he talked a bunch about hooking up when he was away from the family, he’d never actually do it. He was far too devoted. Otherwise, I would have just shown up for the parties at the science-fiction themed convention being held in Rosemont and gone home when everything tapered off. The con was a bit outside of Chicago, but I still would have taken a taxi or whatever back home if it wasn’t for the likelihood of available pussy. Maybe I was a man-whore – I didn’t know. Maybe I was just bored. It was expected of me though, and I guess that’s where the fame versus infamy came in. Everyone in Chicago seemed to know who I was, or at least figured it out pretty quickly. I’m not a celebrity or anything – I don’t act on film. I can’t sing for shit, and I don’t play an instrument. Well, not the musical kind.

“Did you finish all the treatments for that horribly contagious disease you picked up?” Kimberly asked as she smirked at me from the other side of the table. One of Lee’s friends, Chris, covered his mouth up to keep from laughing out loud. Lovely. “The what?” the chick next to me asked. Think quick, Nick. I wasn’t going to be cockblocked that easily. “Have you heard of the bird flu?” “Yeah, sure.” “Well, when I was on a missionary trip to Asia, I visited this little village far away from any of the cities. I was warned not to go, but I knew there were children suffering there and I couldn’t just leave them to rot now, could I?” It was total bullshit, but her wide eyes told me she was eating it up. “The conditions there were terrible, and though I had brought nutritious food, clean water, and medicine, it wasn’t enough. So, I gave them all of what I had as well – my whole group did. Sure, we went hungry for a couple of days, but they lived like that all the time.” “And that made you sick?” she asked as she blinked. “No, but on the final day, I was so thirsty, and I walked by a little flowing brook on the far side of the village. I knew it wasn’t safe drinking water, but I couldn’t help myself. I contracted a form of virus similar to the bird flu and ended up in the hospital in Singapore for a month before the quarantine was lifted, and I could finally return to Chi…London.” Damn. Almost slipped. “O.M.G., that's terrible!” “Barely survived.” I let the edge of my index finger lightly brush against the skin of her neck. I could feel her shiver in her thigh. Kimberly rolled her eyes, and Chris snickered. “The doctors said it was my stamina that saved me.” More eye rolling – from both Kim and Chris this time.

The chick next to me just beamed. I'm so in there. There was nothing that was going to stop me from taking this girl back to my hotel room and fucking her into oblivion. Absolutely nothing. It was a good thing, too – I had just spent the last week trying to ditch a local girl who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of a one-night-stand. It even got to the point where I had to block her number from my phone, and she still kept finding ways to reach me. I’d half considered getting one of my dad’s goons to scare her into leaving me alone, but the only one who might have done it would have been Evan Arden, Dad’s favorite hit man and preferred son. He’s not actually related to us or anything; Dad just wishes he was. I’m not jealous. It’s just that Evan…well…I’d be afraid he’d end up doing more than just scaring her. I didn’t want her dead, just out of my way. Right now, I wanted to find a nice out-of-town girl to get my rocks off. That way, I would be able to get rid of her shortly afterwards, and even though my place was only a short ride on the Chicago L train or in a taxi, I’d rather make this a convenient hotel-room lay, and the chick next to me was exactly what I needed. “It’s not that late,” she purred over her straw. “This pub’s about to close, love.” “I bet there are other parties still going on,” she said with a bit of a smile and a flutter of her eyelashes. You don’t have to convince me, baby. There was always a party going on. Out here in the burbs, Lincoln Park, downtown, any of the hundred clubs and bars around – whatever you wanted, the city was sure to have it somewhere if you looked hard enough. I’d been a Chicagoan most of my life, so I knew all the best spots. Hell, I knew the shitty spots as well – I liked to party. Chicago is a great place to live, even if you aren’t connected to a family known for various illegal activities. Oh, I know – Chicago, right? Chicago and the mafia – how fucking cliché is that? Well, it is cliché. I can’t help that – I didn’t marry the mob; I was born into it. “Do you know what room parties are going on over there?” she asked with that big, pink smile. She nodded over to the far side of the bar, which led to the hotel lobby and a bank of elevators. There were about thirty people standing around trying to get in, but every time the doors opened, the elevators were already full. Amateurs.

I always got a room on a low floor so I could take the stairs if I want. Anytime there was a big event in a hotel, the elevator travel becomes insane. It was always best to book a room where you could get up and down without the wait. “We could head up to room 555,” she said. “I heard there’s an awesome party up there.” I barely heard the words though I was doing my best to maintain constant eye contact and that little hint of a half smile that made panties within twenty feet of me wet. It was the pink lips I was finding so distracting. It wasn’t just the bright, glittery sheen to them, but they had that Botox plumpness that just looked so good wrapped around… “There’s that party up in the con suite,” Chris reminded me. “Free food and piss-water beer.” I looked from the petite, overly made-up, busty redhead to the six-foot tall, black-haired Scotsman, several times removed from the country itself. He shrugged as I made eye contact with him. I so did not need him making this whole process of getting this chick to my room take longer. Ultimately, it impacted him, too. He’d have Lee hanging with him until I was done with her. I ignored his comment as I turned back to Mary. Or was it Maci? Shit. I let my eyes move slowly over her face, down her neck and over her shoulder, then back up to her eyes. My finger reached out and traced a little “N” on the roundest part of her bare shoulder before I met her eyes again. “I think I’d prefer a little less company,” I told her. “Maybe something a little more…intimate?” Her smile broadened, and there was a hint of a blush or maybe intoxication on her cheeks. As I got the server’s attention and paid the tab, she made not-so-subtle faces at her girlfriend across the bar. She was obviously pretty happy about ending up with me, too, and she didn’t even have the slightest idea who I was. It was kind of nice, really. Cliché or not, my father was Rinaldo Moretti – one of the crime kings of the big city. I didn’t share his last name or anything, but for the most part, everyone who lived in the area seemed to know who I was. That probably had something to do with me kind of appearing in his life one day when my mother decided being a parent wasn’t much fun and that it was his turn to take the reins. It would have been reasonable for him to resent me, I supposed, but he didn’t seem to. He wasn’t

about to acknowledge me for who I was, and he wasn’t going to trust me with some important part of his businesses like he would a real son, but he didn’t kick me out when I was six years old. It wasn’t exactly acceptance, but it worked for us. Besides, I’m really not into the whole crime scene. I mean, the most illegal thing I ever do is smoke weed unless you want to count guilt by association. I’m around when a lot of shit happens. Mostly it’s small-time shit, but every once in a while it’s something bigger. “I’ve had it,” Kimberly announced. “You coming back or staying out?” “I’m gonna go find Lee,” Chris told Kim as he stood to let her out of the booth. She looked over to me, blatantly rolled her eyes, and didn’t even say goodnight or anything as she left the booth and headed out of the bar. Chris grabbed his pack of cigarettes and went to find Lee out on the smoking patio. “So how many marathons have you run?” Mary/Maci asked as I scribbled something illegible over the credit card receipt. I was pretty sure we’d already had this conversation, but I widened my half smile a little and went over the details of training for the Chicago Marathon, which had been my tenth. About the time I was done, I felt her hand wrap around my denim-clad thigh. “Your legs feel so strong,” she said quietly. Her teeth nibbled on her bottom lip a bit. Total score. Not that I really had any doubt. It was pretty damn rare I didn’t get what I wanted in the pussy department. Most of the guys who knew me thought it was a talent of sorts, but I thought it was pretty obvious how to act towards a chick. You just have to give them exactly what they want, and I know what chicks want to hear. Once you gave them precisely that, they were yours. Of course, there was always the exception. Enter Luisa. She stumbled a little over her platform heels in an attempt to make herself look far more drunk than she actually was. I knew she’d only had about three drinks all night, and there was no way she was even remotely intoxicated. Her tits were about to fall out of the top of her shirt, but she was totally doing that shit on purpose. She slumped a bit and placed one hand on the table top and the other on my shoulder. “Nick, honey,” she half said, half moaned into my ear, “the kids are in bed. Can we please go home now?”

Oh, that bitch. I had to admit, she caught me by surprise, and I fought with being impressed that she came up with the idea at all and her ability to deliver the line with a straight face. Behind her, a few tables away, a group of her friends sat, laughing their asses off. One in particular, whom I had slept with a couple times over the past year, was howling with laughter even though her hand was half over her mouth. Oh no – Nick Wolfe doesn’t go down that easily. I turned back to Mary/Maci and gave her the eyes and smile of a rock star. “The divorce is almost final,” I informed her. Mary/Maci looked back and forth between me and the intrusive little thing standing outside the booth. She didn’t seem to know what to think of the whole exchange. “You could bring her with us if you want,” Luisa said in the same, sing-songy, whiney, totally fake-drunk voice. She couldn’t keep it up though, and at that point she totally lost it. She started laughing so hard, tears started running down her face. I tried to glare at my half-sister, but I also had to admit it was pretty funny. She’d pay for it when we got back to Dad’s place, though – I’d make sure of that. Even if I had to resort to shit I did as a teenager, like putting pudding in her pillowcase, I’d totally exact revenge for this one. I tilted my head to one side and raised a brow. “I couldn’t help myself!” she laughed as she walked away, gathered her friends, and made her way out of the hotel bar. I shook my head slowly as I watched the group of short-short clad bums head towards the elevators. I turned my head back to Mary/Maci. She either didn’t really comprehend what was going on around her or was too drunk to notice. Either way, she was ready to leave. I shoved my phone into my back pocket, helped her out of the booth, and escorted her up to my hotel room. Do Not Disturb Hopefully, Lee would get the damn message and not come back too soon. “Nice room!” Mary/Maci said as she looked around the suite. “You could have a great party here!” My hands slid around her waist, and I pulled her back against me. “I was thinking maybe you and I could have a great party here,” I whispered into her neck, which

made her giggle. She turned around in my arms and ran her fingers up to my shoulders. Her head tilted up, and I pressed my lips against her mouth. She opened up, and my tongue took over. She tasted like Long Islands, and she liked nibbling on my lower lip, which I enjoyed quite a lot. She also didn’t seem too interested in a lot of foreplay, and considering the way my cock really wanted to jump out and join in with the rest of what was going on, that was going to work for me, too. Maybe Mary/Maci was my perfect match. If only I could remember which name was hers. She ditched her shirt and bra, and my hands moved up from her waist to cup her tits, and I rubbed my thumbs over her nipples. They contracted nicely, and I moved my lips from her mouth, over her jaw, down her neck, and took one of her nipples in my mouth. She moaned as I sucked, and my cock tried to burst right through my zipper. Dropping one hand down, I quickly unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled the poor guy out so he could breathe a little. He didn’t get the chance to relax, though, because her hand wrapped around him almost immediately. “There you go, love,” I whispered against her breast as her fingers circled me and began to move up and down my shaft. “Just like that…” “I really need your cock in me,” she said, “like, right now.” I wasn’t about to argue with that line, so I let go of her. I quickly tossed my phone to the top of the bed so it wouldn’t end up on the floor, dropped my jeans and boxers to the floor, and grabbed the box of condoms out of my travel bag. By the time I looked back up, she had removed the rest of her clothes and tossed them onto Lee’s bed, so I didn’t waste any time getting back to her side. Mary/Maci took the box from my hand, looked over the label, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said as she glanced up at me with a shrug. “I’m allergic to the lubrication on that brand, and there’s no way I can risk getting pregnant – I still have two years of school left. Besides, my mom would kill me.” Fuck a duck. I couldn’t believe that after getting through both Kim and Luisa’s stunts from earlier, I was about to get cock-blocked by picking up the wrong brand of love-gloves at the pharmacy. Mary/Maci let out a long sigh.

“We’re just going to have to do anal.” Oh, fuck yes! Nick Wolfe remains uncockblockable. She was on her hands and knees in the center of the bed about twenty seconds later. She apparently traveled with her own bottle of lube, which she pulled out of her purse and handed to me. Well, okay then! I lubed up my cock and then used my finger to get her going, too. She wriggled her hips around and pushed back against me as I let my index finger sneak past her opening. At the same time, I reached between her legs with my other hand and found her throbbing clit. “Mmm…I like that,” she muttered as she pressed her forehead against the sheets. “More though – I want more. I want your cock.” Well, okay then – again! There were just some things I wasn’t really interested in arguing about, and a chick asking me to give her my cock was definitely one of them. Without hesitation, I positioned myself at the little puckered hole between her cheeks and gently bore down. Damn, it felt good. Obviously she’d been down this road before – or rather, other guys had been down this road. I slipped in without a lot of resistance, and before too long, I was moving back and forth with a nice, steady rhythm. Mary/Maci moved with me, and we rocked together as she started grunting and moaning against the mattress. “So good!” she called out. “Your cock feels so big in my ass. Damn…” She was good for the ego, whatever her name was. Shifting up over her a little more, I started really pushing deep and fast inside of her to the point where I felt like my cock was actually vibrating. I wondered if she could feel it, too, and then realized she probably could because it was my phone buzzing. Trying to ignore it, I leaned into her again and reached around with one hand to palm her tit as I kept up the faster rhythm. The phone buzzed again, and I quickly grabbed it off the pillow as I lay across her, covering her back with my chest. My cock throbbed inside of her, and the phone throbbed in my hand. I pushed myself back up until I was perpendicular to the bed, stroked in and out of her a few times, and quickly glanced at the phone while the other hand played with her ass.

It was a text from Lee. What are you doing? You ok? I quickly tapped at the keys with my thumb. Giving it to this girl up the ass so I’m good. I resumed a little deeper penetration, but a few second later, the phone buzzed in my hand again. You’re texting me while giving anal? I rolled my eyes at the ceiling before responding. You texted me. I was just being polite. I tossed the phone over to the other bed and out of my way, then focused back on business. Mary/Maci had her hand between her legs and was fingering herself, so I took the cue and helped out. You don’t just instinctively know how to make a chick come – you have to let each one of them show you what they like. Lots of them won’t tell you, so it’s all about the power of observation. If you can’t see too well because you have your dick in her ass and her hips are in the way, you just got to feel your way around until she starts making the right kinds of noises. So that’s what I did. I reached around and placed my hand over hers. My fingers matched the movements of hers for a few minutes, and then she dropped her hand to the sheets and let me go on my own. She was seriously wet, and I could slide a finger into her easily as my dick continued to invade her back door. “Oh, fuck…Mary…” She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes a little. “It’s Maci.” Shit. As bad as it sounded, it really could have been a whole lot worse. I mean, it’s not like I was calling her the name of some other chick who had been hanging out with us all night, or her sister, or anything like that. It was an honest mistake, which would surely be forgivable. Nah. I knew chicks too well to believe that would work. “Holy Mary, mother of God, you have a fine, fine ass,” I moaned as I kept pumping in and out of

her. “Oh!” she cried out as she turned her head back to the pillows and pushed herself up a bit more on her arms. See? No worries. “Mmm…oh, wow, Nick…” She bucked back against me, and my fingers circled her clit a little more. “Oh yeah – yeah…right there!” I felt her body shudder around me, and her ass gripped my cock just a little bit more. It was about all I could stand, and after just a few more strokes, I felt my balls tighten, my legs quiver a little, and I unloaded deep inside of her with a moan. Moving slowly, I stroked in and out a couple of times. It was my favorite thing about ass-sex with a chick – not having to pull out right away to make sure the condom didn’t leak. I was never willing to risk non-gloved love the other way. My life was weird enough as it was without bringing a kid into the picture. I was just too paranoid. Apparently, having a guy hang out inside of her wasn’t Maci’s favorite thing because she almost immediately shifted herself up towards the pillows, causing me to pop out with an actual, honest-to-God popping noise. My dick felt cold. And shriveled. It kinda looked that way, too. “Was that guy serious about the con suite party?” Maci asked as she jumped up and started pulling her clothes back on her body. She had to untangle her bra from my jeans but made pretty quick work of it and even handed the pants to me so I could get dressed, too. “There’s always a con suite party,” I replied, nearly forgetting my fake accent. “I mean about the free food and drinks,” she clarified. “Yes, love,” I said, “but it’s going to end up being as exciting as a box of crisps and beer only you Yanks would drink.” “But still, it’s free, right?” “Yes,” I sighed. “Let’s go check it out!”

No longer really in the mood to keep up the game, I glanced over at her and shrugged a little. “Why don’t you go, and I’ll maybe see you up there later?” I gave her a nice smile, which she returned as she adjusted the straps of her bra and jiggled her little tits around until they were back in position. Maci bounced out of the room after giving me another tonguey kiss, and I let the door slam closed. With a big sigh, I turned around and uncapped a bottle of Canadian whiskey and poured a decent amount into the hotel’s complimentary, Styrofoam coffee cups next to the complimentary coffee maker. I put the lid on the cup in order to increase the subtlety slightly and was about to head back out, but I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed instead. I took in a long, deep breath and looked around the room. Liquor bottles, sticky plastic cups, open suitcases, and an unopened box of condoms. Figuring I didn’t have to be a jerk about it, I picked up the condom box and shoved it back into my travel bag. My cigarettes were on the nightstand, so I grabbed them and headed to the balcony to smoke. As soon as I got there and opened the pack, I saw it was empty. “Fucking Lee,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t mind him bumming one, but taking the last one without even telling me wasn’t cool. I plopped down on the plastic chair next to the balcony rail and sipped at my whiskey-in-a-coffeecup. It was warm enough outside I didn’t need a coat, and the wind wasn’t so bad in this area of town like it was closer to the lake. Still, I wished I had a cigarette. I wished I had a pizza, too, but it was too late to order from any place decent. Ultimately, I wanted whatever wasn’t around right at that moment. My cock was satisfied, but I wasn’t. There were plenty of options, including heading back downstairs and seeing if there were any other chicks around that looked like they might be ready for a tumble. Honestly, though – I wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t in the mood to be alone, either, but I didn’t want to hang out with the crowd any more. My phone beeped, and I went back inside to check it. A text from Lee asked if I was done. He wanted to come back to the room and refill his drink. Chris had ditched him, and he’d been hanging out with Brian, the body painting guy we’d met earlier in the day, and they were both ticked at the price of booze in the hotel bar and wanted to drink from the private stash. I was all right with that. Brian was cool, and I’d been kind of fascinated by how quickly women just took off their clothes so he could start brushing various colors of paint all over their bodies. I mean, the shit he did was beautiful; I’d just never seen anything quite like it.

I replied that it was safe to come upstairs to the room. There was another text from Chris that contained a lot of exclamation points and informed me that there were some girls who heard I was here but didn’t believe that he really knew me. He wanted me to come to the con suite and prove to them that we were buddies. That’s the kind of shit that pissed me off. There wasn’t a lot that really got me going, but I could become pretty annoyed with people who were basically using me to feel like they have some sort of in with my criminal father. If they had any idea what that meant, they wouldn’t want anything to do with getting to know me. Chris basically using me and that relationship to get some pussy was enough to make me consider turning in for the night. I took in another long breath and blew it out in a huff before I switched the phone to silent, dumped my drink down the sink, and threw myself onto the bed to get a few minutes relaxation before going back out. My head was spinning, so I reached over and grabbed the cigarette pack inside the nightstand drawer – the one that contained my weed. The little baggie inside the pack was also empty. “Really?” I yelled out into the empty room. “Really, Lee? That is so not cool.” Never rooming with him again. As a matter of fact, I was tempted to say, “Fuck it!” and just grab a taxi back home and stick him with the entire bar bill. If he had come to the room right at that moment, or if I ended up back downstairs with a group of chicks wanting to ask me shit about my father, I’d probably lose my cool. Especially without any weed. No doubt – I should skip the party. By a mile.

Chapter 2 Some people are just perfectly fine with infamy. Most people wouldn’t recognize the guy on the street, but if you had anything to do with Chicago’s illegitimate business at all, you’d probably heard the name Evan Arden. People who didn’t even know him were scared shitless of him. People who knew him were also scared shitless. If you actually managed to get up close and personal with him, you’d figure out that for the most part, he wasn’t a bad guy at all – he had a decent sense of humor, could hold intelligent conversations, and took a lot of pride in his work. If you spent enough time with him, you’d quickly figure out there was something inside him just under the surface, and that something was pretty intense – like a thousand-yearold volcano that was about to pop the top off a gigantic mountain. If you had the opportunity to watch him hold a rifle to his shoulder and obliterate a little paper head on a target from five hundred yards away, you’d know just how destructive an eruption from him would be. The noise at the shooting range would sometimes put me on edge, but I had lucked out far more than I thought I would have when I decided to hang out with Evan Arden and Jonathan Ferris over the weekend. I should have known shooting would be involved, but I hadn’t thought about it when I accepted. I’m not a gun dude. I don’t have a problem with them, and I end up around them all the time, they just aren’t my thing. I wasn’t expecting to get any decent action at the shooting range, either. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place a lot of women tended to visit. Not trying to be sexist or anything, but they just didn’t seem to ever be there. This time was an exception, though, and while Evan and Jonathan were blasting holes in paper people, a hot little brunette with a deep tan walked into the open area outside the range and leaned up against the wall. Jonathan glanced at me as I started to move away, and I heard him chuckle. I kinda had Jonathan figured as Evan’s BFF or whatever, but they were as polar opposite as an elderly nun and a Chippendale dancer. Jonathan could be loud and in your face, but you always knew there wasn’t anything inside of him that was all that threatening. Well, not physically at least. I wouldn’t piss him off because he’d have my bank accounts hacked four seconds later, but I never got the idea he was into much violence. He was just your typical, brilliant, bored kid at one point and discovered the most interesting challenges were using technology to see just what he could get away with. My dad used that to his advantage, and Jonathan seemed pretty happy to get paid to screw around on the internet and

write useful apps to hack websites and other apps, which he then put up for free in the iTunes store. Of course, once downloaded, the apps would start sending all the user’s private data back to a hosting system, but they rarely ever figured that out. Without saying a word to my companions, I walked over to the brunette who was leaning against the rail, watching the shooters. She had on those jeans that were really tight along the legs and highheeled sandals of some sort. They were hot, but I thought jeans and high heels together were just kind of unnatural. I mean, jeans were supposed to make you feel comfortable, and heels were just…well…silly. “Is this the sort of thing you like to do on the weekends?” I asked her. I tilted my head and half smiled as she turned her eyes to me. Now before we go any further, let’s get something clear – I have had plenty of people get on me for emphasizing words in kind of a random sort of way, but I assure you there is nothing random about it. It’s quite intentional, and very distinct, which is the point. People don’t forget me. Fame or infamy? I don’t know; I just know it gets me laid. “Not really,” the brunette admitted. “It’s too loud.” I nodded meaningfully, looked out to the targets, and then back over to her. “So, you must be here with someone?” I wasn’t interested in having my balls threatened by a husband or boyfriend, even if she did have really nice tits. It’s best to find these things out quickly. “My cousin,” she informed me. “I came to visit, and this is his idea of entertainment.” Out-of-towner. Perfect! “So where are you from?” I asked as I gave her a little smile. I made a bunch of small talk with the chick, whose name was Carolyn, found the occasional reason to inadvertently brush against her, and generally got her to the point where she was smiling and laughing with me. We seemed to have a few things in common – a love of heavy metal being a big one – and talking with her was smooth and natural. Once that happened, and considering her feelings towards her cousin at that moment, it was kind of an easy hit though I was happy just hanging out with her, too. Okay, sure, getting laid was always in the back of my head, but it wasn’t all about that. Really! The thing is? I like talking to women. Why? Because they like to talk. Talking to guys is freaking

aggravating – it’s all the same shit – girls they’ve fucked, video games, guns, sports – it’s totally boring. Talking to women is different. For starters, women will talk about anything in the world, from books, to politics, to religion, to their menstrual cramps – nothing’s taboo. Every group you sit down with will be having a totally different conversation. You can learn a lot listening to chicks, and I mean about all kinds of shit. If you can get yourself into a whole room of them and then get really quiet to the point where they forget there’s a guy in the room, you wouldn’t believe the kind of shit you’d hear. Try it sometime. Really. My fingers brushed over her forearm with a little less subtlety, and she glanced down at the touch. “You know, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but you’re actually the first girl I’ve really talked to since…well, for a long time.” “Since what?” Carolyn pressed, as I figured she would. “Nothing,” I muttered and dropped my hand from her arm and looked down. She immediately placed hers on my bicep and bent down a bit to look me in the face. “You were going to say something,” she insisted. I let out a long sigh and glanced out at the range where Evan was rhythmically pulling back on the trigger, switching magazines, and then starting all over again. His expression never changed – he was in the zone. He was completely zoned, actually, as in being in a war-zone. The phrase shell-shocked rattled in my head. “It’s just…I mean, I just recently came home from the Middle East. Me and my buddy out there are Marines. We had kind of a rough time, you know? I haven’t been out much since we were brought back to the States, you know?” Okay, so maybe half-stealing Evan’s story was a shitty thing to do, but I was on a mission. “What happened?” she asked. I shrugged one shoulder and leaned up against the barrier between us and the range before I looked back at her. “You don’t want the details,” I informed her, “but Evan and I are the only ones who made it home from our unit. He doesn’t talk about it, though, so don’t ask him. He gets a little temperamental about it

when people ask him questions. I kinda wish he would talk to me, but I understand why he can’t.” “That has to be hard on you,” she said softly. Girls always got all soft-spoken when you talked to them about tragedy. “I miss the other guys,” I said. “Everyone else in our unit. No one else around here knew them, but he won’t talk about them.” She reached up and placed her hand on the side of my face. I leaned a little into her palm as it caressed my cheek. The softness of her touch made my cock stir a bit and was an interesting contrast to the gunfire around me. “That really is awful,” Carolyn said as she looked straight into my eyes. I smiled slightly, shrugged one shoulder slowly, and looked away in a meager effort to appear… what? Embarrassed? Shy? I didn’t know exactly what it conveyed – I just knew it worked on pretty much every chick I’d come across. “It’s all right,” I said softly. “It really has been a while. I mean, at least we’re out in public again, and I can stand to be here and talk to you, right? There was a time neither of us could really talk to anyone.” “Well, I’m very proud of you, then,” she replied. “Thanks.” I smiled again, dropped my gaze for a moment, and then quickly made eye contact with her again. She had soft hazel eyes, which were nice enough to look at, but not as interesting as her tits. She had really, really nice tits. They weren’t really big or anything – nice tits don’t have to be. Jonathan walked back from the shooting area with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. If he had been anyone else, the management probably would have thrown a fit, but no one said anything to him. Maybe if he had been alone, someone might have made a comment, but we both walked in with Arden, and everyone here knew exactly who he was. Like I said, Evan scared people. Not me…well, not really. I would never let it show if he did, but the guy sometimes looked like he was just going to start shooting people. I didn’t think he’d ever make a move on me or anything – he was completely loyal to my dad – but sometimes he got this far away look in his eyes, and you could just tell something wasn’t right about him. The dude just wasn’t stable. Jonathan could be physically intimidating – he was a big guy – but just not in the same way. He

always seemed to be having fun with people even when he got a little pissy. “Are you still in the Marines?” “No,” I replied. “Honorably discharged.” “What do you do now?” A flash of the dude from the previous night gave me my answer. “I paint.” “Houses?” “No.” I snickered. “An artist?” She said with a raised brow. “That's a bit of a switch.” “I know,” I replied, “but my doctors said it was a good idea to do something creative.” “I guess that makes sense,” she said. She still sounded skeptical and watched me very closely. “So you paint what? Landscapes? Fruit?” “People.” “People?” “People.” I watched her expression while she contemplated. “I do body painting,” I lied through my teeth and hoped she wouldn’t ask me to prove it. I’d talked to the actual body painter enough to be able to sound like I knew what I was talking about, but I hadn’t used a brush and paints since sixth-grade art class. “As in, all over body painting?” she asked. “Yep.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at me intently. “What would you paint on me?” she asked. I looked her up and down for a moment, though I already had my answer. She was built just like one of the women in that guy's book. “A butterfly,” I said after a pause.

“A butterfly?” “A butterfly,” I repeated. I wondered how many times we were going to play repeat after me. “What, on my back?” “No,” I said quietly. “Where?” With what looked like trepidation, I reached out my arm and placed two fingers on her shoulder. I made sure my touch was just barely noticeable before I trailed them down, over her collar bone, and to the top of her left breast. “Your chest.” She stared at me for a little while. Her eyes were a little distrustful, but through her shirt I noticed her nipples contracting under my touch. She took a long breath and smiled. “That could be really interesting,” she said. “Too bad I’m heading home tomorrow.” “I don’t have any paint with me anyway,” I said as my hand dropped, brushing over her erect nipple as it lowered back to my side. She glanced off towards the line of people firing various weapons and then grabbed my hand and hauled me outside to the parking lot. She swiftly directed me between two decent-sized SUVs where there was a bit of privacy and then reached around the back of my neck and pressed her lips firmly to mine. It was obvious from the way she was pressing firmly against my lower body that she was interested in more than a make-out session, and I wondered as I swirled my tongue in her mouth just what we could get away with standing there between two Escalades. She already knew, apparently. Carolyn’s hands went from my neck, down my arms and then back up again before she pulled away slightly and broke our connection. At the same time, she pressed her lower body against my hardening cock. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she tilted her head to look in my eyes and spoke softly. “I bet I could make you forget.” “Forget?” It was my turn to repeat. “About what happened to you over there.”

I smiled, shook my head a little, shrugged, and let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” “Maybe just for a little while,” she said with promise. Her hands traveled from my shoulders to my hands again. She squeezed them gently as she closed the space between us and covered my mouth with her warm lips. Then her hand brushed over my crotch, and her fingers tugged at the button and zipper. I tried to seem a little resistant – not enough to make her stop but enough to make me appear somewhat reluctant. It was never good to appear too eager – drawing it out was always better. Of course, this was going to be a one-night stand, too. One-day stand. Standing in a parking lot. Her hands moved down my thighs as she dropped to her knees, and I thanked whatever gods there were for warm, wet, willing mouths. Damn, it felt good. It had been a while since I had received oral sex, and honestly, blowjobs were my favorite. Pussy was always good, and anal was a nice alternative, but there was nothing like seeing a chick on her knees in front of me, looking up with soft eyes, and giving me the impression she was praying to my dick. You want to know about the worst blowjob I ever had? Yeah – it was awesome. I looked up to the clear sky for a moment and tried not to moan too loudly. As I looked back down, my eyes crossed the walkway just outside the shooting range main entrance, and I saw Evan coming out. He stopped on the sidewalk to hoist up the duffel carrying his elaborate sniper rifle and then reached up to rub the spot between his eyes. Before he started towards the bus stop, he looked at the ground, shook his head sharply one time, and wrapped his fingers tightly around the strap of the bag. I immediately felt like a total shit. Here I was, at least partially bastardizing and using his story to score a blowjob in a parking lot, and he looked like he could just crumble onto the cement. Then Carolyn rubbed the underside of my cock with her tongue, and I was distracted enough to forget Evan for a few minutes. “Fuck, that's good,” I groaned softly.

She hummed in what I figured was agreement, making my cock vibrate and shudder in her mouth as she took me deeper. I stroked her hair with my hand as she moved over me, and the vision of her on her knees with my cock nearly swallowed was all I could take. “I'm gonna come,” I warned. She sucked hard, slipped me in and out of her mouth a couple times and then released my cock to the cool breeze as she finished me with her hand. “Wow,” I said softly as she stood up and leaned against my chest before kissing me. “That was… better than I remember.” She laughed. “Now, what were you thinking about just then?” Carolyn asked with a bright smile. “I have no idea,” I admitted with another laugh. At least that was true. “Everything is kind of a blur,” I added as I looked around the parking lot, but there wasn’t anyone else around. I tucked myself back in my pants and zipped up. “Do I get to reciprocate?” I asked with a raised brow. “I need to go catch back up with my cousin,” Carolyn said. “So I guess maybe the next time I’m in town?” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I gave her a fake phone number. I ended up grabbing a cab back home, sleeping off the weed, and finally getting up mid-afternoon the next day. After finding some breakfast, I found my sister, who was preparing her wardrobe for an event that wouldn’t happen for another month. Unlike the infamy of some of the rest of the clan, my sister was all about fame. She knew everyone in Chicago who had ever appeared on the front cover of a magazine, from bigname actors to major league soccer players. If there was a upscale party to be found, she would always be on the invite list, sometimes even when Dad was not. Luisa is a beautiful girl, no doubt about it, and guys look at her all the time. Long, dark hair down to her waist and golden-brown eyes with long lashes to match. She’s built, too – not a skinny girl at all, but not the least bit fat. Actually, she could probably tell you her body fat ratio at any moment in the day. She loves going to the gym even though we have most of a gym in the lower level of Dad’s mansion.

That’s the North Side mansion, not the South Side one. The South Side one only has a treadmill and one of those elliptical thingies. “What do you think?” she asked as she took a little turn from the left to the right and then back again. “Too much? Too little?” “Just the right amount of boob-show,” I told her with a serious nod. “You don’t want too much; I mean it’s George Lucas getting married here, not James Deen.” Luisa laughed and held her hair up off her shoulders for a moment as she checked herself out in the mirror. “What about the color?” she asked. Her hand moved up from her waist to just under her boob as she looked down her body and the shimmering red fabric. “Perfect,” I told her. I didn’t really know, but I couldn’t think of a color that was going to be any better and didn’t want this to turn into an afternoon of shopping. She looked fabulous, which was all she really wanted to know. I wouldn’t lie to her about that or anything. If the dress looked like shit, I’d let her know – I just didn’t think the color made any difference. Luisa went through nine pairs of earrings – holding them up to her ears, asking me what I thought of them, putting them back in their little satin cases, and then going on to the next pair – for at least a half hour, and I was getting hungry again. I was about to suggest ordering Chinese or something but didn’t manage to get the words out of my mouth in time. The sound of a door slamming down the hallway let us both know that Dad was home and not in the very best of moods. He’d usually seek us out and at least say hello before he went into the afternoon’s business but not this time. He was also yelling loud enough for us to hear why. “How did that group from Azerbaijan even end up here?” we could hear Dad snarl. He didn’t give anyone a chance to answer. “Where’s Greco in all of this, hmm? He’s been bitching about his heroin for the past month, and now my caviar is suddenly missing? Missing? Fucking bastards!” “You going to go check it out?” Luisa asked quietly. My sister didn’t like getting her nose into the family business too much even though she knew at some point she would have to. She was too young to be heavily involved at this point, but she was tough as nails when she needed to be. It’s not like the business would ever be entrusted to the bastard child, so I knew from a very young age that it wasn’t mine. I was all right with that, too. I don’t really have the head for the crime, and I don’t have the heart for the violence.

Still, I was curious and liked to know what was going on. I started down the hallway to Dad’s office at the same time Evan Arden came in carrying a large duffel bag over one shoulder. He gave me a nod, and we both entered through the mahogany doors into the large, plush office. The room was decked out as you can imagine – all leather and dark wood and one of those bars inside a giant, old-fashioned-looking globe. You just tip the northern hemisphere of the world back and grab yourself a scotch. There were original works of art on the walls that you’d swear once hung over at the Chicago Art Institute but somehow had made their ways into private hands. There were bookshelves with books no one ever read, expensive knick-knacks no one gave a shit about, and a Persian rug of some ridiculous quality to wipe your shoes on as you made your way to the bar. “You better have something,” Dad growled at his favorite non-son. Thankfully, Evan did. “Yurig Boyarov,” Evan said as he lay down what looked to be an actual Polaroid picture – do those really still exist? – of a man lying on the ground near the airport shipping yards with a portion of his head blown off. Another picture followed with a similar scene, but the body was propped up against an ocean container. “Ustin Dytalov.” My father’s demeanor shifted immediately. He sighed and dropped down into one of the overstuffed chairs before putting his face in his hands. “Is this all of them?” “No, sir.” “Who else?” “Tasha Zorin.” “She’s with Greco,” Dad’s bodyguard, Mario, said. “I know her.” “I haven’t touched her,” Evan said with a nod towards Mario. “Considering her connection with Gavino Greco’s organization, I wanted to let you know first.” “Kill her.” “Yes, sir.” There really wasn’t a lot of discussion or debate about anything in that office. It was a matter of loyalty and making sure anyone who fucked with you didn’t have a chance to do it again. Sending anyone else in the general vicinity a message at the same time was always worth the price of the bullet.

It made my stomach turn a bit, but I didn’t let on. I was my father’s son even if the relationship was never acknowledged. It’s not like no one knew who I was, or we pretended I was someone else. I didn’t do much actual work for Dad, though I’d been known to deliver weed around to the suburbs in my high school days, and preferred to just kind of sit back and take it all in. Jonathan said I was a professional bum, and I was kinda okay with that. Bum was somewhat preferable to a lot of the other options in front of me. As I watched Evan Arden cinch up his duffel bag full of weaponry and leave the room, I was really quite sure I didn’t want to be a part of that at all. The problem was, I didn’t really know where I fit in, either. “Evan!” my father called out. Evan stopped and turned around in the hallway. “Sir?” “Send a message.” He eyed his hit man meaningfully, and Evan gave a slight nod before he left the house completely. That’s the kind of talk that made me cringe and figure it was time to go find some people to hang out with and maybe smoke a little weed. Luisa was totally absorbed with the whole issue of appropriate accessories, so I decided it was probably time to head out to Sweetwater and see what was going on there. No doubt – I’d had enough family business for one day. Most certainly.

Chapter 3 On occasion, infamy calls you out of the blue. I had been hanging around Navy Pier with a few buds in the uncharacteristically nice weather, just walking along, smoking, and joking. We were debating the whole Ferris wheel thing when my pocket started to buzz. I knew the number as soon as it appeared on my phone – but I had to do a double take just to believe I was really seeing what the screen displayed. I swiped the phone and held it up to my ear as I turned against the wind from the lake. “Hi, Evan.” Of all the people in the world who had never called me, Evan had never called me the most. Actually, I wasn’t even sure how his number ended up in my phone, just that it had been there for a while. It occurred to me that Dad probably put it in there just to make sure I could reach him if I ever needed him. The fact that he was calling me up for chick advice? Honestly, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Whatever he had done, he must have pissed off whoever she was pretty fantastically. “So, buy her fucking flowers?” he asked after I offered my most sage wisdom. “That’s it?” I suggested sex toys but only because I wanted to see how he would react. I wished I could have seen his face, but I didn’t want to actually be punched. “Flowers seem kind of…cliché.” “There’s a reason for that,” I informed him. “They work.” Maybe he agreed with me and maybe he didn’t, but he obviously didn’t have any other brilliant ideas, or he wouldn’t be calling me in the first place. I considered asking him who the girl was because I never saw him leave a bar or anything with one but decided against it. “You can always just apologize,” I heard myself say. “Not for this shit,” he mumbled before hanging up. I stared at the phone for a second, shoving it back into my pocket and shaking my head. The guys I was with wanted to head back downtown for a little bar hopping, which worked for me. Unfortunately, they picked a bar with a crappy atmosphere, bad live band, and no chicks. They seemed to love it, so I claimed to be tired and headed out onto the street. The awesome thing about downtown Chicago is that if you end up at a crappy bar, there’s probably another place to hang out just down the street. I didn’t have much luck finding anyone to talk to

at the first couple of places, but I finally found myself in one of those basement clubs with a lot of techno bass and flashing lights. Danielle and Richard were there. Recently married, they were still in that kind of sickly-sweet mode of making googly-eyes at each other on a regular basis even though they had been living together for a year before they were officially hitched. When I caught up with them, they were leaning close together at the bar, taking sips of each other’s beer. It didn’t bug me much, but it usually drove Chris right out of the room. I think he’s jealous. Hell, I’m a little jealous. I mean, who doesn’t want to find true love, right? The music changed to something with a lot of yelling and overuse of the word fuck in the lyrics, which Danielle seemed to like very much. She headed to the dance floor with a couple others to twist and shout a bit. “What have you been up to?” Richard asked me. “Not a lot,” I said. “Did the con thing last weekend, which wasn’t bad.” “I heard about your sister’s trick.” “Yeah, but she failed!” I laughed. Richard smiled and shook his head and looked out towards Danielle on the dance floor. “I miss those days sometimes,” he admitted. “How often?” I asked. “Not a lot,” he said, “but more than I thought I would. When I was single, I just wanted to find the right girl. Now I know I have her, but it can be a little…I don’t know…suffocating? Only sometimes, though. Most of the time she’s awesome, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.” I thought about the whole suffocating thing, which I’d heard other married guys say. It was countered with every unattached guy I knew who usually said he was lonely. I never really had it either way. Did I? I had a lot going on, a lot of friends, and was never too far from a woman in my bed. Granted, I didn’t really date, but that was always fine with me. I wasn’t about to date a local girl, who just might

figure out who I was related to or what the guys I hung out with did when they weren’t drinking. Dating meant sharing, and I didn’t really like the idea of telling a woman about me or my family. I mean, really, what do you say when you’re out with a chick who doesn’t know who you are, and they ask you what your parents do for a living? “You got any weed?” Richard asked. I eyed him. “Since when do you partake?” “Well, she ain’t looking, so…” We headed out the back door of the bar and split a bowl while perched up on the stairs to the roof. From that angle, no one below could really see what we were doing – not that anyone would have cared. Richard leaned against the metal rail and blew smoke into the air. “Feels good,” he said right before he started coughing. I hid my snicker behind the pipe as I held the lighter to the pot and inhaled. It burned in my throat and lungs in that familiar and comfortable way as I held in the smoke. Richard tried to imitate the action but ended up coughing again. “Are you sure this is fun?” he asked. “You just need to get used to it,” I told him. “It’s not like smoking a cigarette.” “I don’t smoke cigarettes.” “Oh yeah.” The more I thought about it, the more I thought him being out here toking up with me was a little odd, and there had to be a reason for it. I was about to ask him when he answered the question first. “Dani wants to have a baby,” Richard blurted out. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that shit, but she’s afraid her biological clock is ticking or some such shit.” “You always wanted kids,” I reminded him. “Yeah,” he said, “but now? I don’t know. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I still feel like a kid myself most of the time.” “Me too,” I agreed.

It was true, too. It’s not like I was ever going to have to go to school or get a job. I could if I wanted to, but doing what? Major in criminal justice and become a defense attorney for my Dad’s associates? Take philosophy classes and teach? Say “You want fries with that?” I didn’t know what not being a kid meant. “How old are you?” Richard asked. “Twenty-five,” I replied. “I’ll be twenty-seven in July,” he said. “It seems like that’s old enough to be a father, but I don’t feel it.” “When I was sixteen, twenty-five seemed ancient,” I said. Richard thought this was hilarious for some reason. His laughter made me laugh, and we decided we had probably had enough and headed down the stairs carefully. “Where have you been?” Danielle asked. “Nowhere,” Richard said like an idiot. He totally refused to make eye contact with her but glared at me instead. It was pretty obvious that I was about to get chewed out, so I turned quickly to order a new round of drinks. The bartended took my order, and I watched him measure out the liquor and everything into three glasses. My fingers thrummed on the counter in time to the music, which was still nice and techo-heavy. I started head bobbing to the beat a little. Then I turned my head. It’s such a small thing, really – just turning your head to one side and looking down the row of beer taps. The simplest of movements that only take some negligible number of muscles that I don’t know shit about, but that minute motion, that little twitch, that slight shift – it changed everything. It was her eyes. Lots of guys are leg men, or ass men, and most of them are tit men. I like tits as much as any straight guy, and I love a nice pair of legs, but all guys – every last one of them – we’re all eye men. When you find a woman with really unique, beautiful eyes, you are totally lost. Hers were like rainbows. They were green, but they weren’t. It was like someone had painted green in the back, but around

the edge of the irises they were blue. Around the whole area were little specks of brownish-orange. They were the most fascinating pair of eyes I had ever seen in my life. “Can I help you?” At first, I thought it was a trick of the light or maybe some funky contacts, but as I looked closer, they were definitely real. Green, blue, orange and brown – and if I leaned back a bit and looked at an angle, they almost appeared to be red. “Excuse me?” “What?” I blinked and realized that not only had I been staring at her with my mouth partially open, but that she had been talking to me, too. The problem was, once I realized I was doing it, I couldn’t seem to stop. “Is there a problem?” she asked, her tone officially annoyed now. “No,” I finally managed to sputter. “No…noth-nothing!” The beautiful eyes narrowed at me, and their owner picked up a cocktail of some sort off the counter and pushed away from the bar. I stared, dumbfounded, as she maneuvered through the tall tables, bar stools, and patrons. I felt the smack of knuckles against my shoulder and managed to stop watching her briefly to look over at Richard. “Is he actually speechless?” Danielle asked. “If he is, I think that is officially a first.” I ignored them and looked back in the direction the girl had gone. I couldn’t see her and honestly didn’t even know what she was wearing or what color her hair was. I didn’t really think about it or anything – I just took off through the crowd with Richard and Danielle calling my name behind me. A slender girl with long dark hair was leaning against a tall, round table. I was pretty sure it was her until I tapped her on the shoulder and was met with plain, dull brown eyes. Damnit. Maybe she was a redhead. I looked around, feeling just a little bit frantic. I couldn’t explain it or understand it – I just knew I needed to find her and look into those eyes again. The next three chicks I saw weren’t her either, and I started to wonder if she had left. I ran up the stairs and out to the street. Looking left and right, I saw a blonde with straight, thick

hair standing off to the side, smoking and talking to an African American chick with tight jeans and a ton of braids. I went up to her immediately, and my heart stopped in my chest. The moonlight – or maybe it was the streetlight – glistened off her eyes and made them sparkle in a multi-colored array of pure exquisiteness. “What the fuck is your problem?” the blonde snapped. Shit. “Hey there,” I said with a smile. “Fuck off.” “Is this the dude?” the other woman asked as she tossed her braids over her shoulder. “He was just staring at me,” the blonde muttered. She said something else, but as she spoke, she turned towards the streetlamp again, and the light caught her eyes. It was like being stoned, only instead of having everything around me dulled, it was in super-sharp focus and definitely in hi-definition color. “See, Bethany?” said the rainbow-eyed girl. “He did the same thing inside!” I knew I needed to focus on getting some kind of coherent sentence out, but I just couldn’t seem to come up with a single word. Her blathering friend wasn’t helping either, and she pelted me with questions. “What do you want, loser?” Bethany asked. I just wanted to look at her eyes some more, really, but I didn’t think I could say that. “The bouncer is right over there, and don’t think I won’t call him over here!” Maybe, but the bouncer knew me, so that probably wasn’t going to be a problem. What would she tell him, anyway? Was I doing something wrong? I couldn’t stop looking at her eyes to know if I was or not. I still couldn’t form words. I could only stare. The beautiful-eyed girl threw her cigarette on the ground and put her hands on her hips. It was pretty obvious that she was about to start yelling at me – I could see it in the way her eyes blazed with brilliant color.

Her friend stepped between us, blocked my view, and broke the spell. “Come on, Milena,” Bethany said. Milena. It might have been the most beautiful name I had ever heard, which I pondered a little before I realized I was standing there, dumbfounded again. Her eyes continued to flash in anger at me, and they were magnificent. I couldn’t stop looking at them and didn’t even hear what she and her friend were saying before they turned away from me and walked quickly down the street to a taxi stand. No doubt – I had been completely cockblocked. By me.

Chapter 4 Sometimes I wished I wasn’t at all famous. Or infamous. Whatever. Dad had been pretty insistent about me hanging around his group instead of just my usual friends. He didn’t seem interested in telling me what the hell was going on, but I didn’t usually ask a lot of questions, either. I heard a lot just from being in the vicinity of the people who worked closest to him, but I wasn’t all that involved, so he left me out of the details most of the time. It was rare that he dictated my actions, but I also knew Evan had been quite the busy little hit man of late and that all of the hits had been on a group of Russians who had recently moved into the area. Whatever was going on, he must have felt somewhat threatened, which meant my companions when I went out drinking included a group of his goons. I didn’t mind – they were mostly good guys to hang with, anyway. Besides, my mind was elsewhere, and I didn’t focus on the family business dealings much. More than anything, I couldn’t seem to get my mind off Milena – the blonde with the exotic, incredible eyes. I had made a completely uncharacteristic fool of myself, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I was used to being all smooth and always getting exactly who I wanted, and I had a pretty good idea I had blown my one and only chance with her. I didn’t even know if she lived in the city or one of the suburbs. That evening, I went to Sweetwater with a big group of people, goons in tow. Jonathan got us a “custom” place to sit without waiting by pressing a few buttons on his phone, and those who couldn’t fit at the table all gathered around instead. It was loud, and people were packed in, but it was still a good scene. You had to like football, though. “Hey!” Some drunk kid stumbled over to our group and leaned heavily against the table where Evan was sitting, nursing a beer he obviously didn’t like. The kid aimed his finger towards the coneshaped hat on his head and addressed Evan. “It’s my birthday! You should buy me a drink!” Evan tensed and glared. “What are ya?” Jonathan asked loudly. “Nineteen?” The kid laughed and went to harass the next table. As I watched him stumble around the bar, I saw

him bump smack into a woman with long, soft blonde hair. “Holy shit,” I muttered. “What’s that?” Jonathan asked. “Nothing,” I said as I pushed back and walked over in her direction. Milena was sitting at one of the smaller, round tables with a mostly full cocktail in her hand and a glum look on her face. It was weird, but when I saw her expression, I actually felt it, too. She was obviously really upset about something, and all I could think of was that I had to do something to fix it. “Hey, Milena,” I said softly but still loud enough to hear over the bar noise. “What’s wrong?” She glanced up and furrowed her brow. “Do I know you?” she asked. Okay, she opened the door for about a hundred different tried-and-true scenarios I could have used. I could have lied my ass off and most definitely ended up sympathy fucking her. The thing was, I just didn’t want to use a single one of those bullshit stories. “I’m the idiot who couldn’t put two words together to talk to you the other night,” I admitted. “Nick Wolfe.” I held out my hand, but she didn’t take it. “Oh, you.” She looked back at her drink and didn’t say anything else. Shit. “It’s just...you caught me off guard,” I said. “I don’t usually have that much trouble using my tongue.” Shit again. I hadn’t meant it to sound the way it did, but her rainbow eyes narrowed at the innuendo. “Off guard?” she repeated, her voice fully snarky now. “Just…when I saw you,” I tried to explain, but all the words that came to mind were completely lame and likely to get me slapped. I took a deep breath. “You have beautiful eyes. I’ve never seen eyes quite that color before.” Her face hardened. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, narrowed her eyes at me, and her voice changed.

“Look, Nick,” she said, “I don't know what your game is, but I have a pretty good idea what you want. Not interested, so just go away, all right?” I had to admit I was a little taken aback at her tone. I didn't really know how to respond at first. A thousand tips and tricks I could use to change her attitude came to mind. One of them would likely work, too. They always had before. But I didn't want to use them. Fact was, surprisingly enough, I just didn't want her to look so sad. I could still see in her fascinating eyes how upset she was. I didn't give a shit if I got laid or not. “I’m not playing a game,” I finally said definitively. “You just looked sad, and I wanted to know what I could do to help.” She didn’t respond, so I tried again. “Why are you sitting alone?” “It's really none of your business,” she snapped back. Her tone was harsh, no doubt about it, but I was still focused on her eyes. They had a whole other look about them. “You seem upset,” I commented. “What part of ‘none of your business’ don't you get?” she growled. “Can’t you just go away?” I might have done it, too, if it weren’t for the look in the eyes I couldn’t stop watching. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and the thought that she was so upset she’d cry in front of a virtual stranger in a sports bar was about the saddest thing I could imagine. “I don't want you to be sad,” I said with a slight shrug. “I thought maybe I could help.” “How are you going to help?” “I could tell you a joke.” “Seriously?” “Yeah.” The lashes framing the rainbow eyes fluttered a few times, and then the lids closed for a long moment. Milena took a long breath before opening her eyes and looking back to me again. “Not necessary,” she said.

“I know,” I replied quietly. “I want to.” “You want to tell me a joke.” “I do.” More glares. Beautiful, enticing glares. I was such a mess. “Fine,” she said. “Really?” “Go on,” she muttered, “before I change my mind.” “Okay,” I said. I took a deep breath and realized I had absolutely no joke in mind to tell her, and under the pressure of needing to come up with a good one, my mind was completely frozen. I knew some good jokes, and I was good at telling them, but right at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything but the stupidest jokes from childhood. “Well?” Milena stared at me. I was pretty sure her foot was tapping. “Why did the captain flush the toilet?” I blurted out. Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing. It was far too late to think of something better, so I just delivered the punch line with a punchy smile. “It was his duty!” She kept staring at me, but there was the slightest twitch in the corner of her eye at the same time. If I wasn’t so fascinated with them, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I did know exactly what that meant, though – it meant she was about to give in. My heart beat faster. She cracked a half-smile as she turned to look away and sigh. “That was awful,” she informed me. “I know,” I said. “I couldn’t take the pressure.” I laughed and she laughed with me. Her eyes sparkled and shone with humor, and again my pulse raced. I couldn’t stop looking at her and found myself saddened as her expression dropped back to melancholy. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

Milena sighed heavily and gestured towards the seat across from her. I was all too happy to join her and pulled the barstool up close to the table as I sat down. I leaned forward on my elbows – just wanting to be a little closer to her – and waited for her to say something. “My brother is an ass,” she finally said. “I know he means well and all that, but he’s seriously interfering with my life.” “What did he do?” “The same shit he always does,” she said. “He’s trying to run my life. He’s trying to replace Mom and Dad.” Her voice faltered a little when she mentioned her parents, and I knew they were dead. “What happened to them?” I asked quietly. “I mean, if you want to tell me. I’m not trying to pry.” I was; I was trying to pry. “Okay,” I corrected, still unwilling to lie to her, “I do want to pry. I want to know, if you’re willing to tell me.” “Car accident,” she said. She stared down at her fingers on the table top. “It’s been about a year. We moved up here a few months ago because we have family here, and our uncle kind of pressured us to move.” “You’re not from Chicago?” “No,” she said, “Quincy.” I thought it was a little town near St Louis, but I wasn’t sure. I wondered if she was close to her uncle or if her brother was. I wondered if she wanted to move or felt forced into it. There were a hundred questions I wanted to ask just so I could learn about her, listen to her voice, and watch her eyes when she told me. Maybe it was the drinks or the stupid joke, but she did decide to open up. She told me how much she missed her parents and how her brother had been trying to help; he just wasn’t. She talked a little about her uncle, who lived in a huge mansion, and how he wanted them to both live with him. Her brother had done so, but she took up an apartment after being there just a few weeks, preferring to live on her own. “He wants me to move back in with them,” Milena said. “I don’t even quite understand why, but he’s really insisting on it. Actually, I think our uncle is insisting, and Micah is just bringing me the message. Whatever it is, I’m sick of it.”

“I can understand that,” I replied with a nod. “I live with my family, and it can be a pain in the ass.” “It is,” she agreed. “I know they’re just trying to help – to look after me – but I want to look after myself.” I nodded meaningfully, and she looked up at me and smiled a little. “Thanks, Nick.” “For what?” “Just...for hanging out with me.” Before I could really respond, I heard someone calling her name from across the bar. “Milena!” A dude in a dark jacket and jeans yelled across the bar and headed straight for us. He had slightly darker blond hair than Milena’s, but their features were similar enough to make their relationship obvious – this had to be the brother. “Jesus, Micah!” she said with a heavy sigh. “You scared the shit out of me.” “Well, you shouldn’t be here in the first place,” Micah snapped. He glanced over to me with narrowed eyes and then completely dismissed me. “I’m taking you home.” “I’m not really ready to go home,” Milena said. “I was actually kind of thinking I’d hang out here for a while with my friend.” I felt my skin warm at the word. “No, you’re not.” The guy didn’t even glance at me, just reached down and grabbed onto her elbow, which she shook loose. “Dude,” I said with a smile, “she’s a big girl, and-” “Fuck you,” he snapped. Though he glanced at me enough to size me up, he didn’t really acknowledge me at all. I obviously wasn’t big enough to be a concern for him because he kept going on. “Did I ask you for some sort of opinion or anything? No? Didn’t think so.” He turned back to Milena, who rolled her eyes and looked away from him. I looked back and forth, trying to figure out if I should step in or not. I wasn’t going to let him take her against her will – no way in hell – but I was also pretty sure she might take offense if I interfered, like she wasn’t capable of handling him on her own.

“Home,” he said. “Now.” “You are not Dad,” Milena yelled back at him. “I am not going anywhere.” “Yeah, you are!” he insisted. I barely heard him at that point because those beautiful, magical eyes were filling up with tears and making my chest ache. I took a step forward and placed myself not quite in between them but with my shoulder moving in that direction. Putting space between them seemed really important. “You should go,” I said quietly as I looked up at him and realized what a damn big guy he was. “She said she’s not leaving just yet. I’ll make sure she gets home okay.” “Get the fuck out of my way!” Micah growled at me. He moved forward a bit, and one hand pressed sharply against my shoulder, which didn’t send me reeling or anything, but I had to take a step back to keep my balance. The next thing I knew, Evan was between us. He didn't say anything at first - just used his body to put distance between me and Milena’s brother. Once he had us separated, he just stared at the dude, and the look in his cold eyes was one I'd seen before. “What the fuck-” Micah started to say, but he must have seen something in Evan’s eyes that made him stop. Then his eyes widened, and there was no doubt that the look was one of recognition. He looked back to me, his eyes wider still. Then he took a half step away from the ex-Marine and glanced at his sister. “Who the fuck are you hanging out with?” he said in a nearly breathless voice. He look to me and then back to Milena with blazing eyes. “What the fuck, Milena?” “Just leave,” Milena told him. “Please – I’ll call you tomorrow, but you need to go, okay?” He looked at her in disbelief but slowly backed away. A moment later, he was quick-stepping right out of the bar altogether. Evan stayed completely still except for his eyes, which followed Milena’s brother as he left. As soon as the door shut and Micah was out of the building, Evan turned back to the table where I had been before and grabbed his jacket. “I've got to go,” he said. “Evan,” I said quietly but seriously. He looked at me, and I could see the intent in his eyes. I knew I wasn’t getting the whole story behind what was going on between Milena and her brother, but I was pretty sure she didn’t want him either beaten or – more likely – dead because of it. There was

also a feeling of dread inside of me as I caught on to what had escaped me before – the Russian names and Micah’s attitude. They were part of the Outfit, no doubt. Not Milena – I didn’t believe that – but her brother definitely was, which meant her uncle was as well. Not only were they a mob family but a Russian one as well. My life was turning into West Side Story. The only difference was, she didn’t seem to know she was in the rival gang, and I couldn’t really see her hanging out a window singing about herself. Evan knew it, though. He glared at me. “No,” I said, and though his eyes narrowed, he backed down. Somewhere in his warped sense of morality, I was the boss’s son and needed to be obeyed. He didn’t agree with it. He didn’t like it, but he would go along with it. For now. By tomorrow, he’d be talking to Dad about it, and I didn’t know what I would do then. That would be left for tomorrow, though. For now, I just wanted Milena to smile again. “I’ve got this,” I said to Evan. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath before he gave me a curt nod and walked back to the table with Jonathan and the others. “What the fuck was that?” Milena asked quietly. Grabbing the barstool, I pulled it around the table and sat up close to her. “Milena,” I said quietly, “I really like you, and I don't want to lie to you.” “So don't.” “Wasn't planning to.” I sighed. “It's just that...there's shit I can't talk about.” She eyed me, and the gaze was like Medusa’s. I mean, there weren’t any snakes in her hair or anything like that, but she was turning me to stone. Well, part of me. “Including telling me who the big, scary guy is and why it seems like he was going to walk out of here and beat the shit out of my brother?”

If he was lucky. “Yeah,” I answered aloud, “like that.” The way she was looking at me was most certainly debating…deciding…determining. In the back of my head, I knew I should say something else – that this was the time to lie, but I just couldn’t. I was too entranced with her. She shook her head slowly. “Maybe I don’t want to know,” she muttered. “Probably not,” I said with a little smile. “Maybe you could just come hang out with my friends for a bit?” Milena glanced around the bar and then picked up her purse and followed me to the other tables. Everyone was into at least their third drink, and the group was pretty loud. I introduced Milena to everyone, and Jonathan gave me a strange look. At one point, he leaned over and nudged me. “Since when do you actually like a girl instead of just faking it?” he asked. I stared at him for a moment, wondering just how he could tell. He chuckled and was about to say something when his arm was jostled by an addition to the group, and beer went everywhere. “Come on, buy me a shot.” Evan Arden’s eyes darkened and shifted to the side as he glared at the guy. It was the dude with the birthday again, leaning against the table and obviously completely sloshed. He was also the least observant person in the world as well. I mean, if nothing else, he was trying to get the most deadly man in the city to buy him a drink. If that didn’t count as stupid, I didn’t know what did. “I’ll git ya one,” Jonathan finally said. I got the impression he was actually trying to save the poor dude’s life. I could see the tension in Arden’s neck as his hands clenched slightly. His eyes narrowed at Jonathan as he waved at the server. “There’s a catch, though,” Jonathan told the kid. “The catch is, I git to decide what shot yer gonna do.” The drunken idiot agreed.

When the server came over, Jonathan had her get out her notepad and take down his instructions. “I need a shot that’s half vodka and half half-n-half,” he told her. “What?” she asked through her lashes. Her eyes blazed. “I ain’t finished,” he said. “Now, once you have both in the glass, I want ya to microwave it just a few seconds – git it to about body temperature. You know…what d’ya call it?” “Lukewarm,” Evan said without moving his eyes from his beer. “Right! Make it lukewarm.” The server glanced from Jonathan’s face to her notepad and wrote something down. “Then put salt on the rim and bring it on over. I’ll totally make it worth your while.” She shook her head as she walked away. “You’re crazy,” Evan muttered. “This is gonna be custom,” Jonathan replied. A couple minutes later, the server brought back the drink and placed it on the table. The kid took the shot, and the look on his face was priceless. “What do you call that drink?” Evan asked. “Nu Jizz,” Jonathan replied. “You’re sick.” Jonathan laughed. The kid tried to place the shot glass back on the table but missed entirely the first couple of times. On the last try, he threw more of his body into it. The high-top table jiggled on its base as the kid tried to hold onto it to steady himself, but it didn’t work. “Uh oh,” I muttered. I pulled Milena away from the table as it toppled, taking everything – including the wasted kid – to the floor. Jonathan laughed hysterically as Evan jumped back and away from the mess, his hand going instinctively to the small of his back. I felt myself tense as the muscles in his arms contracted, and for a moment it looked like he might pull out a gun and shoot the kid. I had no idea what I was going to do if the dude actually pulled his gun in the middle of the bar. He didn’t, thankfully. The drunken kid stayed right there on the floor of the bar, lying amongst a pile of napkins, bottles,

plastic cups, and spilled beer. “Fucking moron,” Evan muttered. “I’m outta here.” He adjusted the back of his jeans, and the sleek metal of a weapon peeked out slightly before he concealed it again. Without another word, he slipped between the body of onlookers and out the back door. “That guy is…interesting,” Milena said “A little too interesting,” I told her. “You maybe want to get out of here?” She eyed me, and the rainbows tried to mesmerize me again. “I mean – just take a walk or something? Go out for a smoke? It’s too loud to talk in here.” “Yeah, I’ll go for the smoke,” she replied. We went out the side door to a little area where a bunch of people were lighting up. I pulled a pack out of my pocket and made sure to light her smoke before my own. Hey – I know how to be a gentleman! I leaned against the rail at the edge of the patio and tried to get a good angle where I could see her eyes in the lamplight. “You’re a man-whore,” she suddenly informed me. “You’re famous for it, according to the women in your group. They warned me to stay away from you.” A hundred viable, bullshit stories ran around in my head. “They’re probably right,” I said honestly. “Really, though – I don’t think of you like that.” “You don’t?” “No.” I shook my head solemnly. “Something wrong with me?” she snapped. God, I was starting to love that attitude. “Nothing, as far as I can tell.” She eyed me a moment longer, and I basked in it. It made my skin warm, even in the cool night breeze, and also made me totally forget about my cigarette, which burned down without me taking more than a couple hits off of it.

“I feel like everything you’re going to say to me is a line you’ve used on someone else,” Milena said. “Is that what they told you?” I gestured towards the window and the group at our tables. “Something like that.” “I’m not,” I assured her and wondered if I was assuring. “Normally I would – they’re right – but I’m not. Not now.” “Why not?” I had no idea how to put it into words. “I don’t know,” I told her with a lame shrug. “I just don’t want to with you.” “I don’t know if I can believe you or not,” she said. My eyes went to the ground, and I looked at her carefully painted toenails in comfortable looking sandals. I had a creeping, distinct feeling I was losing here. It wasn’t just a matter of getting her to sleep with me, either. I mean, yeah – I definitely wanted to – but I’d be happy just being with her for the moment. What the hell was happening to me? “Still, there is something about you,” she murmured. “Something good?” I asked as my eyes shot back up to her face. I hoped it was something good. I might have even prayed. “I think so,” she said, “but I’m going to have to find out for sure.” She took a quick step forward, placing herself between my legs, and pressed her warm lips against mine. No doubt – I knew it wasn’t just her eyes I liked. It was everything.

Chapter 5 Maybe being famous to just one person would be all right with me. I kinda wanted to kiss her with our eyes open, just so I could keep watching hers, but that would have just been weird. No one kisses with their eyes open, do they? Besides, I still wasn’t too sure what she thought of me – notwithstanding the tongue in my mouth. Her hands went up around my neck and tugged at the back of my head. I didn’t need much encouragement and quickly wrapped my arms around her waist to bring her against my body. My mouth moved against hers with practiced pressure, and on her tongue, I tasted the vodka and cranberry she had been drinking. She broke away for a moment, panting. Her eyes darted around my face, and I was about to ask her what was wrong when she pulled me to her again, this time pressing her body tight against mine as she kissed me. I couldn’t help but respond…some things are just automatic. “I want that,” she growled against my lips as she placed her foot against the railing behind me, effectively opening her legs and pressing her warmth against my growing cock. “Fuck,” I whispered as I was engulfed in heat. My hands dropped to her ass, and I pulled us closer together. She broke away again but didn’t break our body contact. Her eyes looked into mine, and one of her hands reached up to cup the side of my face. “This is so stupid,” Milena mumbled under her breath. “It is – I know it is. I don’t care though.” “Does it have to be stupid?” I asked, immediately feeling stupid. “I mean, can’t we just…we could…” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say – I only knew it was important for this to not end. I didn’t care if we stayed out here on the patio and made out, or smoked cigarettes, or went inside and sat with the others. I didn’t want this…this – whatever it was – to stop. I didn’t want her to go away. “I live close by,” she said. “Five-minute walk.” My eyes met hers, and I tried to focus on her words instead of just the shimmering colors. If any other girl had said the same words, I would have known immediately what she meant. With her, I was too afraid for it to not be true.

I didn’t want to chance it. “I don’t want a one night stand with you,” I said. She stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t either,” she finally replied. “I want…” I paused, unable to put my thoughts into words. “Tell me this is more,” Milena said as she reached up and pulled my head a little closer to her. She stared me right in the eyes. “Tell me this isn’t more of your bullshit like those girls in there said it was. Tell me you’re feeling this.” I nodded between her palms. “This isn’t bullshit,” I said. “I want you. I don’t want to fuck this up.” Her eyes blazed and then softened. She took a step back, and her fingers trailed down my arm until they reached my hand. She glanced over her shoulder back at the bar entrance and then led me away from the building and down the sidewalk. Milena took me to a building I knew immediately – it was the same one Evan lived in. The reason her brother wanted her to move back in with the family was abundantly clear – my Dad owned most of the block. She was on one of the lower floors and faced the opposite direction from Evan’s. She didn’t waste any time once the front door was closed. Her mouth covered mine, and her fingers dug at the hem of the black T-shirt I wore. She yanked it out of my jeans and stopped kissing me just long enough to pull it up and over my head before she was back on me again. As she kissed me, she quickly unbuttoned and dropped her own shirt to the floor, and I had to pause long enough to see the lacy white bra containing her smooth, round tits. Damn, they were nice. Really, really nice. I almost wished she would leave her bra on. Being able to just see the tops of them was putting me into overdrive. It also meant my cock was getting really uncomfortable in my jeans. Running my fingers over her collarbones, I made sure to only softly brush her skin with the tips of my fingers as I glanced up to her face. Milena's eyes were darkened, which made the blue brilliant and the brown and orange spots seem to dance as she looked back at me. “You are incredibly beautiful,” I told her softly. “You've probably had a hundred guys tell you that.”

She blushed, and her eyes darted away. Reaching out with my free hand, I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger so I could turn her back towards me. “Every time I look at you, I can barely function,” I confessed. “I become a total moron around you.” “You're cute,” she whispered. I hoped that was a good thing. She moved up on her toes and brought our mouths back together, so it must have been good. Her hands moved over my abs and up my chest, and her fingers brushed over my nipples. It made me shiver, and I reached down to grip her hips and pull her against me. Her fingers trailed across my chest and down my abs, and my cock responded. Her eyes glanced up at me, and her tongue darted over her lips. She smiled and blinked at me a few times as she shifted around my body. “Got something for me?” she asked with a sly smile before her hand dropped lower, and her fingers stroked me from balls to tip, causing me to shudder. My breath quickened. My heart pounded in my chest, and my cock throbbed in time with my pulse. Something in the back of my head couldn’t believe any of this was even real. She was too perfect – too dream-like. I wanted her too much. More than anyone – ever. I slid my hand up the outside of her arm and over her shoulder. My fingers threaded through her hair as I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. She tasted like the evening wind, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Bedroom?” I whispered against her mouth and then immediately wondered if we both had the same thing in mind. As I started to backpedal, she placed her hand over my lips. “Bedroom,” she said with conviction. I have no idea what it looked like. I don’t know the furniture that was there, the color of the walls or the curtains. I was fairly certain it had carpet, but I wouldn’t swear to it. The bed was huge though – that I remembered. Milena pushed my jeans off my hips and let them drop. I helped her with the boxers and then knelt in front of her to pull her jeans down her legs. Beautiful legs.

My hands caressed her thighs as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. I had to swallow hard as her breasts were revealed, and I was glad to already be on my knees. I probably would have dropped to them if I wasn’t already there. My thumbs hooked in the edge of her panties, and I pulled them slowly down. As I looked up at her completely bare body, my heart and mind raced. I’d never seen anyone more beautiful. I stood slowly, picked her up, and laid her down in the center of the bed. I spent a moment looking over her form, smiled, and crawled over the top of her. Then I realized something. I was going to cockblock myself again. No, no, no…I could get lucky, right? “Shit.” I stopped moving and looked at her sheepishly. “Um…are you on the pill?” Please say yes…please say yes…please say yes and then also be all right with me coming inside of you…please, please, please… Milena rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said with a bit of snark. “I thought you were a man-whore. What man-whore doesn’t have a box of condoms on him at any given time?” “One that can’t stop thinking about you,” I replied. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you there.” She eyed me a little dubiously, and it made my chest hurt. “I wouldn’t lie,” I whispered. “Not to you – not ever.” Her sparkling eyes widened for a moment, and she reached out with her hand to brush her fingers across my cheek. “You mean that, don’t you?” “With my soul,” I told her. “With everything that means anything, I swear it.” We kissed again with our naked bodies lined up on the bed next to each other. My hands explored her skin, and she gripped my shoulders and arms with her fingers. Eventually, I rolled over and covered her, my mouth leaving hers and moving slowly down her body. I licked and sucked at her nipples as her fingers dug into my hair. My heart pounded along with

my cock, but all I really wanted to do was make her feel fantastic. At least I knew exactly what needed to be done in that department. Moving back up to her neck, I nestled against her ear. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” I swore to her, “that you’re going to not just scream my name, but forget yours.” “Jesus, Nick…” Dropping back down her shoulder and between her breasts, I began to trail kisses across her hipbones and flicked her skin with my tongue. I nuzzled against her navel, then moved lower and wrapped my arms around the underside of her thighs. “Are you…?” I raised an eyebrow at her as I dropped my head and tasted. “Nick…” she moaned. Humming against her warm lips, my tongue found her opening and slid inside, swirling around in her and then returning to circle her clit as her hips bucked against my hands. I held firmly, keeping her ass to the bed as my lips and tongue worked her over. I added my fingers, sliding inside of her and feeling how warm and wet she was. My cock throbbed, wanting and needing to be in her. It wasn’t long before she was panting and moaning, her legs and hips wrestling with me on the bed as I held her firmly in place and watched her. Her eyes were closed and her head pressed back against the pillow, and she was incredibly beautiful. I’d always enjoyed watching a woman come, but this was more like some kid of religious experience. Her mouth was partially open, and though she didn’t actually scream or anything, her moan turned more high-pitched as her hips tilted upward, and she shuddered around my fingers in ecstasy. I continued to run my tongue around her clit as she came down, just with a little less pressure. As her hips dropped back to the mattress, I kissed up the center of her body, stopping to run my tongue over a nipple as my fingers stroked her a few more times. My hand retracted from her body and wrapped around my shaft to guide it inside of her. As soon as the head came into contact with the warmth, I had to pull back. “What's wrong?” Milena asked in a hushed voice. “Too good,” I said. “You feel so fucking good inside, I'm going to lose it.” Placing my hand beside her on the bed, I thought about baseball and soccer and dead puppies until

I was under control again. I wasn’t going to screw this up. Taking my cock back in my hand, I looked to her to make sure she was still ready. She offered me a small nod, and I eased forward. It was as cliché as Chicago and the mob, but being inside of her was like nothing I had ever felt before. Far beyond the physical feeling of being inside of a woman, my mind was literally quaking with the sensation. It was screaming at me – “Yes! Yes! Yes!” as I buried myself completely and then just held myself there. Milena’s hands moved up my arms and past my neck to palm the sides of my face. She brought my head to hers and kissed me as her legs wrapped tightly around my hips. I moved slowly at first, allowing us both to adjust to the intensity of whatever it was that was happening between us. My hand traced up her side and around the front to her breast, and I gently rubbed her nipple with my thumb in time with my hips. With her hand at the back of my neck, she brought my face back to hers and pressed our lips together. I made sure not to alter my movements as we kissed but kept up the slow and steady rhythm. My fingers moved back down to her stomach and reached between us to tease her clit. I increased the pace as her tongue captured mine, and she raised her knees up to my sides to allow me to go deeper and faster. Her fingers gripped my arms, and she dropped onto her back to use the bed for more leverage. She met every one of my movements with her own. Perfect rhythm. “God…Nick…” Milena moaned as her hips rose from the bed and her feet twisted up with my calves. “Harder…just a little…” Only too happy to comply with her wishes, I ground into her – deep, fast, and as hard as I could. Milena cried out as she raised the top half of her body up to grab my shoulders and hold on for a moment. Then she dropped back to the mattress and reached down to grab my hips as she cried out again. “You like that?” I growled in her ear, enjoying her reaction to the words. “You like it hard and fast?” The only response was an incomprehensible, post-orgasmic grunt, which I took as positive as I continued to plough into her. My thighs were shaking as my hips repeated their rhythmic thrusts. The buildup of pressure in my balls was strong, and my whole body tensed as my abs contracted. The rippling sensation began to

spread out down my legs, up into my gut, and to my cock. There was no more ability left in me to hold out, and with a gasp and a loud grunt, I unloaded inside of her. I froze, shuddered, and for the longest moment, just…felt her. I couldn’t have described it if I tried. With my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against her shoulder, I panted hot breath over her skin as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. It was like my brain had exploded along with my cock. I had heard others talk about orgasms and sex and shit with someone you really care about being different – better, more intense. I'd never experienced it though and honestly thought it was total bullshit. Until that moment. I didn't just get off. I didn't bust a nut. It was truly unlike anything I had felt before. My forehead pressed against Milena's shoulder, and my teeth ground together, though that didn't stop the cry from escaping my mouth. There were tears in my eyes. The muscles in my arms and legs gave out, and I collapsed on top of her. I couldn't move, and whatever was going on in my head was too fast - too intense - for me to comprehend. I stayed in the exact same position with my cock still buried and my arms still wrapped tightly around her back and shoulders. My heart continued to race as I held myself deep inside of her and tried to make mental contact with any part of my body. My flesh seemed to be in some sort of post orgasmic shock, though, and kept insisting my legs were no longer attached to the rest of me. My arms still worked, apparently, and they tensed a little as her weight transferred. While my arms tightened their hold, my hips also moved slightly to keep me from slipping out of her. I wanted to stay. She let out a soft moan, and just when I thought she was going to push herself away from me and out of the bed, her legs wrapped around my hips. “Wow,” her breathless whisper came from below me. “Don't you dare move. Stay right where you

are.” I was all too happy to oblige. I even shifted my hips a bit to keep myself inside of her. It was where I wanted to be – maybe forever. I’d never stayed inside a girl like that. There was always the issue of the condom and not wanting it to leak or anything. This time, as stupid as part of my brain knew it was, I didn’t care. I still wasn’t interested in having any kids, but coming in her had been all too fantastic. “That was really something,” Milena said. “It was,” I agreed. Then some paranoid bit of me wondered what she really meant. “I mean…you mean something good, right?” For some reason, it was really important to me that it was. “Definitely,” she replied. “I don't... I don't think I can quite put it into words, except that I’m totally wiped out now.” “You can sleep if you want,” I suggested. It was a strange thing to suggest, too. Though I’d had a few girls sleep over with me, or me with them, it wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, but something born out of necessity of some sort. There was no need here – I could have just gone back to the bar. “You can,” I said, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. I had basically just given her permission to sleep in her own bed, which was kind of ridiculous. “I mean, you can just sleep right here if you want, obviously – it’s your bed. I just mean, I’m okay with it. If you wanted to go to sleep.” Milena looked up at me and laughed. “I feel like a guy! And you’re being all girly and awkward.” “No one has ever said that with my cock inside them before,” I said as I raised an eyebrow. She laughed again, and the motion pushed me right out of her, and I let out a frustrated sigh. Milena shrugged an apology, and I rolled off to lie next to her instead. My arms went around her immediately, and I pulled her to my chest. “So, it’s okay if I stay, right?” I asked quietly. “Yes, it is.” “Good,” I replied with relief. “Then you just go ahead and fall asleep. I’ll keep watch out for angry family members and bedbugs or whatever.” “That's good to know,” she said with a soft snicker. “I mean about the rolling over and going to sleep part. I’m really tired.”

I kept my eyes on hers and tried not to be too mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of colors found there. It didn’t really work, and I wondered how completely lame it was to be so fascinated by such a thing. Yes, they were unusual, and I liked unusual things, but there was a lot more to it as well. I couldn’t put it into clear thoughts or words; I just wanted to be near her and look at her. Ridiculous? Maybe. Milena moved her arm around me and rested her hand on my stomach. My arm went around her shoulders as I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I pondered the whole idea of an actual relationship, up to and including a mortgage. The pondering was bad enough – the fact that it all seemed to be kind of a cool idea to me was the most surprising bit. Was this going to be the end of my man-whoring days? I didn’t know, but as weird and uncharacteristic as it was, it didn’t matter to me. I wanted to know I’d be seeing her again and preferably again after that. The idea of being a one-woman guy was not only attractive, but just downright necessary. I needed her. “I’m not sharing you,” Milena mumbled as her head tucked against my shoulder. “Just so we’re clear.” “Crystal,” I replied. I pulled her a little closer against me and couldn’t even fathom anything else at the moment. More cliché, of course, but she just clicked inside of me. I knew it was right, and I knew there was never going to be anything else like the time I spent with her. Milena’s breathing became slow and steady, and I felt her weight against me increase slightly as she relaxed into sleep. Thoughts and memories of every other woman I had ever encountered – every single cliché notch on the bedpost – faded from my mind. My lips pressed against the spot right below Milena’s ear, and she sighed as she rolled against my body. Her arm flopped a little to the side, and her hand smacked against my balls. Hard. My teeth ground together, my face scrunched up, and my whole body tensed and lifted from the mattress a little as a shockwave moved through my system. It was like a white-hot light starting in the pit of my stomach and radiating outwards as nausea and dizziness overwhelmed me. For a moment, I thought I might actually get sick.

I did my best to not actually scream out loud but had to bite my lip pretty hard not to. My balls throbbed, my legs ached, and I had my eyes squeezed shut so tightly, I saw blue spots all over the insides of the lids. It could have been seconds or minutes as I lay there immobilized and tried to push the pain away. As I slowly regained some sense, I opened my eyes to see Milena motionless beside me. I looked more closely at the beautiful woman whose bed I shared. It had taken everything I had inside me not to scream. There was no way she could have missed what just happened, right? Wrong. Milena was sound asleep and completely oblivious to what she had done. As the agony slowly – much, much too slowly – began to subside, I managed to release my lip from my teeth and collapse back against the mattress. Once I could breathe again, my body went through one final shudder, and Milena let out a sleepy sigh as she snuggled against my chest – the ultimate cockblock going completely unnoticed. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud when I thought about it. The idea of having anyone try to screw up my chances with a lady had always been so abhorrent; I had devised a thousand ways to keep it from happening. Of all the people who knew this and had tried to interfere with my ways in the past, no one had ever been successful until I had managed to screw up my first encounter with Milena all on my own. Somehow, that had worked out for the very best, and now here she was, and the idea of being the ultimate ladies’ man didn’t matter anymore. No doubt – I had decided being cockblocked wasn’t that bad after all. As long as I was with her. The End

Otherwise Unharmed Shay Savage

Chapter 1—Lost Soul It’s fucking bright. Even though the lights had just been turned on, I was already sitting up in the rough, uncomfortable bed that was one of many in the Metropolitan Correctional Center of Chicago’s medical unit. It had been quiet up until a moment ago when the daytime workers arrived and the day guard took the place of the one on the night shift. I could hear words being spoken as shifts changed, but I didn’t pay attention to their meaning. Everything happening outside of me was too much to take. There was enough going on inside my head at that moment. Shots, explosions, the recoil of my Barrett M82 sniper rifle against my shoulder, and blood. I shifted my arm, and the chain to the handcuff around my wrist rattled against the railing on the side of the bed. The feeling made me tense a little, like it did every time I moved, and I began to feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. I hadn’t slept more than an hour or two since I’d been brought here. Two days ago? Three? Initially, the doctor at the prison insisted on sedating me. The forced sleep and the accompanying dreams were the worst I had ever had, and I refused all other medication after that first time. I knew at some point my captors could get a court order to force me to take them, but as long as I was reasonably cooperative, that would take some time. I was certainly all right with waiting as long as possible. I had never liked taking drugs of any sort. Maybe by then I would be able to control the memories again. I had learned how before—even without having someone sleeping beside me or having drugs in my system. Not long after I left Virginia and moved back to Ohio, I had managed to control the dreams. How had I done that? “You’re damn good with that thing,” Jonathan says. “Lots of practice,” I respond. “It’s about the only thing that keeps me calm, you know?” “Yeah, that’s what you’ve said.” He crushes his cigarette into the ground before crouching down next to me. “Do you ever think about…you know…shooting people?” “All the fucking time,” I mutter as I pull back on the trigger and send another shot into the makeshift target at the far end of the open field behind Jonathan’s house. “Could you?” Jonathan presses. “Could you really shoot a person like that?” “I have,” I remind him. “Many times.” “But you were deployed then. What about now and with a different sort of enemy?” I think for a moment, and the woman with the dull gray eyes that sparkled as she talked about opening up a fucking flower shop poked out from behind the other memories. “Yeah, I could still do it,” I say. Jonathan seems to contemplate for a moment, and as I am about to fire again, he speaks up.

“I got someone who wants to meet you.” It seemed liked a hundred years ago when Jonathan first brought me to Rinaldo Moretti’s office. In reality, I had only been doing hits for the crime lord for a couple of years. I wondered how many people I had killed for him and decided the exact number was best left to ambiguity. A muscle spasm in my back caused me to pull from my thoughts long enough to move a little to the left for some relief. I refused to think about the cold metal connecting me to the bed and preventing a lot of movement. I tried not to let it remind me of being in a hot, reeking hole somewhere in the vast deserts of the Middle East. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t the same at all. If I had been turned on my front instead of on my back, or if I had been kneeling, keeping the memories from my mind would have been impossible. As it was, the thoughts still lingered, pounded at the front of my skull, and demanded access into my brain continuously. It was hard to fight it, and sometimes I gave in out of sheer exhaustion. There was a part of me inside—probably the one part that still remained of whoever I may have once been—that knew I had cracked. I was mentally shut down and physically non-responsive, but I still knew the meaning of the words “comatose” and “possibly suicidal” when I heard them spoken. None of it mattered, but I still understood. I was just too locked inside the continuous cascade of memories to care about what was going on anywhere outside of myself. The door slid open with a clang, and I glanced toward the sound, but I couldn’t say that I actually saw anything going on in my vicinity. At least, I didn’t see or hear enough to actually pay attention to it. All my thoughts and my focus were internal. How did I get here? I wasn’t stupid. I also wasn’t so far gone to not remember the basics of what happened. After serving my tour of duty as a Marine sniper in the Middle East coupled with eighteen months as a prisoner of war, being exiled to Arizona for screwing up a hit for my mob-boss, spending too much time thinking about the girl I met there, and killing my favorite hooker for betraying me, I’d finally lost it and started shooting up the neighborhood. It hadn’t been my very best plan, but then again, I hadn’t been in the best frame of mind. Without Bridgett the hooker lying next to me, I couldn’t sleep. It had already been more than a week since I had managed a decent night’s rest when I found out Bridgett had been telling my nemesis, Terry Kramer, privileged information I had babbled in my sleep. After I killed them both, I hadn’t slept at all. “I didn’t mean to…didn’t fucking mean to…” I did, though. My chest seized up, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. I could see the terror in her eyes as I dragged her from my car to the storeroom in the basement of Moretti’s office. I heard her pleading with me to let her go and felt her blood splatter against my shoulder as I shot her. She had trusted me, depended on me, and in the back of my head, I knew she had feelings for me neither one of us was willing to acknowledge. And in return, I put a bullet in her head. Why did I do it?

There was no answer. What brought me to that point, that moment? The question was more metaphorical. I hadn’t started off so bad, so how did I end up where I was today? Raised in a convent by a bunch of nuns, emancipated at seventeen, and left to my own devices, I had joined the Marines so I could serve my country as one of the best snipers ever trained. I was field promoted to Lieutenant in the middle of a firefight. All in all, not the worst start in life. But then I had lost my entire unit to insurgents, was taken prisoner, and tortured for a year and a half. After I had been rescued, I came back with bruises, muscle atrophy to the point where I needed help walking at first, and a dislocated shoulder. Aside from those minor injuries, I was perfectly fine when they brought me back from the Middle East via a German military hospital outside of Munich. I remembered hearing the words on the television when my little soldier story was getting a lot of media play. “Lieutenant Evan Nathanial Arden, Marine sniping expert, brought home with minor injuries and muscle atrophy, but otherwise unharmed.” It wasn’t until after I came home that everything went wrong on the inside: kicked out of the Marines, based on a diagnosis from a doctor who mostly wanted to write a bestselling book, and eventually hooking up with a guy who led me into my current line of work—sniping for the Chicago mafia. Catholic schoolboy gone bad. My caseworker was nearby, talking to the unit manager of my cellblock about when I might be moved to the general prison population. I heard her say Mark Duncan, the name of the military shrink who was assigned to my case after my discharge. He had apparently been calling about me and was likely going ballistic because he didn’t see any of this coming. He took pride in his work, and he thought he had been helping me. Maybe he had been helping; it just wasn’t enough. Traci, my caseworker, was a chunky, blonde woman in her mid-thirties. She leaned over to look in my face as she spoke, but her words weren’t interesting enough for me to pay attention to them. Her hand touched my arm, and even though part of my psyche wanted to scream and flinch from the touch, I didn’t move. I didn’t see the point. How many hours or days had passed since I had been taken down and dragged from my apartment didn’t really register. I didn’t think it had been all that long, but time didn’t have a lot of meaning for me. My actions during that day replayed in my mind a lot—the look in Bridgett’s eyes as I fired my gun into her face, the desire to shoot everyone on a bus going up Michigan Avenue, and then eventually blowing the shit out of a noisy parking garage door; the terror of being shoved to the ground as the SWAT team took me into custody, begging someone to just kill me, followed by the relief I felt when I realized Odin, my Great Pyrenees, was all right; the ambivalence of seeing Lia in the hallway and knowing she was watching me as I was dragged off in handcuffs was enough to turn my brain inside out.

Lia Antonio. She was the beautiful, dark-haired woman who found herself at my cabin in Arizona during my exile. She ended up in my bed and in my head far more than I expected or even wanted. Now, I clung to thoughts of her as much as I could—everything else I thought about was too full of gunshots, sirens, and blood. I didn’t know how she managed to find me, and the serendipity of finding me at that place at that moment was fantastic. As my thoughts raced around in my head, I heard the heavy footsteps of other inmates and prison staff as they moved around the infirmary, around beds and desks, and eventually out into the hallway. The things going on around me registered as they happened; they just didn’t have any meaning for me. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that. I still regretted not taking a life—if I had done that, they would have killed me. If they had killed me, I wouldn’t be here now, wondering how the fuck I got myself into such a mess. I was supposed to go far—be smarter than this. I was supposed to have my whole life ahead of me. “You’re a bright boy, Evan,” Mother Superior says. I know she’s right. I’ve learned more in the past couple of years than she even realizes. “You’re going to go far.” “Just sign the papers,” I say as I push them across the desk and closer to her. As soon as her scrawl is over the bottom line, I bring them back toward me and slide them into a brown envelope. “Have fun with the next one.” “Evan, you know-” “Don’t,” I interrupt. “Just don’t do that. You know it’s crap as much as I do. You got what you wanted, and now I have what I want. Let’s leave it at that, okay?” She sighs as she looks at her hands on the desk. I half expect her to start rubbing at the rosary around her neck, but she doesn’t. “What are you going to do now?” she asks. “It’s pretty straightforward for an educated guy with no money,” I say with a shrug. “I’m going into the military.” If they had killed me, I wouldn’t have seen Lia again. Though the memories seemed ancient considering everything that had happened since my time in Arizona, I could still clearly see the look of desire in her eyes as her hand caressed my abs. The sound of her soft moans as I filled her ran through my head, and the feeling of her flesh against mine made everything else bearable. Almost. Then I would remember the bodies of my unit sprawled on the ground, the realization that one of my own had given up our location to the enemy, and the taste of sand filled my mouth again. My stomach

tightened involuntarily, and I sat up slightly as my body tried to double itself over. I squeezed my eyes shut and didn’t even try to stop the memories. It didn’t work anymore, anyway, and it was too much effort to try to control it any longer. Up on the roof of the base, rifle at my shoulder, I can see a figure walking in the distance, and I set my sights on him. As the crosshairs focus on his head, I can tell he is nothing more than a kid— maybe fourteen or fifteen. Through the scope, my view of him is crystal clear. His clothing is dirty and torn, there are smudges on his face, and a bruise over his left cheek. His eyes hold resolved terror. He doesn't want this. He's going to do it, but he doesn't want it. He’s holding his arms out at his sides at an awkward angle, and it’s obvious he has something strapped under his arms and around his waist. When I refocus between his eyes, I can see tears in them. I lower my eyelids for a moment before I secure my aim and fire. One memory followed another as I remembered running through a hailstorm of bullets to pull my unit’s communication officer out of the line of fire. The captain of the unit was hit and unconscious, and I became the first Marine in years to earn a field promotion from staff sergeant to second lieutenant right there on the dunes. Carrying my captain over my shoulder, I led my unit out of the firefight and back to base. With exactly seven weeks under my belt as a lieutenant, I’m staring at the bodies of all my comrades as they lie there in the sand. I feel slightly dizzy, and my stomach churns as I realize it’s not a dream, a hallucination, or a trick of the light. A slight sound behind me registers but not before I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head. I gripped my hands into fists, tightening the muscles in my arms as I tried to pull them across my chest. All I got in response was the constriction of the cuffs around my wrists and the clanging sound of the chains against the bedrails. My wrists are tied so tightly I can’t feel my hands. I’m sure if I could see them, they would be blue or black or some other unnatural color. I’m glad they’re behind my back so I can’t watch. As my hands go numb, the pain in my shoulders from my arms tied together increases a thousand fold. I wish I could pretend it’s all a nightmare, but I know it’s real. There’s no getting out of this. The very concept of “pride” is completely foreign to me now, and I no longer care how it looks or sounds. I scream and beg as they throw me back into the hole. I didn’t open my eyes but squeezed them shut so tightly my head was beginning to pound. I flexed my hands once to prove to myself I could still move them, but it made the cuffs tighten a bit more. I could feel a scream building in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I guessed I had managed to pull a little pride back inside of myself at some point. I wondered when that was and figured it was probably around the same time Rinaldo took me in and gave me a reason to be. Regardless, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself—not here. Really, I just didn’t care to have anyone coming over and fussing at me about it. I spit to try to get the grains of sand off my lips, but it doesn’t work. It never does, but it gives me something to do—something to strive for to stop the mind-numbing lack of interaction with anyone

or anything. Time is meaningless, and the only connection I have had with anyone in what feels like days is the sound of footsteps in the compound where I’m kept in a deep, sand-filled hole. I’m convinced it’s for the sake of convenience. When I die, they only have to fill it back up again. Unfamiliar sounds, then gunshots and the whirring blades of a helicopter fill my ears. I assume my mind is playing tricks on me as I think I hear voices in English, but then a few minutes later there is a voice close to me. “Lieutenant? Sir? Are you a Marine Corps Lieutenant?” “What do you have there, Smith?” “I dunno, sir, but he’s wearing fatigues, or at least what’s left of them.” “He’s got tags. You’re right—he’s USMC.” I feel a hand on the skin of my neck. Shuffling sounds above me become louder, and I try to turn my head enough to see. I want to call out, even if I’m calling out to my own imagination. It sounds real enough, and I don’t mind the fantasy. It beats eating sand. I don’t have enough of a voice to respond, though. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant?” “Lieutenant?” My eyes flickered to the sound out of reflex, and I found Mark Duncan staring into them. “Can you talk to me?” I swallowed and wet my lips before I looked back down to the cuff around my wrist. The metal had warmed against my skin but didn’t feel quite right. It should have been those plastic zip-ties or maybe rope, not handcuffs. There was still the feel of sand in the back of my throat, and I coughed to try to get rid of it. It didn’t help. It never did. “Can we get him out of the restraints?” “No, sir. That wouldn’t be a good idea at all.” “I’ll take the risk.” There was an unfriendly guffaw from the guard as he mumbled under his breath. “You got no idea who you’re dealing with, do ya?” “What does that mean?” My eyes traveled from Mark to the guard at the end of the bed. He was the unit supervisor, and though I didn’t remember his name, I did remember him making sure the cuffs were nice and tight as he restrained me. We locked gazes for a moment, and I stared at him with an intense, silent warning until he looked away. Even if I didn’t give a shit about what happened to me now, I wasn’t going to let Rinaldo’s name

into the conversation. There was some pride in me and also some loyalty, even if it was a fucked up version of allegiance. “Sorry, sir,” the supervisor said to Mark, “but I can’t release him without orders from the warden.” A deep sigh came from Mark as he pulled up a rolling chair close to the edge of the bed. “Evan?” I closed my eyes and tried to cross my arms in front of my chest, but of course, the handcuffs stopped me. A shudder passed through my body, and my breathing increased along with the pounding of my heart. I could taste and feel sand in my throat. It’s not real. Real or not, it sent me back into the desert. “Lieutenant Evan Nathanial Arden, service number zero-four-seven-two-” My teeth clench together to keep myself from screaming. I can’t see what the bearded man is using to whip the back of my neck down to my ass, but it stings like a motherfucker. I’m surprisingly glad I went through all the torture resistance training back in the spring. “Did I ask you for your numbers?” The man in front of me—the leader of the group—kicks sand into my face, and I don’t manage to close my eyes in time. I try to shake my head to get rid of some of the grains, but it doesn’t work. My eyes burn, and I can’t stop the desperate grunt that escapes my throat. “You don’t like the sand here?” the leader asks. “You should get used to it!” I still can’t open my eyes enough to see, but I feel rough hands on the back of my neck, and my face is shoved into the grains of sand in front of my knees. He twists and turns my head as I try to hold my breath. With my hands balled into fists, I opened my eyes and looked to Mark in desperation. I couldn’t seem to actually say anything as my lungs screamed for oxygen. I was practically panting, but it wasn’t enough air. All I could feel going into my chest were grains of sand. He put his hand on my forearm, but I jumped back away. The handcuffs bit into the skin of my wrist, and I gasped out loud. My body tensed—frozen in one spot as additional memories flooded through my brain. “I’m going to get those off of you,” Mark said. “Just hang in there a little while longer, okay?” I tried to nod but had no idea if I was successful or not. Mark went on to argue with the unit leader about the handcuffs and to ask why I hadn’t been moved to a cell yet. I only half paid attention to the conversation. I certainly wanted to be out of the cuffs, but I wasn’t so sure moving from one part of the prison to another was going to make any kind of significant difference. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to sleep any better on a different cot.

“He’s still supposed to be on suicide watch.” “I don’t think he’s a threat to himself.” “You didn’t think he’d blow up a park either.” “I can’t treat him if he’s nonresponsive, and he’s going to be that way as long as you have him restrained. Didn’t you read my notes?” “Yeah, yeah, I saw them. Shell-shocked.” “A little outdated on your terminology but essentially correct.” Sometimes all you really needed was a little happy coincidence, and right at that time, about a dozen people entered the medical center—four guards and a bunch of inmates all holding their stomachs. It didn’t take long for the nurses to assess the situation and start moving the food-poisoned prisoners to the various cots around me. A few minutes later, as Mark continued to argue, another batch was brought in. “We’re going to need all the beds we can get,” the nurse told him. He let out a long sigh, glared at Mark and then at me. “Solitary.” “I’ll take it.” Mark nodded vigorously. Hands grabbed my arms, and I was hauled out of the medical unit and into a hallway. An elevator door opened, and my pair of escorts shoved me inside with Mark following. When the doors opened again, we walked out into the common area of one of the cell units. The area was carpeted and painted with warm earth tones. Several inmates sat around small, round tables in cheap plastic chairs and played cards while a few others stood around a bumper pool table. A couple of them looked up as I was led up a short flight of stairs and paraded along the curved railing that overlooked the recreation room. Along the walkway were several numbered doors without windows in them. I was brought to the last door which contained a small window at eye level and a slotted opening in the center. The guard unlocked the door to take me inside. The narrow cell was obviously designed for single occupancy. I could have walked the length between the door and the tall, narrow window overlooking downtown Chicago in about four steps. A metal-framed bed in the center took up most of the floor space. The legs of the bed were bolted to the floor, and I could see four loops that could be used for restraining straps on the sides. Aside from the obligatory toilet and sink, there was only a small writing desk with a single, thin drawer under the tabletop, a stool, and a locker shoved up against the foot of the bed to complete the room. As soon as I was inside, the guard removed the cuffs, and I felt nearly dizzy with relief as the weight left me. I squeezed my hands into fists a couple of times to restore the feeling of blood running freely through my veins and tried to take a few long breaths. “I’d like to have my session with Mr. Arden now,” Mark said with conviction. Another long sigh from the guard, but he didn’t protest. He moved outside the cell, locked the

door, and peered at us through the window as Mark ran his hand through his hair and watched me. Without any other direction, I sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed my wrists. Once I had myself convinced that the restraints were really gone, I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes. Now I could wrap my arms around my gut and try to force myself to think of anything but sand. Mark pulled the stool next to the bed and sat on it. Glancing back to his face, I could see how distressed he was and felt a little bad about it. I knew he’d tried to help on more than one occasion; it just wasn’t the kind of help I was seeking. I needed to be able to sleep—that’s all I had wanted. He couldn’t do that, though, because he wasn’t going to break that patient-counselor code long enough to lie down in bed with me. Without the cuffs around my wrists, I managed to find my voice. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir,” I said. Another sigh. “I’m not disappointed,” he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. I didn’t believe a word of it—he was a proud guy and considered himself good at what he did. It wasn’t his fault I wouldn’t tell him everything that was going on in my head. It wouldn’t have helped anyway. “I’m angrier with myself,” Mark claimed, “because I didn’t see this coming. Not at all. It’s rare I’m caught so off-guard.” My chest tightened as memories flooded over my brain like an ice-cold shower. There was a time I thought I understood people when I really didn’t—not at all. A single conversation changed everything. “Do you know what she said to me?” I asked Mark. “Who?” I turned my head toward him, but my vision was focused entirely inward. “The wife of the journalist guy who was killed in the video. You remember that guy?” “Yeah, I do. You told them to kill you instead of him.” “Yeah, that guy.” I nodded, remembering. “His wife came to the hospital in Virginia, and they told me who she was before I ever talked to her. My stomach was all tied up before she even walked into the room. I mean, I’d watched her husband die, ya know? I couldn’t do anything about it. Even though I told them to kill me, it didn’t make any difference—they wouldn’t listen. I think they wanted it to be him because he wasn’t military and because he did have a family.” I shifted and bumped the edge of the metal bed with my shoe. The clang from the springs reverberated and caught my attention. I stared down at the base of the bed, saw the loops meant for restraints again, and could nearly feel the sandy walls of the hole around my shoulders. “What did she say to you, Evan?” I shook my head a bit to clear it.

“She came up and sat down next to me,” I said as the detail of the memory returned. “For the longest time we just looked at each other, and eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I started blathering about how sorry I was and about how I tried to get them to take me instead, but they wouldn’t listen. I probably would have dropped down to my knees and started crying, but she stopped me.” I turned my head to Mark and looked him straight in the eye. “That’s when she said it was all okay,” I told him. “I figured she was going to start telling me how it wasn’t my fault and there was nothing I could do—the shrinks in the hospital in Germany had said that—but she didn’t. She told me it was okay because she was glad. She was glad he was gone, and now she and her girls could move on with their lives without constantly being in his shadow. She said he was never there for them, and now that he was dead, she could use the insurance money to start up the flower shop she always wanted and he wouldn’t support.” Mark’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “She didn’t fucking care,” I told him. I could feel the tension in my voice as much as I could hear it. “She was happy he was dead. I was willing to die for him—a guy whose name I didn’t even know— and the person who should have cared about him the most didn’t give a shit.” My sides and stomach tightened up as I remembered the look of…of elation in her eyes as she told me about her business venture and how excited she was to be her own boss and run her own company. I had watched her and waited for her to tell me he was smacking her around or doing things to their daughters that he shouldn’t, but she said none of that. He just hadn’t liked the idea of her going into business on her own instead of working her steady, corporate job. My throat seized up, and I forced myself to swallow. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to what was happening in my head. I needed to crawl back inside again. I needed to stop thinking and stop remembering. But I couldn’t. “That’s when I figured it out,” I said quietly. “People live and they die, and it doesn’t fucking matter to anyone around them. Whatever happens, happens. People move on, and they’re probably better off because of it.” “That’s what changed you,” he whispered. “I knew there was something that made you different from how all the reports from your rescue described you. I should have pressed you before when I first thought there was something about that video you weren’t telling me. I assumed it was something they did off camera—something classified.” I shook my head. “I’m very good at being who I am,” I told him. “Don’t blame yourself.” “Who are you, Evan?” I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. Not now.” I’d fucked up far too publicly, and I couldn’t hide it. It occurred to me that Rinaldo might never refer to me as “son” again, and I leaned back against the head of the medical

center cot and closed my eyes. My heart was starting to race, and I feared losing the handcuffs and a bit of privacy weren’t going to be enough to allow me to sleep. “It matters to me.” Mark’s voice was quiet but earnest. I shook my head. Nothing about the conversation was going to go anywhere, so I ended it with my silence.

Chapter 2—Possible Forgiveness With the illness of the inmates identified as the flu instead of the breakfast sausages, I was permanently assigned into the general inmate population to make room for the physically sick. I remained in the same maximum security cell, and there was always a guard outside of it, but at least I wasn’t shackled to the bedrail constantly. I was even allowed into the prison’s gym to work out and up to the top of the building for a little outside time. Basketball hoops and prisoners hanging out and smoking filled the triangular shaped exercise area at the very top of the building. I wasn’t much of a basketball player on a good day, and I hadn’t had too many good days recently, so I stuck with sitting up against the wall and alternating between staring at the cloudy sky and staring at the cement under my prison-issue sneakers. My head was swimmy from lack of sleep, so I closed my eyes and tried to stop the accompanying nausea by swallowing repeatedly. It helped a little but not enough. I had been thinking about my dog, Odin, and wondered if I would be able to sleep if he were allowed in a cell with me. Lia should have him now as one of the arresting officers had promised. She would take good care of him—I had no doubt about that. He liked her, too. He’d taken to her pretty much the moment she lay down in my bed, much like I had taken to her. “Arden, right?” I opened my eyes and looked at the heavily muscled, thirty-something guy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a distinctly Mexican accent but didn’t recognize him. There wasn’t any reason to respond to him either, so I didn’t. He wasn’t to be deterred and sat down next to me. “I met you once,” he claimed. “The name’s Pablo. I ran snow for your boss before I got caught for possession with intent. I got sentenced to six-to-ten, but they haven’t gotten around to moving me to Marion yet.” He still didn’t look familiar, but his story rang a bell. There were three guys busted about a year ago, and I assumed he must be one of them. I still didn’t see his relationship in Moretti’s business as a reason to acknowledge him, though. There were probably twenty guys in here at any given time who had relationships to the organization in one way or another. Pablo continued to talk anyway. “I heard about why you’re in here,” he said. I took in a long, deep breath before leaning forward and resting my arms on my knees. The cement beneath my heels was cracked, and I kicked a bit of it with my toe to knock a loose chunk of it away. “I got the routine down here,” Pablo said, “so if you have any questions or anything…” His voice trailed off as I sighed and looked up at him darkly. There was a scar on his forearm that was certainly the result of a knife fight, and his calloused palms were indicative of someone who liked to spend his free time lifting weights and proving he had more testosterone than anyone else at the gym. The belly hanging out in front of him and the cigarette

made it obvious he wasn’t a health nut at all. He was more than likely one of those who just liked to brag about how much he could bench press. “Do I look like I give a shit?” I asked him. He paused and licked his lips nervously. “No,” he admitted as he looked to his pocket to pull out another cigarette. “Still, if you need anything, I’ll help ya out. While I’m still here, anyway.” My eyes wandered over him. He had a lot of upper body strength, but his legs weren’t as strong. He either did a lot of lifting and manual labor activities, or he just hated doing squats at the gym so never worked out his legs like he did his arms. He had a variety of uninteresting tattoos that were obviously done by a novice artist, probably in exchange for coke, and short-cropped, black, greasy hair. I watched the cigarette dangling out of his mouth and wondered what Jonathan was doing right at that moment. I also had a clear memory of leaning back against the side of the motor pool to sneak a cigarette with a young private in my unit. “Got an extra one of those?” I asked. “Sure,” Pablo said. He handed me a smoke and a pack of matches. It was too windy to use matches, so he handed his own cigarette over to me so I could monkey-fuck it to light mine. The smoke burned in my lungs in a way that was immediately familiar and long-forgotten at the same time. It took a couple tries before I got the hang of inhaling again. Pablo remained silent for a while as I finished the cigarette and ground it out into the cement crack beneath my shoe. I tried to breathe normally for a minute as my lungs attempted to remember how to deal with the smoke and whatever other shit they put in those things. “You want another one?” “Not now,” I replied. “Thanks.” “You let me know,” Pablo said. “I’ll hook you up with some if you want them.” I nodded. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted another one, though. My lungs still burned, and I coughed a couple of times, which caused Pablo to snicker quietly. He shrugged a shoulder when I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “You gonna kill me for thinking that’s kinda funny?” he asked. Other times—other days—I would have. Well, I would have considered it anyway. At the moment, I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind. I obviously didn’t have a gun on me, and though I was quite sure I could get a shiv of some kind delivered to my hands without a lot of trouble, they were messy. If I was going to kill Pablo, it would have to be with my hands, and that was just a lot of effort for a chuckle at my expense. “No,” I finally said, “I’m not in the mood right now.” He let out another laugh, but it was a nervous one. He seemed to be getting the idea that what I

said hadn’t actually been a joke and it was best for him to remember who the hell I was. I might have been a little lost inside, but no one else needed to know that. “I guess I’m lucky, then,” Pablo finally said with a short exhale through his nose. “Still, though, if there’s anything you need, I can probably get it for you while I’m here. You want weed?” “I don’t touch the shit,” I informed him. Even when my unit needed a little break from reality and would sneak a bit of pot, I never indulged. I never stopped them from doing it, but I didn’t like the idea of being out of control at all. Even drinking more than a couple of beers or a glass of good scotch was rare for me. “Well, if you think of something, I’m here for ya, man.” “Thanks.” I didn’t mean it, but the response came out automatically. I didn’t give a shit about some snow runner and what he could bring to my fucking jail cell. He probably considered himself all kinds of useful in here but not to me. I didn’t want anything. After an hour, we were all led back down to the common area, which wasn’t a place I wanted to be. I went back to my cell for lack of any better options and leaned my head against the back wall where I could see out the window and down to the street. The building was a rather strange one architecturally. It was triangular instead of the usual rectangle, and from the street, people could see the seven-foot tall windows of the cells covering the twenty-seven-story building. Lots of people likened the sides of the building to an old-style punch-card because of the window slits in the pale, cement walls. I wasn’t sure exactly what floor I was on but could tell I was up pretty high—certainly more than half way up the nearly thirty-story building. There was a single bar going through the center of the thin window from top to bottom, just in case anyone was crazy enough to try to escape from so high up. Crazy or not, people had tried, and a couple had even succeeded. When I looked out of the south-facing window, the view kind of sucked. I could see the Harold Washington Library, but that was about it. All the cool stuff was to the North and East. I turned back toward the bed with its plain white sheet and single pillow. Just looking at it sent that warm, sleepy feeling through my body. I blinked slowly a few times as I shuffled over and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Don't sleep,” I told myself as the mattress gave way below my ass. I didn't have to check the tags to know it wasn't a name brand mattress. There weren't any actual springs poking me in the back, but it was one step away from it. It smelled like strong detergent instead of anything nastier, at least. I laid back and rolled to one side. Fatigue continued to spread over my body, and despite my desire to stay conscious, I knew it was a losing battle. “Stay awake.” Fucking talking to myself again.

Rolling over with the hope movement alone would keep the sandman away, I heard the springs below me groan in protest. I was immediately reminded of another small, crappy bed in the heart of the Arizona desert. Inside of my head, I could hear the rhythmic sounds of the squeaking wrought iron bed as I pounded into Lia. My hand releases her neck, and I grab her hair instead. “My cock feels so good fucking you,” I growl into her ear. “You like that? Huh?” A groan is the only response I get, but it is enough. I slam into her harder, hold myself deep inside for a moment, and then slowly slide almost all the way out. I would have pulled all the way out, but it would be too awkward to get back inside of her without getting her back up on her knees again, and I like having her all splayed out under me the way she is. She likes it, too. “Do you know how easy it would be,” I moan, and my voice is gravelly and husky in her ear, “to fuck you in the ass from this position?” I feel her tense, and there are goose bumps springing up over her neck and shoulders. I smile slightly—she’s never taken a cock up the ass before. My lips press against the skin below her ear. “Not this time,” I whisper, and I feel her relax underneath me for a brief moment. I never did have anything other than straight sex with Lia. As many times as I had fucked her in that cabin while she was there, I never did take her in the ass. Other than that single comment when I had been on top of her, I hadn’t thought about it much. I would have taken her any way she was willing, but unlike any other woman I had ever been with, my cock’s focus was all on her pussy. Reaching up to my head, I grabbed the thin pillow and pulled it to my chest. It smelled like cheap detergent with a hint of bleach, but I tried to ignore the burning in my nose as I pressed my cheek to the pillow. I wanted to recreate the feeling I had when I woke up that morning with my head on Lia’s stomach and her hand running through my hair. I closed my eyes briefly and immediately felt consciousness trying to leave me. “Not yet,” I whispered into the empty room. “Need to have her in my head first.” Maybe I’d dream of her if I did. It was possible, wasn’t it? All the dreams started again shortly after I came back from that cabin, so shouldn’t I be able to conjure up a dream of her? “Please?” I thought about the feeling of her skin under my hands and the way she smelled the next day—like she’d had me in her all night, which she had. I remembered the sound of her panting breaths and low moans as I first entered her body. I could still taste her tongue in my mouth after she’d borrowed my toothbrush in the morning. I tried to fill my mind with thoughts of her sad smile as she glanced over her shoulder and walked up the steps of the bus. She didn’t want me to drive her to her mother’s house, and I couldn’t have left my post long enough to do so anyway.

She’d just been a girl, lost in the desert. She should have meant nothing to me. When I returned to Chicago, I had tried to forget everything—especially the lost girl I had taken to my bed and held far too closely in my mind. I kept myself occupied with my work and with a whore, but I knew that I had actually lost myself in that cabin as well—lost myself in her eyes as well as between her thighs. That loss was what drove me over the edge and brought me to this tiny bed in a tiny cell, just as Lia had been brought to my small bed in a one-room cabin. I couldn’t hold sleep off any longer, and even though I knew my chances of success were nil, I continued to try to fight it. I lost. The dreams came. I woke up screaming. ***** “You got a call-out, Arden.” The words flowed around in my head, but I didn’t find them very interesting. I was far more focused on trying to hold on to the memory of soft, dark hair through my fingers and the way my soul seemed to relax into Lia as I lay my head against her stomach. “Come on, Arden—scheduled appointment.” I didn’t remember having one, but at some point a couple of the guards and the unit manager came in and dragged me down to one of the private visiting rooms. The handcuffs around my wrists were checked, and then the other end secured me to the arms of a chair. I lifted my hands slightly, but they weren’t able to move far. I pressed against the floor with the balls of my feet and tried to keep the panic at bay as the metal lay across my wrists, but the movement wasn’t distracting enough. I frantically tried to think of something to keep my mind off the restraints. I tried to think about what I would do if there was an itch on my nose. I thought about the last soccer game I had watched and wondered if I would be able to watch any of this season’s games from inside. I wondered what Lia was doing right at the moment and if Odin liked staying with her. I was sure he did and was comforted by the idea that he would like living with Lia. A few minutes after I was placed in the chair, Rinaldo Moretti walked into the room with a tall, lanky guy in a suit behind him. The look in my boss’s eyes was stern and closed—nearly unreadable, except I knew exactly what he was thinking. I was supposed to come to him if I got to the point of breaking, and I hadn’t. The problem was once you have crossed that line, you don’t exactly think rationally. It was sort of the definition of breaking. My throat seized up. I couldn’t look at him and opted to look straight down at the table instead. My lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air, and I had to force myself to breathe through my nose. I balled my hands into fists to keep them from shaking and making the chains rattle.

Rinaldo cleared his throat, and I glanced up. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said with an uncharacteristically shaky voice. Rinaldo just stared at me, his eyes flickering from the emotionless façade he was trying to maintain to fury. There was tightness around his eyes and definite tension in his forearms. His fingers flexed once as he leaned back in the metal chair. “We’ll have that discussion another time,” he said with promise. “Don’t doubt that. For now, I’m here to introduce you to your attorney.” “Michael Beard,” the young man said. “I specialize in cases where the defendant has suffered from PTSD. I understand you’ve been given this diagnosis? Can you tell me precisely when?” I looked over the man in the suit. He wasn’t much older than I was, and I doubted he was beyond thirty. For a moment, I considered that Rinaldo had found me a shit attorney to make sure I went away for a long time, but that didn’t make sense. If he wanted me out of the picture, he wouldn’t be here at all, let alone with a lawyer in tow. He knew all my money was cash and inaccessible from inside, and he would have just left me to rot with a public defender if he wasn’t serious about getting me out. What he’d do to me after I was released, well, that was anyone’s guess. He wouldn’t have spent the time and effort to get me out to kill me, though. That would be a waste of money when he could accomplish the same thing cheaper with a bribe to a guard or an inmate. Michael Beard was all business—that was for sure. He waited patiently for me to answer his question and didn’t seem to be the least bit nervous or rushed. Considering Rinaldo must have told him who I was to his organization, I was somewhat surprised at how calm he was. Often, when I was first introduced to someone, they would be all fidgety around me. “Answer him, Arden,” Rinaldo commanded when I didn’t respond right away. I tried not to focus on the use of my last name as I swallowed, nodded, and faced the lawyer. “When I returned from Germany,” I told him. “That was three years ago. I was discharged in May of that year.” Michael made some notes on his legal pad. I could almost see him in one of those little school desks, jotting down notes during an English Lit class with his knees all tucked up underneath the desktop. “Were you medicated as part of your treatment?” “Yeah, for a while.” “Do you still take drugs as part of treatment, either prescribed or illicit?” Michael’s eyes watched mine as I answered, and I had the distinct feeling he was watching for any untruthfulness. “No.” I leaned back in the chair and planned on keeping my gaze on his, but the clang of the handcuffs distracted me. I clenched the arms of the chair and took a couple of deep breaths. “Do you have nightmares or recurring thoughts about what happened to you?” I swallowed hard.

“Yes.” “How often?” “Every time I close my eyes.” I didn’t miss Rinaldo’s narrowed eyes as I admitted this to the attorney. Yes, I had been too broken to come to him after I had killed Terry and Bridgett, but it was obvious the nightmares had been getting worse for a while. I hadn’t told him about those. Even when I confessed that Bridgett had slept in my bed with me, I never told him the reason why. “Do you ever feel numb?” “Most of the time.” “Have you ever thought about hurting yourself or someone else?” I actually laughed, which caused Rinaldo to smile slightly as well. “Evan’s right,” he told the attorney. “That’s a seriously stupid question.” “Moving on,” Michael muttered. “Do you have trouble focusing?” “Yes.” “Do you ever talk to your family or friends about what happened to you?” “Fuck no.” “Are you going to diagnose him or get him the fuck out of here?” Rinaldo growled as his patience waned. “I’m just trying to understand his state of mind at the time of the incident.” “He was fucked up—temporary insanity brought on by the stress of one of his co-workers and friends being found dead, right, Arden?” “Yes, sir.” “Please, Mister Moretti, let me do my job.” Michael reclined in the plastic chair and looked into Rinaldo’s eyes. He was a brave man; I’d give him that. Rinaldo glared for a moment but finally waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Continue.” He asked me a bunch of other questions, which I answered the best I could. After the final question, he took his finger and traced it down the edge of the page as he reviewed his notes, nodded once, and stood up from the chair. “That’s all I need for now,” he announced. “If I have further questions, we’ll set up another meeting. I’ve given your unit leader my contact information if you think of anything you believe is pertinent. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble having you released on bail as long as the Marine

psychologist doesn’t have any major objections.” “I’ll meet you outside,” Rinaldo said. Michael closed his notes into his briefcase and left the small room. I glanced at my boss and tried not to feel too emasculated as he stared down at me with disappointment in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I know you are.” He let out a big sigh as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “One way or another, this will all work itself out.” I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be more concerned with the one way or the other, but I was positive I wasn’t completely cleared in his eyes. His next words did have a calming effect though. “I’m going to get you out of here, Arden,” Rinaldo said with conviction. “You’ve been far too valuable to let you rot. You have also left me in the awkward position of not just missing you, but also missing your backup.” “Sorry, sir,” I said again. I couldn’t argue with what he said—I’d removed myself to jail right after killing his number two hit man, Terry Kramer. “You aren’t sorry for that,” he muttered as he stood up. I couldn’t even pretend he was wrong. I’d hated Terry Kramer from the moment I set eyes on him. When I found out he had lured my hooker-slash-girlfriend into giving him information I had inadvertently told her, I’d lost it completely, killed them both, and then landed myself where I was. “We’ll be back,” Rinaldo promised. “Hang tight, son. Nothing could have satisfied me more than hearing that word from his lips.

Chapter 3—Needed Sleep Only a few moments after Rinaldo walked out the door along with Michael, the adolescent attorney, one of the guards came in to take me back to my cell. As he started to unlock the cuffs from the chair, one of the unit leaders stuck his head in and said I had another visitor. I tried not to tense up so much as he tightened the restraints to the chair again and went to the door to let in whoever was coming to see me. My head was throbbing and felt like it was covered with a thick fog. As the door swung open again, I looked up to see her. Lia. She was dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a long sleeved T-shirt. I could see the chain around her neck which held a quarter made into a pendant—the same quarter I’d left for her in the cabin with a lame-ass note apologizing for running out on her. She’d used that quarter to prove my ass was as tight as military-style bed sheets, which had made me laugh harder than I had in years. Was that the point when I fell for her? There was a warm coat tossed over her arm, and I wondered how cold it had gotten outside. The sun had been shining into my cell window, but I didn’t know the temperature outside. Chicago should have been in the full swing of spring, but apparently nature had another plan. Her chest rose and fell as she took a long breath and then a short step toward me. I couldn’t seem to move my lips to actually say anything to her at first, but when she hesitated, I found my tongue. “Is Odin okay?” They were probably the wrong first words, but nothing else came to mind. The fog rolled in over my head again, and my stomach lurched. For a second, there was nothing but dizziness in my head and static in front of my eyes. “He’s doing all right,” she said. “They let me get into your apartment to find his food dish and bed. He chewed up his rubber bone the first day I had him at my place, but I found him a new one. I think he misses you.” Lia took the last couple of steps to the chair opposite mine and sat with her hands folded in front of her. The movement caught my attention, and I stared at her fingers. I recalled the way they felt wrapped around my shaft, and even as I sat there, incarcerated, with cuffs around my wrists and a head full of vile dreams, I was starting to get a little hard. My heart throbbed along with my head, and I turned my gaze away as I closed my eyes. It was entirely possible I was going to get out of here and might even have the opportunity to feel her touch again, but I was about as fucked up as they came, and she didn’t need to be subjected to that. Besides, there was no telling what Rinaldo had planned for me when I was released on bond. He could exile me again. I felt fingers against my arm and opened my eyes to find Lia had moved from her seat to stand on the left side of the chair where I was chained. Her fingers traced up my forearm, and I shivered as I took in another deep breath.

With her touch on my arm, and my inability to return it, my head began to swim again, and the fog inside my mind felt like it was trying to push me to the ground and suffocate me. Her presence and contact should have soothed me, but I needed more. “I wish I could touch you. I need to touch you.” Lia stepped to one side and shoved the table back a little with her hip. She positioned herself so that her leg was right in front of my hand. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around her thigh. Sitting up and leaning forward, I pressed the side of my face against her stomach. The touch of her fingers on the back of my neck and scalp as she cradled my head to her body was alarming. The warm, dark feeling of near unconsciousness from lack of sleep seeped into me again, replacing the fog, but I pushed it off as I inhaled her familiar scent and let the emotions cover me. She saw me. She saw me like that—rifle in hand, firing at strangers in a park. She saw me in cuffs, being hauled away like a deranged lunatic. I was a deranged lunatic. My body started shaking, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It all came out as I pressed my face against her belly and let go—allowing the shaking to turn into sobbing. The haunted looks of those I had killed just before my bullet entered their brains, the bodies of my unit as I was taken prisoner, the sounds of those who begged me to show mercy. I never did. “It wasn't always this way,” I cried into her shirt. “I wasn't supposed to be like this.” “What happened?” I heard her whisper. I shook my head from side to side, still pressing tightly against her body. Though there was a little part of me that might have wanted to go for full disclosure—everything from my profession to the slaying of the woman I slept with—most of me wasn’t anywhere near that stupid. Even in my current state, I wasn’t going to say anything to make her run screaming from the room. That was what she would have done if I had told her everything. No doubt about it. Without the ability to tell her all of it, I had to go with the basic, high-level view of the situation. “I can’t…I can’t sleep,” I finally said. “Why not?” “The dreams.” “Tell me what you dream about,” she said softly. I turned my head to gaze up at her. I didn’t know what I saw there, but I knew it wasn’t just morbid curiosity or nosiness.

“I was a POW,” I told her. She nodded, and there was no surprise contained within her eyes. “I know,” she replied. “I read about it. Is that what you dream about?” “Most of the time,” I said. Flashes of Bridgett’s body on the ground flickered in my brain, and I bit down on my lip to stop myself from blurting it out. “I usually dream about being tied up and shoved into a hole in the ground. And the sand. Just constant, fucking sand.” “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” I shrugged and shook my head. I had no idea. “I can’t sleep by myself,” I said. “It’s been…a while.” “By yourself?” Lia asked. “But you can sleep if someone is with you?” Whirling nausea swirled in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to say anything about it at all, and now she was likely to press for a better answer. What would I even tell her? I do my best sleeping after a little anal with a hooker? Oh, by the way, I might have shot her when the mood struck me. How about a nice night on the town? “I guess,” I said quietly. My heartbeat pounded in my temples as I started to sweat due to the energy it was taking not to tell her what happened. Lia’s fingers trailed slowly over the side of my face. “If I was with you, would you be able to sleep?” The feeling that came over me at the very idea could have easily knocked me to the floor if I hadn’t already been secured to the metal chair. My fingers tightened on her thigh as the reality of the situation hit me. If I had just held out another day—maybe even another hour—I could be sleeping with her right now. I could be in my bed with Lia in my arms and Odin making disgusting saliva trails on my arm when I overslept. I’d fucked it all up. “Shit…shit…shit…” “Evan!” “So fucked up…” “I know,” she said with a rush of air from her lungs. “It’s as fucked up as anything ever has been.” “It’s worse,” I responded. I squeezed my eyes shut and considered biting down on my tongue. There’s a rush of blood into my throat just after a sharp blow to my chin causes me to bite down on my tongue. For a moment I think I’m choking on my own blood, but once I manage to swallow, I can breathe again. My tongue throbs in my mouth…

“Evan?” As my thoughts were interrupted, my lungs started screaming at me to fill them up with some air before I passed out face-first on the table. I tried to inhale but couldn’t and started to panic. The blood in my mouth mixes with the sand as I’m thrown back to the ground, and for a moment I am choking on it… “Evan, stay with me.” “Can’t breathe.” “Calm, baby.” Her fingers traced the edge of my jaw. “Just listen to my voice, and take a slow breath.” I wanted to listen to her badly enough that I forced my diaphragm to flex and pull air into my lungs in a sharp gasp. “It’s okay.” Lia’s voice pulled me from the panic the same way it had managed to pull me from the memory. “It’s all right, Evan… You’re all right.” With nearly violent effort, I inhaled again. The act itself nearly made me fall out of the chair. I wondered if it was the restraints or Lia’s touch that was keeping me from landing on the floor. After a few more tries and a lot of focus on her skin against mine, I managed to start breathing normally again. “Where did you go?” Lia’s fingers continued to run from my temple to my chin. “Back there,” I responded. I swallowed past the growing tightness in my throat before continuing. “When they first tried to put me in the hole, I’d struggle. It was stupid—there were too many of them to fight.” “But you kept trying.” “For a while.” I nodded. “Eventually, I figured out there wasn’t any point. Once I didn’t respond that way anymore to whatever they were doing, they’d try to come up with other ways to get a reaction out of me.” “Shit,” Lia whispered as her arms tensed. “You were there a long time, too.” I could only nod. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to keep the memories shoved to the back of my mind, but I was really too tired for such an act of will. They were going to be back—with force. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, and I gripped Lia’s thigh a little harder. “Evan, it will be all right.” Her voice echoed around the small room. “We'll figure it out. I'll help you figure it out.” I laughed. It was hollow and without humor. “Figure it out,” I repeated sarcastically. “I shot up my neighborhood park. I'm going to prison. I should go to prison.” Her hand stroked the top of my head. “We'll figure something out,” she said again. “I don't know what that is yet, but there has to be

something.” “Can’t think,” I told her. “Can’t think when I can’t sleep.” “You have to sleep.” “No.” I shook my head against her body. “It’s too much—too real.” The door across the room opened abruptly, and Mark Duncan stepped in. “Were you serious about your offer?” he said immediately to a confused Lia. She shook her head, her look quizzical. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to admit I’m a little anxious to see how much this helps. Evan hasn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time in the past two days, and I believe it’s largely to blame for his breakdown.” Breakdown. Is that what it was? “Who are you?” Lia finally asked. Mark shook his head like Odin does when he gets a bath. “I’m so sorry, Miss Antonio.” He extended his arm, and I flinched as Lia’s touch left my skin briefly to shake his hand. “I’m Mark Duncan, Evan’s psychologist. I’ve been observing both of you through the monitor. I assume you are the young lady Evan has spoken to me about.” I’d said nothing to him about Lia as far as I could remember. Not that my memory was all that great, but I had a pretty good idea he was really thinking of Bridgett. I hadn’t told him much during the few sessions we had actually had, but he had guessed that the person I was sleeping with was a hooker, and I hadn’t denied it. I tensed, unsure about what else he might say. If he called Lia a prostitute, I was going to rip off the chains and beat him to death with them. Apparently, the doctor-patient privilege still held because he said nothing else about it. “I want to help,” Lia confirmed. “What do you want me to do?” “Sleep with him.” Her eyes narrowed a little, and her hand stilled against my cheek. “Where?” she asked. “Here,” Mark said. “Visitors aren’t allowed in the cell units, so there isn’t any other place, and this is a bit of a desperate situation. He’s in serious danger if he doesn’t get proper sleep. I can see what I can do to make it more comfortable.” Lia looked around the room while I tried to make sense of what Mark was suggesting. I wasn’t successful; it was too hard to keep track of what was going on around me in my present state of mind. Inferred reasoning wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, Lia spelled it all out.

“You want me to just…what? Lie down with him on the floor so he can sleep? Do you really think that will work?” “If he could get some sleep with you here, it could change everything. Right now I can’t reach him at all—he’s too disoriented. To be perfectly frank, there is a very real possibility of further psychosis or even death.” “Death?” “In extreme cases of insomnia, yes,” Mark confirmed. “I need to know if you’re serious about your suggestion. Are you willing to help him?” “Of course I want to help him.” Lia’s tone was one of annoyance. Mark moved toward the guard and pointed from the guard’s keychain to where I sat. “Remove Mister Arden’s restraints.” The guard let out a sharp burst of laughter, and Mark eyed him. “I’m not jesting here.” “You are as nutty as your patients, then, doc,” the guard replied. “There is no way that loon is getting out of his cuffs. He’d probably kill you first.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Mark waved a dismissive hand. I might have felt a little bad for my shrink. He wanted to help. I knew he did, but he really didn’t know what he was dealing with. It wasn’t his fault. It’s not like I could tell him what I did for a living. “You’re an idiot,” the guard snapped back. “I’m not here to discuss or argue this with you,” Mark said. “Release Mister Arden from the cuffs, please.” “You have no idea who this guy is, do you?” the guard growled. Mark looked up at him and tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. For the first time since he called me lieutenant, the fat, uniformed guard grabbed my attention. Fuck no. My eyes turned to the guard, and I tried to gather whatever energy I had inside of me to give him a slight idea of what would happen to him if he spoke a word. As I raised my eyebrows ever so slightly, I conveyed a clear message with my gaze. Don’t even fucking think about it. He stared back at me with defiant eyes at first, but as I tilted my head slightly, he must have received the message. His eyes widened, and he took a slight step back—like I had pushed him with a look. He glanced from me to Mark and then let out a breath through his nose. He reached up and ran his hand over the top of his bald head.

“Why don’t any of the guards have any hair?” “What?” Lia glanced down at me and palmed my cheek. “I don’t know,” I replied. I didn’t, either. None of what was happening made sense to me—it was all too clouded and confusing. “I can’t do that without written authority from-” Mark cut off the guard by waving a piece of paper in his face. “I already had it cleared.” He looked to the floor and let out another long breath. “Yes, sir,” the guard said as he walked over and slipped the key into the lock around my wrist. He did my right wrist first and then waited for Lia to step aside so he could do the left. He moved silently back to his post next to the door and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me intently. Lucky for him, I still wasn’t in much of a killing mood because otherwise I would have been seriously pissed off. I was focused enough on the guard, I didn’t realize Mark had walked out until he came back in again, holding a couple of blankets in his arms. “Sorry, but this was the best I could do on short notice,” Mark said. “Hopefully, it will be enough to get you back on your feet again, so to speak.” “Does he have to stay here?” Lia asked as she nodded her head toward the guard. “I’m afraid so,” Mark replied. “It would probably be in everyone’s best interest anyway.” “Well, let’s do this, then.” Lia reached out and took my hand. She led me to the side of the room furthest from the guard and laid out the small blanket on the cement floor. Then she removed her coat and laid that down on top of it before she sat down with her back against the wall. She beckoned me, and I sat down beside her. “Lay down,” she said. I stared at her against the wall. It felt wrong, but I wasn't sure why. I started to lie down beside her, but it still didn't feel right, so I sat back up and shook my head a bit. I didn’t know what was wrong, and I couldn’t even find any words that would have made any sense. I didn’t need to, though—Lia knew without me saying a word. "Do you want to be against the wall?" Lia asked. I let out a breath that had been burning in my chest. She moved forward, and I half crawled, half fell into the area between her and the wall. Lia stretched out beside me as soon as I was in position, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to bring her closer to me. She was here against my body again after so long. The thought increased the dizziness in my head but also sent the most incredible sense of relief through my mind. The nausea of fatigue continued to assault me, but at least she was here. It was too bright in the small room, and the setting wasn’t at all comfortable. Still, I was far too

mentally and physically exhausted to care very much. Despite the tiredness, my entire body lay tensed between the cement wall and the woman in front of me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I could only shake my head as my fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt. Her fingers moved up my cheek and over the side of my head, stroking slowly until my fingers against her back began to match the same rhythm. I sighed, and my hand moved down the fabric of her shirt until it found the hem. With two fingers, I pushed the shirt up a bit and found her bare skin below. Another long breath and none of the discomfort of the rough blanket, the cold floor, or the situation itself mattered any longer. I placed my head against her shoulder as that fuzzy feeling crept over me. I closed my eyes and tried to let go. Despite the blanket, the floor was cold, and the buttons on Lia’s coat were pressing uncomfortably against my arm as she covered me with it. I shifted up, tucked my face into the space between her neck and shoulder, and shivered. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.” I took another long, shuddering breath and seemed to melt further against her. “Now I am.” My eyes closed. It didn’t take long. At least, it didn’t feel like a very long time. I woke sweating with the taste of sand in my mouth and dryness in my throat that kept me from screaming out loud. My heart raced, but before I could move, I felt Lia’s warm hand against the side of my face and heard her voice. “I’m right here,” she whispered. “I promise—I’m not going anywhere.” My grip on her tightened a bit, as did hers on me, and my fingers found their way against the skin of her back again. With my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against her shirt, I slipped back into slumber. This time, whatever dreams I had weren’t enough to wake me. As I regained consciousness, I could immediately feel the difference even before opening my eyes. The fog was gone and so was the dizziness. My head still throbbed, but the beat was slower and the intensity less. I could think again. More importantly, I could feel Lia all around me. Her scent covered me—relaxed me. I could hear her slow breaths, which further calmed me. Her fingers tugged gently through the strands of hair just behind my right ear, and it was as if each stroke over my scalp was removing pieces of the pain, the guilt, and the damage inside my brain. I could have stayed right there—cold floor be damned—for the rest of my life. The scent of her electrified me. The touch of her fingers soothed me. The length of her body pressed against mine excited me.

I moved my hand a little farther up her back and caressed her skin with my fingers before I turned my head and looked up at her. Her dark eyes met mine, and I pulled air into my lungs to speak. “Hey.” It wasn’t much, but it was probably better than I had managed before sleeping. “Hey, yourself,” Lia replied. “You’ve been out a while now. I was afraid I’d have to move in here.” “Fuck no,” I said. “No way would I let anyone put you in here.” There must have been a little more venom in my voice than I had intended because Lia shrank back a bit. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “It’s just…this place is…well, it sucks. Let’s leave it at that.” “I think that’s part of the deal, yes.” The door clicked as it opened, and Mark Duncan peered around the corner of the frame to look at us. “How are you feeling?” he asked. I fought the urge to give him a flippant, obnoxious reply. As my mind focused and understood better where I was and what was going on around me, I knew Mark was going to be my key to getting out of here. Moretti’s lawyer could only do so much without my shrink saying I was safe enough to be out on the streets. Without his recommendation, I wasn’t going anywhere. “I feel a lot better.” It was easier when I didn’t have to lie. “I feel like I can think straight again.” I glanced back and forth between Lia and Mark a few times and let my eyes widen. “I really fucked up,” I said. I shook my head a little before glancing back to Mark. “Shit—did I hurt anybody?” Mark let out a long breath. “No, Evan. You didn’t hurt anybody.” I nodded slowly, internally pleased that he was none the wiser about my actual activities. All I had to do now was keep myself in check—calm and collected—until Rinaldo and his resources could get me out of here. That didn’t end up working out so well. Mark Duncan left us with the guard so he could go to the warden and discuss some paperwork. I sat up and leaned against the wall of the room with Lia sitting next to me, rubbed at my eyes, which were thick with sleep, and tried not to let the grit remind me of sand. “How are you really feeling?” Lia asked quietly. She glanced up at the guard and then back to me before she reached over and placed her hand on my thigh. “Better,” I said honestly. “My head’s a little clearer, anyway.” “You woke up a couple of times,” Lia said. “I wasn’t sure what I should do, but you settled down

within a few minutes. You seemed to sleep pretty well after that, though.” “I remember,” I told her. “How long was I out?” “Almost six hours.” Maybe it wasn’t a full night’s sleep, but it was a hell of a lot better than I had been getting. I couldn’t have said I felt right, but at least I knew what was happening around me. I leaned my head against her shoulder and touched my nose to her neck. I wanted to turn her toward me and kiss her the way I knew she liked it but not with the guard watching over us. I wasn’t much for public displays. “Evan?” “Hmm?” “Tell me what happened.” I tensed, wondering for a moment if she meant what I had done from the balcony of my apartment but understood pretty quickly that my display there wasn’t what she wanted to know. I knew it before she even had a chance to confirm it. “Tell me what happened to you over there.” “Fuck.” The word escaped from my throat like a rifle blast. My hands clenched into fists as images of tanks, uniformed enlisted troops with their eyes wide and nervous, and sand filled my mind. I shook my head to rid myself of the images, but it didn’t work. “Please—I want to know.” “No,” I said. I pushed myself up using the wall as support and stumbled a little as I gained my footing. Lia stood with me, her hand reaching out to touch my arm. “Evan—I need to know so I can help you. How else am I supposed to know what to do?” I stared at her, breathing through my mouth and trying not to hyperventilate. The thing was, I wanted to tell her—desperately so. I wanted to tell her everything—even the shit I never told the military during debriefing. But could I do it? Could I relive all of it over again for the sake of total disclosure? The guilt? The pain? The heat? The fucking sand? The door opened, and Mark stepped in. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to assess the situation. The noise and movement startled me, and I swallowed hard before taking a step back and breaking my connection with Lia completely. “No.” “Evan–” she called as she reached for me again. “No!” I screamed and shoved her away. She stumbled, and her back hit the wall behind her. Mark stepped up and reached for her, his hands grasping her arms to steady her and keep her from falling. Without hesitation, the guard grabbed me, yelled for backup, and wrestled me to the table. I didn’t resist—I knew when a fight was pointless. I knew that all too well.

“Don’t ask me.” I kept eye contact with her, pleading from the tabletop. “Please don’t ask me that.” Lia stared at me, wide-eyed with tears forming on her lashes. I didn’t want her to be upset, but I couldn’t do what she was asking. I couldn’t go through all of that again. Two other guards came in, but it must have been evident that I wasn’t protesting because they only helped get my hands back into the cuffs so I could be led out of the room and away from Lia and Mark. Keep the crazy man away from the public. Shit, this wasn’t going to help at all. I closed my eyes as I was yanked back up to a standing position and pushed toward the door. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s okay,” Lia responded. Her hand reached toward me, but with the guards in the way, she couldn’t quite touch. “It’ll be all right.” I shook my head and smiled a little, wishing I could believe her words as she watched me being hauled away from her in cuffs once again. How could it ever be all right? As long as I worked for Moretti and the organization, Lia would be in danger if she were associated with me. Nothing could be done to change that.

Chapter 4—Desperate Thoughts As we reached the cell block where I was housed, the guard from the visitor’s room decided he didn’t need backup anymore and dismissed the others. He was quite a bit rougher than he needed to be as he shoved me down the hall, apparently trying to cause me to trip over my own feet. He sneered and curled half his face into a nasty little smile, and I remembered how he seemed ready to tell Mark about my connections. I glared at him as I sized him up. He was in his mid-forties, overweight, and bald. There was a wedding ring on his left ring-finger and a scar on the back of his left hand that looked like it would have required several stitches, but the wound had obviously occurred a long time ago. His uniform was neatly pressed, and he had a closely trimmed moustache but no other facial hair. He had recently shaved his head, and there was no discernible stubble anywhere. So how does a prison unit guard know about me? There were only a handful of possibilities, the most likely being that he was once either part of vice or homicide in the police department but had somehow ended up here instead. That kind of career switch definitely wasn’t considered a promotion and would almost certainly be the result of disciplinary action of some kind. As I looked him over, I knew I wasn’t going to find anything useful enough in either his demeanor or clothing to give me that kind of information, so I was going to have to improvise and hope my guesswork was on target. I glanced at his shirt. Over the left breast pocket was a plastic nametag reading “Sgt. Masterson” in white letters on a black background. “Masterson?” He narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. “Bet the guys on the force still have a good laugh thinking about you spending your time playing valet to a bunch of lowlifes, huh?” His eyes narrowed and the smirk disappeared. He started to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “Nothing makes you feel more useless than being thrown into a shit job some pissant, high school football player could handle. I bet the wife got a kick out of the pay cut, too, didn’t she?” I stopped walking, and my arms jerked a little as he kept moving forward. Like I figured he would, he shoved my back to get me going again, making me stumble. “Makes you feel like you’ve got a foot-long cock, pushing me around, doesn’t it? You believe because you think you know a little something that you have some sort of power in this relationship, but you don’t. Shove me around all you want; it doesn’t change a damn thing.” “You need to shut your mouth, Arden,” he growled quietly. “Now there’s a topic I would like to discuss,” I replied. “You ever consider discussing my personal business with someone again, and I’ll make sure you find out just how accurate your information is.”

“You threatening me, Arden?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “What could someone in my position do to someone like you… or maybe your family…from in here?” As every sarcastic word flowed from my mouth to his ears, I raised an eyebrow and stared right into his eyes until he looked away. I didn’t need any further words, though—I’d made my point, and the look in his eyes showed his understanding. He obviously wasn’t an idiot. It didn’t matter that he currently had me in handcuffs and was bringing me back to a locked room. He knew my reach extended far beyond the walls that held me prisoner. “I hope you end up going away for a long time, Arden,” he said. “Doubtful,” I replied. “After all, I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?” He mumbled something under his breath, but I couldn’t make it out. We’d arrived at my cell door, and though there were a dozen or so inmates in the common area playing checkers and bumper pool, apparently I wasn’t on the approved list. I suppose he did have a little control there, but I didn’t give a shit. With a shove from Masterson, I was propelled back into my cell. The cuffs were removed, and as I was left alone, the confusion and disassociation from before I had slept gave way to anger and frustration. With few options available in the tiny room, I mindlessly took it out on the furniture. Well, the mattress, chair, and pillow at least—everything else was bolted down. It was extremely dissatisfying and quickly over. I had wreaked all the destruction I could, which was certainly by design, so I dropped down on the floor with my head in my hands and growled at myself. The mattress dropped from its precarious position against the wall and hit my leg, so I kicked at it until it fell away from me. “You’re a fucking idiot.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and told myself to stop talking out loud when there wasn’t anyone else around. I considered it a symptom of losing my mind, and if the past was any indication, it was a fairly accurate sign. The more I did it, the less likely it was that I was thinking clearly. Focus. Before I could do anything else, I needed to get my shit together. I needed to stop with the fucking dreams and flashbacks—but how did I do that? “Lia.” At least I whispered this time. She was the key. With her, I could sleep, avoid the dreams, and gain some clarity. The problem was that having her anywhere near me—even while I was incarcerated—was a dangerous situation for her, and she didn't deserve any of this. She shouldn't have to concern herself with my fucked up life, but that was exactly what she'd been drawn into. I knew deep inside that I should just let her go– refuse to see her again and maybe do something obnoxious to drive her away. Of course, she had already witnessed me at my worst and didn’t seem to be

running away yet. Well, sort of my worst. There were things she hadn’t seen and things she didn’t know about that she might consider far worse than what she had witnessed. I didn’t really know how she would feel about that, and I didn’t want to find out just what sort of expression might cross her face if she became aware of my job description. That led me to another thought: I had no idea how she would react to my professional activities because I really didn’t know that much about her. I didn’t even know where she was from or what she did for a living. She’d pelted me with a lot of questions during the thirty or so hours we had spent together, and I had answered them like a fool, but I hadn’t asked her much about herself. What did I know about her? She had an ex-fiancé who drank a lot and got nasty with her, up to and including both smacking her on at least one occasion and shoving her out of a moving car in the middle of the desert. I also knew her father had died of cancer, and her mother lived in Phoenix. Mom didn’t like the ex. William. I’d practically offered to kill the guy for being an asshole, and she’d flinched from me. That actually told me a lot, at least as far as process of elimination. She wasn’t used to a life of violence other than a drunken, abusive boyfriend, which meant all the shit I was involved in would probably freak her the hell out. She liked her sex rough, though. She had been the most turned on when I was holding her down and slamming into her from behind. I could practically feel the way her body gripped my cock as she came on me. I remembered that with the utmost clarity, almost to the point where the memory was going to give me a hard-on. It was only my unfortunate surroundings that kept me from considering jacking off to the images in my head. Just what I need—the asshole guard peeking at me through the window when I have my dick out. I shook my head and thought about what else had transpired during my brief time with Lia. I’d told her my full name, which was probably how she managed to track me down at all. I’d told her I was retired from the Marines and that she didn’t want to know anything else about me. What else did I know about her? Nothing. No wait—there was one more thing I knew, and it was kind of the key to my whole situation. I knew I would do anything and everything for her, no questions asked. I couldn’t really frame in my own head why that was, only that the moment I woke up in the Arizona cabin lying with her on that tiny bed, I had been hers. The most bizarre thought came into my head. It wasn’t the thought itself that was so strange but more the fact that I had never considered it before.

What if I left the organization? What if I went to Rinaldo after all of this was over and told him I didn’t want to be a hit man anymore? What if I told him I wanted to retire? I had plenty of money stashed away—mostly in cash but a bit in foreign accounts as well. It might not be enough to live on indefinitely, but it was a damn good start. Did anyone ever do that? Not that I had ever seen. Feet first was the only way out of this kind of business as far as I knew. I’d never paid attention though. Could it be that there were some out there who had just moved on with their lives? If there were, was that something Rinaldo would let me do? Could I really even live like that—off the edge, keeping my hands clean? Was that even remotely possible, or would I always be drawn to violence and death like I had in the past? If I told Lia everything, would she still go with me? “Fuck it. This is stupid.” Too many fucking questions and no way to get answers from where I was. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes and looked around at the room. With an audible sigh, I hauled myself back onto my feet and tossed the mattress back onto the bed frame before flopping down on it, grabbing the pillow to my chest and staring at the toilet in the corner. My eyes started to hurt with the strain of staring, so I closed them for a moment. My body was still tired, but my mind was far too active for rest. As the possibilities for the future clambered around in my head, the idea became more and more attractive. I had always been one of Rinaldo’s favorites, ever since Jonathan brought me to him, and I took out a guy he wanted put down the very next day. I was like a son to him, and he was like my father. What father wouldn’t allow his son to follow his dreams, right? Especially when he’d done so much for the father already. Fat fucking chance. Still, if he were going to allow anyone to leave the organization, it would be me. Hell, he allowed Nick, his illegitimate son, to basically ignore all the business shit that went on around him. The guy didn’t do a damn thing to earn his keep unless fucking every other woman he met and smoking weed were something he planned on putting on his resume. I hadn’t thought about Nick with everything else going down, and I recalled the last conversation I had with Rinaldo on the topic of his son, who had apparently found himself an actual girlfriend, as opposed to a convenient fuck. Of course, he managed to pick Milena Severinov, the most inconvenient girl he could possibly have chosen to have hanging out in his bed. Rinaldo had been concerned—Milena was the niece of one of Rinaldo’s rivals in the Russian mob, though she didn’t seem to have anything to do with it herself. Her brother, Micah Severinov, was one I knew. He had been quickly added to my kill roll within the first month of his arrival in Chicago. I just hadn’t gotten around to him yet. I almost did the night I came face-to-face with him at Sweetwater, but Nick had gotten in the way, basically telling me not to go after him for the sake of the chick he was banging. I had planned to follow up on it with Rinaldo but ended up finding out about Bridgett before I

had the chance. Maybe if I offered to take out the whole Severinov family, Rinaldo would consider letting me go. It would probably piss Nick off, but I really didn’t give a shit about how he felt. I needed to figure out how I could both protect Lia and stay with her at the same time. I was willing to consider any and all alternatives to getting what I wanted. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. My head might have been clear, but my thoughts were still leaning toward the impractical if not quite insane. I had to figure out what strategy would allow me to end up with Lia in some remote area far away from Chicago and the people who knew me based on the business I conducted. I wasn’t going to be able to do any of that shit from where I was at the moment. Unfortunately, this was going to be a waiting game as much as anything else. Michael Beard, the attorney, and Rinaldo obviously had some sort of plan, and I was going to have to be patient enough to wait for it to come to fruition. Patience wasn’t my best attribute. Still, first things first. Before I could figure out how to plan a life with Lia, assuming she was even interested, I had to get out of this place. ***** Rinaldo’s visit had been expected. Even when my head wasn’t working quite right, I knew he would be coming to see me. Now, whether he brought a lawyer or someone to kill me right there in the visiting area was anyone’s guess, but showing his face wasn’t. He’d need to look me in the eye and make sure whatever the fuck I had done was about me and not about him. He needed to know I hadn’t betrayed him. Lia’s visit was a little more jolting, but if I had been in my right mind, I would have figured it was going to happen. After all, she had seen me carted off by a SWAT team and was taking care of my dog. It made sense for her to show up. The third visit though—that one caught me completely off guard and was bound to end very badly for me. Two men. Dark suits. They were escorted by a short, ginger-haired man I hadn’t met but still recognized as the prison warden. He looked from me to the other men but didn’t say a word as he leaned over, spoke into the guard’s ear, and then escorted him out of the room. As he walked near the door, he reached up and pulled the cord for the security camera out of the wall. Shit. I saw the red light on the side of the machine go dim and then watched the suits as they sat down at the table across from me. The cuffs holding me to the bolted-down chair scraped against the chains as my hands briefly clenched into fists and then released again.

The man on the right was in his late forties, and he just stared at me without any particular expression on his pale face. The lack of emotion wasn’t a natural thing for him—he was having to work at it pretty hard to keep it going. There was a spot on his cheek that twitched every few seconds, telling me he didn’t feel at all comfortable with trying to portray himself that way. He looked a little awkward in the chair as well but kept himself poised. His suit was tailored, but there were crumbs from a sandwich or something on the lapel, so he wasn’t used to being dressed as nicely as he was. He had salt-andpepper hair and matching beard. The other one, though—he was a puzzle. He was big—really big. Bigger than Mario, even. His head had been shaved close with no marks around it to tell if he shaved it for the sake of the look or if he did it because he had already lost all of his hair anyway. He was in his mid thirties, maybe, and had dark, curly hair around his wrists that stuck out of his cuffs. His suit was also tailored but extremely neat. He even removed the jacket, folded it neatly, and laid it across the back of the chair before he seated himself and looked into my eyes. His eyes looked familiar, but I was sure I had never met him before. He smiled, and there was nothing the least bit friendly about the look. He reached his hand out toward me as he spoke. “Mister Arden, my name is Agent Trent, and this is Agent Johnson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Most adults, when offered a hand in greeting, reflexively hold out their right hand without question. Without a doubt, this was the response Trent was expecting. It was a calculated and cold move, given the current state of my bound wrists. If I had been the kind of guy who immediately responded in the most polite of ways, I would have fallen for the move and been noisily reminded of the chains attaching my arms to the chair. I wasn’t that kind of guy, though, so I didn’t move. Trent narrowed his eyes the tiniest amount but recovered within a second. Completely relaxed again, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly as I raised a brow. I was instantly glad I had managed to get some actual sleep. If I hadn’t, I might have missed his ploy and therefore misjudged him. With my mind back in the game, my perception was strong. I recognized immediately that he was definitely my opponent. He wasn’t going to be a quick win, though, whatever the game was going to be. Regardless, he’d already made a mistake. The most interesting part of the short exchange was the obvious lack of research Trent had done. He was expecting me to act in a certain way, but he was wrong, and his initial mind-fuck was wasted on me. If he had done his research, he would have gone with another approach, like an officer’s uniform and a salute. I probably would have responded to that. Instead, I continued to eye him carefully. I made sure my expression was emotionless as I glanced from his outstretched hand to my bound right wrist and then up to his eyes. I raised my eyebrow again and waited. “Ah, yes,” Trent said, “I suppose we’ll have to stick with a hello.”

He dropped his hand and tapped twice on the table as he settled in his seat. There wasn’t any reason for the tap, I was sure of that. If there had been any kind of “code” between the two men, Johnson obviously didn’t know about it. He glanced toward the sound, but his expression didn’t change. He was having too much trouble keeping up the façade for his expression to remain the same if he was being given orders of some kind. What reason then? To make me paranoid. I was positive that I was right, and I felt my back stiffen a little as my body and mind went into a heightened state of alert. I had no idea what these two were about, but Trent was a definite threat. “Time for things to change a little around here, Mister Arden.” Nothing about this could possibly be in my best interest, so I braced myself and waited.

Chapter 5—Unavoidable Agreement I wasn’t sure if I was waiting for a bullet or not, but I was a little surprised when Trent, the guy with the crazy smile, reached into his briefcase and pulled out a bunch of papers. I was not surprised by the FBI seals on both the papers and the envelopes inside the briefcase. I was definitely on edge as he displayed the papers out on the table. Even if his first trap hadn’t managed to catch me, I was quite sure Trent wasn’t someone I could just ignore. I had the feeling talking my way out of this one wasn’t going to work either, and shooting my way out of it wasn’t an option. Currently. “Let’s see what we have here…” Trent let his voice trail off, cleared his throat, and then indicated a list of—appropriately enough—bullet points on the page. “Possession of unregistered firearms, public endangerment, unlawful discharge of firearms, inciting panic, and of course, the really good one— terrorism.” I was taken aback but tried not to show it. That charge hadn’t been on the list of charges Moretti and Michael Beard had discussed when they came to see me. “That last one is the one I find most interesting, seeing as it is a matter of federal law, not just the state of Illinois. I had to pull a couple of strings to get that officially on the list. It was even more difficult getting the timing exactly right. I had to wait until your boss and his tricky lawyer thought they had everything under control. I suppose they wanted to leave your little display under vandalism or something. Anything to appease your boss, hmm?” I remained completely still. “At this point, your lawyer won’t see the new charge until after we’re done here. He’ll spend half the day getting it removed, but it won’t matter—I’m already here.” Trent shuffled some papers around in the briefcase. “Did I miss anything?” “There’s also a woman from your neighborhood who wants to press attempted murder charges against you on behalf of Glenda, her Yorkshire Terrier,” Johnson added. “I honestly don’t think the judge plans to honor that one, though.” “Fuck the bitch,” Trent said with a smile. “Get it? Bitch? The dog is a girl.” Johnson laughed, right on cue. “Anyway,” Trent continued, “with the terrorism charge in place, it opened the doors up wide for me to move in and check you out like I’ve never been able to before, and I have to admit it is a bit of a pleasure for me. You know—seeing you in chains.” He waved his hand toward me and kept up the obnoxious grin. “I know a lot about you, Mister Arden,” Trent said, “or should I call you Evan?” I didn’t respond. This kind of game was best played with as little talk as possible. “Lieutenant, possibly? No, not that. You really aren’t one anymore, are you?”

I remained silent and motionless. “So tell me something,” he said. “Were you always a murderer, and that’s why you became a sniper in the first place, or did you learn it from the insurgents? I don’t see how you were in their hands for all that time without turning traitor, personally.” My flesh went cold and my throat seized up. I knew exactly what the asshole was doing, but that didn’t stop the blood in my veins from running cold, nor did it stop me from forming fists out of my hands and creating mental images of pummeling Trent into the cold cement floor. He wasn’t the first to suggest it. In fact, the CIA had spent a good week questioning me when I returned from the Middle East. I answered their questions over and over again, finally losing my shit altogether. They had their suspicions about another Marine who had been rescued—one that had given up information and ultimately gave away my unit’s position—and wanted to pull me into it as well. Yes, Al Qaeda members tried to get me to turn. They tried every fucking tactic they could dream up, but I never gave in. I never told them a damn thing. Loyalty. I closed my eyes, drew in a long, slow breath, and then looked back up at him. Like the handshake, he was doing all of this on purpose—trying to goad me into reacting stupidly. I wasn’t going to be that easy to break, though. I’d dealt with a lot worse than this asshole. “Do you have anything you’d like to add to the list?” Trent asked as he smiled at me again and waved the paper around. “There have been an extraordinary number of deaths from long-range weapons since you moved into the area. Care to confess to any of them?” I continued to watch Trent. “Maybe he’d like a few names and pictures,” Johnson suggested. “I’d like to contact my lawyer,” I said. “Nah.” Trent shook his head. “Your lawyer can go fuck himself. I don’t talk to lawyers.” Any thoughts I had that these guys might have been on the law-abiding side of the feds went out the window. Rinaldo had dealt with the feds plenty of times, but I had always been kept out of sight. He knew any information about me would be dangerous to him, so I was removed from any and all contact. When they were in town, I went underground until they left. Johnson took some notes down on a pad of paper from the briefcase, and Trent leaned back in his chair and kept up the creepy smile. “I’ve spent way too much time getting this close to you, Arden,” he said. “There’s no way I’d muddy the conversation with a lot of lawyer bullshit. Your boss always did a good job of keeping you out of sight, but he can’t help you right now. Your lawyer would just be in my way. Besides, lawyers hate it when I rough up their clients.”

He laughed, and Johnson cracked a smile. Trent leaned forward and raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes I do it just for fun and not because you won’t answer my questions. I just enjoy that shit. Especially when it comes to trumped-up mafia shits who think they’re above and beyond any kind of reckoning, you know? Well, of course you know; you enjoy a little brutality now and again, don’t you?” I knew it was coming. I didn’t need to watch his hand curl into a fist or follow its movements to my jaw. I couldn’t have moved enough to get out of the way, and with my hands restrained, I couldn’t defend myself, so I took it in silence. The blow cut the inside of my lip on my teeth, and I dragged my tongue across the wound as I looked back up at Trent and waited for another blow. It came quickly, this time up close to my left eye. My head jerked to the opposite side as a dull throbbing in my temple blurred my vision enough that the next blow to my jaw caught me off guard. I took a slow breath through my nose, gathered some of the blood in my mouth with my tongue, and spit it out onto the table right in front of Trent. With narrowed eyes, I watched for his next move. He laughed. “I suppose you got used to that kind of shit, didn’t you? All that time with a bunch of Jihad-happy insurgents smacking you around. Probably took it up the ass, too, didn’t ya?” I stayed still though I couldn’t help the rapid flutter of my eyelids at the remark. If I had still been without sleep, I would have been dragged right back there to the desert and probably would have lost my mind for good. Instead, I just swallowed hard, focused on his face, and waited. “Military hero,” Trent sneered. “What kind of hero gets his entire unit killed but somehow manages to survive himself? Where’s that report, Johnson?” “Here you are.” Johnson handed Trent a collection of papers held together with a clip. “Recognize this?” Trent held up the first page, which contained a Marine logo at the top and a CIA stamp on the bottom. I did recognize it, but I didn’t answer. “This report is from your interrogation after you were brought back to the U.S. There are a lot of questions about how you managed to survive for so long. Why did they keep you alive, dickhead? Was it because you were converted? Did you lead them to your location and get your unit killed off? Give up the other base running parallel to yours?” “There was no such evidence,” I snarled back. “There were no charges. I was found in a fucking hole, you asshole! And that was a debriefing, not an interrogation!” “Finally got a rise out of you, huh?” he smirked. “Fuck you. No action was taken—no charges.” Stop it, I told myself. This is what he wants. “Yeah, yeah,” Trent said as he waved his hand dismissively. “There haven’t been any murder charges brought up against you either, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been on a killing rampage since

you arrived in this city.” I turned my eyes to the top of the table, refusing to be further engaged. I wasn’t planning on letting him get to me at all, and I definitely couldn’t let him get under my skin again. I had to keep myself prepared for more shit remarks about my capture or the debriefing. He must have realized I wasn’t going to be further goaded because he finally got to the point. “Here’s the thing,” Trent said as he leaned forward on his elbows. “I’ve been waiting a long time to actually have something I could use on you that your piece-of-shit boss couldn’t just talk or bribe his way out of it for you, and I finally have it.” I wasn’t going to let myself be baited into asking what he meant, so I sat there and said nothing as Trent motioned to Johnson’s briefcase. Johnson opened it up and pulled out a stapled set of papers. The very first page had two boxes with images in them resembling a graphic equalizer display. There were rows of vertical bars with smaller horizontal bars going through the middle of them. Both boxes showed the exact same image. “Do you know what that is?” I actually had an idea—I’d seen enough crime shows on television, but I didn’t let on. With a shrug, I just looked back at him and waited. “It’s a DNA report,” he said. “See how the two samples match?” I shrugged again, and he pointed to one of the two images. “This one here—this is from the swab they took from your mouth when you were booked,” he said. His finger moved over to the other image. “That’s a pretty common practice, you know. They even do it on dead bodies that are found lying around.” He watched me, presumably looking for a reaction, but I gave him nothing. “Guess where this one came from?” Trent pressed. I didn’t answer. It could have come from a million places—I wasn’t overly careful about leaving shit like trace evidence behind—my kills were from afar. If this guy thought he was going to use DNA evidence to link me to a sniper shooting, he was crazy. “This was taken from the dead lips of one Brad Ashton.” Fuck me. Of all the victims they could have tried to nail me with, they went after the most high-profile one they could possibly find. I’d been far more careful with him than I had with others because he was a well-known, highly paid movie actor and I was doing him up close. He also owed my boss a lot of money in gambling debts, which was all I really cared about. He knew Rinaldo was after him, and his security had made it very difficult to target him from afar, which was why I had to go a slightly less conventional route. Using his affection for well-built guys like myself, I came on to him, encouraged him, and led him off to a hotel room to drug and kill him. In the process, he’d made it to first base and had certainly made a

grab for second. As a sniper, I usually didn’t get close enough to my victims to think about leaving DNA anywhere near the scene, but Brad had been best lured with my mouth. Thankfully, I hadn’t actually had sex with him, or the DNA evidence could have been even more incriminating. I made a point of not reacting as I watched Trent and Johnson watch me. I didn’t see any reason to respond to them since anything and everything I said wouldn’t just be used against me in a court of law but here in this room right now. “Must have used a condom,” Trent said with a smirk. “We didn’t find any cum on him. I’d heard you were an ass man. I guess that’s true, huh?” Johnson snickered again as Trent wriggled his eyebrows at me. I tensed my fingers on the arms of the chair but kept my silence. “I bet your mob buddies would get a kick out of all this, wouldn’t they? Finding out you fucked one of your kills, and a dude at that. What’s that, Arden? I can’t hear ya.” Johnson snorted and shook his head a bit. He never made eye contact with me, though. He kept all his attention on Trent, awaiting his instructions. However, Trent seemed much more interested in harassing me instead of addressing his partner. He leaned back in the chair until the front two legs came up off the floor. “So here’s the deal,” Trent said. “With this evidence, I own your sniper-happy ass. That means I call the shots, and when you get out of here, you’re going to go right back to Rinaldo Moretti’s business, and you’re going to help me bring him in.” I couldn’t hold back any longer—I laughed out loud. “Did you really think that after being in a hole for eighteen months you could threaten me with prison?” I laughed again. “Fuck you. Fuck you, your DNA evidence, and whatever other shit you think you have on me. None of it makes a fucking difference.” “Well, all right, you got me there.” Trent dropped the chair back down on the ground with a thump. “I admit I figured you weren’t too scared of the idea of being in chains again. I mean, you get used to it, don’t you? You probably learned to love it.” I looked away from him and took a deep breath. “I watched that vid from the other day,” Trent said. “That’s a hot little piece of ass you’ve acquired. Lia Antonio, I believe?” I turned to him with a glare, trying to threaten him as much as I could with my eyes alone. “Does she know?” Trent’s voice dropped down low. “Does she know all about your escapades? I bet she’d like to know.” I continued to glare at him, but inside, my mind was racing. I couldn’t let her find out about me— not like that. Even beyond everything else, I couldn’t let her watch me go to prison with rumors flying that I had fucked the guy I killed. “I understand her fiancé has put out a missing persons report on her,” Johnson said. His mouth turned up into a bit of a smile.

“Oh, that’s right!” Trent snapped his fingers. “Maybe we’ll just give him a call and let him know where she is.” “Leave her alone,” I said with deadly calm. “Don’t think so,” Trent replied. “Frankly, I’m getting tired of playing with you. You don’t want to cooperate, so maybe I’ll go question her and see what she knows.” “She doesn’t know anything.” Trent stood up and slammed his briefcase shut. “I’ll just have to find that out for myself.” He turned to head to the door. Once again, I knew exactly what he was doing. However, this time it didn’t make any difference. He had me, and we both knew it. “Wait.” I made eye contact with him as he turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t waste my time,” Trent said. “There has to be something else I can give you,” I said. “The offer is as it stands,” Trent replied. “You give me Moretti, and I give you your freedom to go fuck up your life some more. I’ll still be riding your ass for the fun of it because I doubt it will last. You’d have a bit of time to shove your cock in Miss Antonio for a while longer, though.” “No,” I replied, ignoring his crude remarks. “Another way.” “I’m not having a fucking debate with you, Arden.” “Not Moretti.” My mind raced. There had to be an alternative—something else I could do to satisfy Trent that didn’t include bringing down the one person who held my undying loyalty—the one I couldn’t betray. “It…it wouldn’t work. They’d know if I was…doing something different. Out of the ordinary.” It was a line of bullshit. The people who worked closely with me were used to me doing the unexpected, and anything out of the ordinary would be consider yet another one of my idiosyncrasies. “Then I’m going to go have a visit with your little lady friend and see just what all she knows about your activities.” I took a couple of slow, deep breaths to focus myself. I had to think—what else would a man like Trent want? Nothing but a big takedown would work for him, and Moretti was it around here. Maybe if we were in New York and I knew more about the people there, I could offer to infiltrate and bring down an organization larger than Moretti’s but not around here. But there were other organizations, other families… “I’ll give you Gavino Greco,” I stated. My eyes met with his. “Not just him, but the Severinovs, his Russian associates. You’d get them all—two families for the price of one.” Trent eyed me carefully, and I could practically see the little wheels in his head spinning. He didn’t care about Moretti specifically—he was probably just looking for the next big promotion, and any

major crime lord bust would work for him. “How are you going to do that?” he asked. “That’s my problem, isn’t it?” “If I don’t believe you can do it, it’s my problem, too.” “I can do it,” I promised. “Greco will jump at the chance to have me on his side. He has so many enemies, his kill roll has to look like Santa’s shopping list. I can get his trust as far as I would need to.” “You’ve taken out a few of his people.” I wasn’t going to respond to such a direct accusation. Even though he had me, and the cameras weren’t rolling, I wasn’t going to make all this shit easy for him. In the back of my head, I was hoping to just bide enough time to figure out what I could do to get both myself and Lia out of this completely. “He’ll buy it,” I said. “I know he will.” He leaned over and tapped the tabletop with his finger. “You think you can do that? Deliver them both to me?” “Dead or alive?” I asked. “Alive, asshole. I need a bust, not a body.” “I can do it,” I said with conviction. “But you stay away from Lia Antonio.” “I suppose I could agree to that.” Trent nodded. “You get me Greco and Severinov, and I’ll have that DNA evidence removed from the database.” His nasty little smile came back. I wasn’t stupid enough to trust the asshole, but I had to ask. “How do I know you won’t just use all that shit against me later?” “Well, here’s the thing,” Trent said. “You really don’t. That’s not one of my problems, though. You’ll just have to go with how trustworthy I look and hope for the best. You don’t have much of a choice here.” “You going to let me take care of two families and then continue to suck me dry?” “If that’s what you’re into,” Trent said with a nod. “I guess we could always go back and look for more evidence farther back in Ashton’s throat. I’ll be in touch, Mister Arden.” He and Johnson stood together and walked out the door. A minute later, I was taken back to my cell. No one asked me about my busted lip; I was just led quietly back to my cell and tossed inside to come up with what the fuck I was going to do to get out of all of this. I was going to have to find some way to help Trent get Greco and Severinov behind bars. I would have rather just killed him. I was taking a chance, a huge chance. They were leaving me with very few options, though. Brad Ashton’s death wasn’t something Rinaldo could just bribe my way out of—it was far too public. Fans on

Twitter and Facebook were demanding some kind of action on the case, and if it were to be discovered that I was not only his killer but also intimate with him? Even if it was only kissing, the implications were staggering. It wasn’t a matter of reputation—I didn’t give a shit if someone thought I was gay or not. It was the fact that I had been so careless—so sloppy—as to leave evidence like that behind. Rinaldo would have a totally different opinion. He wouldn’t like the idea that his number one enforcer was in the closet, true or imagined. It wouldn’t matter to him. In his eyes, it would make me weaker, and weaker wouldn’t serve him better. The chances of him bringing a lawyer to represent me on that case were pretty much nil. Then there was Lia. I couldn’t bring myself to regret her coming to see me—I needed her—but it had also put her far too close to me, which made her a target as well. If Trent knew about her, others would find out soon enough if I didn’t do something to protect her. I wasn’t sure if Trent had the idea of telling her in his back pocket the whole time and played me up with the evidence and shit just to get me going, but my guess was that he probably did. Rinaldo had warned me about being attached to people on many, many occasions. He even warned me about Bridgett, though I hadn’t realized how close to her I was at the time. “Getting close to a girl,” Rinaldo said, “can be a good thing. If you were someone else— someone less complicated—the worst that can happen is you don’t work out. You’re a complicated man, Arden, and you are in a complicated position. Bitches make it even more complicated.” “I’m aware, sir.” “You’re aware,” he mocked. “Will that change anything when someone finds out you give a shit? What better to hold over your head than a warm cunt, huh? You take better care not to show your affection for her. You’ve done a shit job on that front with that pup of yours.” It didn’t matter in the end. They tried to use Bridgett against me, but whatever we had between us wasn’t more important than my loyalty to Rinaldo Moretti. It didn’t stop me from killing her for her betrayal. But with Lia? That was another subject. If she did something like Bridgett had done, I wasn’t sure how I would react. Bridgett was a convenient fuck and useful for helping me sleep, but Lia meant something completely different—something I couldn’t put into words or even thoughts. Regardless of the outcome, I couldn’t betray Rinaldo. Never that. It wasn’t just about a paycheck or the fact that he gave me a job and a reason to be out walking around in the world—it was a lot more than that. Like my unnamed feelings for Lia, I couldn’t express why I felt the loyalty I did, but it wasn’t something I could drop because of the threat of a prison sentence. I wasn’t sure I could even drop it for Lia’s sake. I shook my head and leaned against the cell wall to stare out the windows at the cars and people far below. It was too difficult to think in this place. I needed to get outside and maybe get in a little target practice to get my mind really functioning again. I wondered if I’d ever see my Barrett again.

It was most certainly taken in as evidence and very possibly lost to me at this point. I could get another one, but that one had been with me for a long time—bought it outright when I was discharged. It had taken most of the money I had at the time, but it was the only way I could stay focused. I needed the feel of the cool metal in my hands as my finger pulled back on the trigger and the recoil pressed hard against my shoulder. Watching rounds go into a target through the scope was the only time I felt at peace. Well, maybe peace wasn’t exactly the right word, but it stopped me from panicking. I sighed and brought myself back to the present long enough to consider who I knew in Greco’s organization well enough to approach them and convince them my loyalties were now up for grabs. I couldn’t come up with any of the people who hadn’t had the barrel of my Beretta pointed at their faces during one intense encounter or another. I’d also killed off the cousin of Greco’s mistress once upon a time, though he didn’t know it was me. The guard called to out to me—it was time to eat what they tried to pass off as food around here. I wasn’t hungry and would have rather stayed in my cell and plotted in silence, but skipping meals wasn’t an option. Despite the need to come up with a plan, I needed my resources in the outside world. Nothing could be done from here, so I was just going to have to wait.

Chapter 6—Intense Reconnection I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised when Masterson came to my cell and informed me that I had been let out on bond. He’d only been told of an unscheduled hearing which went favorably for me, but I doubted the meeting had even taken place. Trent’s resources were on the ball, no doubt about that. I was going to have to play all of this really, really carefully. First things first. “Can I make a call?” “It’s not my fucking decision,” Masterson grumbled as he led me out of the unit. “You can ask the warden.” The unit supervisor let me call while my things were brought out of their storage area. The phone only rang twice before I heard a familiar voice on the other end. “Mark Duncan.” “Hello, it’s Evan Arden. I need a favor.” “Of course, Evan—what do you need?” “You remember the girl who came here?” I rolled my eyes at myself and shook my head. I was the deranged one; of course, he would remember. “I was just hoping you had her contact information. I don’t have my phone here.” “Yes, of course.” “Could you call her and ask her to come and get me?” “Get you?” He paused before continuing. “Evan, where are you?” I could practically see his face as he contemplated whether or not I had escaped and was now on the run. I wondered if he was picking up his landline to call the cops on his escaped patient. “I’m still at the MCC,” I told him. “I’m being released.” “Released?” “Yeah.” I never understood people’s desire to repeat words like that, but I tried not to let it annoy me. It was probably the last thing he was expecting to hear from me. “Can you call her?” “Yes, I can,” he said. “I just can’t believe no one contacted me. When was this?” “Just a little while ago, special hearing or something. I don’t know. I just know I want out.” “I can get you.” “No, really—if you could call her and have her come, that would be great. I need to sleep, but I’ll come and see you soon.”

I wasn’t going to, but he’d figure that out soon enough. With the phone handed back to some woman behind a desk, I was taken to a small room and left alone with a cardboard box containing everything I had on me when I was brought in. I reached in and pulled out the Marine-issue fatigues. I didn’t want to put them back on, but I couldn’t exactly go out still wearing prison orange, so I quickly removed the jumpsuit. I wasn’t about to put on the underwear I had been wearing at the time, so I left it in the box and pulled on the tan, camouflage-pattern pants commandostyle. My watch was next, then a pale grey T-shirt followed by the socks. For some reason, the idea of dirty footwear didn’t seem as nasty to me as the boxers. My boots and hat were in the box as well, and when I pulled them out, something dropped to the floor with a metallic clang. My dog tags. I picked them up and ran my finger over the raised letters. ARDEN EVAN N. USMC 047289 A NEG CATHOLIC I took a deep breath and tried to push away the plethora of memories the cool metal tried to conjure. For the most part it worked—the tags only evoked pleasant memories. The only real regret I had was labeling myself as Catholic, though as a seventeen-year-old, the response to the question had been automatic. If there was a God, He didn’t have any love for me, so fuck Him. I slipped the metal chain around my neck and tucked the tags inside my T-shirt before I laced up my boots, donned the hat, and left the room. I had to sign a few more papers, but the process didn’t take that long. I hoped that Lia had received my message by now and also that she wasn’t waiting for me for too long. Without any other direction, I headed outside. I looked up and down Van Buren Street but didn’t see any sign of Lia parked anywhere. I walked to the corner of Van Buren and South Clark, but I didn’t see anyone there, either. There didn’t seem to be any actual parking on the street close to the entrance, so it was hard to tell where she might have to go to park a car. I dropped my ass to wait on a cement wall used as the foundation of a flower garden. And wait. After a while, I was beginning to get a little nervous. Would Trent have already taken action, believing that I wouldn’t follow through with my end of this deal? Would he have grabbed her and detained her just to have more leverage over me? I leaned over, took off the hat, and dropped my head into one hand. How long would it be before Rinaldo knew I had been released? How long after that before he

came looking for me? At what point would he realize I wasn’t coming to him, send out a search party of sorts, and realize I was batting for the other team? That was the most difficult part of all of this: he would have no idea that I was doing this to protect him. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to get that message to him without alerting both Greco and Trent. “Hey, Marine!” I flinched, glanced to my right, and saw a guy in jeans and a sweatshirt approaching. He reached down and grabbed my arm to shake my hand. “I just want to thank you for your service,” he said in a thick southern accent. “My cousin was a Marine, and you guys are the best!” I didn’t have much time to react before he was off across the street, so I shook my head a little and watched, wondering if he had any idea what he was really saying, and if he’d still thank me if he knew everything. When I first returned from active duty, a bunch of people said similar things to me, and I still I didn’t understand why they did. I figured most of it was because I was in Virginia at the time, and they kept putting my picture up on television. I needed to get the fuck out of these clothes. There was a trash can near the wall where I sat, and a noise coming from it caught my attention. A small rat made its way up a plastic bag and sat along the rim of the can, looking at me. “Getting takeout?” I asked it. The rodent looked to the sound of my voice before it scurried back down into the bottom of the can. Looking up and down the sidewalk and the street, I still didn’t see any sign of Lia. I checked my watch. It had been a full forty minutes since I had contacted Mark to call her. I wondered how far away she lived and if she had been caught in traffic or something. Maybe she’s not coming. It was more than possible that she had thought better of hanging out with a fucked up lunatic like me and refused to show up. If that were the case, Mark would have contacted me—I was sure of that. He would have at least called into the main office and had someone step outside and look for me. Hell, considering how dedicated he was, he’d probably just show up here and offer me a ride. How long was I going to wait? An hour? Two? I wasn’t used to waiting for someone—depending on someone. It just wasn’t a good idea. I hadn’t relied on anyone since Corporal Martinez, my spotter during a mission in Afghanistan. It had been cut short. He was called back home, and I never saw him again. Three weeks after that, during the last mission I was on, I was in charge and everyone was depending on me. It didn’t do them any good, either. All of that seemed like another lifetime ago despite how close it was in my sleep-time memories. Since then, I hadn’t depended on anyone. Not until now.

I didn’t like it, not in the least. What if she had decided I wasn’t worth the effort? As much as I might have agreed with her, the thought pissed me off. Rinaldo was right—bitches weren’t worth the trouble. Look at where I was now and what I was considering because of her. If it weren’t for her, Trent would only have prison to hold over my head. “Fuck it.” I stood up and decided to start walking east on Van Buren. I didn’t really know where I was going to go at this point and figured I might as well just walk to my apartment. I had no idea what condition it might be in, or if the door was locked, or if the whole place had been cleaned out. I also didn’t have anywhere else to go. I gripped my fingers against my palms and tried to get some clarity in my head. “Evan!” I turned to the sound of my name and saw Lia walking quickly up the sidewalk from the other side of the building. The relief I felt was frightening. I felt my heart speed up in my chest at the very sight of her. My arms ached to reach out and bring her close to me, and my cock throbbed at the possibilities her presence presented. So much for not depending on anyone. I unclenched my fists and turned around to move down the sidewalk to meet her. The lunch crowd was milling around us, and as much as I might have wanted to pretend they weren’t there, rush up and pull her into my arms, I knew that wasn’t the least bit cautious, and I needed to be cautious. I hesitated in my steps, stopped a couple feet in front of her, and just stared for a long moment. The wind picked up some loose strands of her hair and blew them around her neck, drawing my gaze that way. I recalled the salty taste of sweat in the same place as my cock moved inside of her, and thoughts of kissing her left my head as the desire to fuck her on the street grew in their place. She took a step forward and began to reach for me, but I stopped her with a shake of my head. “Not here,” I said quickly. “Too many people. We need to get out of the open. Where are you staying?” “I’ve got a place rented on the west side of the city,” Lia said. “It’s not great, but it’s affordable. It’s close to Rehm Park, so I have a good place to walk Odin.” “Where’s your car?” “I don’t have one.” Shit. “How did you get here?” “The train.” The one time I wanted to avoid public transportation, there wasn’t another option. Fucking Murphy’s Law. That did explain what took her so long. Without many choices available, I grabbed her hand and led her over to the nearest Blue Line entrance.

“Shit,” I grumbled as we approached the station. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t have my wallet or anything,” I said. “My transit pass is in there.” “I’ve got it.” We had to go to the convenience store next to the station to get a one-day pass for me, then headed back toward the trains. We waited for only a minute or two before the next train stopped, and I pulled Lia behind me as we slipped through the doors before they closed. The car was crowded but not completely full. There were two available seats facing the center of the car. Riding sideways wasn’t my favorite position on a train, but it was better than facing backwards, which made me nauseated. As soon as we sat, I could feel the tension in my body begin to rise again. I noticed the similarities between this time and when Lia had first lain beside me in the cabin. My heart was pounding in my chest, and even my skin felt tight around my muscles. I tensed the muscles in my thighs as my brain was flooded with memories of her soft skin and the way she smelled in the morning—a combination of something sweet-tasting, laced with my own scent over her skin. Back then, I had attributed the feelings I had toward her to just wanting to fuck because it had been a while, but I couldn’t think of it the same way now. This time, it hadn’t been months since I had been with someone—only a couple of weeks. “Yeah, and you killed her.” “What was that?” Shit. “Nothing,” I muttered. I silently thanked no one in particular for train noise. Lia looked a little confused but didn’t press, so she must not have heard the words I said. I looked from her eyes to her mouth and tried to remember exactly what she had tasted like when I kissed her. The memory was there but not as vivid as some of the others. I wanted to remind myself how it felt to press my mouth against hers and how her hair felt in my hands. I wanted to relive every cum-covered moment—that’s what I wanted. The train screeched, stopped, and the doors opened up. People got off and others got on. With a lurch, we were headed back down the tracks again only to go through the whole stop-start scenario over and over. Each time, there were more people getting on than off, and the car quickly became standing room only. “What stop again?” I asked her. “Oak Park.” Seven stops away. I wasn’t going to be able to wait that long. “Come on,” I said as the train slowed to a crawl and the doors slid open once more.

“Where are we going?” Lia asked as I dragged her from the train and through the station. My eyes darted from left to right, trying to find any place even remotely suitable. There wasn’t anything inside the station, so I led her out onto the street and toward a nearby office park. Slipping between two buildings, I turned abruptly, grabbed her, and shoved her against the red brick. My mouth covered hers, and my hands grabbed at her waist to pull her against me. I felt her hands move up my shoulders, and her arms wrapped around my neck as she moaned into my mouth. As I tasted her tongue, I was immediately transported back to our small, cramped, hot sanctuary in the middle of Arizona. My cock pressed tightly against my fatigues as it felt the warmth of her body so close. It obviously didn’t want to waste any time leaping out and doing exactly what needed to be done. It was a matter of sanity. “You still want it like this, don’t you?” I breathed against her lips as I broke our kiss. My hands moved up her sides, then back down around to grip her ass. “Hard and fast—right here against the fucking building.” My hand found its way underneath her skirt, and my fingers slid up her thigh. I could feel the edge of her lacy panties and quickly wrapped my fingers into the fabric. “Evan…” My name on her tongue was a protest, so I stopped. Leaning back slightly, I looked at her flushed face. Her eyes were dilated, which made them appear almost black against her pale features. Her eye makeup was smeared a little, and her breath was coming in gasps. As I stared at her, her tongue darted out and over her lips as her eyes focused on me. “You don’t want me to stop,” I stated. “You need it like this.” She barely had the chance to nod before my hand yanked down sharply and tore her panties off her body. A moment later, my pants were undone and my cock was out and ready. I took a moment to lick the palm of my hand and rub it over the head and shaft of my dick. “Get your legs around me,” I commanded as I lifted her by her ass with one hand and positioned my throbbing cock with the other. “You still on the pill?” “Yes,” she breathed as her thighs wrapped around my waist and her heels dug into my backside. “It’s a good thing.” I slammed into her and remembered what home was. It was everything I remembered and more. The feeling of her body encompassing me was beyond the sensation of the flesh—far beyond. It was incomprehensible, fantastic, and terrifying. It was everything I knew I wanted and needed but had refused to pursue because my life was far too fucked up for anything like this. I didn’t deserve it, and I had convinced myself I didn’t want it or need it. I did, though. I knew I did, and now that I had it, I was going to do anything and everything I could to keep it. She wasn’t completely ready for the intrusion into her body and moaned against my shoulder as I penetrated her, balls-deep, in one swift motion. As much as I probably should have slowed down and let

her get used to me inside of her again, I couldn’t. My body was on autopilot—searching for the one connection that held meaning for it. I pulled back and slammed into her again, and again she cried out. “Lia,” I whispered as I tried to hold myself steady inside of her. My voice was strangled, pleading, and my dick continued to throb inside of her, demanding more. “Don’t stop,” she said. “Harder—please!” “God, woman…” Her words heated me up more, and even with the cold wind on my ass, my skin felt like it was boiling. I shoved into her again, pulled back, and continued to hammer into her as I held her against the wall. She felt so warm wrapped around me; I almost lost it far too soon. I took a breath, covered her mouth with mine, and slowed down for a moment. Sliding in and out of her, my hands wrapped around the globes of her ass and pulled her down over me. I felt sweat trickle between my shoulder blades as I familiarized myself with the taste of her tongue once more. “You feel fucking perfect,” I growled against her mouth. I pulled back, almost all the way out, and then pushed forward sharply with my hips as I brought her down on me. She cried out again, and I placed one hand against the wall behind her for more leverage as I increased the pace again. It wasn’t enough. It felt like it would never, never be enough. Lia’s breaths came in pants as she tried to keep up with my pace. At that point, I couldn’t have slowed down if I tried, and I wasn’t about to try. I needed to feel her like this—against the wall, fast, hot, furious. Her fingers gripped my shoulders, and her voice rose in pitch as she gasped and cried out my name. Her body gripped my cock, squeezing it and pulling it deeper inside of her. It was more than I could take, and I felt the pressure from my balls spread out through my legs and down my cock in an explosion of sensation. “Uhhhgh!” I cried out, the sound only partially muffled by Lia’s shoulder, as I filled her. I felt myself shudder from my shoulders down to my thighs. I tightened my grip on her luscious ass and slid in and out a few more times as my breath steadied and my heart rate decreased. As I came down from the orgasmic high, I found her eyes with mine. She seemed to be a bit in shock, and I wondered if I had taken it too far. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Couldn’t wait.” “Don’t apologize,” Lia responded. Her hand moved from my shoulder to the side of my face, and I leaned against the touch. “It’s probably a good idea to get out of here before someone finds us, though.” I couldn’t argue, so I pulled back, lowered her carefully to the ground, and fastened my fatigues. Lia straightened out her skirt, shirt, and hair before she took a deep breath and looked to her torn panties on the ground. “I guess I’m going to have to keep an extra supply of underwear when I’m around you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” I wasn’t, but I figured it was polite to say. As far as I was concerned, she could just go without panties for the rest of eternity. I smiled a little at the thought. “You’re really quite proud of that, aren’t you?” she said. I smirked back at her, raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. Lia shook her head slightly as her hand reached up to fiddle with the quarter around her neck. “Let’s get back to my place,” Lia said. “I have the feeling we should probably have an actual conversation here at some point.” Lia reached out to take my hand, and we made our way down the street and back to the train stop. I wasn’t sure if I was looking forward to what kind of talk she had in mind, but I knew I wasn’t going to be leaving her side until she was far from harm’s way. I’d put up with whatever she wanted as long as I could keep her safe. Nothing was going to keep her from my side.

Chapter 7—Desired Refuge The apartment Lia had been living in was little efficiency in a crappy area. I might not have had cash on me for a CTA ticket, but there was no way I was going to let her stay here another night. There wasn’t even any fucking security on the building door. The inside was okay, just small and cramped. I had no idea what her financial situation was, but it was obvious from her accommodations that she wasn’t well-off. I was going to have to change that—sooner rather than later. Odin peeked around the corner of the bed, saw me, and jogged over with his tail wagging. I was beyond happy to see the big guy, especially considering I had a brief moment during my arrest when I thought they might have taken him out. I dropped down to one knee and took his shaggy head in my hands. I scratched at his neck and back and tried to keep my balance as he nearly tackled me and started to lick my face. “Disgusting,” I told him with a grin. He sat back on his haunches and appeared to be smiling back at me with his tongue lolling around his face. Then he jumped up and ran back to the side of the bed to retrieve his rubber bone. There wasn’t really any room in the tiny place to throw it, but we made do anyway. “I need to go to my apartment,” I said after a few minutes of fetch. “It still has crime scene tape all over the door,” Lia said softly. “At least it did when I was last there.” “Fuck that,” I growled. “If there’s anyone there trying to keep me from my shit, I’ll fucking kill them.” The words were honest and genuine—far too much so. When I glanced up at Lia, she was biting her lip and had her brow all screwed up. I inhaled deeply and then let the air out slowly through my nose. I was going to have to start watching my words. “Figuratively,” I said unconvincingly. Lia continued to look at me with a lot of doubt on her face. Her legs were tensed like she was thinking of running out. When I stood and gave Odin’s bone one last toss, she took a step back. “You afraid of me?” I asked. “Not of you,” Lia replied. “For you, yes, but not really of you.” “Not really,” I repeated. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue—she was starting to see who I was now that we were in my city, my element. “You don’t know me very well.” “I know a lot. I’m still waiting for you to tell me the rest.” I laughed. She had no fucking idea what she knew and what she didn’t know. “So tell me,” she requested.

“No,” I replied quietly. I reached out and placed my finger under her chin, tilting her head up a little before kissing her lightly. “You don’t want to know all the shit in my head.” “I do,” she insisted, “but I’ll wait until you’re ready.” “Not gonna happen.” I moved my lips across her jaw and down the side of her neck, hoping to distract her completely from the line of thinking she seemed so hell-bent on. Her hands ran up my sides and gripped my back as I moved up her ear. “I need to know,” she said quietly. “Bullshit.” “Evan,” she sighed and pulled back a bit. It wasn’t enough to let go but enough that I couldn’t keep distracting her with my lips. “Don’t you think I deserve a little information at least?” “For what?” It was a stupid fucking thing to say, but I’m a guy and we say stupid shit like that. “For what?” she snapped back. “Seriously? Let’s start with searching for you for months, finding out you’ve been through a ridiculously difficult time, and then when I finally find you, you’re in the process of trying to blow up an entire park! How about seeing you dragged off in cuffs, and the only thing you manage to do is apologize again, and then ask me to take care of your dog?” Well, all right—she had me there. I huffed out a breath, looked over her shoulder for a minute, and then looked back. “You’re right. You want me to just take him and go now?” “No, for goodness’ sake, Evan!” Lia pulled one of her hands back and slapped me slightly on the shoulder. “Do you think I’d come all the way here, do all of this, and then just leave?” “You should.” Part of me hoped she would, but it wasn’t a part I wanted to acknowledge. Even as I suggested it, it felt like a hole was burning through my chest. “Well, I’m not.” “Maybe you need to think about it.” More words I didn’t mean, but there they were anyway. “Is that what you want me to do?” she asked. I hesitated but ultimately shook my head. “I only want time to think about…about all of this,” she responded as she took my face in her hands and placed her lips to mine. My body was immediately lost in the feeling, but my mind continued to struggle. “You need to just get out of Chicago…get away from me,” I said. Though my voice was sure and strong, my arms tightened around her as the words left my lips. “I’m not leaving you alone,” Lia replied. “You should.” Again, my grip on her tightened, and the feeling of her body pressed tightly against my chest was divine. “I’ll end up hurting you or…or worse.”

“You won’t hurt me.” “You don’t know that.” She pulled back again and glared at me. “Did you really think I had no idea that there was something...not quite right? When I first saw you, you were in the middle of the desert, rocking on a front porch, holding the scariest gun I've ever seen. The hottest guy I've ever met in my life, sitting alone in a cabin, apparently for months, with his dog and enough paranoia to spare. I may not have your powers of observation, Evan, but I'm not blind!” I had to admit, I hadn’t considered how all of that had looked. At the time, I had been more concerned about whether or not she had been sent from Chicago, and then later my concern was more about getting into her pants. “I may not know what’s going on,” Lia continued, “but I know there’s a lot more here than it seems. At some point, you’re going to have to tell me.” “Have to, huh?” I was trying hard not to be shitty, but she was hitting far too close to the truth for her own good. I was also fighting hard against the desire to tell her everything there was to know, even when the information would likely end up with her telling me to get the fuck out—not to mention some of the information could get her killed. It was too much for most people to handle, and I didn’t want to put her in that position. Was it even avoidable at this point? “Whatever happened, I can handle it.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. She didn’t know what she was asking, and I wasn’t even sure that I could handle it. Figuring she was as likely as any chick to respond to a little emotion, I went with delay tactics. “I…I can’t, Lia,” I pleaded to her eyes for understanding. “I…I want to, but not yet. I can’t do it yet.” Her fingers brushed over my jaw. “All right,” she said quietly. “I can wait, but not forever.” Mission accomplished though there was no telling how long I could hold her off. For now, I just needed to keep her occupied with other things. “Thank you,” I whispered against her ear, then moved down her throat. I slid my fingers up her sides, wrapped them in the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and over her head. My mouth moved down to kiss the tops of her breasts as I reached around and unhooked her bra. Her fingers grabbed at my belt and the buttons of my fatigues, then pushed them off my hips as I discarded my shirt and then her skirt. I picked her up, took three steps toward the bed, and tossed her in the middle of it. I was on her a second later, pushing her legs apart to give me access to the Mecca of all pussies. I found her first with my fingers—I still felt a little bad about how quickly I’d taken her the last time—and

explored between her outer lips. I slowly inserted my middle finger inside of her, curling it slightly as she arched her back to me. With my thumb rubbing circles around her clit, I felt her body slicken and ready for me. With my free hand, I pushed her leg out and up, spreading her a little more and giving me both optimum position and optimum view. I slid another finger inside of her, moved them both back and forth for a moment, and then pulled them out and ran them up over her clit. Lia’s hands reached down, and her fingers locked around my forearms with some kind of death grip. I took it as an invitation, and with my cock in my hand, I closed in on my target and thrust forward. Lia gasped, and her legs jumped as I bottomed out, balls-deep inside of her. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she pushed her palms against the bed as she arched her hips with a moan. I wrapped my arms around her legs for a better grip and began thrusting quickly into her as my eyes locked with hers. So beautiful. So perfect. I leaned forward and took one of her nipples in my mouth, biting down gently on it until her hands wrapped around my head. I sucked it farther into my mouth, and my tongue ran over the edge in a circle. I switched to the other one, nuzzling it lightly with my nose before I took it between my lips. Lia moved her hands to the sides of my face and pulled me up for a kiss. Our tongues met, caressed, tasted, and felt as I thrust into her with my cock. I felt her hips press up against me with every downward movement, and it was like Christmas morning. I wanted more. “I want to watch that backside while I’m fucking you,” I told her as I pulled back, grabbed her by the waist, and flipped her over on her stomach. “Get that ass up and spread those legs.” “Jesus, Evan.” Lia breathed heavily as her forehead pressed into the mattress. She complied, pulled her knees up close to her body, and moved them apart. “That’s it,” I murmured. My hands ran up the backs of her toned thighs and up over her rounded ass. I didn’t think I’d ever seen an ass as perfect as hers, and as much as I wanted to spread her cheeks and find out just how it felt, my cock played divining rod and moved straight to her pussy. I wrapped my hand around my shaft and rubbed the head up and down a few times before pushing back into her with a grunt. Lia turned her head to the side and reached up with her hands to grip the sheets. “Better hold on tight,” I advised. I leaned forward over her back, kissed her spine, then pulled back and slammed into her again. She gasped, and her fingers tightened around the sheet as I started a hard, fast pace. I nearly pulled out with every stroke and rammed into her so hard she had to tense her thighs and ass to stay up on her knees. Just what I wanted—to watch her ass squeeze and tighten as I fucked her. I swallowed and gripped her hips as I kept up my furious movements, and Lia began to cry out with each thrust.

“You love that, don’t you?” I growled. “Being hammered by my cock…you must think you’re in… fucking…heaven.” Punctuation by cock thrust—the very best kind. Her moans were the only response I heard and the only encouragement I needed. Tightening my own ass muscles, I rocked my hips against her over and over again. My legs were threatening to give out on me, but I wasn’t about to let them. With closed eyes, I leaned over her again, and sweat dripped from my brow to her back. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whispered against her neck as I slowed down to keep myself from coming too quickly. “I can’t get enough of you…will never have enough of you.” “Evan!” Lia cried, and I felt her ass shake and her body clench around me as I shoved into her and held myself there, rotating my hips a little as she cried out again. Her moans quieted as her legs gave out and dropped her to the mattress, making my cock pop right out of her in the process. “No way,” I told her. “I’m not done with you yet.” I pushed her legs farther apart with my knees as my hand reached between her thighs. I fucked her slowly with two fingers until she was writhing under me, then positioned my cock back at her entrance and thrust forward. It wasn’t an easy position for deep penetration, but her body was wrapped around my cock, and I still had a fabulous view of her luscious ass, so I didn’t care. I fucked her with short, quick strokes as my balls began to tighten and throb. The buildup was as intense as it had been against the brick wall between the office buildings. “Oh, shit…yeah…” I poured into her as I accented my own grunts with powerful, fast thrusts until my cock ran dry. Unable to move any more, I collapsed on top of her and panted hot breath on her shoulder. Several minutes later, I regained enough composure to kiss her neck and then get my weight off of her. She shuddered as our bodies parted, then rolled to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re going to kill me,” she whispered. I tensed. Her tone was benign and joking, but her words still sent a ripple of terror through me. “Did I hurt you?” I asked. “Fuck, no!” she replied with a laugh. “You’re…you’re fantastic.” I let a breath out through my nose and tightened my hold on her. Closing my eyes for a minute, I tried to shake away images of blood and splattered brains and concentrate instead on the woman in my arms. Her fingers crawled up my neck and cupped my face. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” I said automatically. “I’m just…still a little tired. I think I could really use a shower.”

“I have one of those.” Lia smiled. The shower felt wonderful, even if it was one of those tiny little stalls with barely enough room to turn around. It was still better than a group shower in prison. Before I had managed to wash the soap off, Lia joined me. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass, so I grabbed her by the thighs, held her against the cheap shower wall, and fucked her again. Much better than prison. We had to take another shower to clean off. Lia had the makings for sandwiches in her mini-fridge, and I devoured two of them quickly. “Hungry?” she asked, amused. “Do you have any idea how much prison food sucks?” I asked with a grin. “These are fucking awesome.” She giggled, and my cock responded. I polished off the last couple of bites and then crawled over to where she sat and thanked her with my mouth. I took her again on the floor and then let her change into pajamas, which she wore just long enough to get into the bed before I tore them off and tossed them across the room. I couldn’t get enough of her. Sometime around midnight, I started to feel tired. It didn’t make any difference though. My body continued to demand more of hers. My mouth pressed against her stomach as my hand moved up her side. With a light touch, I brushed over the tops of both her breasts as I kissed up the center of her body. “Again?” Lia giggled. “Do you ever run out of energy?” “Eventually,” I admitted. “Fucking you just makes me want more though. I'm trying to see if I can make it to round six before I pass out.” “I'm going to be sore,” she said. I maneuvered over the top of her, nudged her legs apart with my knee, and looked down into her eyes. “Does that mean you'll feel it all day tomorrow—feel it constantly, no matter what you’re doing, and think about my cock inside you every minute you’re awake?” Lia's breath quickened, and she stared up at me for a moment before she swallowed hard and nodded her head. “Probably.” “Good.” I wrapped my hand around my shaft and drilled into her. I felt whole again. It felt too good to last.

***** I woke up in ecstasy. At first I thought I had to be dreaming, but I quickly remembered that my dreams were never so pleasant. The feeling through my skin, my muscles—my entire body—was like lying in a cool meadow with the springtime sun blanketing me. My mind was relaxed and calm in a way it hadn’t been in years. There was only one word to describe it. Peace. It was nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes. My cheek rested on Lia’s abdomen, and I felt her hand against the back of my head, cradling me to her body. I had my arms wrapped around her center, and I held her close against my chest as I lay beside her on the small bed that reminded me too much of the one in the cabin. I didn’t move. I only inhaled deeply to embrace the scent of her. It was her own, sweet fragrance combined with the smell of our activity from the night before. I curled my fingers around her hip, touched my nose to the skin against her belly, and I inhaled again. My fingers reached up to briefly touch the quarter on its chain around her neck. I had to pee pretty badly, but it wasn’t worth disconnecting myself from her flesh, so I didn’t. I don’t know how long I stayed that way, eyes closed and just reveling in the sensations around me. At some point, Lia’s fingers twitched, then slowly started massaging my head, which caused me to moan out load. Lia’s soft laugh filled my ears. “You like that?” “Mmmhmm,” I replied as I snuggled against her stomach and tightened my grip on her. “Feels good.” She kept it up, slowly dragging her fingertips from the top of my head, through my hair, and down to the back of my neck before she started all over again. I lifted my head and shifted up until I was face to face with her and wrapped both arms around her shoulders to hold her against me. Lia’s hand stroked my cheek, and I watched her eyes as she gently traced the veins in my arms. “I could wake up like this every day,” I said. “Me, too. You’re gonna have to let me up, though.” “Why?” I protested. “I don’t want to.” “I have to go to the bathroom!” Lia laughed. “So do I.” “Well, this time would be a lot worse of a wet spot than what I put up with last night, so you better move.” Something about the crudeness of the remark amused me to no end.

“Come right back,” I ordered as I held in a laugh. “Yes, sir,” she responded with a grin that made my cock twitch. “Now let go.” I sighed but rolled away from her so she could get up. True to her word, she curled right back up with me when she returned and started to run her hands up and down my arms again as I tucked my head against her chest. I dozed off briefly, and when I woke, she was propped up on an elbow and just looking at her fingers wrapped around my bicep. “What?” I questioned. Lia smiled and looked away as her cheeks tinged with flowing blood. “Nothing,” she said softly. “Tell me.” Her eyes met mine again. “I just…I feel so safe with you, like nothing could ever happen to me as long as I was with you.” I wanted it to be true so much. Maybe I went ahead and believed it on some level. After pondering a moment, I leaned back and repositioned myself so I was lying next to her and looking up at her face. “What is this?” I asked tentatively. “What is what?” Lia stifled a yawn with her hand and then turned her head back toward mine. “This,” I said as I tightened my grip and held her body more firmly against my own. “Us. What are we?” She eyed me for a moment. “What do you want this to be?” she asked quietly. I thought about it for a minute, but I really wasn’t sure how to answer. Whatever this was, it was foreign to me. I didn’t know what to call it. “What are my options?” Lia raised both eyebrows at me and tilted her head a bit. I only shrugged in response, so she tapped her finger against her bottom lip as she answered me. “Well, you could buy me a giant diamond and be my fiancé.” Lia dropped her finger down and tapped her chin instead. “Or we could just go to Vegas and have Elvis or maybe Darth Vader marry us. If commitment isn’t your thing, we could just be fuck-buddies.” She turned her eyes back to me and smiled softly as I raised my eyebrow at her. “Then again, maybe we should just try the boyfriend-girlfriend thing for now and see what happens,” she suggested. “It seems a little more…realistic than the other ones,” I admitted. I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “I’ve never done this shit before.”

“What? Dated?” “Have we been on a date?” “I guess not.” She eyed me with a cynical gaze. “What do you mean, then?” I didn’t even know what I meant, which was part of the problem. “I’ve never put a label on a…a relationship,” I said. “I don’t even know what that means— boyfriend. Should I go get flowers and chocolates now?” “That doesn’t seem your style,” Lia snickered. “Have you ever bought a girl flowers before?” I licked my lips and considered the daffodils I had yanked out of a window box for Bridgett. Since they were neither bought nor ever delivered to her, I had an honest answer. “Never bought a girl flowers. Bought a few other things, I guess.” “Such as?” “Is this normal girlfriend-boyfriend conversation,” I asked, “me telling you what I’ve bought for other chicks? What did William get you for your last birthday?” Lia’s throat bobbed up and down as she looked away from me. “Fine, you made your point.” The tension in her face and her refusal to look at me told me enough. “I must be a boyfriend,” I said. “I’m already pissing you off.” She looked back at me, and her face relaxed as she cracked a smile. “That isn’t a requirement,” she said, “just in case you were wondering.” “Duly noted. All things considered, though, I’ll likely piss you off again.” She looked at me for a long moment. “I just want to know more about you,” she said. “I still want to know what happened to you.” I shook my head. “I need to get to my apartment,” I said. “You also need to get your shit out of this little hellhole.” “It’s not that bad,” she said as she looked around. “Yes, it is.” I untangled my limbs from her body and stood up to take a piss and pull my clothes on. I shifted a little bit in the pants—they were starting to get a little rough on my ass from the lack of clean underwear. I definitely needed to get to my place for supplies. Odin followed me into the bathroom and sat there as I dressed, wagging his tail with his bone hanging part way out of his mouth. I grabbed it, ordered him to drop, and then tossed it to the other side of the room. “I can’t really afford anything else at the moment.” I glanced in Lia’s direction and watched her

pull her shirt on over her head. “I haven’t even found a job here yet.” “You don’t need one,” I countered. I grabbed the bone back from Odin and threw it again. “Of course I do,” she said. “I only have enough to cover rent and utilities for another month or so.” “You don’t need any more.” I was dismissive in my tone but didn’t want to come right out and tell her just how much money I had stashed away in various places. “Well, then I guess I’ll be staying in this hellhole.” I watched her for a moment, trying to judge her mood. She certainly sounded pissy, but her posture was casual. “I’ll take care of you,” I finally said. “Evan, you just got out of jail, and we don’t even know when your hearing will be or anything yet.” “There won’t be one.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cupped her face in my hands, placed my lips against hers, and kissed her deeply. “I’m going to take care of it all,” I promised. “Then we’re going to leave Chicago altogether.” “And go where?” “I have a few options.” “You’re being very vague.” “Yep.” “Evan!” She took a step back from me and placed her hands on her hips. “Lia,” I mocked back. I smiled warmly to try to break the building tension. “I can explain more later. Right now, I just need to get back to my apartment and assess the damage.” With minimal additional protest, we collected Odin and his stuff, and I called a taxi from Lia’s phone. “That’s going to be expensive,” Lia remarked. “No one’s going to let him on a bus,” I said, nodding toward the dog. “A big tip goes a long way with a taxi driver.” “I don’t have that much cash.” “We’ll take care of it when we get back to my place.” When we did get there, the apartment was a disaster. The scene was almost enough to remind me of a warzone, but not quite. There was still crime

tape up on the door, but I tore it away and shoved the door open to reveal most everything I owned spewed out all over the floor. Papers, boxes, even dishes and shit from the cabinets in the kitchen were lying all over the floor, the counters, and the dining room table. My desk drawers were all pulled out, and papers were everywhere. All the cords and shit for my laptop were there in a heap, but the machine itself was gone. “Wow.” Lia breathed out the word with a huff of air. “This is a mess.” “I’m going to guess the housekeeper hasn’t been by recently,” I joked. Nothing about it was funny to me, but I didn’t want her to see just how irate I was. I was pretty particular about my place and my things. Seeing them just…everywhere was increasing my blood pressure by the minute. I wondered what was missing besides the laptop. The back of the closet in my bedroom, which should have contained my firearms and a couple duffel bags filled with around eighty grand in cash was empty. “Fuckers,” I mumbled as I moved over to my dresser. All the drawers had been pulled out and dumped, but no one noticed the envelope secured to the underside of the dresser’s top. I pulled a few bills out of it, ran down to pay off the cab driver, and then returned to check out the rest of the mess. Odin was standing by the sliding glass door to the balcony, staring at his upturned dog bed. I used my boot to shove the crap on the floor to the side, righted the bed, and put it back in its usual spot. He sniffed at it, climbed inside, and spun around a few times before curling up and placing his head on his paws to watch us. I went around to all the places where I had cash and weapons hidden. Most had been found and presumably taken as evidence, but I did come up with a few thousand in cash—no weapons, though, which pissed me off. My phone was also missing. “I need to make a side trip.” My Mazda was gone from the garage, presumably impounded pending my trial. With my CTA pass in hand and Lia staying at my apartment to start cleaning up, I headed over to Moretti’s office. I watched all around me as I approached, but I didn’t see any familiar cars in the parking lot and no one visible walking around. I made my way to my Audi—still hidden behind the dumpster from the night I’d killed Terry and Bridgett. Under the driver’s seat was a Beretta PX4 Storm .40—my backup handgun. In the trunk, hidden under the spare tire, there was another, larger envelope of cash. I shoved the piece down my pants and felt myself relax at the familiar feeling of the barrel against my back. There was also a shoulder holster for it, but I didn’t want to take the time to put it on in the parking lot. I looked around quickly, then got in the car and headed to the nearest place where I could get a phone set up without a contract or anything like that. I kept looking over my shoulder, but no one appeared to have noticed me, and no one seemed to be following me. Still, I took a random route back to my apartment building. All was quiet in the parking garage, so I made my way upstairs and back to my unit. Lia was inside, folding clothing that had been dumped all over the place and neatly stacking it in piles on the bed.

“I wasn’t sure which drawers you used for what.” “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt a little weird and maybe embarrassed to have her doing something like that for me. It seemed very…intimate. I didn’t think anyone other than I had handled my laundry since I was a kid. I grabbed the dresser drawers off the floor and inserted them into their slots, then picked up a couple stacks of shirts and laid them down in their rightful drawer. It didn’t take too long before we had at least managed to straighten out the bedroom to where it didn’t look like a recent tornado had been hanging out there. The rest of the apartment was a much bigger disaster, and it took us most of the day to get it cleaned up. About the time we were done, when Lia had gone to take some spoiled food to the dumpsters outside, Odin started to growl. I looked up at the door. “Having fun?” Trent asked as he leaned against the wall. Nothing could have pissed me off more than seeing him at my door.

Chapter 8—Unveiled Threats I resisted the urge to pull out the Beretta and shove it in his face. “I assume I have you to thank for all of this,” I muttered back. “What the fuck do you want?” “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t packing up to leave town or anything stupid like that,” Trent replied. “I also wanted to make sure you realize I know exactly where you are and what you’re doing—at all times.” I watched him closely. He crossed his arms as he leaned casually against the door—too casually. He was making a point of looking nonchalant, which meant he didn’t completely feel that way. My eyes searched for other clues about him, but he was practiced in the art of being a complete and total asshole, which was throwing me off my game. In an attempt to gain some ground, I snapped my fingers and pointed to Odin’s bed. He quickly moved from my side and went to his place but continued to growl low at the federal agent. “I told you I would take care of it all,” I reminded him. “Fuck off and let me do it.” “You’re quite the conversationalist,” he said with a snide laugh. “I don’t converse with feds,” I snapped back. I was immediately pissed off at myself for letting him get to me. “Just don’t forget to take your dick out of your slut long enough to get your job done.” I clenched my teeth and glared, trying to keep myself from just walking over and beating the living shit out of him. I had no doubt that Johnson was nearby, and assaulting a fed in my apartment while I was out on bail wasn’t the very best idea. “Are you going to spend a lot of time keeping me from getting shit done?” I asked through my teeth. “I’m going to spend a lot of time making sure you are getting shit done,” Trent retorted. “If I feel like you’re stalling, I’m going to take it out on her. What do you think of that?” “I think that’s an invitation to an underground party.” We locked stares for a long moment. Trent eventually cracked half of an insincere smile and then nodded. “I’ll be seeing you around.” He turned and walked out the door. I dropped my ass on the couch and rubbed my temples. Odin assumed he was free to leave his bed because he came up and leaned his fuzzy mug on my knee. I rubbed at his head and tried to calm myself down a bit. None of this was going to work. Despite promises to Trent, I had no idea how I was going to get into Greco’s confidence—none whatsoever. Even if I did have a plan, it certainly wasn’t going to be easy, and part of my strategy was

going to have to include figuring out a way for Moretti to believe I was still working for him. I was, really. He just wasn’t going to know it. But I had to make him think he knew it. Fuck, none of the shit even made sense to me, so how was I going to pull it all off? Lia came back just a few minutes later. “That was odd,” she said as she walked in. “What was?” “There was a guy downstairs near the dumpsters,” she told me. “He started asking me a lot of weird questions. I guess maybe he was the building super or something.” My stomach churned. “What did he look like?” “A little older,” she said. “Maybe as old as fifty. He was wearing a suit and tie. His hair was getting pretty gray, and he had a beard.” Agent Johnson. “What did he want to know?” “He asked if I lived here,” she told me. “I guess he wanted to make sure I wasn’t just dumping my trash in his dumpsters.” Fucking bastards, tag-teaming me like that, one of them delaying Lia so the other could harass me. My skin felt hot at the thought. I took a couple of steps toward her and grabbed her arms. “What did you tell him?” I demanded. “Evan!” Lia yelled as she pulled from me. “What the hell?” Her eyes blazed, and I realized how it must have seemed. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I’m a bit on edge. I don’t want people bothering you.” “He didn’t bother me; he was just asking weird questions.” “Like what?” I tried to calm myself and released her arms. The whole “hiding my identity” bullshit was seriously frustrating. Maybe it would be easier to just come clean. Nah. “He asked what apartment I lived in, and he asked if I had a dog. Isn’t that weird?” “What did you tell him?”

“I said I was just visiting a friend. He wanted to know who, and I said I had to go and came back inside.” I reached behind my back to make sure my Beretta was still in place before I stood up from the couch and went over to her. “If you see him again, come right back up here,” I told her. “Don’t talk to him. Don’t even make eye contact with him. I don’t care what he says.” “Who is he?” she asked. “No one.” “Could you provide slightly less useful information?” she quipped. “I mean, there could be a Guinness record for it.” “Nice,” I replied. Normally I would have been pissed off by the sarcasm, but for some reason, hearing it from Lia just made my cock jump. I took a deep breath and let it out. “I know who he is, and he really just wants to harass me. I don’t want him annoying you as well.” “Who is he?” she asked again. “Never mind. Just tell me if you see him again.” “Jesus, you are frustrating!” I shrugged. I couldn’t argue with the sentiment, and it didn’t matter if I was frustrating her or not. It wasn’t going to change the answer at this point. It wasn’t that I wanted to piss her off, it was just the way it was. I couldn’t exactly come out and tell her the dude was a federal agent, monitoring me because I was supposed to infiltrate and bring down a rival mob organization. Yeah, that would go over well. So I was stuck with her being upset because I wouldn’t answer her. I wondered how many times we were going to end up playing the same game and wondered how others dealt with this kind of shit. Rinaldo was married, but his wife worked at one of his clubs, so she knew what the deal was before they were involved. Mario was also married, but I didn’t have any idea where his wife came from. She only spoke Italian, and I only understood her about a third of the time because she talked so damn fast. How many times would Lia put up with my evasiveness? I ran my hand over my face and growled under my breath. It wasn’t that I was angry—not with her, anyway—but the whole situation had me as tense as I could be. Johnson talking to her was crossing a line as far as I was concerned, and it reminded me that I should really just get her the fuck out of town. “I also wanted to make sure you realize I know exactly where you are and what you’re doing— at all times.” If Trent wasn’t full of shit, and I doubted he was, he would know if I were to take her out of the danger zone. If that were the case, and he decided to go after her once I’d returned, I would have no way of keeping her safe. I had to make sure she was safe. Where was the safest place for her?

With me. It was also probably the most dangerous, but a lot of that was because she had no idea what she was dealing with, and I wasn’t going to tell her. Telling her could result in anything, up to and including her taking off. If she took off, he might decide to follow her. If she was on her own, I still wouldn’t be able to protect her. Another option was to forget about the whole deal with the feds, take Lia, and leave town. I would probably be able to manage getting us both away without being followed, though it would take some effort. At least then I wasn’t going to have to balance keeping Rinaldo off my trail and Greco convinced I was on his side. It was the best option. “We’re going to leave,” I said definitively. ***** Lia was pissed. I couldn’t really blame her. I’d told her basically nothing but demanded she put a few days’ worth of clothes in a bag and just follow me. I didn’t want Odin left on his own—the woman who usually took care of him when I was out of town worked for Moretti, and I didn’t want to risk anything coming out while we were gone, so I tossed him on top of a towel in the back of the car and took him to a dogboarding kennel. I’d come back for him later. I drove my Audi up to the north side of the city and parked it outside a nightclub. Grabbing our bags out of the back of the car, I led a protesting Lia through the front entrance of the club, through the throbbing techno music, and then out the back door. Once out back, we made our way down a graffiticovered alley between the buildings, across the street, and over to a small conference center where I called a cab to take us back south. I gave the driver an address, and he turned around to look at me. “That ain’t no place to be,” he said. “Look,” I replied, “I don’t have a shitload of patience right now, so here’s how this shit works. You drive me where I say, and I give you cash. Capisce?” He narrowed his eyes, said he was charging me double, and then made me pay up front before he’d drive us there. Under other circumstances, I would have put a gun to his head and told him to be happy if he got paid at all, but I had Lia with me, and I was doing my best not to scare her. A pissed-off Lia was definitely preferable to a scared one. As it was, she had completely stopped speaking to me about halfway to where I ditched the car, and she continued to sit next to me, looking out the window with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips smashed tightly together. I took a long breath and leaned back in the seat to relax a few minutes. I was rushing all of this, and I knew I hadn’t thought through everything. Not telling Lia why we were leaving was part of the problem as she was fighting me the whole way, but there was a lot more to it. I knew deep down that Trent wasn’t going to just let this shit go. He wouldn’t just come after me;

it would end up being a countrywide manhunt. Any chance of having the charges against me dropped would disappear completely, and he’d probably come up with a few others to tack on. At best, we would have to live on the run, leave the country, and change our names. No doubt about it—I wasn’t thinking straight. Why? Because Lia was with me, and I didn’t want her scared or hurt. Rinaldo had been right—having a chick in your life complicated everything. It wasn’t worth it— not for me or for her. What I really needed to do was just take her to the airport so I could buy her a plane ticket back to her mom’s. The very thought brought the taste of bile to the back of my throat. If I wasn’t doing my very best thinking now, how much more rattled would I be if I hadn’t slept last night? Fuck the sleep. Waking up with her—that had been worth the world to me. My eyes squeezed shut, and I shook my head sharply. I couldn’t cope with all this shit. I couldn’t even have named all the conflicting thoughts and emotions going on inside my head, let alone make sense of them. It was too complicated. It was too dangerous for both of us. I should definitely tell the cab driver to head west and buy her a plane ticket. I didn’t say a word but stared out the opposite window and hoped I’d be able to come up with some way of explaining all of this that didn’t end up with her leaving me. Chicago has some really beautiful areas to live in. Auburn Gresham isn’t one of them. Though it was one of the roughest places in a city littered with crime, it was exactly what I needed for the moment. Not only would it be difficult for the Feds to follow me around the area, but they'd also have to watch their own backs at the same time. The cab driver took his own sweet time getting there, and by the time we’d arrived near the address I’d given him, the sky was darkening. He dumped us on the corner, refusing to actually go up the block at night. I was tired of listening to the guy bitch, so I just got out where we were, Lia still in tow. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Lia asked as the cab sped away. “Not out here on the street,” I replied. We only had about two blocks to walk, but that’s all it took. Two dudes with hooded sweatshirts pulled down their foreheads and pants shagged down to show their striped boxers came at us from across the street. I felt Lia tense beside me, but I was nothing but annoyed. “I got me a damn fine idea,” the guy on the left said as he walked up and blocked our path. I reached out and pushed Lia slightly behind my back. “You give me all yo shit, and maybe my frien’ don’t cut yo bitch.” He reached down to yank up his pants and glanced over at his younger buddy. The other guy

brandished a switchblade, which might have been scary to someone who hadn’t been around much larger knives. The knife-wielder moved his head back and forth like he was listening to some kind of phantom dance music. Other days I might have laughed, but I wasn’t in the mood for stupid gang shit. Moretti and Greco’s outfits had put them in their place plenty of times, and I was happy to do it again. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and centered myself before speaking. “I’ve got a better idea,” I told him. “You turn around and go back to the slimy cunt you crawled out of, and I won’t blow your dick off and shove it into the sewer. I’m pretty sure this particular sewer flows right up to the river. You know the river, right? It’s where all of us who own your sorry asses work.” The older guy’s eyes opened wide, but the younger one just looked pissed. “I think fuckin’ you up would be a lesson you don’t soon forgit!” he sneered. “Evan,” Lia whispered as her hand gripped my bicep, “just give them what they want. It’s okay.” “Fuck that,” I spat. “I’ll give them what they fucking deserve.” “You need to listen to yo bitch,” the kid with the knife started to say as the other one tried to stop him. It was too late, though. I’d already had enough. I pulled my Beretta out, pointed it between the younger kid’s eyes, and flicked the safety off. I could hear Lia’s quiet gasp and watched the younger guy as he started to take a step back. He seemed confused for a moment, and I thought he might actually be stupid enough to take a stab at me. “Go ahead, you piece of shit,” I said calmly. My eyes stayed locked with his. “Take a swing. I’ll make sure my bullet doesn’t hit you fatally so you can watch me castrate you with that piece of shit blade. Dick to throat, I’ll show you what a cut really looks like, and then I’ll slam my fist through your ribcage and fuck the hole I made. What do you think of that?” There was a long moment of silence as the kid’s eyes got bigger and bigger. He didn’t seem able to move or speak. “We cool,” the older one finally said as he cleared his throat and took a step back. He smacked his friend on the arm with the back of his hand. “Come on and let these nice folks git on wid der business.” They backed up slowly until they were a good twenty feet away, then turned around and quickly made their way back across the street toward some nasty-looking liquor store. I took a calming breath and turned to face an ashen Lia. “Come on,” I said quietly. “Let’s get inside before any other trash wanders up, okay?” She could only nod dumbly. “You fuckin’ mo-ron,” the older guy was saying as the pair reached the other side of the street, “don’t you know who dat is?” I grabbed Lia by the arm and headed for the motel entrance before the gang-bangers started yelling

out parts of my resume for everyone to hear. She’d already seen and heard enough from my own mouth. It wasn’t something I wanted her to see, but I wasn’t about to risk her getting hurt. Demonstrating exactly who I was ensured her safety. They knew better than to mess with the mafia. We’d put them in their place before, and we’d do it again. Even though I was in their territory, they still knew power when they saw it. Lia didn’t say a word until after we’d checked into the motel, found the right door, and hauled our bags inside. “Are you going to explain that to me?” Lia asked quietly as she sat down on the end of the bed. “Explain what?” “For fuck’s sake!” Lia stood up and put her hands on her hips as she glared at me. “Explain all of this shit! What are we doing here, and where are we going? What the hell was that testosterone display outside? Where the fuck did that gun come from?” “I wasn’t going to let them mug us,” I said with a shrug. “This isn’t a great neighborhood, so I was prepared to deal with it. I was in the Marines, so yeah—I have a gun.” “Don’t you bullshit me,” she snapped. “That was hardly a little display of self-defense. I am not stupid, and I’m not blind!” I sighed and dropped my ass to the edge of the little desk and looked her in the eyes. I knew immediately that she wasn’t buying any of this shit and that holding off on answering her questions wasn’t going to work much longer. “That guy out there—he knew who you were.” I rolled my eyes. “How did he know you, Evan?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at her. I really didn’t know what to say. “Fuck this,” she snapped. She stood up, grabbed her bag, and headed to the door. Moving quickly, I stood between her and the door and placed my hands on her shoulders. “You can’t leave,” I said. “Like hell I can’t!” she retorted. “Am I a prisoner or something? Is that what you’re saying?” “No, but it’s not safe for you in this area by yourself. You might have noticed that already.” Her eyes tried to burn little holes in my forehead. “I think I’ll be fine,” she said. “I think all I have to do is tell anyone who tries to fuck with me that I’m Evan Arden’s girlfriend, and they’d just leave me alone, wouldn’t they? Or do you have some code name I should use instead?” Fuck.

She kept telling me she wasn’t stupid, and she was right. I still hadn’t given her enough credit though. She kept catching me off guard with her ability to infer the relationship between my words and the actions of others. Maybe I was just used to chicks who knew enough about what was going on to turn a blind eye to their surroundings, and Lia didn’t fit into that category. She was trying to figure this shit out, and she knew how to put the pieces together. It wasn’t helping. Lia must have tired of me staring at her and tried to push past me again. I wouldn’t let her, and she glared nuclear bombs at me from her irises. “Get out of my way,” she growled. “I can’t,” I replied with a shake of my head. “You won’t,” she snapped back. “That isn’t the same. I’ve already gotten rid of one dickhead who spent a lot of time controlling me, Evan. I didn’t do that just to pick up another one.” “Lia, I can’t let you go out there. It’s dark and it’s the fucking murder capital of the world out that door. You are not going out there!” “Bullshit.” “You want me to bring it up on the fucking internet? You go look up this neighborhood!” She paused for a moment and glanced from me to the door and back again. She took a breath and clenched her teeth together. The tension in her arms and legs told me exactly what she was thinking: one, she didn’t believe me, and two, she was considering punching me right in the face to get by. There was an asshole inside of me who wanted to tell her to just fucking go and leave her on her own. She was making all of this too difficult, and I didn’t have the time to fuck around with it. It was the same part of me that took over when I fixed my scope between someone’s eyes and pulled back on the trigger. That part of me, however, apparently wasn’t in control. “I need you,” I said quietly. “What? So you can sleep?” It was snarky and sarcastic, and I deserved it. “Yes, but not just that.” Her look softened, and she dropped her hands from her hips. “I mean it,” I said with a softer tone. “I can’t let you go out there by yourself. Fuck, I shouldn’t be out there, but it was the best option for now. In the morning…” I paused, felt my heart start beating faster in protest but continued anyway. “In the morning, if you still want to, I’ll take you to the airport and buy you a plane ticket to wherever you want to go. You don’t ever have to see me again, but I can’t let you wander around this area of town at night. You wouldn’t last an hour.” Her eyes locked with mine again.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she finally said. I nodded, and she dropped her head and shook it slowly as she turned around and walked back toward the bed. She turned abruptly and yelled at me. "I don't know what's going on here, but you're scaring me!" Stepping forward and reaching out with my hand, I cupped the side of her face and moved in to kiss her. She wasn't going to have any of that, though, and turned her head away as I leaned in. I pulled back and ran my tongue across my lips. "I'm not trying to scare you." “Well, you are!” My stomach tightened up on itself. I couldn’t figure out any way to resolve this with her and didn’t have the slightest idea what to do or say. My normal reaction to anyone else would have been to sit down, shut up, and I would do what I needed to do. With her, everything was ridiculously complex. None of my usual responses worked. “You need to stop with all the cryptic shit,” she informed me. Her hands moved up to pull out the scrunchie holding up her ponytail. I tried not to get too distracted by the way her hair fell around her shoulders, but all I could think of was running my fingers through it. “I told you; I’ve never done the boyfriend thing before. I have no idea what to do here.” “Start by telling me what the hell is going on,” Lia said. I sighed and rubbed my fingers into my eyes. “I don’t know if that’s really the best way.” “It’s a start.” It was more likely to be an end, which was what had me on edge. The thing was, I was afraid she was going to walk out. I even recognized it as fear though I might not have admitted it to anyone else. If she left and I never saw her again, I wasn’t so sure I’d survive. I had to do something to keep her with me a little longer. “Tell me about you,” I said. It was my last ditch effort to try to delay what was coming. “I hardly know anything about you, either. You tell me about you, and then in the morning, I’ll tell you about me.” It gave me one last night with her and one last morning of waking up with her. Lia looked skeptical, but I also saw a hint of resignation in her eyes, which allowed me to breathe without my lungs feeling like they were being compressed. “I don’t think what I have to say is all that interesting,” Lia sighed as she sat down on the edge of the bed again. I sat down next to her and reached for her hand. “I still want to know,” I told her. “I’ll get something for us to eat, and then you can tell me, okay?”

Lia took a long breath and nodded her acquiescence. Auburn Gresham wasn’t an area I’d spent much time exploring in the past, but when gang activity in the area began to push up into Rinaldo’s heroin trade, I’d been part of a group that came down and let them know exactly who was in control in the city. The message had been clear—go ahead and do what you want in the south, but don’t fuck with businesses in the north. We even picked a line—the 47th Parallel. It didn’t quite match Korea, but it still served as an easy reminder. It was based on 47th street, not any line of latitude, but it served its purpose. During my tenure in the area, I’d found the best pizza place and made friends with the owners. “Is that who I think it is?” Jack Anderson leaned over the cash register and stuck out his hand, which I shook. He was a dark-skinned man in his mid-fifties with white hair and stubble around his chin. He’d been running the pizza place since his father passed away in the seventies. “It’s been a while,” I said with a smile. “You want the usual?” Jack asked. “I haven’t been here in nearly a year,” I laughed. I couldn’t believe after all this time the dude still remembered what I wanted on my pizza. He didn’t do the traditional Chicago style, but the guy made the best thin crust and sauce around. “Can it still be referred to as a ‘usual’?” “Well, I don’t know anyone else who ever orders it,” Jack said. “Face it, Evan, no one else thinks pineapple and mushroom go together.” We laughed as he put in my order, caught up on some neighborhood shit, and then said our goodbyes as he handed me my pizza in a cardboard box with a stack of napkins on top. I hoofed it back to the motel and Lia. She gave me a strange look when I told her what was on the pizza but seemed to like it once she tried it. “So, where were you born?” I asked. “Dallas,” she said. “My father worked for AT&T when I was young. When my parents divorced, he and my mom split custody while I was growing up. When mom got an offer for a new job in Phoenix, Dad didn’t want to be that far from me, so he quit his job and moved to Arizona as well. He started working with the Navajo Nation to set up their computer networks.” “What does your mom do?” I asked. “She’s in the financial business.” Lia took another bite of pizza, chewed for a bit, and then put the slice back in the box. “I know she works in information security, but I honestly don’t quite understand it all. She keeps hackers out of their systems, basically.” I snorted. “Is that funny?” I shook my head. “I just don’t think it’s very successful,” I said. “There are a lot of people out there who are very

good at getting past the security folks.” “I’m sure that’s true, but she tries. It’s pretty good money, at least, so she could afford to set aside money to send me to school. I still haven’t managed to get a degree anywhere, of course, because that was about the time Dad died.” “How did he die?” “Cancer,” she said with a shrug. “It fucking sucked.” I watched her closely, noticing her fingers twitch and her eyes blink rapidly a few times to hold back the moisture forming in them. “You were with him,” I said. “I had just finished high school when he was diagnosed. They said he had maybe a year, but he didn’t make it past eight months even with all the chemo and shit. I took care of him because there really wasn’t anyone else, and William did all the business stuff while he was sick so we could afford medical bills.” “So your fiancé worked for your dad?” “Yes, for about six years.” “While you were in high school.” “We started dating when I was fifteen.” “How old was he?” She blushed a little, and my suspicions about him being quite a bit older were confirmed before she answered. “He was twenty four at the time.” “Around here, we would’ve called you jail bait,” I said. “Only if the parents pressed charges,” she said, and I knew she was right. If the parents were okay with it, well, at least one parent, then the law would turn a blind eye. “What did your mom think?” “She didn’t like it,” Lia said. “She didn’t like Will, anyway, and definitely didn’t like me being with him.” “Just because of the age thing or something else?” “I think just age initially, but I also think she realized, long before I did, that he wasn’t quite what he pretended to be.” “You mean before he threw you out of a moving car and left you for dead?” Lia glanced at me with dark eyes and then looked down at her hands. “Something like that.”

“Have you seen him since then?” “Yes.” “When?” She looked back up at and me and bit her lip for a moment. “He was there at my mom’s house.” “After I dropped you at the bus station?” Lia nodded. “What happened?” “The usual,” she responded. She seemed to want to leave it at that, but I wouldn’t let her. Eventually she told me the rest. “He was drunk; Mom was yelling, and I was stuck between them. The major difference was that I had decided I wasn’t going to do it anymore.” “Do what?” “Put up with him and his crap!” she growled. “He could have really hurt me when he pushed me out of that car, and then he just left me there! I wasn’t going to listen to him go on about how he came right back and was so sorry and spent hours looking for me—it was bullshit, and I wasn’t going to listen to it!” She took a deep breath before she went on. “I told him I’d found someone else.” Lia glanced at me, seeming embarrassed for a moment. “I know we didn’t really…well, it’s not like we committed to each other or anything, but for the first time since high school, I realized there were other options out there besides Will and how he treated me.” She looked up at me, and her eyes began to sparkle with tears. “It’s all right,” I soothed. “Go on.” “He didn’t like that answer,” she said with a shrug. “He started yelling, and Mom told him he needed to just leave. She came up near us, and he pushed her away. Then he grabbed my arm and squeezed really hard–” Lia’s breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been building up since I stopped her at the door finally cascaded down her cheeks. Dealing with crying chicks was definitely not something within my repertoire, so I went with the only thing I could think of—I grabbed the box of tissues from the bathroom and handed them to her. Lia wiped her eyes and gripped her fingers around the crumpled tissue as she composed herself. “I had bruises there for over a week afterwards. Mom started yelling—said she was going to call the police—and that made him let go. I told him we were through and that I never wanted to see him again.” “What did he do?” “He laughed. He said I was his, and nothing was going to change that.”

A tickle in the back of my head—one that was rarely wrong—told me that I was going to kill that motherfucker someday. “He still wasn’t leaving, so Mom ran inside the house and came back out with the phone in her hand. When he realized that she really was calling the cops, he got in the car and left. That was the last I saw him.” I tried to clear my head enough to listen to the rest of the story, but it wasn’t easy. I didn’t know what the asshole looked like, but I had enough of a vision in my head that I could see myself with the business end of my Beretta in his face. At some point, I was going to have to find a picture of the guy and make all that come true. Lia continued. “Mom immediately started quizzing me about the ‘new guy’ and if that meant I really was done with William for good.” I sat still, wondering just what she might have told her mother about me, not that Lia knew much at that time—even less than she did now—but it still left me feeling a little uneasy. I wondered if any other girl had ever described me to her mother. “What did you tell her?” I asked. “Not much.” Lia shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t know much, did I? I said you were retired from the military, and we had just met by accident. Once she found out what the ‘accident’ was, it kind of distracted her from the original conversation. We never really talked about you again until I was leaving.” Her eyes found mine. “She told me to be careful,” Lia said. “She told me that I didn’t really know much about you and that you might not even be who I think you are.” “What did you say?” “I told her I would be careful and not to worry. I didn’t know much about you, but I was sure you weren’t like William. We both considered that a step up, so that was it.” Lia stared down at her hands as tears started spilling off her eyelashes again. “And then…and then…” Lia sniffed and wiped at her nose with the tissue again. “Then I found that cabin and your note, and I just…I didn’t know what to do or what to think.” Without knowing what else I could do, I reached out and took her hand again. Lia’s fingers gripped mine, and she leaned against my shoulder. With one arm around her, I pulled her against my chest and rubbed up and down the top part of her arm while she cried. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair when she stopped sobbing. “I didn’t want to leave like that. I didn’t have a choice.” “Where did you go?” she asked. “Back here,” I said. “My boss told me I had to come back.”

“Your boss?” Shit. I wasn’t ready for this yet. I needed to wait until morning. It was selfish and probably shitty, but I wanted inside of her one last time before she knew the truth. There was no telling how she would react, but she seemed like a normal, rational person. The likelihood of her telling me to stay the fuck out of her life was pretty high. “Where do you work?” “It doesn’t matter.” She shoved against my chest and glared at me. “Who is your boss?” she demanded. “I thought we were saving my life story for the morning.” I tried to make light of it all and failed. More glaring. I sighed. “His name is Rinaldo Moretti,” I said. “He’s a pretty demanding guy, and that’s all I’m saying for now.” Lia kept her narrowed eyes locked with mine for a minute, but I didn’t falter. Her shoulders rose and fell with the breath she huffed out as she stood up from the bed and tossed the last couple pieces of pizza into the tiny refrigerator in the corner. “Fine,” she said, “but I want to know tomorrow.” “I’ll tell you,” I promised. “I just need a little time to…to prepare, I guess.” She walked back and stood in front of me. I reached up and placed my hands on her hips as she leaned forward and placed her lips to mine. She started with just a quick, closed mouth kiss, but I grabbed the back of her head and deepened it. Nothing was going to stop me from having one last night with her.

Chapter 9—Gentle Night The cool breeze from the ceiling fan chilled my back, which was coated in sweat after our second session of hard fucking that night. I swallowed and tried to regain my composure as Lia’s fingernails dug into my shoulders. As she panted and her body shuddered a final time, her grip relaxed and she brought her arms up over her head, grasping the pillow above her. “That was incredible,” she said. I smiled a cocky half-smile and rotated my hips against her again. I couldn’t move much, or I was going to slip out of her, so I just rocked my hips a little instead of actually thrusting. I wrapped my arms underneath her shoulders and held her chest to mine as I ran my lips and tongue up her throat. “Do you have any plans to actually sleep? Lia asked. Bending my elbows, I slid my hands down her sides and then up her arms until my fingers could grip her wrists. I pushed them against the pillow as I pressed her firmly to the bed with the rest of my body. “I was thinking I’d just hold you down here until I got hard again.” “Such a romantic!” Lia snickered. She was joking, and even though that was clear, there was something else in her eyes as they tightened just a little as she glanced to the side. She wasn’t pissed off by the comment, but didn’t all chicks want some level of romance? I had no idea how to play the role of an actual boyfriend. Was I supposed to buy some fucking flowers now? Where was Nick when I needed him? I loosened my grip around her wrists and dragged my fingers down the length of her arm until I reached her shoulder. I circled a spot on her skin there before leaning in to press my lips to it. I held them there for a long moment and then rolled off of her and stared up at the ceiling. Lia angled herself to one side and looked at me. Her hand rested on my upper arm for a moment before she traced the outlines of muscles from my bicep down to my wrist. Maybe she needed romance, and maybe she didn’t, but I felt like she deserved something from me—something genuine. There were questions in her eyes, and I responded before she could ask them. “You gave me my sanity back,” I said quietly. “Your presence, your words, your touch, and your body—they brought me back from someplace I don’t ever want to be again. The way I feel when I’m with you—like I could spend the rest of my life just looking in your eyes—it scares the shit out of me. It’s more terrifying than that place I was inside my head. The best way I can come up with to cope with that is being inside of you, because when I’m there, everything is right. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Why all of that made her smile and brought tears to her eyes at the same time, I didn’t understand. She seemed more happy about what I had said than not, at least. Maybe I didn’t need to understand it—I mean, I wanted to figure her out, but what guy really knows what’s going on in a woman’s head? “I’m glad I showed up when I did,” she finally said.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have wanted to miss that scene.” I snorted a laugh. “Not because of that, obviously.” Lia turned to her side and propped her head up with her hand. “I’m glad I was there in time to know what happened to you, so I could help. If I had showed up a day later…well, who knows how long it might have taken me to figure out where you were?” I couldn’t help but wonder how everything might be different if she had arrived the day before. Maybe I wouldn’t have killed Bridgett and gone off the deep end at all, except that I still would have found out about her betrayal eventually. What would I have done then? Probably the same. It was all the more reason for me to get Lia out of my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to think along those lines. I was going to tell her everything, and whatever happened after that, happened. Maybe she would accept it, and maybe she wouldn’t, but I was going to do whatever I possibly could to keep her. “What are you thinking about?” Lia asked. I pulled myself out of my head and smiled up at her. “I’m just glad you were there, too. I think Mark’s comment about dying from lack of sleep is total bullshit, but I definitely prefer being able to get a little shut-eye every once in a while.” She looked at me for a minute and then leaned down to press her lips against mine. I reciprocated, reaching up to the back of her head and holding her closer so I could get my tongue in her mouth. A couple minutes of kissing, and I was ready for round three. My hands moved over her body, gripped her tits, then continued down her stomach and to her hips. My mouth followed, and Lia’s fingers traced the outline of the muscles in my shoulder and back as I licked around her navel. I pushed her legs apart a bit, then teased over her outer labia until she was wriggling under me. With a little more pressure, I cupped her pussy and my thumb circled her clit. Lia let out a groan, and I moved two fingers inside of her, which made her jump a bit. When I glanced up at her, the look on her face wasn’t one of pleasure, though, so I stopped. “You okay?” “I’m just a little sore,” Lia said with a blush. Her teeth went after her bottom lip again, so I reached up and pulled it away. “I can stop.” I didn’t want to, but obviously I would. “Take a break for a while.” “No, don’t stop. It’s okay.” Some odd version of a gentleman inside me told me to stop anyway because she was just being nice and giving in to what she knew I wanted. The selfish, horny bastard inside of me had a lot more influence over my mouth, though. “Want me to go slow?” “Do you know how to do it that way?” Her beautiful smile teased me.

I didn’t answer. I just rolled over on top of her, holding my weight up off her skin with my legs out by her sides and one hand pressed against the mattress near her shoulder. With my free hand, I traced the backs of my fingers from her shoulder down to her wrist. I leaned down and kissed the spot right above her heart, trailed more light touches with my lips up to her neck, and then whispered against her ear. “I will always give it to you exactly how you need it.” With my hand against her jaw, I tilted her head back and kissed slowly down the front of her throat. I licked lightly over her nipples, kissed each of them, and then moved to the side so I could better reach her with my other hand. I continued down her body, moving my lips gently over her pink skin. At times, I barely touched her, just grazed the fine hairs of her stomach and below. My head tilted to the side, and I continued down the inside of one of her thighs until I reached her knee. I wanted to get her off again—it was a moral imperative—but she’d already said she was sore. An idea came to me, and I got up from the bed and extended my hand to Lia. “Come with me.” She nodded, wrapped her fingers in mine, and I led her into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature up high. As the water heated, I grabbed the bath towels and laid them out on the bed. When I returned to the bathroom and checked the water, it was just a little warmer than what was usually comfortable, but exactly what I needed. I stepped in first, letting the hot water cascade over my back as I pulled Lia in after me. I kissed her as the water flowed over us, and I reached up to curl my fingers through her hair as I held her mouth to mine. Without breaking our kiss, I skimmed my fingers down her sides and then around to her front. I brought them up to cup and lift her breasts with my thumbs flicking lightly across her nipples. Lia moaned into my mouth, and I kissed her deeply but still slowly and softly. I explored her body with my hands, pressing my chest to hers and reveling in the sensation of her touch on my back. I wrapped my arms around her and turned her around slowly until my chest was to her back, and she was facing the stream of water. “It’s really hot,” she said. “Is it too much?” “Not quite,” Lia said, “but close.” “Trust me,” I whispered against her ear. My lips pressed to her neck, and my hands moved back to cup her breasts again. I maneuvered her a little more into the stream of water and dropped one hand down to her stomach. With circular movements, I massaged her stomach and thighs as the heat from the water penetrated her skin. Lia leaned back against me and moaned. “Feel good?” I asked.

“Very.” With my hand moving between her thighs, I used one foot to tap her legs apart a little so I could reach her better. I used two fingers to rub gently over her outer lips, then pressed and moved my fingers apart. As I angled her body into the stream, the hot water began to flow right over her pussy. “Oh, shit!” “Too much?” I asked. “I…I…no,” Lia stammered. “It’s…intense.” “Exactly.” I rubbed the outside lightly, but let the hot water do the rest of the work. Lia began to squirm against me, and her ass pressed firmly against my stiff cock. I sucked at the top of her shoulder, then kissed down her arm as she pushed back harder until I couldn’t take any more. Running my fingers over her once more, I shut the shower off, picked Lia up, and carried her back to the bed. I placed her in the center of the towels and then crawled over the top of her, kissing her all the way. When my fingers found her entrance again, I watched her face carefully. She tilted her head up and pressed against the towel, eyes closed. “Not as sore?” I asked quietly. “Much better,” she said with a nod. Her eyes opened, and she looked at me. “That felt incredible. I didn’t know if I would come just standing there like that, but it felt as good as a massage does.” I smiled down at her, kissed her stomach, and then moved up a bit to give her nipples some attention. The cool air on her wet skin was causing them to constrict and stand up—just waiting for my mouth to warm them again. With more moans from Lia, I ran my tongue over each nipple and then took the first one in my mouth. I sucked lightly and then ran my tongue all around the edge. My hands continued running up and down from her hips to her shoulders until Lia was writhing under me again and squeezing my forearms tightly. My fingers made their way back between her legs, smoothly parting her lips and making way for the head of my cock. She shivered as I took my cock in my hand and ran it up and down her folds a few times before centering on her opening. I moved my hips forward extremely slowly, and I watched as her body opened to me and enveloped me, tip to shaft. Exquisite. I buried myself in her, held there for a long moment, and then slowly pulled completely out. Lia groaned in protest, but my cock was right back at her pussy, pushing down inside of her as slowly as the first thrust had been. “Jesus, Evan!” I looked up at her, and my skin warmed to see her laid out before me like that. I could see my

cock sliding back out of her, watch her face tighten in protest as I slipped back out, and hear her soft moans as I filled her again. Perfect. Because my brain must hate me, it chose that moment to remind me that this could be it—this could be the last time I would be inside of her like this. Once morning came, and I told her everything, I had to be prepared for her to walk out on me. This had to count. Mean something. I tightened my ass and moved deeply into her, pulled back, and out again. “Please, Evan!” “Please what, baby?” “I need you…in me…please!” “You want my cock?” “God, yes…” I glided back inside of her, but only about halfway. I pulled back to just the tip and then went back in halfway again. Over and over, the top of my cock rubbing against the inside, back set of nerves connected to her clitoris. After nine strokes, I buried myself totally and Lia cried out. “Evan! Oh my…my God…” I pulled out, ran my hand across her stomach, and then slid back inside halfway. More short strokes—eight this time. After the eighth, I penetrated deep, pulled nearly out, and then back in deep again. “Holy shit!” “Hush,” I whispered against her skin as I pulled back out again. “Evan!” “Hmm?” Her chest rose and fell, and her desperate eyes captured me. “What are you doing to me?” “Hush,” I said again. “Just feel.” I repeated the action, seven short strokes, then three long and deep. I pulled out; I started over again. Six short, four long. I felt the muscles in my thighs tighten and my balls threaten to explode, but I refused to give in. I was going to make this one last. It had to count. With every movement of my hips, I thought it might be the last. Even as my cock throbbed in her body, my mind recoiled in terror at the thought. All the control I usually had in such situations just didn’t

come in to play. I wasn’t the one who mastered this relationship—it was all her. My tongue flicked over her nipple once, and Lia shuddered. I continued the pattern, quickly reaching the point when I continued with long, slow thrusts deep inside of her as Lia dug her nails in my back and started to cry out over and over again. I felt her body tighten around my cock, her legs twitch as they wrapped around my waist, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Does she know? Does she think this is it, too? Lia reached up around my neck and wrapped her arms around my head. She pulled at me until my forehead was against her shoulder, and I continued to thrust deep inside of her as sweat dripped from my forehead to her skin. I tucked my arms under her body and held her against me as I tried to hold on. I wanted it to last. I didn’t want to come in her at all—just keep going for the rest of eternity. I couldn’t, though, not just because of the absurdity of the notion, but because she felt too damn good. “Jesus,” I whispered against the warm skin of her neck. My mind attempted to slow the movements of my hips, but my cock wanted it all and ultimately won. I pushed against her a final time and felt my balls empty into her. I shuddered again from my shoulders to my calves before I tightened my arms around her as much as I dared and collapsed on top of her. Lia’s legs gripped around my waist and held me inside of her as I panted hot breath on her neck. My mind swam, and I was nearly swallowed inside of the feelings of completeness, tranquility, and peace. If I lost this in the morning, Trent and Rinaldo and Greco wouldn’t fucking matter. I’d die if she left me. ***** I woke sometime in the middle of the night. The streetlights were glowing around the edge of the curtains at the window, and Lia’s slow breathing was the only sound in the room. My head was empty. There were no memories, no thoughts of the next person I needed to stalk and kill, and no concerns about Moretti or Greco or jail—just the warmth of the body next to mine and the peace that came with it. It just felt…good. Maybe I didn’t deserve it. Hell, I most certainly didn’t, but I didn’t care. I wanted it. I wanted her next to me every time I woke up. I wanted to feel her warm breath on my skin and the scent of her hair in my nose. For the first time in my life, the idea of just settling down and being with someone else longterm seemed attractive. I didn’t just want it; I needed it. Moving slowly, I untangled myself from Lia, took a quick piss, and then went over to the window to peek out. There was a bright streetlamp just outside, which gave me a decent view of the area. Sentry duty suddenly seemed like a good plan, so I pulled my jeans on and let my Beretta sit across my lap as I watched outside and thought about the woman still sleeping in the bed.

If I had been a completely stupid person, I would have let the desire to just run off with her overwhelm me and do precisely that. However, I knew exactly where that road would lead—a life on the run. I’d spend all my time watching over my shoulder and waiting for Trent to catch up with me and haul me to federal prison for the rest of my life or for Rinaldo to offer me a more permanent form of retirement. The strangest thing was, if I had been pressured by those two scenarios a month ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit what the consequences might have been. I would have just done whatever the fuck I wanted to do because I didn’t care what happened to me. Sometime over the last week, Lia changed all of that. Maybe I should have been pissed off at her for it. My simple, if dangerous, life had been turned upside down by her coming into it the way she did. No—that wasn’t fair; it wasn’t her, but how I felt about her. On the inside, she made me feel more powerful than I ever had in my life. On the outside, I knew she was a dangerous weakness. Others would know it, too. I couldn’t leave her alone. No matter what else happened, I had to keep her with me, both for her to be safe as well as for the more selfish reasons. As long as she was close by, I’d sleep well. If I was sleeping well, the chances of me keeping us both alive through all this were best. This was assuming she was going to have anything to do with me at all after breakfast. There was a very real chance she was going to take me up on my offer to get her to the airport and out of the city. It wouldn’t be the safest option for her, and I didn’t want it at all, but she might not leave me with a reasonable choice. A few unreasonable choices—including holding her prisoner in a basement for the rest of her life just so I could sleep and be near here—crossed my mind. None of them were realistic, and some of them weren’t even plausible, but that didn’t stop them from having a little picnic inside my head. I knew I had to come clean about all of it and just live with whatever she decided, but I didn’t like it. Keeping her in the dark and close to me sounded so much better. Maybe if I had found myself a dumb chick, it would have worked—but not with Lia. She was too smart. Lia stirred and eventually woke up. I let her take a shower while I ran out for coffee and breakfast sandwiches from a nearby fast-food place. By the time I returned, she was dressed and sitting on the bed, combing through her wet hair. “Fucking beautiful,” I murmured. Lia’s eyes met mine, and she smiled slightly. I could see the tension in her back and shoulders as she sat there and waited for me to spill the beans. I debated trying to talk her into another romp beforehand, but I knew it couldn’t be any better than last night had been. Instead, I handed her an egg-andcheese bagel, and we ate in silence. As the last of the crumbs were dusted away, I knew I had run out of time. “What do you want to know first” I asked her, “what happened to me as a POW or what the fuck is going on now?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Does what happened to you over there lead into what’s happening now?” I shrugged. “Basically,” I said. “I mean, it’s what led to everything afterwards, so yeah, I guess so.” “Then I’ll take chronological order,” she told me. I realized that since I had left incarceration there had been only one thought that came into my head that mattered—Lia. It was also the one thought I continued to fight against. Deep inside, it was clear to me that nothing good was going to come of this. It was dangerous for her to even be seen with me, and giving her all the information I was about to give her was only going to make that worse. On top of it all, she had seen me at the lowest point in my life. She saw me—broken, destroyed, and being taken away in handcuffs so I couldn’t hurt myself or anyone else. I'd never be able to remove the memories from her head and make it right. She would always remember me in that state—a sociopath begging her to watch over my dog. What was she going to do when she knew the why of it all? Nothing in my life was going to be harder than this.

Chapter 10—Blatant Truth “I joined the Marines when I was seventeen.” It seemed like as good a place as any to start. “Why seventeen? Did your parents want you to?” Or not. “No, I never met my parents.” I sighed and dropped onto the ledge by the window. I ran my hand over my head, somewhat disgusted by how long my hair had gotten, but also recalling how it felt when Lia had her fingers in it, so I couldn’t hate it too much. “I was an orphan. I grew up in a convent in southwestern Ohio.” “A convent? You mean, a place for nuns?” “Yeah, and also orphanages a lot of the time, usually for kids who are hard to place in foster care or whatever.” “Are you Catholic, then?” I snickered a bit. “Nah, not really. Not anymore.” My hand instinctively moved up to my chest, and I fingered the dog tags hanging there. I could feel the raised letters. “What happened to your parents? How old were you when you went there?” “I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I’ve never found out who they were, just that—for whatever reason—they either died or didn’t want me. I was there as long as I can remember, so I guess pretty much always. No one would ever tell me what happened, not even when I got older. I’ve always assumed it was because they didn’t want to deal with a kid at all because if they were dead, someone would just tell me, wouldn’t they?” “You would think so,” Lia agreed. She lay back on the bed and leaned her head against her hand. “So why seventeen?” “I was emancipated. I was done with high school, but I didn’t really have any money or anything. I wanted to go to college, so the military made sense.” “Are orphans usually emancipated?” “No, not usually.” “So why were you?” I hadn’t expected this portion of my past to really be a part of the conversation, and I wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Still, I had promised her I would tell her everything, so I did.

“Because I asked for it,” I said, “and the Mother Superior wasn’t in a position to deny it.” “What do you mean by that?” Lia’s eyes darkened. She was way too perceptive. “Well…” I let my voice trail off a second while I thought about how to word it. There really wasn’t a clean way to do it, so I went with blunt. “I’d been fucking her, and I threatened to use it against her if she didn’t sign the papers.” “Holy shit!” Lia yelled out. “Are you serious?” “Yeah.” “But you were underage! How old was she?” “Fuck, I don’t know. Fifty-something, maybe?” “Jesus Christ, Evan!” “It had been going on for years,” I told her. “I think I was fourteen when it started.” Lia contemplated a moment. “She molested you.” “Whatever you want to call it,” I said with a shrug. “I wasn’t complaining. Knowing all her dirty little secrets came in handy when I wanted something. If she was using me, I was using her just as much.” I watched Lia closely as she let my words sink in. She was staring down at the sheets, watching her fingers twist the fabric. “You still want me to go on?” “Of course,” she said quietly. “Your mom was right, you know.” “About what?” “You don’t know much about me. You might not want to know all this shit.” Lia thought for a moment and then looked back to me. “I want to know,” she stated. “It’s going to change everything.” My voice carried both warning and desperation. “I won’t be able to take it back. You won’t be able to just forget it.” “I know.” With a deep breath, I continued. “I went through basic training and figured out I was a damn good shot. I became an expert marksman very quickly, so I went for sniper school at the base in Quantico, Virginia, and finished out on top. I could take out targets over a mile away and hardly ever missed.”

“Shit,” Lia said with a sharp outtake of breath. “I ended up deployed to the Middle East as part of a Scout Sniper platoon to do reconnaissance into Afghanistan for a while, did well, got promoted to staff sergeant, and led the other members of the platoon under the captain of the battalion. When he was killed in battle, I was promoted to lieutenant in the field and took over for the rest of the…well, up until the time I was captured.” My mind raced with memories, and I dropped my hand from my dog tags when I realized I was gripping them. “What happened?” she asked softly. “We were scouting out the area where one of the Al Qaida leaders was supposedly spotted. My team was the first one out, and we were the deepest into the area, but we hadn’t seen anything for days. There were four other groups behind us—spread out several miles to cover as much terrain as possible. We weren’t supposed to engage or anything yet—just watch and report back when the time was right for the rest of the SF infantry to join us.” “SF?” “Sorry. Special Forces.” “Got it.” “We had a small base set up in the rocks around the desert—tents, a couple Hummers, and a small outbuilding. I was back behind the outbuilding when they attacked.” I took a slow, steady breath. I was trying to keep my memories focused on the debriefing that took place after I returned to Virginia and not on the events themselves, but it wasn’t completely possible. “Like I said, it had been really quiet. I think we got a little complacent, which is how they managed to get the drop on us. I heard some noise, came back around, and everyone in my unit was dead.” “Oh my God.” I didn’t look at her as I went on. “I didn’t really have much time to react. I got hit over the head, came to for a few seconds in a truck, bumping down a road, but got hit again. The next thing I really remember, I was in one of their camps. They didn’t do much but smack me around for a while and ask me where the other units were located– they were waiting for their leader to show up.” “What did you do?” “Gave them my name, rank, and service number,” I said with a hollow laugh. “Just like the fucking movies. I couldn’t really do much of anything—they had me hogtied. They kept hitting me with a bag full of fucking potatoes or something—ached for days, even when they left me alone for a while.” When I glanced at her, I could see her looking at me closely, and I knew exactly what she was doing—checking for scars. I stood up, unbuckled my belt, and shoved my jeans down just a bit over my hip.

“That’s the only one I have,” I told her as I showed her a two-inch long, faded scar on my left side. “The insurgents didn’t even give it to me. There was a bunch of shit lying around the motor pool when I got drunk and fell on a sharp piece of metal. I didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened, so I tried to take care of it myself. It got pretty infected, and I ended up in the infirmary anyway. It was the only official reprimand I ever received while I was serving. I think my captain called it ‘for being a dumbass.’” I laughed and shook my head. “The guys who captured me—they didn’t want to leave any permanent marks—hardly ever even hit me in the face.” “What happened when the leader arrived?” “Classic interrogation,” I replied. “He was a decent-sized guy with a shitload of facial hair and a nasty attitude. I never did hear his name, and he wasn’t someone well-known enough that I’d seen his picture before. He shoved my head in a bucket of water until I nearly drowned, then shoved my face into the sand. Then he had the rest of them beat on me for a while, claim they already knew the answers to the questions they were asking me, then start kicking me. He tore off my fingernails and seemed to have a pretty good time doing it.” Lia gasped, but I didn’t stop. “They’d ask questions; I wouldn’t give them anything, and then they’d start all over again. He yelled a lot, but he never could get anything out of me. After a few days, they tossed a burlap sack over my head and loaded me into a truck again. I tried to count so I could get an idea of how far we were going, but I didn’t really know where we started from, so it wasn’t very helpful. Still, I figure we drove about three hours. Once we stopped, I was pulled into a shed where they just made me kneel on concrete while they spoke in Arabic. I didn’t catch much of it—just got the idea they were setting something up. There were a lot of scraping sounds, like they were moving things around.” “When they took the bag off, I could see two other guys tied up like me. They had cameras and shit set up all around us, and there were Afghani soldiers standing all over the place with assault rifles pointed at us.” I turned my eyes to Lia to see how she was taking it all. She had moved to a sitting position on the bed and was watching me with her hands in her lap. “I figured that was it, you know?” I said as I looked at her. “I thought they were just going to execute us and be done with it.” “That’s where the video came from,” Lia said. “That’s the one,” I confirmed. “It got a lot of YouTube hits before it was taken down, I hear.” I collected my thoughts for a minute before going on. “You’ve watched it, so you know a lot of what happened next. They wanted us to say how well we were being treated, which made me laugh, and then they wanted us to say that the US president was wrong to have troops in the Middle East and that we agreed they should all be removed—the usual shit. The journalist guy—he just kept crying and screaming that he didn’t know anything. The other one, though

—I knew him.” “Who was he?” Lia asked when I stopped talking for a minute. “He was another Marine—a private who had just been deployed a few months before. I’d seen him around a few times, but he wasn’t a sniper, so I didn’t know him too well. He was part of the infantry group who would have joined us if we had spotted the enemy first. He kept telling them to fuck off until they bashed his head with the butt of one of their rifles. He was unconscious during the filming.” “What was his name?” Lia asked. “Classified,” I responded automatically. The last thing I wanted to think about was the frecklefaced private who had ultimately been our demise. I still thought he went down way too easy when they hit him and wondered if he had been conscious though it all. Regardless, if he hadn’t cracked, my unit might have made it through. I might never have been captured. She blinked a couple of times but didn’t ask again. “When we wouldn’t cooperate, they went with Plan B. They started rolling the cameras and told the world that we were invading their country unlawfully and all that bullshit. They said they were going to execute one of us as a spy, and I told them to kill me, but they didn’t. They took out the civilian dude just to make some fucking point. I was bagged and loaded back into the truck and taken somewhere else —I don’t know where. It took a lot longer than it had taken us to get to where they did the filming. I’d counted maybe four hours before I ended up falling asleep.” “Once we got there, it was pretty obvious the place was a fairly permanent site. There were decently constructed buildings hidden in the rocks and not just soldiers there, but women and children, too. I was dumped in a small room in the dark for a while, maybe just for the night—I’m not sure—and then they started all over again. Mostly they deprived me of any food and water, trying to break me down. I wasn’t too interested in dying of dehydration, but I figured at that point, I wasn’t going to make it anyway.” I looked over at the clock on the nightstand and realized I had been talking for more than an hour and a half already. I still hadn’t even gotten to the good shit—the shit that was likely going to make her turn and run. “Give me a minute,” I said. I stood up and walked out the door, not even bothering to put on a shirt or anything. Luckily, the dude at the front desk was willing to sell me a few of his cigarettes, so I didn’t have to go far. “Don’t smoke in the room,” he called out as I walked away. Whatever. I lit up with a pack of matches displaying the motel’s name on the front and walked into the room where Lia was still sitting on the bed. “You smoke?” She seemed taken aback. “Not usually,” I replied. I grabbed one of the plastic cups from the bathroom to use as an ashtray and put a little water in the bottom of it, then took my spot on the windowsill and went on.

“Once they figured out all their abuse wasn’t going to work on me, they tried just letting me rot for days at a time in-” My throat tried to close up on me, like my body didn’t even want the words to come out of my mouth, but I swallowed hard and fought for a little control. “They put me in a big hole in the ground out in the sun, sand everywhere, and when the sun got to the top of the sky, my back would blister in the heat. After a few days of just leaving me there, they’d come up and ask if I wanted water. Then they’d pour salt water all over me and leave. Usually the next day, they’d haul me out and give me something to drink. Then I was back in the hole. I think they were trying to just…I don’t know…drive me crazy? It probably worked.” My organs felt like they were trying to climb out of my skin, and I realized I was gnawing on the edge of my thumb with the hand that didn’t contain the nearly burnt-down cigarette. I stopped chewing on myself and tossed the butt into the cup of water. Lia sat quietly, barely moving. She was holding back tears, but I wasn’t looking for her sympathy. I only wanted to get through this shit so she would understand and hopefully decide my reasons for all the shit I had done were valid enough. “So, that’s where I stayed for months,” I finally said. “Every once in a while they’d give me water and maybe some rice, but that was it. I’d completely lost track of how long it had been, but one day when they brought me out, that same guy—the leader of that group, or one of them, at least—came back. He started telling me a bunch of shit that was all classified information that he definitely shouldn’t have known. I figured out then that the private I’d seen when they filmed us must have cracked. He certainly would have had knowledge of the intel this guy was telling me.” I leaned over and put my elbows on my knees. Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried not to let the anger from that time get to me. “Then he tells me when and where they picked the dude up.” My hands clenched into fists. “Turns out they had him long before they got me. At some point, I realized he was the one who gave away our position, though it wasn’t confirmed until after I came home.” “The private betrayed me,” Lia whispered. “What?” “You’ve said it in your sleep,” she replied, “a couple of times.” More talking in my fucking sleep. Ultimately, that was what cost Bridgett her life—she learned too much from me while I was napping. “What else have I said?” I swallowed past the tightness in my throat and awaited her answer. “Nothing that made any sense,” she said. “Like what you said about the private betraying you—I never would have known what that meant until you told me. You’ve said the word ‘sand’ several times and something about being hit, and lots of letters and numbers that didn’t make sense. I never understood anything else you said.” I wondered what the letters and numbers might have meant. They could have been military

abbreviations, weapon types, codes—there were too many possible answers without having her write them down or something. If she did that, then I would have to explain it to her, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to set myself up like that. Maybe I could record myself sleeping. “I’m sorry,” Lia said. “I sidetracked you.” “It’s all right. I could use a break.” We ate a little of the leftover pizza, and I took a minute to shave. It was good to have the scruff off; I hated it when my face was stubbly and scratchy. I wished I had my trimmers with me so I could give myself a haircut as well, but I was going to have to live with just the shave. I made a valiant attempt to distract Lia into fucking again, but she wasn’t having any of it. She quickly and definitively steered me back to my life’s story. I sighed as I gave up and then sat with my back against the headboard. “So I figured out the private was how they found us,” I went on, “and the insurgent leader continued to try to get more out of me.” Flashes in my head started feeling like a hammer against my temples. “You like to tell me your numbers? I’ll give you numbers! How about you count this? Maybe we just keep going until we hit your number, huh?” My gut tightened up, and my body went stiff. For a moment, Lia and the motel room were gone, and there was nothing but sand and sweat and pain. “Evan? Evan, baby—it’s okay. I’m right here.” I felt hands on my face and realized my wrists weren’t bound. I reached out and grabbed the arms that tried to encircle me, and then I heard her voice. “It’s okay, Evan, it’s me. It’s Lia.” It was the cracking in her voice that brought me out of it. My eyes found her, and I saw the streaks of tears running down her cheeks. Releasing her forearms, I reached out and brushed one of the tears away. “Sorry.” “What were you remembering?” she asked. I closed my eyes and swallowed. I felt her fingers against my jaw and turned slightly to press my face to her palm. “Just…everything he did. Trying to get information…trying to break me.” I opened my eyes to find her staring into my face. My chest rose and fell as I tried to take in enough air. I could see it—I could see it in her face. She knew there was more, and she was going to ask for the details. My hands clenched, and I started to hyperventilate. “Evan.” Lia’s voice was stern, the tone causing me to instinctively look to her eyes. “You’re all

right. You are with me, and I’m not going to ask you anything else about that, okay? He hurt you—I understand that—and that’s enough detail.” I nodded once, then again. My body was shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn’t even figure out how I’d let it get this far. I could feel sand in my throat and up my nose, heat from the desert sun on my skin, and there were hands on my back and arms—pushing me down and holding me to the ground. Then they were gone, and it was just me and Lia in a motel room bed. Her arms were around my head, and I rested my cheek on her stomach. ***** “You don’t have to tell me any more.” As much as I knew she was trying to make it easier, Lia giving me an out was actually making it more difficult. “There’s a shit ton I haven’t told you,” I reminded her. “You need to know about some of it because of what’s happening now.” Lia sighed and nodded. “I really had lost all track of time after I had been there a few months,” I said. “I was always tied up, so I couldn’t even make scratches on a wall or anything, and I was in that…that fucking hole most of the time anyway. I spent most of the time trying not to think, but there wasn’t anything else to do. I counted up all my sins and asked God to forgive them. I swore if He’d just let me die, I’d do the penance or whatever I needed to do—anything to stop the fucking pain.” I paused and raised an eyebrow at her. “So, no,” I said with a sardonic grin, “I’m not Catholic anymore. God can kiss my ass for letting me rot there for a year and a half.” Lia’s teeth grabbed her lower lip, and her eyes tensed. She nodded slightly, and I went on with my story. “When their base was raided, and I was rescued, I’d pretty much given up any hope. I didn’t even believe there was anyone there, you know? I thought my mind had totally cracked and I was hallucinating. I don’t think I started believing it was all over until I was at the hospital in Germany, and that was because they finally gave me something strong enough to make the pain stop.” I took a deep breath. “Malnutrition, dehydration, muscle atrophy—which took a decent amount of physical therapy before I could walk properly—a dislocated shoulder, four fractured ribs. That’s what they said I had and kept telling me how lucky I was that I was otherwise unharmed.” I laughed humorlessly. “That’s a good one, huh? Otherwise unharmed.” “I can’t say that I find it very funny, no,” Lia remarked.

I pulled my legs up and rested my arms over my knees as I smoked. I held the butt end of the cigarette between my thumb and first two fingers and angled the lit end toward the palm of my hand, shielding the glow from view. It took a few minutes for me to get myself out of my own head and back to the rest of my little tale, but Lia was patient. I finished the smoke and kept talking. “My first episode was maybe a month or so after I came back to the States,” I recalled. “I remember the first time because it scared the shit out of me. I was at the gym doing leg presses or something like that, and all of a sudden, they were there—all around me. They were yelling, and I could hear the gunfire and see the smoke. The whole floor had become sand, and when I stood up, I fell facefirst into it.” I grabbed another cigarette and lit it. “I spent a lot of time in the psych ward at the military hospital in Hampton, Virginia. The doctors there treated me for a couple of months. PTSD, the psych said. He wanted to write a fucking book about what I went through, but I wouldn’t authorize it. They talked about giving me a desk job, and I pretty much told them to shove it. I was a sniper, for fuck’s sake. What was I going to do behind a desk?” I took a few puffs off the smoke to calm myself again and wondered why I thought it sucked when I just felt numb. I’d give most anything to feel numb about all of it right now. “I was honorably discharged and moved back to Ohio, thinking I at least knew the area, even if I didn’t really want anything to do with the people I knew there. I spent every dime I had to buy my Barrett rifle. Whatever money I made doing odd jobs, I spent on ammo and time at the shooting range.” “You bought the rifle?” “Yeah.” “Why?” I looked over to her quizzically, thinking the answer was obvious, but then I couldn’t find the words to express why I needed it. “It was…comforting,” I finally said. “It’s almost like…I don’t know…an extension of myself. I needed it.” I could tell she didn’t get it, but I didn’t know what else to say to make myself clear. “That’s where I met Jonathan.” “Who’s Jonathan?” “He was just another guy at the range,” I said. “He was always complimenting me on my accuracy and wanted to try out my Barrett. He ended up inviting me out to his place where he had his own shooting range set up on private property. He wasn’t in town a lot, but he said I could come out anytime I wanted to shoot. Saved me a lot of money, and he never pressed me for information about what had happened to me. He eventually figured out I’d been a POW and whatever, but he never pushed, you know?” Lia looked down at her hands. “Am I pushing too much?” she asked.

“It’s a bit late to be asking,” I said with a quiet chuckle. “No, it’s okay. I want you to know. Well, no, I don’t, but I think you should anyway.” Lia nodded. “At some point, we ended up talking about…well, about other shit. Career shit. I didn’t have one, and even though the military would have paid for college at that point, I had no desire to be a fucking engineer or whatever any more. He offered me an alternative.” I stopped. This was it—the rest would be what might drive her away forever. I’d let her go, too. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it. “Jonathan asked me to come to Chicago with him to meet the guy he worked for. I did, and his boss offered me a job doing what I do best.” “What do you do best, Evan?” Lia asked when I paused too long. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and then looked straight at her. “I’m a hit man, Lia. I work for the largest crime family in the city, and I kill people for money.” Nothing could take back my words now.

Chapter 11—Unexpected Reaction Lia sat on the bed and just stared at me for way too long. I wasn’t sure if she had even heard me at first, but I realized pretty quickly that she had. I couldn’t read her though. There weren’t any obvious signs of what was going through her head. She actually seemed a little stupefied. “Lia?” “That’s a joke, right?” “Why would I joke about that?” I asked. “Because you can’t possibly be serious,” she answered. “You wanted to know how that guy outside knew who I was,” I reminded her. “There’s your answer. Gangs don’t fuck with us—they know they’d get wiped out in a weekend. The last time I was in this neighborhood, I took out seven of them in about three minutes when they were hanging out at a park not far from here.” Lia’s eyes widened, and her tongue darted out over her lips. I figured I’d probably given her enough details at that point. She looked over to the dresser where my Beretta sat on top of my shirt. “With that gun?” she asked quietly. “Sometimes,” I said. “Usually with my Barrett—the sniper rifle.” Lia sat back and pulled her knees to her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them. Her throat bobbed once, and then she looked up to me. “Are you going to kill me? Is that why you brought me here?” “Fuck, no!” I stood up from the windowsill and yelled loud enough that she jumped. “I’m sorry! Shit!…But, no, Lia—no! I’d never hurt you; I swear.” Even as the words flowed from my mouth, I wondered if they were true. How could I guarantee that to her, considering what I’d done in the past? I wasn’t even sure if I could manage to keep her safe through what was to come. Even if she decided to get as far away from me as possible, she was likely already in danger. “But you…you shoot people? That’s your job?” “Yeah.” I nodded. “I mean, I have to pick the right spot, the right timing and all that, but in the end, I’m not paid for the recon, I’m paid for the hit.” “You do this for the mafia? That’s the mob, right?” “Yeah,” I said, “and yeah, it is.” “The Chicago mafia?”

I nodded again. “That’s real?” A laugh escaped through my nose. “Yeah, it’s real. It’s not quite the way it ends up portrayed in the movies but real enough.” “Who do you…um…” Lia paused a moment, and I saw her throat bob again. “Who do you kill?” “Anyone my boss tells me to,” I said. “Mostly, anyway. Sometimes there are others.” “Others?” “Yeah, like when I need someone else out of the way to get to my target—sometimes I’ll kill them, too.” “Do you get paid for those as well?” “No, they aren’t on my roll.” “Roll?” “Kill roll,” I told her. “My list of people who I’m supposed to kill.” “Your…your to-do list?” “Something like that,” I laughed. I had never thought of it like that, but it was as accurate as any other analogy. She looked away from me, her eyes focused on absolutely nothing interesting across the room, obviously not finding anything humorous in the conversation. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. “How many?” she whispered. “How many are on the list now?” She shook her head and took in a long breath. “How many people have you…have you killed?” Her eyes moved back to mine as she waited for the answer. It was my turn to look away. I licked my lips and tried to find words that would make anything any better, but I was way past lying now. It wouldn’t make sense; she already knew everything. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “A lot, though, right?” “A lot,” I agreed. I’d never bothered to keep track though I probably could have come up with a relatively precise number if I thought about it long enough. I didn’t really care to do that and figured even estimating what had to be approaching a hundred people over the last three years of working for Moretti wasn’t going to help my position with Lia now. “Holy shit.” Her voice was low as she clasped her hands together.

I took a couple steps toward the bed, and Lia jumped up and moved to press her back to the wall. Her eyes were wide and distrustful, and the palms of her hands pressed against the drywall. With my chest tightening around my heart and lungs, I stopped moving. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I reminded her. “How do I know that?” I closed my eyes for a moment and was reminded of our night at the cabin when it was clear she was thinking similar thoughts only without any knowledge to back them up. “If I was going to kill you, you’d be dead,” I reminded her. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” “Yes.” “It doesn’t.” I watched her carefully—the subtle way she kept looking toward the door, the way she was balancing up on the balls of her feet, the positioning of her hips. Her fear had sent her into complete flight mode. If I hadn’t been standing between her and the door, she would have bolted. Inside of myself, I didn’t think it would have felt any different than if someone had reached inside my chest with one of those hand-held mixers running on high power. Everything inside me was churning painfully, and my muscles were so tight, I could barely breathe. Someone with logic on their side would have recognized it as the same emotion as Lia’s but with the opposite response; all I could feel was anger. “Why would I tell you all this shit just to kill you off? You think I fucking liked talking about this, huh? You think I wanted to? I’ve never talked to anyone about any of that shit unless I was under direct fucking orders. Never.” I was nearly panting, and there was pressure behind my eyes I was finding difficult to hold back. I wasn’t even sure what was happening in my head; it all just felt bad. She’s going to leave. Lia’s arms were wrapped around her stomach, and she was pushing herself against the wall now —anything to get farther away from me. Everything inside of me wanted to grab my Beretta and start shooting the shit out of something—anything. There was some kind of geyser just under my skin, trying to find the weakest point to break through in a gush of steam and boiling rage. I managed to take in an audible breath, and I tried to let it out slowly. Lia tensed even more, and I wanted to turn the damn gun on myself for scaring her so much. It wasn’t what I wanted. I would have been the first to admit that I didn’t really know exactly what I wanted, but this definitely wasn’t it. I dropped my ass onto the bed and my head onto the palms of my hands. I pushed at my eye sockets to try to relieve the pressure there a bit and ignored the fact that my hands ended up a little damp. Turning my head to the side, I looked over at her. Lia’s posture had relaxed a little, but she still kept glancing at the door. “I can’t let you just walk out,” I said. “I’ll take you somewhere, but I can’t let you go out there on

your own.” “You really are serious about all of this,” Lia said—part statement, part question. “Yeah, it’s all true. I don’t have any reason to lie to you about this, do I?” “I don’t think so.” “I don’t.” She nodded, and her eyes moved to stare at me for several silent minutes. “I need a little time,” she said softly. “I need to think for a minute.” Lia moved slowly around the corner of the wall, watching me the entire time, to the bathroom where she shut herself in. I heard the click of the lock right after the door closed and dropped my head back into my hands. I’d been wrong. Telling her everything was a stupid fucking idea. Not only was she never going to have anything to do with me again, but having knowledge of the few facts I had revealed was enough to get her on someone’s watch list and very possibly just decide she wasn’t worth the risk and take her out. No, it was too late to avoid that anyway. She’d been with me enough, had even seen at the prison with me, and was already in that kind of danger. I’d already fucked her over just by being around her. If someone picked her up and questioned her yesterday, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them anything, but they wouldn’t have believed her. I’d fucked this up as much as I possibly could have, and at the end of the day, she was still going to be gone, and except for Odin, I was going to be alone again. I’d be back to fucking hookers, having no one I could really talk to, and just counting the days until my sleep-deprived state took me back into total meltdown. Status quo. It was probably for the best for both of us. So why didn’t I believe it? Because it was best for her, not for me, and I’d learned to be a selfish son of a bitch over the years. If I could think of something to say to her that would convince her to stay with me, accept who I was and what I did and not be afraid, I would use those words in a heartbeat. As it was, I was only a slight step away from being a big enough bastard to hold her against her will. Would I really do that? Fuck. Yeah, I might. Though I was both repulsed and intrigued with the idea, I was also trying to figure out how I felt, knowing that I was capable of something like that. It seemed far worse than just killing someone. Once you’re dead, you’re dead—no pain, no suffering. Hell, I’d wished for it myself repeatedly. I knew what being held captive was like, though—I knew how it felt to be so completely within

someone else’s control. I knew exactly what it did to someone when they were imprisoned, and I was considering doing the same thing to her. I didn’t think I would do it—not because I didn’t want to—I did —but that didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of it. I clearly was, and now that the thought was in my head, I couldn’t seem to shake it. Shit! What if she demands I let her leave, and I can’t do it? The muscles in my arms and legs were so tight, I was starting to shake a little. Even though I knew there was air coming into my lungs, it still felt like I wasn’t breathing. I tried to find another cigarette, but I had already smoked the few I had bought off the guy at the front desk. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shove thoughts of Lia, handcuffed to my bed, out of my mind. “Evan?” Lia’s fingers touched my shoulder, and I startled. I dropped my hands and looked up at her, waiting for the words that were likely to feel like a stake being shoved through my heart. She didn’t say anything, though. She just wrapped her arms around my head and pulled me against her body. I lifted my arms to grasp her waist and pull her closer to me. My fingers wrapped around her shirt right at the small of her back, and I clutched at the material. Her warmth was instantly soothing, and a moment later heart rending, because I didn’t know how long it would last. “Don’t leave,” I heard myself beg. “Please don’t leave.” “I’m not going anywhere,” she responded. My throat seized up, and I couldn’t speak. I tilted my head up to look into her face and try to figure out if I had heard her right. If she meant it, I wouldn’t have to test myself. I wouldn’t find out if I was really willing to hold her captive like that. “You’re not?” I asked quietly. She shook her head slowly as she leaned back to look at me, and I tightened my fingers around the fabric of her shirt to keep her close. “Why not?” I heard myself ask. I wanted to take back the words immediately. Asking her to justify why she was staying could very well lead her to change her mind. “Because you are a mess, and I can’t just leave you like this!” she nearly yelled but then softened her tone. “I needed to find you for a reason. I didn’t completely understand it at the time, but now I think I do. I thought I just needed you, but it seems you need me even more.” “I do need you,” I said quietly. “It kinda scares me.” “Me too,” Lia agreed, “but I can’t just…just condone this, Evan. I don’t think I’m wired that way.” I tensed again and waited for her to explain exactly what she meant. “Can you just quit?” she asked. “I mean, walk away and never go back? You said it wasn’t like the movies, but I never really watched those movies. I don’t know the rules.” “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’ve never thought about it, so I’ve never asked. I know I

can’t leave now, though.” “Why not?” “I have…I have a job to do.” “You mean someone to kill?” “Not exactly.” “Quit being so damn cryptic!” Lia snapped as she pushed away from me. “I certainly hope I’ve heard the worst by now, and being evasive isn’t going to make me feel any better!” I reached out and pulled her back to me. She came reluctantly but didn’t actually resist. I tightened my grip on her, completely afraid to let her go now. She hadn’t heard the worst, but she’d certainly heard enough. She knew that whatever she decided to do, I shouldn’t have to lie to her about what I was doing. It was time to tell her the rest. “It has to do with why I got released,” I said. “I made a deal with a couple of federal agents. One of them was the guy you talked to outside my apartment. The other was inside talking to me at the same time.” I kept my grip on her shirt as I looked up at her, and she scrutinized me cautiously as I spoke. “Most of the organizations in the city deal with the usual: politics, corruption of law enforcement, bribery, marketeering, money laundering, prostitution—all that typical stuff. There’s enough of that to go around, and they tend to work together pretty well for the common interest as far as the local government and police go. Outside of that, there are some specialized businesses primarily run by separate families.” Lia continued to watch me intently. “I work for Rinaldo Moretti,” I told her. “His family runs the majority of the casinos and has its hands in strip joints, a lot of weapon sales, cocaine, and the caviar trade.” “Caviar?” Lia’s brow furrowed. “That’s not illegal.” “Well, yeah, actually,” I corrected, “some of it is. It depends on where it comes from and how you get it. It’s a business that is heavily regulated—like the sale of ivory or something like that. Some of it’s legal, but a lot of it isn’t. It’s actually a bigger business than a lot of the drug trade.” “Shit,” Lia said. “I had no idea.” “Overfishing caused a shortage,” I replied. “Shortage means higher demand. Higher demand means there’s room for organized crime to step in and make sure we’re the ones with the best supply when it comes to the kind of shit stupidly rich people will pay for. It’s like gorilla-hand ashtrays or certain types of cars. Yeah, you can get them legally, but it’s a pain in the ass. Sometimes it’s easier to get them illegally.” “Do they still come with the manufacturer’s warranty?” Lia asked. I glanced up at her, saw her smirk, and laughed a bit before going on with Mafia 101.

“Gavino Greco’s organization is Rinaldo’s primary competition. They focus on stolen goods, heroin, and human trafficking.” “Human trafficking?” Fuck. I probably had said too much, especially considering my thoughts of her in chains. “I don’t really want to go into that,” I admitted. “It’s as bad as it sounds. If you really want the details, I’ll tell you, but it’s just going to make you sick to your stomach.” “I guess I’ll stick with the vague, then.” “Good call.” I collected my thoughts. “So I’ve been working for Moretti and his family since I moved here. The feds want me to help bring him in, but I can’t do that. He’s been great to me, and I can’t betray him.” “Great to you?” Lia said with a snort. “He made you a killer.” “No, he didn’t,” I corrected. I turned my eyes to her in warning. “I’m not going to hear any shittalk about him either. Think what you want of me—I’m responsible for whatever the fuck I do—but don’t say a fucking word against Rinaldo. Clear?” Lia stared at me for a long moment before she nodded once. I was being shitty and I knew it, but I was in a shitty position and sometimes you just have to drop back to what you are most comfortable and familiar with to keep going. I also had to remember that she wasn’t used to any of this, and me going all mob-threatening on her probably wasn’t going to keep her close to me. I had to be careful. “Sorry,” I muttered. “He’s just…he’s always taken care of me, dealt with my messes when I fucked up, and been more of a father to me than anyone else ever has been, okay?” “I understand,” Lia replied. Her fingers traced my arm, causing little goose bumps to form on my skin. “It’s all right.” She sat down next to me on the bed, and I turned to look at her. “You’re really going to stay?” I didn’t know why I was opening the door for this conversation. Maybe I just needed the reassurance. “I told you before,” she said. “I didn’t spend all this time looking for you to just turn around and go home. I don’t like this at all though, Evan—don’t think for a second that I do.” “I didn’t think you would.” I wanted to grab her and kiss her and fuck her senseless again, but I knew she wasn’t going to put up with any of that until she got the rest of her answers. I just hoped I’d be able to provide them all to her satisfaction. Living up to what I said, that would be a whole separate challenge. “I need to understand what happens after,” Lia said. “What do we do once you’ve…well, once you’ve done whatever it is you need to do? Explain that first, and then we need to figure out what comes later.”

I rubbed my fingers into my eyes and thought for a minute. “I half considered just making a run for it,” I told her, “but the more I think about it, the more I know that isn’t going to work. Ask me how many people tried to run from my boss, and I’ll give you the same number of people I caught on the run. No one ever got away from me, and I’m the kind of guy they’d send after us.” “Jesus,” she muttered, “I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this.” I cringed a bit, closed my eyes, and tried to focus. When I opened them again, I reached out and took her hand. “I know this is really fucked up,” I said. “I know this isn’t what you bargained for when you came to find me, but I’m glad you are here. I’m glad you’re staying. I…I…fuck!” “What is it?” I let go of her, stood up, and ran my hand over my face and head. I hadn’t gotten a haircut yet, and the length was starting to annoy me. Without being neat and orderly, I felt like I was totally off my normally collected game. “I’m not usually like this!” I bellowed. “I’m not used to…to…to needing someone else. It’s always been…just me.” Lia pushed away from the bed and stood in front of me while I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried not to look embarrassed over my outburst. Her hands came up and lay gently on the sides of my face before they ran down my shoulders to my chest, and I relaxed at her touch. “It’s okay to need someone,” she told me. “Everyone needs someone.” Her lips brushed mine. “I never have,” I argued. “You just didn’t know who you needed yet,” she countered. She kissed me again but only briefly. As I collected myself, she put an end to the intimacy and pulled me back to sit on the bed for the rest of the discussion. I sighed, complied, and started thinking out loud. “I’ve got to come up with a way of getting Greco to trust me. He’s got to let me deep into his organization so I can get enough information on him to turn over to Trent. The thing is, the last time I saw Greco wasn’t the friendliest of encounters.” “What happened?” “I held a gun to his head and threatened take him out. I doubt he’s forgotten.” “Are you serious?” “He started it,” I shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, there were three guys with guns pointed at me, and I didn’t end up shooting any of them.” “It really doesn’t,” she said.

“The point is, getting into his org isn’t going to be easy. I don’t even know where to begin at this point, and I’m going to have to move fast. Before any of that, though, I need to make sure you’re safe.” “Why wouldn’t I be safe?” Lia asked. “I haven’t done anything. I don’t even know who these people are!” I looked at the clock and rubbed my hands against my thighs. “We need to move,” I said. “It’s checkout time, and I only brought us here to get us out of Trent’s line of sight. We can’t stay another night.” “Where are we going?” I reminded myself that she wasn’t asking me to take her to the airport, but I still decided we weren’t going anywhere near O’Hare. I didn’t want to be too far from the city—I needed to be able to get to public transportation easily and quickly. “Another motel,” I said. “Maybe something up north. We just need to stay moving for now until I figure out how I’m going to do all this. We can talk more when we get to another location.” “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation at all.” Lia put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ve said that a lot,” she reminded me. “I know.” She went silent, and I went tense. I waited for her to say something—anything—to give me an idea what she was going to do. I probably should have reminded her that if she wanted me to get her a ticket back to Phoenix, I would, but I wasn’t going to make that offer again. “Well, Mom was right.” Lia sat back and looked at me. “I had no idea who you really were.” I looked down at my clenched hand and the veins pulsing in my arm. Everything about her posture told me she had just changed her mind. She was going to leave, and I was going to have to figure out some way to accept that and move on. Or do something far worse. “Do you like it?” she asked. She placed her hand on my thigh and started moving it up and down, her touch relaxing the muscles there. “I like that,” I said, indicating her hand on my leg. “That’s not what I meant.” Her hand stopped moving, and she started to pull it away, but I grabbed it and held it in place. My fingers stroked over hers softly. “Do I like what, then?” “Killing people.” “It’s a job. I’m good at it.” “That doesn’t answer the question.”

I didn’t see any point in lying to her now, so I just spit it out. “Yeah, sometimes. Some people deserve it.” “But not all of them?” “Everyone’s done something wrong,” I said with a shrug. “And they deserve to die for it?” “I don’t really think about it much, you know?” “No,” Lia said as she raised her eyebrows and looked at me pointedly, “I do not know.” “People die,” I stated. “They might get a disease, or get hit by a fucking bus, or get hit by me, but they all die. Sometimes no one even gives a shit, and the kind of people I kill mostly fall into that category. I definitely don’t care if they die, so I don’t think about it much.” Lia was silent for a long moment. I struggled with wanting to give her a little time to process all the shit I’d thrown at her. I also needed to deal with my own nervousness at being in the same location as long as we had been. “What are you thinking?” I finally asked. “I’m trying to figure out how you can be so nonchalant about it,” Lia said. “I don’t understand how you can reconcile what you’re doing.” “Like I said, I don’t think about it. It’s usually from far away, and I only see my target through the scope. It’s just like playing a video game.” “It’s not a game,” she said quietly. “I know it isn’t.” I took in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Really, I swear we can talk more about it later, but we have to move now.” Lia nodded and silently gathered up her belongings from the bathroom and shoved them all into the overnight bag she’d brought with her the night before. I asked the motel guy where I could get a cab, and he directed me to a convenience store a few blocks away. I bought a pack of cigarettes while Lia gave me a bit of a look. “What?” I asked. “Nothing,” she said. “Don’t give me that shit.” “In light of everything else, I’ve decided not to complain about your smoking,” Lia informed me. “I don’t usually do it.” “You’ve had a cigarette in your hand pretty much the whole time since the last time you made that statement.” “I’m trying to remember what it’s like.” I gave her a goofy smile, and she shook her head again.

Lia was quiet while I smoked, glared at the gang-bangers as they went in and out of the store for cheap liquor, and waited for the cab to show up. “I was thinking I might retire,” I said. “What does that mean?” Lia asked. “You know—like you were saying before. You asked what we were going to do after all this. When I was in jail, I thought maybe…well, maybe I’d just see if you wanted to...um….” Shit, I sounded like a fucking idiot. “I was thinking maybe you and I could leave Chicago, you know—together. Go someplace where no one is likely to try to track me down. I have to take care of all this other shit first because Trent will definitely be on my ass until it’s done, but afterwards, we could just leave. I’ve got plenty of money to get us by for a while.” “What? Someplace like that cabin where I first met you?” “Something like that, yeah.” “And do what?” I gave her a half smile and a raised eyebrow. “Alternate between taking you up against a wall and taking you from behind. We could throw in a few other variations, of course. Those are just my top picks.” She didn’t seem amused. “I’ve missed a whole year of school tracking you down,” she said. “I still have two years left before I get my degree.” I was struck again with how little I knew about her. I hadn’t even been aware she was in school. “What are you studying?” I asked. “Nursing,” Lia replied tersely. “Don’t change the subject.” There was a sudden burst of a memory from a couple Christmases ago when Rinaldo’s wife got ticked off at him for sneaking cookies from a tray she was preparing. She had shaken her finger at him as she yelled, and all his attempts at diverting the topic had been unsuccessful. I smiled. “Is this funny?” Lia snapped. “No,” I said, but I couldn’t stop the grin on my face. “Would you hit me if I said you were beautiful when you’re angry?” “Maybe.” “I won’t say it, then.” “Good call.”

I leaned in to kiss her, and she let me though she didn’t open her mouth or push for more. I stopped after just a couple of light touches to her lips and then leaned back a little to look at her. “You wouldn’t have to go to school,” I told her. “I can take care of you.” “I want to go to school,” Lia said. Her tone left no room for discussion even if I was a little inclined to try to persuade her to try the easy life. She would never have to work as long as she was with me, and the places we were likely to end up weren’t likely to have a lot of universities in the area. “Can’t we work out the details later?” “If you are saying that when all is said and done, we’re not going to stay here, and you aren’t going to continue with your current occupation, then yes, the details can wait.” I nodded, hoping the gesture looked sincere. I wasn’t completely sure if I could live up to the whole idea—there were too many uncertainties. I didn’t even know if I’d survive this little endeavor into Greco’s organization, and even if I did, there was no way to know if Rinaldo would just let me walk away afterwards. Lia didn’t need to know that though. If she did—if she even suspected it—she might change her mind and walk out. I still wasn’t sure how politely I was going to respond to that, and I needed to stop it from happening. “You’re not going to leave?” I needed the confirmation. I needed to hear it. “Do you want me to?” she asked. “God, no,” I said with a sharp breath. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want you to go anywhere. I want you to stay with me.” “But after all of this,” Lia said as she waved a hand around in the air, “all this shit with the federal agent and all—after all of that is done, we leave, right? Just take Odin and head to wherever you want to go. Then we’ll figure the rest of it out when we get there.” “Yeah,” I said with a nod as I stared straight into her eyes. “We’ll leave—just you and me and Odin.” Nothing was going to stop me from making good on that statement.

Chapter 12—Developing Plan We spent the next three days just moving around the city. I hadn’t gotten any grand ideas on how I was supposed to home in on Greco, and I hadn’t heard anything from Trent or Rinaldo. Of course, I didn’t have a phone anyone could use to reach me, and I’d left at home the new laptop I had bought in the rush, but if either of them knew where I was, they’d definitely find a way to reach me. So at the very least, I was staying a step ahead of them. I just wasn’t sure what that was accomplishing besides buying me a little more time. Make that time with Lia. As soon as we stopped at each motel where we stayed, I was on her and in her as quickly as possible. It was like sex with her was centering me—giving me the focus and purpose I hadn’t felt since I was first deployed to the Middle East. She seemed to either understand how badly I needed it, or maybe she needed it just as much as I did. Whichever it was, she never complained about anything other than being a little sore. I bought lube, and she stopped complaining after that. Without any other brilliant ideas on my part, we ended up returning to my Audi behind the goththemed nightclub in Lincoln Park and then went back to my apartment. I knew we couldn’t stay in such an obvious place long, but there were things I needed. I also wanted to see Odin, so we picked him up at the doggie hotel on the way back to my building. He was pretty excited to be back and spent about as much time bringing his bone back to Lia to throw for him as he did trying to lick my face and arms. I sat on the couch and watched her play with him for a few minutes before she decided she had played fetch enough for one night. Odin curled up in his doggie bed by the door to the balcony and watched us. “It’s late,” Lia observed. “You tired?” “Yeah, I am.” She looked it, too. All the running around was already getting to her, and it had only been a few days. I took her into the bedroom and let her get settled without jumping her bones for once. She was out almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow. While Lia slept in my bed—a sight I found insanely distracting—I started going through all my lists of people in Greco’s organization as well as contacts that might have some other connection to his organization. I was pretty much coming up with nothing after a couple of hours and was about to throw my laptop across the room when a thought occurred to me. Nick Wolfe. Nick might have been Rinaldo’s flesh and blood, but right before I had my little breakdown, he had started seeing a girl. Her name was Milena, and she was related to Andrey Severinov who was the figurehead in Chicago for a crime group along with Rurik Dytalov. They’d moved from Moscow to

Azerbaijan several years ago to take a piece of the caviar trade, but they were small suppliers compared to Moretti’s outfit. I’d taken out Rurik’s cousin a few months ago when they tried to home in on Rinaldo’s caviar customers, but as far as I knew, Rurik didn’t know I was the one who pulled the trigger. Milena had a brother, Micah. We’d met once when he was giving Nick some shit at a bar, and I put myself in the middle of it. I might have taken him out that night, but Nick didn’t want me to go after him. Out of respect, I didn’t, but he was still on my kill roll. I had planned to discuss it with Rinaldo before taking any further action but hadn’t gotten around to it before I went off the deep end. If I couldn’t get into Greco’s organization directly, maybe I could get in through the Russians. It was the best option I had at the moment. I picked up my phone and selected one of the contacts. “Yeah?” “Hey, Eddie-boy,” I said, “it’s Arden.” “Hey, LT,” a sleepy Eddie-boy replied. “You know it’s three in the morning, right?” “Yeah, sorry about that.” “No you aren’t,” he replied. “What can I do ya for?” “Micah Severinov. I need contact info.” Eddie-boy, the communications expert deployed with me in Iraq, was my key information guy outside of Rinaldo’s organization. He had come in handy on several occasions. He was military-loyal through and through, though he didn’t have much love for the law or the government. As his former commanding officer, he would have done anything for me. “In Chicago?” “Yeah.” “No problem.” He called back just a few minutes later with an address and cell phone number, and I wired him some cash. “Hey, LT—you doin’ all right?” “Yeah, I’m good.” “Oh.” There was a long pause. “I just heard…well, I heard you had a little trouble.” “All a misunderstanding,” I told him. “Now the guys across the street know not to have such a loud fucking garage door.” Eddie-boy laughed and hung up. Now I had to figure out how to approach the guy and what to do with Lia while I was taking care of business. Unlike Odin, I didn’t think she’d be too happy with the idea of going to a boarding facility. I snickered to myself at the thought.

Still, she needed to be close to me but not too close. Trent still knew exactly where I was, and I was going to have to change our living space for a lot of reasons. Rinaldo owned the building I lived in, and once he got wind of what I was doing, the apartment I’d lived in for the last couple of years was going to become a warzone. I switched from looking at people’s information to looking at apartments for rent. There were actually a few decent options with nice, open balconies with good, tactical views of the surrounding area. I also checked into those that would have a good view for Lia because she wasn’t going to be able to go out much—too dangerous. I wrote down a couple addresses to check out the next day. Odin snuffed and sneezed all over my boot then looked up at me expectantly. As soon as I started going toward the leash, he started running around in a circle by the door. I paused for a minute, not sure if leaving Lia asleep and alone was the best of ideas, but Odin hadn’t been out for a while, and I didn’t want to wake her. I’d only be in the park behind the building. I snapped the leash onto Odin’s collar and quietly closed the door. I made sure it was bolted before heading to the elevator and down to Lake Shore East Park. As soon as I walked into the green area, I glanced around a little to see if anyone was nearby. It was the middle of the night and no one was out, but I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would recognize me as the guy who shot up the place a month ago if they did see me. There weren’t any other people or dogs in the dog run, so at least I wasn’t going to meet up with the woman with the terrier I tried to shoot. I took off Odin’s leash and watched him run around, sniff, and water the trees. He took a big dump right in the middle of the place, which I cleaned up with one of the plastic baggies from a dispenser on the fence before I sat back on the bench and lit a cigarette. I cradled the glowing tip against my palm to keep it less visible. Being in the same area where I’d lost my shit not all that long ago felt odd, to say the least. My nerves were frayed, and I kept glancing all around me like I was waiting for enemies to pop out from behind one of the bushes and start firing. It was similar to the way I felt before the doctors at the military hospital put me on medication, and I didn’t like it at all. I pulled my gun out of my shoulder holster and checked that there was a bullet in the firing chamber before putting it back. “Whassup, brotha?” a familiar voice called out. “When did you start smokin’ again?” I didn’t startle, but I was no less caught off guard as Jonathan Ferris walked around the edge of the fence and opened the dual gate of the dog park. He flipped his hair out of his eyes as he walked over and sat down next to me. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Your phone ain’t workin’,” Jonathan responded. “I think the cops still have it,” I replied. “Took my Barrett, too.” “That sucks.” I looked down toward the ground and took another drag of my cigarette. It occurred to me that the

action made me look nervous, and I started to straighten up and get myself in check but changed my mind. It would be better at this point to be considered nervous in front of Jonathan, considering his source of income was the same as mine. Jonathan was Rinaldo Moretti’s chief information man. He had been your typical bored and brilliant teen with a propensity for hacking into various computer systems around the world just to show that it could be done. Now he did the same for our boss, either to find out the things Rinaldo wanted to know, break into banking systems to help out with a little money laundering, or sometimes just to use his phone to get a seat at a busy restaurant without having to wait. He was also about the only person in the world I would consider a friend. Deceiving him wasn’t an easy thing to do, but I was going to have to try. Jonathan was a perceptive guy though most people’s first impressions dismissed him as a backwoods hick. He sounded like one, but behind the thick accent was an exceptional mind. I needed him to believe I was still pretty much off my game so he could report the same back to Rinaldo. I kept my eyes down, blinked a few times, and took another drag without saying a word. “I didn’t really think I’d find ya here,” Jonathan said. “I figgered you’d go back to your apartment, but not come out here.” I moved my head slowly to look up at him. “Don’t have much of anyplace else to go,” I commented quietly before looking back to my shoes. “How ya feelin’?” I thought about it and decided to answer him honestly. “Like I’m waiting to start seeing shit again,” I said. “I’ll know it isn’t real, but I’m still waiting to see it, you know?” Jonathan nodded. He’d been with me at the shooting range once when I started seeing images of insurgents coming out from behind the targets. I’d just stopped taking the meds the military doctors had given me, and I wasn’t completely prepared for the consequences. “Did you see shit out here?” he asked as he nodded his head around the park. “I mean, when you decided to blow the place up?” “Not really,” I said. “I was hearing a lot of stuff, and that fucking garage door kept going off and sounding like a perimeter alarm. There was already so much other shit in my head. I hadn’t slept, and I just…I dunno.” “Cracked.” “Yeah, I guess.” “It’s all right, brotha,” he assured me. “Shit happens. Rinaldo understands, even if he is kinda being a dick about you.” “How so?” I asked. I looked up at him because I had no idea what he was talking about.

Jonathan shrugged and shifted his position on the bench to bring one foot up on the seat. He took out another smoke, patted Odin’s head as he came by, and leaned back. “He’s pissed you didn’t come to him first,” Jonathan said. “I told him it don’t work like that, but ya know—he feels bad he didn’t see it was coming that quick.” “Feels bad?” I laughed. “He does,” Jonathan said with a nod. “He’d take you over Nick right now, that’s for sure, with him datin’ that Russian bitch.” I wasn’t expecting him to bring up Nick, and since I had just been thinking about him and his girlfriend’s connection to the Russians associated with Greco, I took the opportunity to plant a little more information in Jonathan’s head, assuming he’d take it back to Rinaldo. “Yeah, I hadn’t gotten around to telling him about that night at Sweetwater. I could’ve taken her brother out then, but Nick asked me not to. He was already on my list, and I should have done it. The Russians are gaining too much control around here.” “True dat, but you had other shit on your mind.” “Yeah, I did.” We sat in silence for a minute while Jonathan finished his smoke, and I lit another one. “You sure did leave a disaster at the office,” he said quietly. I didn’t have to ask what he meant. Killing Terry and Bridgett in the storage room at the bottom of Rinaldo’s office wasn’t so bad, but leaving the bodies behind instead of cleaning up my mess—that was a fairly serious faux pas. “Is that new girl ya got a hooker, too?” I flinched and turned to glare at him. “She’s not a fucking hooker,” I growled. “Easy.” Jonathan put his hands up in the air in a surrender gesture. “Just askin’.” “Well, she ain’t.” Fuck, I was already picking up that stupid, contagious accent of his again. I knew he was just posing the question, but the idea that anyone would think of Lia in such a way pissed me off. I went back to my smoke and hoped he would go away soon, but of course, he didn’t. “You gonna treat this one better than the last one?” “Fuck you!” I snapped as I stood up. He stood as well, and towered over my six-foot-two frame by a couple of inches. “She was feeding information to Greco!” “Yeah, I ain’t talkin’ about takin’ her out—that needed to happen. Kinda surprised you did it yourself, but it still had to happen. I just meant in general. You treated her like shit and then took her around so everyone knew she was with ya. Might as well have just painted her with a fuckin’ bull’s-eye in case Terry didn’t get the hint.”

I was fuming, but where other people would have cowered under my anger, Jonathan stood his ground. I knew why, too—he was right, and he had no doubt about it. He must have also assumed it wasn’t a death-warrant kind of remark because he had to have known I’d be packing. “She was a fucking hooker,” I reminded him. “It wasn’t a goddamned relationship.” I chose my words intentionally—Jonathan hated it when people broke that particular commandment. He didn’t give a shit about most of the rest of them, but that one was a sore spot. I didn’t know why, but saying “goddamn” definitely pissed him off. It did earn me a nasty glare, but he didn’t say anything about it—he just went right back to me and my issues. “So the new, non-hooker—what’s that?” “Fuck off,” I grumbled as I sat back down. “Seriously, man,” Jonathan said as his voice softened, “you were locked up. Where’d she come from?” “Arizona,” I mumbled without thinking. I should have realized someone as perceptive as Jonathan would put it together. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “She’s the pussy you got while you were out in the middle of nowhere? What’d she do? Track ya down?” I closed my eyes and silently berated myself for giving away too much. This wasn’t information I wanted him to take back to our boss, and I had to try to play it down as much as I could. If I blew it off too much, he’d know I was hiding something. “Something like that,” I said. Jonathan let out an artillery-burst-like laugh. “That’s custom!” I rolled my eyes. “Damn, bro.” He whistled and leaned back against the bench again. “So what are you gonna do with her?” “I dunno yet.” “Well, good luck with that shit.” Odin lumbered by, and I attached his leash again. I’d been out a lot longer than I had intended to be, and Lia was still up there on her own. I didn’t want her waking up and freaking out when she figured out I wasn’t in the apartment. Jonathan stood up as I did. “So, you gonna take some time off?” he asked. “Fuck around and git yer shit together before comin’ back to work?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but it was as good a cover as anything else I had at the moment. “Yeah, I am,” I said. “I dunno how long, but a while. I just need to get my head back on straight, ya know?” “I hear ya, brotha.” We parted without goodbyes, and I loaded Odin back into the elevator. On the way up, it seemed to take a much longer time than usual, which wasn’t helped by someone pressing a lot of the buttons on various floors to make the elevator stop. There was never anyone there, but the elevator kept pausing, opening the door, and then closing again before it would move on. As it continued, I could feel my tension growing. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, stepped back and forth between my feet, and glanced at my own reflection in the mirrored back wall of the elevator. I hadn’t told Lia I was taking Odin outside. She’d been asleep, and I hadn’t wanted to bother her. Now I was wondering how good an idea it was to leave her lying there, unprotected, while I was outside. Was Trent still watching the place? Probably. Would he try to get to her, talk to her, or worse? I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past him. From what Lia had described to me before, the conversation Johnson tried to have with her was more of a stalling technique than actually wanting anything from her. I was still incredibly agitated by it, though. When I finally got to my floor, I was as wound up as I could be. I tried to take a couple of calming breaths as I stepped out, but it wasn’t helping. When I moved into the hallway, I startled as my peripheral vision caught movement to my right—the opposite way of my door. I looked quickly, and my hand went instinctively to the gun in its shoulder holster. It was a guy—a kid. He was maybe fifteen or so and just standing there, looking at me. His face was dirty, and his white clothes were covered in sand. He was holding his arms out at an awkward position, and I knew there was something under his shirt—something wrapped around his torso. The kid was fucking booby-trapped. I pulled out my Beretta, flicked off the safety, and aimed. There was nothing there. I rubbed my eyes, looked again, but there was still nothing. “Shit,” I whispered into the corridor. Odin snuffed at my shoe and then looked up at me expectantly. I was breathing quickly, and my heart was pounding. I shoved my gun back under my jacket and shook my head to clear it before walking back to my apartment and unlocking the door. All was quiet inside, which just made me more nervous. I dropped the end of the leash without unlatching it from Odin’s collar and rushed into the bedroom to find Lia. I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark and started to panic when I couldn’t see anyone on the bed. I moved closer and could finally see the lump in the bed that was her sleeping form. Taking a

few quiet steps, I made sure I could hear her breathing softly, let out my own breath, and rubbed at my eyes. Still a fucking nutcase. Fabulous. Back out in the living room, I released Odin from his leash and made sure he had some water. I checked my laptop and found one more apartment to investigate before deciding I really did need to get some sleep. Quietly moving back into the bedroom, I ditched all my clothes in the hamper, placed my Beretta on the nightstand, and slipped underneath the sheets. Lia was warm against my naked skin, and I wrapped one arm across her stomach and the other I snaked underneath her pillow so I could pull her against me. She made a little sighing sound in her sleep as she snuggled against me. Nothing was wrong, and nothing had happened to her in my absence, but I was going to have to be more cautious. I couldn’t just leave her on her own now. Like Jonathan had said about Bridgett, and like Rinaldo had once told me about women in general—having one around was like screaming to the underground crime world “I’m vulnerable!” I had to protect her. Breathing deeply to cover myself in her scent, I lay my head just over hers on the pillow and tried to make sure I was touching her as much as possible without actually waking her up. My arms around her tightened slightly, and everything seemed all right again. She would keep me sane, and I would keep her safe. ***** “Neutral ground.” Micah Severinov was hesitant to talk to me, to say the least, and with good reason. He knew exactly who I was though we had only been in the same room at the same time on one occasion. “You can choose the place,” I told him. “Well, within reason. Anywhere public is fine. I told you, I’m not looking for a confrontation—I just want to talk a bit.” He chose a place called Quay, right off East Illinois near the heart of Chicago’s Magnificent Mile with a decent view of Navy Pier and the lake. The front part of the place looked like a regular restaurant, but in the back was a posh lounge area. The front part of it was definitely the kind of place that attracted tourists, but the back was nearly empty, quiet, and suited our purposes perfectly. I decided to dress the gangster role and decked myself out in a dark pinstriped suit, red shirt, and black tie. There was little more intimidating than a buffed-up guy in an expensive suit. As long as the place he chose wasn’t a gay bar, no one would fuck with me if I was dressed like I owned the neighborhood. If it was a gay bar, I’d get mauled within a minute. It wasn’t. There was a collection of cushy couches and chairs arranged in the corner by the windows looking toward the lake, which is where I saw Micah sipping dark liquor from a glass. He was sitting at the table farthest away from any other patrons. As I walked in, I observed the significant exchange of

looks between Micah and the bartender but saw only caution and ass-covering in it, nothing malicious. Nervousness, yes, but I didn’t get the impression I was going to end up with a bullet in my back. Not yet, anyway. I moved over to Micah without hesitation and took the seat with my back to the windows and at a slight angle next to him. It was a vulnerable spot, and I chose it on purpose to show him I didn’t give a fuck. If he had someone positioned outside to kill me, it could have happened from any angle. It would have been noisy though. The tourists out front would notice. Micah tossed dark blond hair off his forehead with a flick of his fingers as he leaned back in the seat and placed his hands out of sight in his jacket pockets. I knew he had a gun in there just as I presumed he knew I would have one on me. Perfectly predictable. “You gonna play nice?” I asked pointedly. I let my eyes drop to his right jacket pocket where I knew the gun would be. He’d been drinking with his right hand, so his gun would be in his right pocket. “Precautions only,” he replied. I leaned back casually in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, lit up a smoke, and kept my hands in plain view as I puffed on it. “There’s no smoking in here,” the bartender called over. “Really?” I looked over at him. “Looks like there is.” I turned back to Micah, who had the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?” he remarked. “Sometimes.” I inhaled again and blew smoke off to the side. “You ready to hear me out?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” I glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to us any longer and then lowered my voice as I leaned into the table. “I just got out of MCC,” I said. I looked down at the cigarette between my fingers and carefully tucked the lit end against my palm. I could feel the warmth, but it wasn’t close enough to burn. I took another hit off of it. “Yeah, I heard. You blew up a park.” I waved the hand holding the cigarette around dismissively. “All a misunderstanding. Parking garage doors shouldn’t be noise violations. I just showed them the error or their ways.” “Heh! Yeah, right. You made a fucking public spectacle.” I tried to appear somewhat contrite. “Well, and that’s the problem now,” I said. “That’s how Moretti sees it too. He’s ticked off,

frankly, and wouldn’t even fucking do anything to get me out—just let me rot in there for days. I’m sick of his shit, and I’m on the hunt for new employment.” Micah laughed. “Am I supposed to believe that shit?” he asked. “From what I hear, you’ve been tight in his org since you came to town.” “I’m tight with a fucking payout,” I corrected. “He paid the best because he knew he had the best. That’s where my loyalty resides—with cash in my fucking pocket for a job well done.” “And now, what?” he asked as he leaned back against the cushion behind him. It started to slide a little, and he had to lean forward before he fell over. “Am I supposed to offer you a contract with my organization?” “Fuck your piss-ant little Azerbaijan outfit,” I snarled. “You can’t fucking afford me. You might think your family is hot shit in the eastern block, but you’re nothing around here. However, Gavino Greco has the means to pay me what I’m worth.” His eyes narrowed, and I hoped I hadn’t taken it too far. I needed him to think I didn’t give a shit about him—only Greco—or I wasn’t going to be able to pull it off. If I came across as too nice and compliant, he’d know something was up. “So talk to him,” Micah snapped back. “What the fuck do you want with me?” “Well, that’s exactly where you come in,” I informed him. I inhaled on the cigarette again, watching the red glow warm the center of my palm. “I need you to arrange a meeting. Neutral ground— like this place.” “Why would I do that for you?” “Well, ultimately I would say it’s in your best interest.” I sat back and tossed the cigarette onto the nicely polished hardwood floor before stomping it out with my boot. “If I keep working for Moretti, you’re going to move to the top of my list, especially considering your sister is banging his son. He’s not too thrilled with that, you know.” Micah glared. “He’ll probably add her to my roll as well,” I added. “Considering I killed off his secondary cleaner, I’d be the only one given the job. Without me, he’s a little paralyzed right now. If you don’t want to play nice, though, that’s okay. I’ll just do a couple more jobs for Moretti before I leave town.” “You’ve made your point,” he snarled. “Glad to hear you can be reasoned with,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” I wrote my phone number on a napkin and tossed it to him before I stood up and left the bar. I took a deep breath of summer air as I walked back into the street and headed to the nearest bus stop. Nothing could have made that go any smoother.

Chapter 13—Tentative Agreement Though I was quite sure Micah Severinov went straight to Greco with my offer, he took his sweet time getting back to me. It took several days for me to receive his phone call, but I had expected the delay tactics and chose to spend the time finding a new apartment. I found the perfect one just a few blocks away from the Loop near the Green Line, which gave me easy access back to downtown. It was a smaller place than my old one, and with two people and a big dog, it seemed a little cramped to me, but still perfect for what we needed. Lia wasn’t complaining—she thought the place was extravagant. It was much bigger than the place she had been in and had a nice pool and a balcony with a good view of the area around us. There was green space for Odin’s quick trips outside and a nice dog park a couple blocks away. We moved in at night and had everything brought over within a couple of days. Lia hated the whole living-out-of-boxes thing and worked hard to get the essentials unpacked as quickly as possible. There was still a bunch of shit back at my place—I didn’t want it to look abandoned—but all of her stuff fit in the back of my car. She didn’t have much. “I don’t need anything,” Lia insisted. “Yeah, fine,” I argued, “but what do you want?” “Nothing.” Frustrating fucking woman. Why was it that on the rare occasion I did feel like buying shit for a chick, she didn’t want anything? “I can just go out and get you stuff without you looking at it first,” I threatened. “You said you didn’t want me out and about until you ‘took care of business,’” she reminded me. “Besides, I’ve spent all afternoon moving shit all around and finding a place for it—I’m not up for a bunch of shopping on top of it all.” “There’s always online shopping,” I countered. “You don’t even have enough clothes to last you a week.” “That’s why we got a place with a washer-dryer.” “Bullshit.” I pulled out my laptop and threatened to buy one of everything at Macys-dot-com until Lia finally gave up and sat down with me. I pulled her onto my lap and kissed at her neck while she picked out a few things from a cheaper website. She argued some more when I insisted on buying matching jewelry for the clothes she ordered, saying she only ever wore the necklace made from the quarter she’d once bounced off my ass. I used my mouth and hands to persuade her until she finally relented. Just to make a point, I paid extra for next-day shipping. Lia turned around and straddled me. Her lips met mine, and I grabbed her ass to hold her against

my cock as she kissed me in thanks. My hands wandered under her shirt, which quickly left her body and dropped to the floor along with her bra. My lips covered her nipples one after the other, and I pushed her skirt up her thighs so I could grab the edge of her panties. “You didn’t order any more underwear for me,” Lia said. “If you keep tearing them off, I’m going to run out!” Lia giggled as I held her up with one arm and unfastened my jeans with the opposite hand. A moment later, I shoved her skirt up around her waist, pulled her panties to one side, and listened to her cry out as I impaled her with my cock. I held her against me for a moment, then grabbed hold of her ass and moved her up and down over my shaft. “You feel so fucking good,” I growled as I nipped at the skin of her shoulder. Lia’s arms went around my neck, and she held on as I pulled her down onto me and pushed up with my hips. I looked down to where we were connected and watched my cock moving in and out of her. “Watch,” I told her. “Watch me fuck you.” Her eyes moved down, and her mouth hung open slightly as she panted hot breath across my face. Her pupils dilated as she watched us move together, and her breathing increased until she was nearly gasping. “You like that? You like watching my cock in you?” “Shit! Evan!” “Come on me,” I commanded. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.” “Almost…” she panted as she set a slightly faster pace. I drove into her again and again, grasping her ass in both hands as I pulled her against me until I felt her muscles clenching down, and she cried out. I kept up the tempo as she moaned and nearly collapsed against my chest. “Fuck, yes!” I wrapped an arm around her waist as I brought her down one last time and poured semen deep inside of her. “Jesus,” she muttered against my shoulder. I laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, content to hold her there as long as she was willing to stay right where she was. It didn’t matter that the chair was digging into my ass uncomfortably—the rest of me felt too good to care. I listened to her breathing slow and become steady. Her arms slacked slightly, and I realized she had fallen asleep on me. After unpacking shit, forced internet shopping, and a good, fierce fucking, she was completely worn out. Cradling her head against my shoulder, I inhaled the scent of her hair and felt myself smile. ***** Gavino Greco wanted to meet me back at Quay, and it occurred to me I needed to know a bit more

about the owners, bartender, and clientele, but it would have to wait for another time. When Micah called me back, they wanted to meet immediately. Not one to be stupid, I brought both my Beretta in its shoulder holster and a blade, which fit nicely into my boot. As I entered the bar, I saw Gavino Greco, Craig Flannigan, who appeared to be acting as his bodyguard these days, Micah, and Micah’s uncle, Andrey Severinov. Greco sat in the lounge area where Micah had been when we met previously with Andrey sitting next to him. Craig was standing to Greco’s right, and Micah took up a similar position on Andrey’s left. I evaluated each of them carefully as I approached the table. Greco was wearing an expensive Italian suit not too different from the one I was wearing. He sat back in the booth too casually, making it look forced, which it probably was. He was uncomfortable with the situation, and his cheek twitched slightly, showing me his nervousness. Craig Flannigan had shaved off the thick, red beard he usually had, and his hair had been cut shorter than it was when I had seen him last. He stood up straight to show off his height and had his feet positioned farther apart than they needed to be. He reminded me of a cat trying to make itself look bigger and more ferocious than it actually was. Still, there was a clear outline of a gun under his jacket, and he wasn’t trying to hide it. He wasn’t someone to underestimate though he wasn’t a bright guy at all. We’d been in close quarters before, and I’d gotten the better of him. The glare in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten. Andrey Severinov was lanky and blond, much like his younger nephew. I hadn’t met him before, but I’d seen plenty of pictures of him. Of the group, he was the most difficult to read, his face calm and serene. Nothing in his posture indicated he was concerned about anything. Micah was just grinning, but whether that was because he was getting in good with the bosses by bringing me to them for business endeavors or because they planned on killing me right here and now, I didn’t know. I reached the table and looked directly into the face of Gavino Greco. I held out my hand, which he took slowly. “A pleasure to meet with you under amenable circumstances, sir,” I said. “Are they?” he asked cautiously as we shook hands. “That’s my intent, sir.” He raised his eyebrows at me and then glanced to Andrey. “I don’t believe you’ve met,” he said. “Andrey Severinov, Evan Arden.” “Good to finally meet you in person, sir.” I shook his hand as well. “I know you by reputation,” Andrey said. He had a slight Russian accent that was not shared by his nephew. “I have to admit to being a little surprised in the way that we are meeting.” “Things change,” I said simply. I nodded at both Craig and Micah and then took my seat across from the two men in charge.

“We shall see,” Andrey responded curtly. “Ultimately, Mister Arden, I don’t trust you.” Greco leaned back and put his beefy arms up to lace his hands behind his head. I wanted to tie them back there and maybe knock him to the ground head first before putting a bullet in his brain, but I had to keep up pretenses. “I can understand that, sir,” I replied. “We haven’t exactly been operating on the same side in the past. I can assure you, though, my loyalties simply come with a price tag associated with them.” “You saying that Moretti doesn’t pay you enough anymore?” It wasn’t an unexpected question, but I paused long enough to make him believe I had to think about it. “My loyalty can be bought,” I said sternly. “My disloyalty, however—that gets earned.” “And how exactly did this occur?” Greco wanted to know. “I expect my employer to have my back if I end up in the slammer,” I said succinctly. “He didn’t. I’m done with him.” “That’s it?” “You don’t think that’s enough?” My tone was daring but only slightly. I narrowed my eyes to show my anger over the situation, and Greco seemed to buy into it. “So now you are looking for other employment,” Gavino stated. “From someone with the means to pay me, yes, sir,” I confirmed. Gavino nodded his head slowly and then glanced at Andrey, who also nodded. “What do you say to a trial run?” Greco suggested. “Tell me what you have in mind.” I leaned back in my seat and took out a cigarette. Both Gavino and Andrey watched as I lit it and dropped the lighter back into my pocket. I looked back to Gavino and waited for him to explain. “There is a man—a nuisance, shall we say?—who I would like to see out of my hair.” “Name him.” I made sure I didn’t change my expression at all, though I had no idea what name he might pull out of his ass and demand I kill as a way of proving I’d work for him. It could be anyone. “Lenny Yates.” I knew the guy. He wasn’t all that high up in Rinaldo’s organization, and if I was going to be completely honest, I didn’t mind doing the hit, not that he was an asshole or anything, but because he wasn’t very important to the organization as a whole. He was more of a gofer than anything, which is why Greco had so much information on him in the first place. He was put out there to be an easier target than those who might actually be missed—a patsy to take the brunt of the violence directed toward the group if the time ever came. Looked like the time had come.

“Consider it done,” I replied. I took a long drag off my cigarette and blew smoke up into the air. “You want his actual head delivered to you, or will a photo suffice?” “You don’t want to know why I want him out of the way?” “If you care to say,” I replied, “but it doesn’t make any difference to me. That’s how I operate—I don’t need justification for what I do—just a name. You want it done, so I’ll do it. I’m assuming you’re going to refuse to pay me once it’s done, so let’s get all the bullshit out of the way up front, all right?” Greco smirked. “The first one’s a freebie,” I stated. “I show off my skills, which you already know about anyway, as well as my intentions. I’ll take him out, and I won’t even use a sniper rifle so it won’t be obvious that it’s me—not until I’m on your payroll officially. After that, it will be your call.” Greco raised an eyebrow and gave a slight nod. It sounded completely reasonable, and he didn’t have to know that my Barrett was still in the hands of the cops. “After that, you pay me my going rate—fifty G’s per, seventy-five if I need to take care of it out of town.” “That’s pretty steep,” Greco said, his grin becoming somewhat incredulous. “It’s my rate,” I said definitively. “I’m flexible when we’re talking about a quick, easy hit, like you telling me to kill the dude in your office as I’m standing there, and he’s being an asshole. I’m already there; he’s there; no recon work for me. Bang! It’s done. You’d get a discount for that one.” “I’d pay to see that,” Micah snickered. Andrey glanced over his shoulder, silencing the younger man. “You’d probably be the one with the barrel end pointed at him,” Greco remarked as he also looked pointedly at Micah. He turned back to me. “That’s still a steep rate, and it’s not like you are all that careful about who sees you.” “Consider it added insurance,” I told him. “If I’m seen, it just means I get the heat, not you.” “That’s how you see it, huh?” “Pretty much.” I watched Greco as he considered what I was saying and found him lacking. I wasn’t even sure he was actually thinking about anything but just trying to give the impression that he was. The more I talked to him, the less impressed I was. I also knew better than to underestimate him. Even stupid people can surprise you, and being surprised usually meant death. Or worse. “You do this for me,” Greco said. “You take out this man, and we’ll talk afterwards.” I nodded slowly. “There are just a couple of things I’ll need up front,” I informed him. I palmed the tip of my cigarette and took another pull off of it. The smoke trailed up between my fingers.

Greco raised an eyebrow, and Micah folded his arms across his chest. “Told you,” the Russian muttered. “Keep your trap shut,” Greco ordered. “What is it you think you need from me?” I pulled a small piece of paper out of my pocket, the motion setting both Micah and Flannigan reaching for their guns, and slid it across the low table. Greco reached out and spun the paper around so he could read it. “Weapons, a base of operations, and ten Gs,” he muttered. “Find your own damn weapons—you have the contacts.” “Contacts under the employ of Moretti,” I said. “Do you want them so easily traced back to me? I told you I wouldn’t be sniping, so I’ll need something a little different.” He huffed through his nose. “What kind of base of operations?” Greco asked. “Nothing big or fancy,” I clarified. “Someplace on the border of your territory and Moretti’s. Somewhere right around here would be fine—I need to be able to work from a place near downtown. Moretti owns my apartment—I can’t use that place and consider it secure.” He didn’t like it, which was obvious, but he also couldn’t deny the logic of either of the first two requests. Greco glared, turned the paper toward his guard, and looked up at him as he tapped the list of rifles and handguns I required. The guard nodded. “Not a problem,” he said. “And a secure location?” I asked. Greco looked over to Severinov, who also nodded. “We can provide,” he stated, “but I don’t think we should trust him. I want to know more about why he wishes to work with us.” “I don’t give a shit about working with you,” I corrected. “Like I told your nephew—you mean nothing to me.” I teetered on being too disrespectful, but I had to give the impression I was only going to lower myself so far. “You’re insulting!” the Russian snapped back. “You’re nothing,” I replied coldly. I sat up in the chair and leaned forward, looking straight at Greco. “Look—I can either do this here and be an asset for your organization, or I can move my ass to New York and provide my services to another outfit.” “Why don’t you just move to New York?” Greco asked. “It seems it would be safer for you.” “Because I like Chicago,” I replied. I leaned back again and watched him, waiting for an answer.

“The traffic in New York sucks.” Greco took in a couple long breaths, looked to Andrey, and then looked at his fingernails, all in a lame ruse to give the impression he hadn’t already decided, but eventually bobbed his head in agreement. “You will get your space and your guns,” Greco said, “but no money from me up front. You’ll get your ten grand after the job is done.” I snorted through my nose. The only reason I had put the cash on the list was to give him something to deny me. “Sure I will,” I mumbled. I kept my cigarette cupped against my hand as I took a long drag. “Why do you hold it like that?” Micah piped up as he nodded toward my cigarette. I looked him in the eye. “Snipers look for the light,” I told him. “Even without night vision, it’s clearly visible with a scope from a mile away. Makes you an easy target if they can see the tip—just aim for the light.” His eyes narrowed at me a bit. “Are we finished here?” Greco asked, ignoring Micah’s interruption. “Yep.” I took a final drag of my smoke and stubbed it out on the table. “It’s a deal. My number’s on the back of the paper. Call me when you have my shit.” I stood and turned my back to them. It was a bold move, and I meant it to look as such. Craig could have easily pegged me in the back if he wanted to, but I was fairly certain Gavino Greco was already seeing me for the asset I was. There was no shot as I walked through the door and let it slam behind me. ***** It took less than twelve hours for Gavino to deliver, including a little room in a hotel a few blocks away from Quay, up near the top floor with easy access to the stairs and roof. Inside the room were the assault rifle I had requested, a Glock, a SIG, and a couple other rifles and handguns. I’d only really cared about the AR and the SIG—the other weapons were extras in case Greco decided to play hardball about my requests. I checked over the weapons, made sure they hadn’t been tampered with or anything, and then turned to Gavino and Craig. Andrey hadn’t joined them for this little exchange, and Micah had been stationed outside the door, but he was still listening intently. “It’ll be done,” I informed him. “When?” he asked. “You haven’t actually paid me for this,” I reminded him, “so it’ll be done when I feel like it.” I was testing the waters, no doubt. I needed to know exactly how far I could go—how far I could push—and still have him agreeable. He narrowed his eyes, and Craig crossed his arms as I made a bit of a display to show my annoyance.

“A few days,” I told him. “No more than that.” I actually planned to have it done within a few hours, but he didn’t need to know that. “Good.” “You never told me if you wanted his actual head or not,” I reminded him. “I usually go with photos because my carving skills are a little subpar. I tend to make a mess, but it’s your choice.” Gavino took a slight step back. “Pictures are fine,” he said. I held in a laugh as I shooed them all out of the room. From the window, I watched them cross the street and head back to the bar. I shoved the AR and the SIG into a duffel bag before I left the room, locking it behind me. I used the roof access to check out the scene from there, was pretty happy with the view, and then made my way down and out the back of the building where Gavino and his crew would have less of a chance of seeing me leave. I’d been gone too long and wanted to check on Lia as quickly as I could. I walked, took a bus, got on the L for a few stops, and then took a bus back to the Loop. I loved riding on Chicago’s mass transit systems anyway, so covering my routes wasn’t a chore for me usually. This time, though, when I had Lia waiting for me, I had to force myself to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The desire to both keep her safe and get back to her as quickly as I could was in conflict. I traveled up north, then back down south, and finally got on a bus that would take me to the new apartment. It was rush hour, and the bus was overcrowded, so I stood and hung onto one of the bars for a while until there was a free seat. More people packed on, and I tried to stop the claustrophobia from getting to me. It was a bit too much like the bus I rode just after killing Terry and Bridgett, and I was tense and agitated as people crowded around me. At that time, I had been without sleep for days and had nearly pulled out my gun and started shooting. I wasn’t in the same state this time, but I was still feeling quite off. I tried looking out the window for a while in hopes that the open space outside would help. It did —for a while. Then I saw him. It was the same kid in the same sand-covered clothes. He was standing on the corner of the street right by the bus stop with his arms out at his sides. There was something in his hand, and I was fairly sure it was a detonator wired to the explosives underneath his shirt. I pushed my way off the bus and ran to the corner, but he was gone. With my fingers curled into fists, I looked up and down the street to see if I could locate him again, but there was no sign of him. “That’s because he isn’t fucking there.” I cringed at the sound of my own voice directed at nothing and no one but myself. I squeezed my

eyes shut, opened them, and took one last look around before boarding the next bus. When I finally arrived at the apartment, Lia was in the kitchen, putting things away from one of the last of the boxes, and Odin was snuffling around in the corners, still unsure about his new surroundings. After putting my newly acquired weapons in the front closet, I kissed Lia’s cheek, which she seemed to find amusing, and played fetch with Odin for a bit. I relaxed pretty quickly, even in the less-than-familiar surroundings. The stuff and the company were all familiar, which seemed to help. It felt all too comfortable, and as I sat back on the couch and observed Lia make dinner, it started to concern me a bit. It felt great—no doubt about it—but it also felt wrong somehow. Maybe because of who I was and what I had done, I just didn’t feel like I deserved it all, but I wasn’t sure. Even after my little episode on the bus, I was happy. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to experiencing. Complacency is a bad thing. My mind moved into itself. “Got a spare smoke, sir?” “Sure.” I pull one out and hand it over to the private, who lights it quickly before leaning back against the wall next to me.” “I’m heading back to the infantry unit in about an hour,” he says. “I’ll report back all the intel you gave me. Any chance they’ve discovered our position?” “We've been here two weeks, private,” I say. “If we were going to be found, we would have been found already.” “Evan?” “Huh?” I glanced up at Lia who was looking at me with questions in her eyes. “Are you all right?” “Yeah, sorry.” I rubbed my face and felt annoyed with the stubble. “I asked you if chicken was all right for the stir-fry. There’s also beef.” “Chicken is good.” I thought about my route back to the apartment. It had been complicated enough, but that didn’t mean there was no way for someone to have followed me. I didn’t think anyone had, but there had been times in the past I thought that, too—times when I had been wrong. We ate; I fed Odin, and then I stepped out onto the balcony to smoke after I had cleaned up the dishes. I had to insist on it, telling Lia that the cook didn’t do the cleaning. It was a phrase I had learned in the convent, though I hadn’t used it since then. Throughout the rest of the evening of television-watching and somewhat subdued fucking—for us, anyway—my paranoia over being followed grew. Lia seemed to sense that I was on edge, but I wouldn’t tell her why. I didn’t want her to worry about it and then not be able to sleep. If she didn’t sleep, I

wouldn’t either. She fell asleep, and I got back up and went out into the living room. I looked around at the handful of still unpacked boxes but wasn’t sure where anything in them should go, so I sat on the couch and watched Odin watch me from his bed. I tried not to think, but it didn’t work. Memories assaulted me. My mind replayed a vision of myself looking down the scope of my Barrett and squeezing the trigger. “What the hell was that, sergeant?” My captain’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to look at him. “Insurgent,” I say quietly. “I could see the explosives under his shirt—he was heading in our direction. As soon as I hit him, his hand must have release the detonator.” I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Keep watch,” he says. “He may not have been the only one. I’ll send a couple of our boys out to check what’s left.” “Stupid fucking kid. What made him do something like that? They knew we were on the watch.” Odin’s wet nose came in contact with my bare leg, and he snuffed at me. I reached down and thanked him for his observation skills with a scratch behind the ears. As much as I tried not to let it seep into me, the stress was just too much. Eventually, I pushed myself off the couch, pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped into my shoulder holster, and tucked my Beretta in it. I grabbed the assault rifle and a magazine of hollow-tipped rounds from the closet. Out on the balcony, I leaned my back against the rails and watched. It was a quiet night—too quiet for my preferences. I liked the noise of the city, but there wasn’t much to be heard here. Quiet gave me the advantage if someone was approaching, but it also made me a bit jumpy every time a bird landed in a tree. I had a decent view of the river and tried to focus down the rifle’s barrel in that direction, but there wasn’t a scope on it, so I couldn’t see much. I’d have to get it fitted with a scope. I sat out there for a long time, just looking down to the street and watching for anything that didn’t look right to me. With my fingers curled around the AR, I felt a bit more in control. In the morning, I’d find Lenny Yates and do a little dirty work. If I were going to admit it, I would have to say I was looking forward to it, not because of who it was, but because I hadn’t taken anyone out in a while. I was eager to get back to work and to show Gavino I was serious about joining up with him. It would also get me that much closer to getting Trent what he wanted so I could get Lia out of town. Nothing was going to stop me from getting this job done.

Chapter 14—Heated Argument On the northwest side of Chicago, next to a low-rent school district’s transportation department, there was a two-story building where Rinaldo’s underlings were often found. The area was used for a variety of activities. There were a handful of ancient, broken down school buses that looked to be long forgotten. They made for quick and easy temporary storage, and the area was an out-of-the-way place to conduct some of the smaller transfers of goods for money. The building also served as an occasional residence for those who didn’t have anywhere else to live. It was simply referred to as the warehouse by Rinaldo’s crew. I’d never lived there myself, but I’d been there plenty of times. When someone in the organization got out of line, I’d killed there a few times as well. It was right by the river, which made dumping the bodies quick and easy. From the rooftop of the warehouse, I watched a lot full of parked school buses as the sun rose over the trees and shone down on my back. It was a beautiful summer morning but too early for people to actually be working on the buses in need of repair. That didn’t mean the lot was empty though. Lenny Yates and a dark-haired, greasy guy in faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt had just entered one of the buses. I didn’t recognize the other guy, but Lenny was easy enough to spot. He was tall, lanky, and was probably recruited for basketball in his younger days. Too bad he had such a coke habit, or he might have been good player. Instead, he worked the shit end of Moretti’s business and snorted most of his earnings. I was glad my information was still fresh enough from before I had been locked up to remember he had been spending a lot of time at the warehouse, smuggling weapons in the back of the buses. I observed for a while as the two of them unloaded several small crates from the back of a U-Haul trailer attached to a pickup truck and took them through a hole in the fence and into one of the buses off by itself. They were right next to a group of trees lining the Chicago River, which would be convenient enough if I wanted a place to dump the trash when I was done taking it out. I moved silently to the side of the building and positioned myself behind an air conditioning unit. It was decent cover as long as no one from higher up happened to look down. The air conditioner also provided a little cover noise, but there wasn’t a silencer for the AR, so it wouldn’t make much difference once I fired. The vantage point from the roof wasn’t a great angle, so I moved quickly to the south side of the warehouse where there were a couple of trees right up against the building. I tossed the AR over my shoulder and reached for the closest branch. It was sturdy, and I gripped the limb tightly as I tossed my leg over the side and shimmied down the trunk. I looked back over toward the bus, but they were still inside. The tree right next to me had a nice fork in the trunk, and I jumped up to settle myself in the middle of it. The view was perfect from here and gave me more cover if there was someone in one of the taller buildings nearby. No one would be able to see me where I was. I reached behind my neck and carefully secured a set of earplugs in my ears. While I looked toward the pickup, I reached to my side with my right hand, grabbed the pistol grip, and brought the

assault rifle around slowly. With my left hand wrapped around the magazine, I moved the gun to eye level and lined up the rear and front sights on top of the barrel. The greasy guy in jeans came out first with Lenny right behind him. They moved over to the side of the pickup truck and right into my line of vision. I breathed in, then let the air out slowly. My finger pulled back against the trigger. Two blasts. Two bodies on the ground. I jumped out of the tree and ran forward quickly. The greasy guy had been a clean shot, but Lenny was hit in the throat and still alive. His eyes widened as he saw me, and he opened his mouth. No sound came from it, but I wasn’t much of a conversationalist while on the job anyway, so I put another shot in his brain with my Beretta. I pulled out an old Polaroid camera from its case attached to my belt, took two pictures, and then quickly hauled the bodies to the river. I knelt down by a pile of broken concrete blocks and made sure both the bodies were on their way down the river before I shoved myself back up on my feet to make my escape. As I did, I could hear sirens approaching. Someone had heard the gunfire and called it in, but I had plenty of time to get out of the area. My only regret was not having time to check out the weapons in the bus before I had to move on. I ran down the tree line, staying under cover of the thick summer growth. A rental car I had picked up from the airport was parked on a nearby street, and I tossed my weapons in the back, climbed behind the wheel, and slowly drove off down the street. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the first of the police cars turning off the main road and onto the side street near the warehouse. With a smile on my face, I drove out of the area, ditched the car, and headed back to the hotel provided by Gavino. I spent about ten minutes yanking little burrs off my boots and jeans—they were all over the place near the river’s edge. I decided to leave the duffel bag there in the room so I wasn’t carrying the murder weapon around so quickly after a hit. I’d come back for it later. If it had been my Barrett, I would have kept it with me, but I didn’t give a shit about these guns. With the two pictures sealed in an envelope shoved into my pocket, I took a complicated route out of the area. Bus, train, bus again. I grabbed a cab back to Michigan Avenue, and then jumped on the bus to head back home. I got off a few blocks away, preferring to walk the last bit to make damn sure I wasn’t being followed. Though I’d made the hit at daybreak, it had taken me most of the rest of the day to get back to the new apartment. It was past the usual suppertime, but it was mid-June and the sun was still up. Outside the air was warm and comfortable. The wind wasn’t as bad, either. I was used to a lot of lake wind, but we were a little farther west than my previous place was located where there wasn’t so much of a constant breeze. When I approached the apartment, Lia was standing in the green space with tears in her eyes, holding onto the end of Odin’s leash. There was an older woman beside her with another dog lying nearby on the ground. The woman was shaking her finger and shouting at Lia. “You are responsible for your dog’s behavior!” the woman was yelling. I half remembered seeing the woman before, walking a really big, fluffy shepherd-type dog. I

wasn’t sure of the actual breed, but it was big with long, thick hair and coloring similar to a collie. The woman was most certainly of retirement age—well beyond, really—and very small in stature. She looked kind of ridiculous walking a dog that had to be a hundred and thirty pounds. “I’m sorry!” Lia exclaimed. “I tried to hold on to him—he’s never even tried to get away from me before! I don’t know what got into him!” “What the hell?” I groaned as I walked up. Lia’s eyes found me, and the tears started flowing. I looked over at the woman, who was wearing tan slacks and one of those swimsuit cover-ups over her blouse. She had her hands on her hips, and her head bobbed up and down as she talked. “Your wife has no control over your dog!” she barked. I raised an eyebrow in Lia’s direction over the marital status assumption but didn’t correct the woman. Lia seemed too upset to notice. “I tried to hold onto him, Evan—I swear!” Lia started to cry harder. “I couldn’t keep my grip, and he ran off! The next thing I know, he’s…he’s…” “He violated my baby!” the woman roared as she indicated the well-groomed dog now sitting on the ground next to her, licking at her own nether-regions. I looked over to my dog, who sat panting in front of Lia’s feet, looking very proud of himself. It wasn’t difficult to assess the situation for what it was, and I had to grin and waggle my eyebrows at my buddy. The woman continued to fume. “We couldn’t pull them apart,” Lia said meekly. “You were hardly trying!” the woman shouted. “It was all I could do to keep Gretta calm!” “He growled at me!” “Hey!” I snapped at Odin, who immediately dropped to the ground and put his nose on his paws. I pointed over at Lia. “Don’t growl at her!” “You should have been here earlier!” the woman said as she turned to me. “He was completely out of control! Do you realize what he did?” It was pretty obvious. “He fucked your dog?” I tried to make it sound like a question though I didn’t have any doubt. I folded my arms across my chest and glared at the woman. “She was supposed to be bred with another Caucasian Shepherd later this week!” I leaned to the side to peer around the woman at the dog in the grass, who was still concentrating on her own after-care. “You mean you brought your in-heat bitch out here in the open for any other dog to smell and go nuts about her?” I cocked a thumb toward Odin. “And now you’re surprised he got a little horny?”

“She was on her leash and in my control the whole time!” “Then why didn’t you stop her from spreading her legs?” “Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped back at me. “We were just standing there when your beast attacked!” “She kinda looks like she enjoyed it,” I pointed out. The bitch was still licking herself but seemed just as happy about the whole thing as Odin did. Lia was visibly upset; the woman was irate, and I thought the whole situation was hilarious. I reached out and took Odin’s leash from Lia, then stepped in front of her a bit so I was between her and the woman with the—very likely impregnated—dog. “You are as insolent as your mutt!” the woman informed me. “Probably more so,” I said with a nod. “Look, it happened—can’t change that now. If she does have pups, I’ll pay for it, okay?” “You’ll pay the cost of the litter she was supposed to have!” the woman demanded. “How much is that?” “She could have had as many as ten of them,” the woman said with a smirk. “At two thousand a piece, you do the math!” “Twenty grand for a bunch of dogs?” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I’ll pay you based on how many pups she does have.” “I would have bred her multiple times with the stud dog,” the woman informed me. She gave me a nasty little smirk to go with her attitude. “She would have had more.” “Then let him fuck her a couple more times,” I suggested. “He could use the action.” “Most certainly not!” “Then the deal stands.” I took a step forward and leaned closer to the woman. I made sure I was right up in her face and staring down at her before I dropped my voice low. “I suggest you take it because the humor of this situation is starting to wane a bit. You don’t want me pissed off, or I might decide to just take a clothes hanger and fix the whole situation. Capisce?” I didn’t tend to use Italian as much as my co-workers, but quite frankly, sometimes it made the point better than English. The woman took a step back as I lifted my eyebrows and stared her down. She obviously picked up on my meaning, huffed her agreement, and then hauled her dog back toward the apartment entrance. “Jesus, Evan!” Lia whispered as the woman scurried away. “It’s all right,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I don’t know if I could have cock-blocked him under those circumstances either.” I snickered a little, grinned down at Odin, and started back to the apartment.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lia muttered as she fell into step with me. “What, then?” “You practically threatened her!” I shrugged one shoulder. “It shut her up, didn’t it?” “Not the point.” “What is the point?” I sighed and opened the door for Lia and me to enter with Odin prancing behind me, still looking self-satisfied and downright cocky. “What if she calls the police?” “For what? Me offering to pay her for her fucking dogs?” “No, for threatening to violently abort them!” “I wouldn’t have done that,” I scoffed. “Besides, at that point, it would be her word against mine.” “I was a witness you know.” I stopped for a minute and looked at her. “Are you saying you’d speak out against me?” I watched her carefully, wondering if she would really do that. I was used to running in the kind of circles where that offense would be punishable by death, and I was a little taken aback that she’d consider it. My skin went a little cold at the idea. “Are you saying you would ask me to lie for you?” “Yes.” I kept looking at her, waiting for her to respond, but she just seemed dumbfounded. I was a little pissed but figured the conversation was over and she understood where I was coming from, so I made my way back to the apartment with Odin trailing behind and Lia remaining silent. At least, she did until we got inside. “I have no idea whether you’re serious or not,” she said. I walked into the kitchen and started to rummage around in the fridge. I didn’t reply to her because I didn’t see any point in answering. The whole conversation was making me mad, and I honestly didn’t know how to deal with it. My idea of conflict resolution just didn’t fit the situation. Avoidance was my next best option, but Lia seemed hell-bent on keeping me from doing that. “You said you wouldn’t really hurt that dog, but then you would expect me to lie for you. How am I supposed to know when you mean it and when you don’t?” I opened up one of the drawers in the refrigerator, but I only looked in the direction of the food that was in there. None of the actual contents were registering inside my agitated brain. I closed the

drawer and then pushed some of the containers around to see what was behind them. “Are you even listening to me?” Lia asked. “Yes,” I replied. “Then why aren’t you saying anything?” “I’m hungry.” “Do you think this might be a little more important?” I backed away and slammed the fridge door hard enough that the contents rattled. “No,” I said, “I don’t. I think this is total bullshit.” Lia started to open her mouth, but that’s when my phone rang. I was thrilled for the interruption and grabbed it out of my pocket immediately. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered just to get myself out of the argument with Lia. “Yeah?” I said into the phone. “Open the fucking door,” the unfortunately familiar voice on the other end said. As if I wasn’t pissed off enough. Trent stood in the hallway looking like the rat-bastard he was when I opened the door, but I blocked him from coming inside. “Who’s this?” Lia asked quietly from behind me. “Get in the fucking bedroom,” I snapped. “Now. Stay there until I tell you otherwise.” Lia grumbled something under her breath before she walked away from me and into the bedroom. “You do like to play ‘Mister Elusive,’ don’t you?” Agent Trent had somehow managed to get my phone number and the location of my apartment. The annoyance I had been feeling toward the situation with Lia coupled with Odin’s impending fatherhood began to boil into something far more heated. Fuck a duck. “I don’t like people showing up unexpectedly,” I replied. “What do you want, Trent?” “I expect regular updates,” he snapped back at me. “Well, I didn’t see that in the fucking contract!” I yelled at him. “As I recall, my instructions were to get you something on Gavino Greco that could put him away. That’s going to take some fucking time, so get off my dick!” “Listen, you little shit,” Trent growled. “You need to remember who is calling the shots here. If I don’t think you’re performing up to standards, I’ll pull this deal, and your ass goes straight back to jail. Considering you’ve already put a couple of Moretti’s guys in the river, I don’t think he’ll be inclined to help you out. He’d probably be more inclined to take it out on that pretty little brunette’s cunt.” I tightened my fingers around the phone still in my hand, tight enough to make my knuckles go

white. My teeth crushed against each other, and my eyes began to burn behind their lids. I barely stopped myself from killing him right then and there. “Don’t say another fucking word about her,” I hissed through my teeth. “Hey, bitch!” he yelled out, still smiling. “Maybe you ought to check into the asshole you’re living with!” I stepped closer and shoved him farther into the hallway. “Shut your fucking mouth,” I warned. “Sore spot, huh?” I could see the laughter in his eyes. “Is she nice and tight on your cock, huh? Don’t wanna share? Then you better fucking listen to me.” “Don’t push me,” I warned. It was taking everything in my power just to control my breathing and not crush the phone at the same time. “I said I’d do what you wanted, but don’t fucking push me.” “I want updates,” Trent repeated. “I’m assuming those two dead bodies got you into Greco’s outfit?” “Not yet confirmed,” I replied, “but that should do it.” “You tell me when you’re in,” he ordered. “Tell me immediately.” He turned around and stomped down the hall to the elevator. I slammed the door shut and then threw the phone across the room, shattering it against the wall. How the fuck did he figure out where we were, anyway? “What was that?” Lia asked as she came out of the bedroom and looked at the phone debris on the floor next to the wall. “What happened to the phone?” “I dunno,” I snapped back at her. “Maybe there’s a problem with the fucking battery.” “You’re resorting to sarcasm?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Only when you insist on asking stupid-ass questions.” Lia’s eyes blazed, and she placed her hands on her hips as she started in on me again. “I’m sorry if smashing phones and threatening the neighbors is something that’s so commonplace with you, but it’s still a bit of a shock for me. I suppose I should also get used to having to lie for you as well? Do I need to learn to use a gun in case I need to kill for you?” “Now who’s fucking sarcastic?” “Am I?” Lia fumed. “I don’t know. I have no idea what you expect from me!” I didn’t know either, but I wasn’t about to say it. I stomped past her and into the bedroom. Eating was no longer important, and I just wanted the day to end. Lia continued to go on, but I stopped listening to her as I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower while she was in mid sentence. The hot water didn’t improve my mood.

Lia was sitting on the edge of the bed when I walked out wearing just a towel around my waist. Before she had a chance to say anything, I flipped on my electric toothbrush and acted like I couldn’t hear her. Unfortunately, that activity didn’t last very long, and when I turned around, she had her arms folded across her chest and her eyes focused right on me. I marched out of the room and poured myself a scotch on the rocks before going back to the bedroom. Attempting to ignore Lia’s glaring eyes, I stared out the window and sipped the drink. After a minute, I glanced back to her, but she was still obviously pissed. “You done with the avoidance tactics?” How did she understand me so well? “I could go with distraction,” I countered as I lowered the towel a little. Lia continued to glare with her arms crossed. I sighed and copied her gesture. “Why did you threaten that woman?” Lia demanded. “Why was that necessary?” “It was necessary to shut her up,” I answered. “I did it to keep you from seeing a side of me you really don’t want to run into.” “Do you get bigger muscles and turn green?” she asked. “Nice.” “I wasn’t raised like this, Evan! In my house, you didn’t threaten people when you were angry, and you didn’t lie. And you certainly didn’t kill people for money!” “You wanted to know!” I slammed the glass down onto the windowsill and then shouted at her as I moved toward the bed. “You wanted to know what all this shit was about. I didn’t want to fucking tell you, and I told you once it was out, I couldn’t take it back, but you still wanted to know!” “Knowing doesn’t mean I’m okay with it!” she yelled back. “It definitely doesn’t mean I’m going to participate in any of it!” I took another step forward, and Lia pushed herself backwards with her hands and the heels of her feet until she reached the center of the bed. I didn’t know exactly what she meant by not participating, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the details. I just knew that if she kept talking, I was going to get really pissed off, and I had to get her to stop. “You need to cut it out,” I told her. My knees bumped up against the bed. “Just drop it.” “No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going back to doing whatever the hell my boyfriend tells me to do. I’ve lived that life—not anymore.” I couldn’t take it anymore. In frustration, I moved forward, grabbed both her wrists in my hands, and held them up above her head as I pushed her into the mattress. Tossing one leg over her torso, I straddled her and leaned in close, which caused the towel around my waist to fall off to the side of the bed. “You are pissing me off,” I growled.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Lia’s jaw was set and her eyes tight—almost daring me. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was daring me to do, but the feeling was still there. “I don’t know yet. I’m not used to this shit.” “What ‘shit’?” “Having someone around who is questioning what I do or say.” “Is that what I’m doing?” “Yes.” “Maybe you need it,” Lia said. She tilted her head to one side a bit and twisted her hands. I didn’t release her wrists—I tightened my grip a little instead. Having her lying there beneath me—even though she was clothed—was getting me obviously hard. I watched Lia’s eyes glance down and dilate slightly at the sight of my cock lying on her stomach and growing by the second. I pulled her wrists together and gathered them in one hand before reaching down and taking my cock with the other hand. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft and stroked it a couple of times. “Maybe you need to keep your mouth shut,” I suggested as an alternative. “Maybe I need to give you something to fill it up for a while.” Her eyes narrowed again. “You think I’m really in the mood right now?” “I think you’re usually in the mood for my cock, yes.” “I’m mad at you,” she reminded me. She twisted her hips a bit but stopped as I tightened my thighs against her body. “You aren’t going anywhere,” I informed her. “What? Am I your prisoner now?” The images I had of her restrained in my bed entered my head again, and they were accompanied by thoughts of me holding her legs up against her chest as I fucked her. However, as I looked down her body and then up to her face, I could see she wasn’t sharing my fantasy at the moment. Her eyes went from flashing anger to somewhat fearful as she looked away from me. It pissed me off. “I don’t like this,” I fumed at her. “Don’t like what?” “Arguing with you.” Lia’s eyes narrowed at me. “So stop it,” she suggested, “and be reasonable.”

“I don’t want to be reasonable.” “Well, what do you want then?” she snapped back. I let go of my cock long enough to use that hand to unbutton Lia’s blouse and pull it open. Her bra hooked in the back, so I reached inside the cups and pulled her tits out where I could see them. I glanced back at her and saw her lip sucked into her mouth and her throat bob up and down. Her eyes were wary. “You afraid of me now?” I asked. “A little,” she admitted. “I told you I would never hurt you.” “What exactly are you doing now?” “Are you in pain?” I asked. I already knew the answer was no. I wasn’t holding onto her tightly —just firmly so she couldn’t move. She was barely struggling underneath me, which was actually serving to turn me on even more. Lia shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “I do want to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, though.” There it was—the slight parting of her lips, the rush of blood to her face, and the increase in her breath as her eyes darkened. The fear and hesitation were quickly replaced by additional quick glances at my cock and the sight of her tongue reaching out to moisten her lips. I didn’t ask her if she wanted it. I didn’t need the confirmation. I only needed her to lift her hips a little so I could drag her shorts down her legs, which she did without much prompting. Her panties were still around her knees, and her bra and shirt were still partially on, but it was enough for my tastes. I ran my hand up her body, pinched her nipples slightly, and then ran the back of my hand up her neck. I took two fingers and pressed them against her lips until she parted them. I slid them inside her mouth. “Suck.” She complied, and the feeling of her tongue over my fingers made me realize I’d never had my dick in her mouth. I only half considered straddling her face and fucking her mouth, but I knew I was still angry and pounding her pussy was a much better option. I pulled my wet fingers out of her mouth and then reached down to run them over her pussy lips. One of them found her entrance, invaded it, and was quickly joined by the second one. I decided she was as ready as she needed to be, pulled my fingers out of her, grabbed my dick by the base, and lined it up. In one quick movement, I was deep inside of her. Lia jumped and cried out with every thrust as I slammed into her—quick, hard, mercilessly. I gripped her wrists in both hands as I leaned over her, my heart pounding in my chest and my breaths coming in rapid gasps. Sweat quickly collected over my skin, but I didn’t slow down—I just fucked her harder.

Her body rocked beneath me, causing her tits to shake and bob deliciously, but I could only feel where we were connected. Her body hugged my dick, stroked my shaft, and gripped down on me as she pushed her panties the rest of the way off and wrapped her legs around my waist. She cried out again with a shudder. With a long, loud grunt, I emptied into her but didn’t stop pounding my cock into her body until I had completely finished coming in her. Even then, I stroked my softening dick in her a few times as the muscles in my arms began to shake. A bead of sweat trickled from the back of my neck and dropped onto her skin, right above her heart. I watched it travel over her flesh and down the side of her body, leaving a wet trail behind it as her chest rose and fell. I couldn’t hold myself up any longer and didn’t want to crush her, so I rolled to the side and collapsed against the mattress with Lia next to me. I kept my arms around her and held her to my chest as I continued to gasp for air. Lia’s fingers wrapped around my upper arm, but I didn’t look at her. I felt shredded inside of myself—like someone had literally gone into my guts with a set of knives and rotated them around for a while—and I didn’t understand why. It was nauseating and suffocating. I didn’t know what to do to make it stop. “Wow,” Lia sighed. “That was like the fight and the make-up sex all rolled into one.” I couldn’t find the humor at the moment and pushed away from her without speaking. I jumped out of the bed and crossed the room. “What’s wrong?” Lia called out. I glanced over my shoulder to see her sitting in the center of the bed with the sheet pulled up to her chest, and I wondered why chicks did that. I’d just been inside of her, and now she was shielding her tits. What sense did that make? “I just need a drink of water,” I said as I opened the bedroom door. “You want anything?” “No, I’m fine.” She looked like she was about to say something else, but I left before she had the chance. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Out in the kitchen, I poured myself some water from one of those filtration pitchers. I’d never used one before, but Lia had it with her stuff. The water felt cold on the back of my throat as I drank it down and then quickly poured another one. As I put the glass down, I glanced toward the balcony doors. There was someone out there. Instinct took over. I dropped to the ground and rolled backwards to put the kitchen island between me and the glass door. I was completely naked, and the closest gun was in the closet by the door. I could make it, but if whoever was out there was going to shoot, I wouldn’t have much cover. I decided to make a run for it, crashed into the closet, and knocked over a little decorative table next to the front door in the process. Fighting hard against the panic growing inside of me, I ripped open the closet door and grabbed my Beretta. I hadn’t heard any shots yet, but I still dived back behind the

couch as quickly as I could. I checked the magazine, clicked it into place, and wrapped my hand around the grip. I positioned myself at the edge of the couch and was about to turn and start firing when I heard movement inside. “Evan?” “Get back in the bedroom!” I screamed at Lia as she appeared in the doorway. “Evan! What’s happening?” I moved back around the couch where I had better cover as well as a better view of the balcony. It was also a little farther from Lia, and I would be able to draw fire away from her. I came around the far side and raised my gun again. From there, I could see the figure on the other side of the glass—a small, thin person with white, sand-covered clothes. It was the kid. He just stood there—tears coming out of his eyes—and looked at me. My hands started shaking. I couldn’t hold the gun straight any longer, but I also wasn’t so sure I was actually pointing it at anyone who was there. “Not fucking real,” I whispered. “Evan?” “Look out at the balcony,” I told her. Her head turned briefly toward the glass before looking back to me. There was no shock or fear in her eyes, which there certainly would have been if she had seen what I had. “There’s no one there, is there?” “No.” Lia looked again, this time tilting her head to the side for a better angle, but her answer was the same. “There’s no one there.” I squeezed my eyes shut before I looked again. There was nothing there. “Fuck.” I dropped down on my ass and leaned against the side of the couch with my elbows up on my knees and the Beretta dangling there with no purpose. Lia was beside me a moment later. “Are you all right?” She reached to touch my arm, but I shoved her hand away. “I’m fine,” I snapped. “Who was out there?” she asked. I shook my head. “No one.” I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand and laughed at myself. “We live on the fifteenth floor, for Christ’s sake—how would anyone get there?”

“I understand that,” Lia replied quietly. “Who did you think you saw?” I looked over to her, crouched on the floor a couple feet away from me like she was trying to coax some wild, wounded animal out of a cave. To top it off, she was as naked as I was. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it all and pushed against the carpet to stand myself up. “Come on,” I said as I reached my hand out for Lia’s, “let’s go back to bed.” She took my hand and followed me back into the bedroom and under the sheets. She was tentative to touch me at first, given how I had reacted in the other room, but I wrapped my arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around my head. We both relaxed with a long sigh. “Are you going to tell me what you saw?” she asked. “Just a kid,” I replied with a shrug. “You were going to shoot a kid?” “I shot him before.” I tilted my head up to see her better. “He was wrapped in explosives and headed for our base. I took him out from two kilometers away six years ago, and he shows up on my fucking balcony now. What’s up with that shit?” “I don’t know,” Lia replied. “Have you ever talked to your psychologist about him?” “No. Didn’t see any point.” “Maybe he can help you figure out what the point is,” she suggested. I looked at her for a long moment as I tried to come up with a way I could even begin to convey everything that had happened over there. I couldn’t possibly talk to Mark about every little detail, and I didn’t know how to put it into words that would make any sense. Besides, I knew exactly what Mark Duncan would say—seeing this kid was somehow important. The problem was that there were probably a thousand other important bits I wasn’t seeing. “No,” I finally said. I felt Lia tense at my words. “You can’t just ignore it,” she said. “Evan—you were about to shoot up the balcony door.” “I didn’t.” “But you would have!” “Maybe not,” I said with a shrug. I tucked my head against her body, hoping she was going to get the hint and drop it all. I wasn’t used to having someone else around me so much, let alone have to justify myself and my actions. It was uncomfortable at the very least. “You can’t keep going like this,” Lia said. Her hand ran over the back of my head slowly, and I relaxed a little. “It’s scaring me.” I opened my eyes and looked back up at her. All the stress and worry were plain on her face, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do to change that. I wasn’t sure that I could.

“I scare me sometimes,” I admitted. I cracked a bit of a smile, but it wasn’t returned. My tongue darted out over my lips. “I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t even know when it’s going to happen. It didn’t happen for years, and it just started again.” “When did it start up again?” Her fingers moved to my shoulder and over to my chest. With the palm of her hand, she stroked down to my abs and back up again. The feel of her touch was distracting, calming, and disarming. “Not too long after I met you,” I replied. “Well, some of it, anyway—the dreams, not being able to sleep—that started then. Seeing shit that isn’t there is more recent.” In the low light coming from the window, I could see the glistening in Lia’s eyes, and I hated it. I hated that I was the one making her feel that way and that there was nothing I could do to change it. I hated being this way and couldn’t even begin to understand how it happened. “I…I wasn’t always like this,” I said, my voice hushed. “I just don’t know…I don’t know what’s me inside and what isn’t.” “But that’s who I met in Arizona,” Lia said. “That’s the person who let a stranger stay with him, even though it was probably dangerous. That’s who cooked for me and…and…” “Fucked you?” I smiled slightly, and this time the gesture was returned. “That’s the man who understood what I needed more than anything else and exactly how to give it to me.” “It’s not like I didn’t want to do it,” I said. “I realize that.” Lia’s smile widened, and she blushed. “The point is, that was all you. So you are in there, Evan—I know you are.” I reached up and pushed her hair away from her forehead and stroked my fingertips down the side of her face as I talked. “There’s so much shit in my head—shit I can’t unsee or undo. Sometimes it feels like there’s something inside of me just…tearing me up inside and waiting to bust its way out. I think maybe…maybe if I could get that out, then maybe the person I was is still underneath.” I tightened my fingers slightly on her shoulder. I wanted to grip her as tightly as I could. “Someday—when we’re away from here, and it’s just us—will you help me? Will you help me get it out so I can be what you need?” Her hands cradled my face, and she brought her lips to brush quickly against my mouth. “Of course I will, Evan. Don’t you see? That’s why I’m staying.” Nothing was going to stop me from making sure she had the chance.

Chapter 15—Unexpected Gift “I keep seeing this kid I shot in when I was over there.” Mark Duncan was noticeably pissed off at me, not that I blamed him. As far as he had known, I dropped off the face of the planet once I left incarceration. Once I came out and told him I was hallucinating, he dropped the anger and looked me over carefully. “Is there someone you are seeing who looks like this kid and you think it’s him, or is there no one there at all?” “No one there, not when I try to get closer to him. He just vanishes.” “Are you hearing things, too?” “No.” “You did before though, didn’t you? When you were locked up?” “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “A few times.” “Did you see him then?” Mark asked. “No, not until a couple of weeks ago.” “Always the same person?” “Yeah.” I reached up and scratched at the back of my head. “How many times have you seen him?” “Three or four now, I guess.” I leaned back and took a calming breath. “I don’t understand why I see him. I killed plenty of people when I was there.” Mark sat back as well and chewed on the end of his pen. “Tell me about killing him.” I went over it all—how I had been on scout duty and had seen him approaching our base. I told him about the bombs strapped to him and how young he was. I even told him about my captain telling me I had done well. “So?” I asked. “What does it mean?” “It could mean a lot of things,” Mark said in typical, vague psychologist fashion. “Like you said —you’ve taken other lives.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he said it, and his posture changed minutely. He knows. I wasn’t sure what digging he had done over the past few weeks, but I had no doubt that he had found out what I did for a living, and it wasn’t paid-under-the-table roofing.

“What made this life different from the others?” he asked. I could have called him out on it and maybe even threatened him into silence, but I didn’t see the point. If he was going to turn me in, it wasn’t like he had anything more on me than the feds already did. His knowledge was interesting and changed our dynamic but ultimately didn’t matter to me. “He was a kid, I guess,” I said but didn’t really buy it. I’d taken the lives of gang members not much older than the insurgent teenager. I shrugged. “Maybe he was a virgin.” “Does that matter to you?” “Dying a virgin seems kind of shitty.” “You’re too flippant about it for that to be the reason,” Mark countered. He was pissed again. “So, what is it, then?” I snapped back. “He’s a symbol, Evan,” Mark informed me. “A symbol about what is something you’re going to have to figure out. If you don’t, you’re going to keep seeing him.” Fuck. ***** “Your phone doesn’t answer.” “Sorry about that, sir.” I sat down in the lounge area of Quay across from Gavino and Andrey and handed them each my new number. Micah and Craig were standing in their designated spots off to the side, trying to look intimidating. “Technical difficulties with the other one.” Andrey grumbled something in Russian—I was definitely going to have to learn another language if I was going to keep this up—and folded his arms. “You have news for me?” Gavino asked. I took two Polaroid photos out of my pocket and handed them over. “Destroy those, obviously.” Andrey glared at me. “Why do you use such old technology?” he asked. “You don’t have a camera on your phone?” “Do you want a lot of digital pictures around as evidence?” I asked. “With these—those are the only photos outside of the ones the cops take when they find the bodies. After a couple days in the river, they don’t look so pretty anyway.” “This is pretty to you?” Andrey asked. I took a long drag on my cigarette and leaned back in my chair. I looked at him steadily for a moment, blew smoke across the table, and then replied. “I think they’re beautiful,” I said. “Nice clean shots—one to the head, one to the throat. Not bad, considering that rifle needs a scope on it for decent accuracy at that distance. Maybe I’ll add an ACOG or a CCO.”

“You get off on this, don’t you?” Micah snickered. “I’ve got a hard-on just thinking about it.” I stared into his eyes until he looked away. “It’s good work,” Gavino said. “Quick, too.” “Yes, sir,” I said. “That’s how I roll.” “Give him his money.” Gavino looked up at Craig, who pulled a plain envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it over. I counted the money quickly and was pleasantly surprised it actually contained ten grand. I had fully expected to be stiffed for the job. “All right, Arden,” Greco said, “you’re in—for now. I’m gonna be watching you, though, so don’t try to get cute. You got that?” “Yes, sir,” I replied as I tucked the envelope away. “Just let me know what you need next.” “Next, you come to my office,” Gavino said. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team. You probably already know them, and they certainly know you. I don’t think you’ll be shocked to hear some of them are not thrilled with this idea.” “I understand. They’ll get used to me.” Craig snorted through his nose, earning him a disapproving look from Gavino. “Fuck you,” I said to the big Irishman. “Maybe if you could hold your own with a gun, your boss wouldn’t need me.” “You cocky motherfucker,” he sneered. “I don’t need any lip from you.” “What you need is a shooting lesson. Once we get past that, we can talk about your lack of any actual tactics.” “That’s enough,” Gavino sighed. “I’m not putting up with any of that from you boys, got it?” Craig took a deep breath before nodding. Gavino looked over to me. “I was just offering some of my other services,” I told him. “You were just being a dick,” Gavino corrected. I shrugged. I didn’t want to take this too far. If I did, I would end up with Craig watching me too closely, and I didn’t need that. I wanted to get in as deep as possible so I could find what I needed and get the fuck out of Dodge. Chicago. Whatever. The five of us left the bar and entered a limo parked out front. I knew where Gavino’s office was though I’d never been inside of it. I’d been outside and down the block—perched on top of a high-rise apartment building with my Barrett and a full magazine—but never inside.

Once we’d arrived, Gavino led the way to the large, posh office—much larger than Rinaldo’s— and sat in a plush leather chair. There was extravagance everywhere—something Rinaldo saved for his home, not his workplace. Gavino obviously liked to flaunt what he had. He went through a few pointless introductions—I knew everyone there by face and name except for one. She was introduced as Jenna Ranger and was apparently in charge of the human trafficking side of the business. That shit just gave me the creeps. She was tall with a body-builder’s physique, round ass, long brown hair and green eyes. She gripped my hand firmly when we shook and held it longer than she needed to for a hello. I had the feeling I was going to have to watch her carefully, but I didn’t mind the idea—she was very easy on the eyes. Her side of the profession was definitely unexpected. A woman dealing with what was usually the kidnapping and breaking of girls seemed out of place. Another man walked into the room, and I knew him immediately as Rurik Dytalov though we hadn’t met in person. I had killed a few people under him, including one of his cousins, but as far as I knew, he didn’t know that. We were introduced, and he eyed me coldly as he sat next to Andrey, his partner in the Russian outfit. Like most of the Russians, he was blond and of intimidating size if you happened to be scared of that. His English wasn’t as good as Andrey’s, but he seemed to understand the discussion going on around him. I had him pegged as brighter than the rest of them almost immediately and was proven right before I had even left the room. “Mister Arden has proven himself useful in a short amount of time,” Gavino said to the group. “Though I think he has a way to go to completely prove his loyalty, I’ve decided to let him into our operations in an official capacity.” “You agree with this,” Rurik said as he looked over to Andrey. “I tell you my concerns, but you still agree.” Andrey replied in Russian first and then in English. “He does have skills we need,” Andrey said, “both as assassin and as protector.” “Just don’t ask him to do any knife work,” Micah snickered. “Apparently, he’s messy.” I offered him a bit of a shrug. “I’ll still do it,” I replied, “as long as you don’t take off points for neatness.” I watched both Andrey and Gavino closely, trying to gauge their silent exchange. The Russians were in Greco’s group much deeper than I realized, and I wondered if Rinaldo understood the extent of it. Having the two organizations joining forces was always a concern—both due to the numbers as well as the access to overseas merchandise. Rinaldo wouldn’t like seeing them all work together so closely. I’d done a lot of work to discourage that earlier in the year, but they must not have gotten the right message. “You use knives for work?” Rurik nodded toward me pointedly before continuing in his thick

accent. “There was woman here with us who was killed with knife. It was sloppy job.” I sat motionless and didn’t respond. I knew exactly who he was talking about—Tasha Zorin. Rinaldo had asked me to send a message with her death, and I had. Andrey said something else to Rurik in Russian. The tone was one of warning, but Rurik didn’t seem interested in heeding it. “You kill for our competitor,” he said. “How many of my people have you killed?” “This is history,” Gavino stated. “I have right to know! If he is man who put her head on my door, I have right to know!” I leaned back in my seat and looked over to Gavino, wondering how he was going to let this play out. Intelligence aside, he was still obviously in charge. “History!” he bellowed. “I know he has killed many of my people as well, and if I can set that aside to employ him, then so can you! This is business. Just business.” Rurik glared from Gavino to Andrey but didn’t say anything else. When no one else dared say anything, Gavino spoke again. “Mister Arden is in my employ now. Is that correct, Evan?” “Yes, sir.” “He has already done work for me, and I have more for him to do soon. We will keep the past behind us.” “I do not trust him,” Rurik replied. “And I don’t trust you,” Gavino responded, “but still we manage to work together. How many caviar shipments have you lost?” “Four,” Rurik said. “And now I will offer you protection for your next shipment. Mister Arden will be that protection, won’t you?” I nodded at Gavino, but kept my eyes on Rurik. “It is settled,” Andrey announced. He and Rurik had another Russian exchange but seemed to be at an understanding when it was over. Soon afterwards, the group began to break up and go their separate ways. I was given the time and location of the next shipment and decided it was time to go do a little recon of the area to find a good spot to conceal myself. Jenna followed me out of the office and into the hall. “You know how to make friends,” she mused. “It’s all part of the game.” I shrugged and started down the hallway, but she stopped me again. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said as she tossed her long brown hair off her shoulder. “You have quite the reputation.” “For?”

Jenna laughed. “For being a merciless killer.” She locked eyes with me and took another step closer. Her hand reached out, and she ran her fingers down my chest. “Makes me wonder in what other ways you are…merciless.” I glanced down at her hand as it found its way to my abs and then ran up my arm. She traced the outline of my bicep with her forefinger before she wrapped her hand around it. “Nice,” she said softly. “You like the gym, hmm?” “I spend some time there,” I admitted. “I bet you do.” Without any further warning, I found her lips pressed hard against mine. Instinctively, I returned the kiss, wrapping one arm around her to grab her ass and hold her against me as her tongue pushed inside of my mouth. I shouldn’t be doing this. Never in my life had I been in such a situation. I’d never had a relationship that was considered “exclusive” in any way and had always gone with the flow when a woman came on to me. Rarely had I ever turned one down, and that was only when I planned on killing her later. Jenna was a beautiful woman, and I knew taking her up on her obvious offer would work very much to my advantage when it came to getting the more detailed information I was going to need to bring Greco down. She was close to him and had been for some time. He would trust her with much more than he ever would with me. I didn’t push her away. I let myself respond to her touch even as her hand moved to palm my dick, which also responded predictably. It wasn’t like I was going to fuck her there in the hallway, so I figured it was still a relatively safe thing to let her do. She made it clear what she wanted—I just needed to drag it out as long as possible. She pulled away first, taking my lip in her teeth briefly as she did. I opened my eyes and looked down at her with a half-grin. “You’re an aggressive little thing, aren’t you?” “I take what I want,” she said simply. “Always have.” “Not exactly a great place for such things,” I said as I looked around the hallway of the office building. I could see Micah near the doorway, watching from the window. “I have a little work to do, but let’s continue this…‘conversation’ later.” “Most definitely.” Jenna smacked my ass before she turned and sauntered down the hall. I shook my head slightly before heading to the exit and out into the street. For the next several weeks, Gavino sent me after a variety of characters in Chicago’s underworld. They weren’t often Rinaldo’s people—there was supposed to be a truce between the families though it was always a tentative one. It was like the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union—a

necessity to keep both families operating but not because either organization liked the idea. I found out very quickly that Gavino was reaching into many of the businesses that had been carved out for the Moretti family. Of course, Rinaldo was doing the same thing. I had also managed to be far too busy to meet up with Jenna, though she had approached me a couple of different times. There was always someone else about though, so she had made do with lecherous glances from across the room. The couple of times we had spoken, it was clear she was far more open than she should be. With just a little casual conversation and light touches, I had already gathered some information that may very well prove useful. She liked to vent about her job a bit, and some of that venting was more than she should have let on. At Gavino’s request, I stayed away from Rurik completely. It was clear he didn’t like me, and Gavino’s thought on that type of conflict was to avoid it. I would have preferred to handle it a bit more violently, but I was given very precise instructions to not kill anyone who wasn’t on my list. I kept out of sight as much as possible. My traveling arrangements were still convoluted, and I either stayed at the apartment with Lia or the hotel room near Quay. I didn’t go out or show my face in public, and thus far, Rinaldo had yet to contact me. Somehow, my hearing date kept getting pushed back as well, so I hadn’t had to appear in court with my attorney. He’d been leaving messages through the correctional center, but I hadn’t returned any of them. I assumed Trent was behind the court’s failure to offer me a speedy trial, and that was also working out well. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I actually needed to appear in court. It was only a matter of time before Rinaldo caught up with me, but I was hoping I would have enough time to get the goods on Greco before that happened. I did talk to Trent on the phone but had avoided having to meet him in person. I claimed it was because we shouldn’t be seen together, but that only worked for so long. He wanted to meet in neutral territory and was no longer taking no for an answer. I finally gave in but picked a place I was familiar with for our meeting—the 676 Bar and Grill in the Omni Hotel downtown. I knew there was something not right almost immediately. There was something about the way he walked into the bar that bothered me right away. Feds are usually easy to spot with the way they walk in like they own everything, and that was the sort of stride he had when he walked into the visiting room at the prison, but this time it was different. I couldn’t quite give it a name, but it was somehow lighter—more confident. Like he knew he had a pair of aces in the hole and everyone else was holding shit. “Tell me what you got,” Trent said as soon as he sat down at the bar. “Let’s get some privacy first.” I glanced over to Michele with one “L,” the bartender at 676, and got her attention. She refilled my scotch, got Trent the same, and I told her we were moving to the seats by the window. We made our way over to the grouping of chairs and couches that overlooked Michigan Avenue and sat down.

“Well, asshole? What do you have?” “You’re quite the charmer,” I said with a chuckle. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?” “Shut up and tell me what you know. You’ve given me nothing but shit for two weeks. If you give me something worthwhile, maybe I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.” I stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t appear to be bluffing. I wasn’t sure what kind of information he had, but it must be noteworthy enough to taunt me with it. Bringing it up so soon, though— that also meant he wanted me to hear whatever it was. That was not good news. If he had something he wanted to tell me so badly, it would most assuredly be something I wouldn’t like hearing. It also meant I needed to hear it, so I made sure Trent had something he would consider valuable. “I have something you’re going to like,” I told Trent. I sipped my scotch before setting it on the table in front of me and leaning forward. “Greco’s got a woman working for him—a Miss Jenna Ranger. She’s the bitch that collects the goods for one of his businesses. She’s high up in the organization and thinks she’s invulnerable.” “Yeah,” Trent said as he narrowed his eyes at me, “I know who she is. What about her?” “Well, Greco’s not happy with her at the moment. It seems the last shipment of people-cargo wasn’t what it was supposed to be. His idea of punishment is that he’s going to go along for the ride personally when she picks up the next batch.” “You mean he’s going to be there himself when she picks up a bunch of kidnapped kids, illegally smuggled into the country?” “You got it.” I could see actual drool as it formed at the corner of his mouth. “When? Where?” “The when is around the middle of October,” I said. “They haven’t decided on a where yet.” “That’s still a ways off. When are you going to have the details?” “Probably shortly after I bang the bitch,” I replied. I didn’t really intend to fuck Jenna, but I also knew Trent expected that kind of shit from me, and it might throw him off Lia a bit. He smirked. “You are a low-life little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “Every once in a while, I think maybe there’s something redeemable in there, but there isn’t. You’re just a fucked up, murdering, shell-shocked, pieceof-shit bastard.” I’d been called worse. “The shipment is coming from the Caribbean, probably Haiti or the Dominican Republic. I think they’re still in the process of acquiring the cargo.”

“Sick fuckers.” I happened to agree with Trent on that one. I might not have had a whole lot of scruples, but that was one of them. He finished his drink and started to stand up without commenting any further. “You had something to tell me?” I reminded him. Trent’s eyes glittered as his mouth turned up. “I do,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty good and ripe, too.” “So spill it.” “Moretti knows you’re working for Greco,” Trent said with a sadistic little smile. “He’s on to you, seriously pissed off, and has decided to teach you a lesson by putting out a contract on your lady friend, if you even care.” There was no lie in his voice or posture—none at all. What he was saying was completely true, and now Lia was officially caught up in the shit-storm that had been brewing since Trent and Johnson first visited me in jail. “It’s an open contract,” he said. “First one to her gets the cash.” “How much?” I asked. “You thinking of taking the job?” Trent said as he laughed. “Kill her while you fuck her, maybe? That would make it an easy hit.” “Shut the fuck up,” I growled. He laughed again. “So she does mean something to you? You got a funny way of showing it.” “Answer the fucking question. How much is the contract worth?” “Fifteen,” he told me. “Moretti must think she’s going to be an easy one to get.” I wasn’t sure if I was more insulted that my girl’s price was so low or more thrilled that it wasn’t the kind of price that would attract hunters from out of town. Ultimately, I was glad there wouldn’t be too many others looking for her. I would probably be able to come up with the complete list of Chicagobased contract killers within a couple hours. I knew most of them already. We might not have afternoon tea together, but we were still well aware of each other’s activities. I wondered if my reputation alone would keep some of them away but decided it would actually work against me. There were definitely those who would consider a feather like that in their hats to be a drop on me even if Lia was a relatively easy target on her own. I needed to get back to her. “Thanks,” I muttered as I stood, downed my scotch, and began to move away. “You make sure you get me the where long before the time comes. You got that, Arden?” “Yeah, yeah.”

I was extra cautious on the way home. I took a much longer route and watched my back constantly. At one point on the L, I knew there was someone in dark clothing who had stepped on just as I had on the last two stops, and I tried to get a glimpse of him in the car. I couldn’t find anyone and considered that it might be my paranoia acting up again, but Lia wasn’t worth the risk. I jumped out at the next stop and hung around outside the train for a while. I saw the same guy again—long dark jacket that was too heavy for the season and a hoodie pulled up over his head. I stepped onto the next train, watched him carefully as he did the same, and then I jumped off before the train started to move. He was waiting for it and stepped off as well. Well, that confirms that. I wasn’t going to fuck around with him, either—not when Lia was my biggest concern. I walked out of the station and toward the alley nearby. I could hear the footsteps behind me—at this point he had to know I was on to him—and they were getting closer. I moved quickly over the puddles and junk on the blacktop, around a group of dumpsters, and into a doorway leading to the back entrance of an apartment building. I went up a half flight of stairs, checked that there was no one on the stairwell, turned, and waited. He was inside just a moment after I turned, and I didn’t give a shit if it was paranoia or not. I pulled out my Beretta and fired. My ears rang from the deafening blast as it echoed around in the stairwell. At the base of the stairs, the guy was struggling slightly, but there was no way he was ever going to get up again. The blast left a huge hole in his back, and there wouldn’t be any fixing that. Still, I moved back down the stairs and flipped him over with my boot. I knew him. Arthur Douglass was a small-time, independent contract killer. He wasn’t very good at it, tended to leave a mess and a lot of evidence. Though it hadn’t been enough to get caught, he still generally annoyed people who hired him. He’d obviously gone a little rogue, given the tattered jacket and hoodie. Maybe it was his idea of a disguise—I didn’t know and didn’t care. “You’re an idiot,” I told him before I put another bullet in his head. With my ears still ringing, I made my way back to the L and started all over again. ***** “Will you at least tell me why I’m packing?” Lia was understandably ticked off. I was giving her a lot of orders but not a lot of reasons why she needed to pack a bag immediately so I could move her to another location. Once I blew up at her completely, she realized how serious I was and started doing what I said, but she was still pissed. I couldn’t really blame her, but I also didn’t want to scare the shit out of her. Telling her there was now a price on her head wasn’t going to give her any warm, fuzzy feelings. “You’re packing because you are going to spend a few days away from here,” I said.

“Cryptic much?” I went to the balcony and looked down below for anyone unusual hanging about. The only person I saw below was the bitchy old woman with the obviously pregnant dog out in the green space. It was probably about time for the pups to be born, and I wondered briefly how much cash it was going to cost me. I pulled the curtains across the glass opening. “You get your shit together,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m leaving for about ninety minutes. Don’t leave the apartment—not even to take Odin out. Don’t hang out around the windows. Don’t open the curtains. And don’t open the fucking door. Got it?” Our eyes met, and I could see how close she was to losing it. I moved up to her quickly, holstered my Beretta, and pulled her against me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair. “I just need to keep you safe, okay? Right now, it’s not safe here. I was being followed on the way back here. I took care of him, but there may be others I missed. I need to get you out of here and to someplace where I know you’re okay.” She cringed at my words and looked away from me. I wanted to apologize for a couple other things as well, like not warning her there was a contract out for her death and maybe for kissing another woman while she fondled my cock, but I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine that it would help the situation at all and had a very real possibility of making it worse. I kissed Lia softly on the forehead, then tilted her head up and placed another kiss on her lips. She sighed and leaned against me for a moment before she pushed back with her hands on my chest. “I don’t like this,” she said. She sounded defeated, and I didn’t like it. “I know, baby. But I’m close, or at least a lot closer. I have some good information, and if it pans out, we could be out of here in a couple of weeks—a month, tops.” “Where are you going?” “Back to my apartment,” I told her. “I need to get a few things.” “Should I go with you?” I brought my hand up to her cheek. “I’d rather keep you close, but the chances of my apartment being watched are about one hundred percent. I don’t want you seen.” “Why not?” I let out an exasperated breath. “Please, I can’t explain now. Just listen, okay?” She pursed her lips but nodded her head. I kissed her once more before checking my Beretta and heading back out the door. “Remember—don’t answer the door. Not for fucking anybody, all right?”

“I won’t.” “Good.” I didn’t want to waste time, so I took a slightly shorter route back to my apartment. I went up north first, so I would at least be coming in from another direction but still arrived in good time. I approached the door to the apartment quietly, listened a moment, and then went inside. Nothing looked out of place, and maybe my paranoia was kicking in again and maybe it wasn’t, but I did have the distinct feeling someone had been there. There wasn’t anyone there now, though, so I starting to collect what I had come for. Mainly money. I had a lot of it stashed away, and though the cops had confiscated about eighty grand in cash lying in the back of my closet, there was still plenty hidden much more discreetly. I had that much in the open just for such an occurrence. If they had found only a few hundred dollars, they would have looked a lot harder to find the rest. They hadn’t even found the bit I had taped to the underside of the dresser, so it was likely they hadn’t found any of my other stashes. There was a lot more. In the kitchen underneath the refrigerator’s drip pan was ten grand. There was twenty more sealed in plastic inside the toilet bowl and fifty thousand inside the air ducts. I collected cash from a few other sites and ended up with a hundred and ten when I was done. More than enough to get us going quickly if that was what we needed to do. Inside my front closet, I selected one of my duffel bags from the never-ending supply and started to load it with the cash. I’d already been gone an hour, and I wanted to be back as soon as possible. I’d left Lia a little freaked out and wanted to be there with her to keep her calm. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her about the price on her head or not. Maybe she should know—the situation was just too unfamiliar for me, and I didn’t know what I should do. Every time I thought about telling her, I’d play it over in my mind. Her reaction was never a good one. “You buggin’ out?” My gun was in my hand and pointed at the front door less than a second later. “Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed at Jonathan Ferris. “Are you trying to get a fucking bullet in the head?” “Well, I don’t have your fucking phone number anymore, asshole,” he replied. He pulled out a cigarette, shoved it into his mouth unlit, and leaned against the doorjamb. “How exactly was I supposed ta warn ya I was comin’?” “Not the fucking point.” I wasn’t sure what the point was exactly, but I knew that wasn’t it. “I’m a little on edge here, and doing shit like that is going to get you killed.” “I’m still standin’.” “This time.” I glared at him for a moment before I sat back and leaned against the wall. I let out a

long breath and then holstered my gun. “You seem a little more trigger-happy than usual,” Jonathan said. “What’s up with that?” I ignored the question, opting to pose one of my own instead. “So, what’s the deal?” I asked. “Do you just hang around my apartment and wait for me to show up, or did you become psychic when I wasn’t looking?” Jonathan laughed. He took a few steps across the room and pulled out the end table next to the couch. He reached down the leg and pointed out a small electronic device secured there. “Motion detector,” he said simply. He held up his smartphone to show me a blinking app with text that read “EVAN’S HOME” across the screen. “Pretty straightforward, really.” I rolled my eyes but was mostly annoyed with myself. I should have realized he’d have lots of ways of knowing where I was and what I was doing. I would have to be careful about that. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Well, brother,” Jonathan said, “I just wanted to get a look at you and see if I could figure out just what the fuck you think yer doin’.” “Nothing,” I grumbled. “I’m not doing anything.” “Bullshit.” He lit his cigarette though I doubted he’d forgotten how much I hated people smoking in my apartment. He did at least eye me with a bit of a grin and then motion to the balcony. I followed him out and leaned against the rails. He handed me a pack of Marlboros and his lighter, and we both proceeded to smoke the cigarettes most of the way down before Jonathan finally spoke. “Lenny’s hit wasn’t unexpected,” he said, “but there were some, shall we say, unexpected themes around it that got me thinking.” “Thinking about what?” I asked. I didn’t try to play stupid—like I didn’t know the dude was dead. It wouldn’t have helped, and I was pretty sure I knew where this conversation was going. “Military weapon used, near the river and in the daylight, which is pretty bold. The fixer didn’t bother to wait until he was alone, either, which means a certain level of confidence, ya know?” I shrugged and tossed the butt of my cigarette on the ground before I lit another one. “And sometimes…well, sometimes when you’ve been around someone for a long time, you just recognize their work, ya know what I’m sayin’?” My eyes moved to his, and I knew he wasn’t just making random statements, hoping I was going to give something away. He knew I wouldn’t be so careless as to let my poker face down, and I knew he wouldn’t be making such proclamations without being a hundred percent sure. I was going to have to kill him. My stomach tightened at the thought. If I was ever going to call anyone in my life a friend, it would be Jonathan. He was one of the few who never pressed me to tell him about the shit I went through

but somehow managed to get me to talk about more of it than I had with most people—even my shrink. It never felt like prying with him, and he always changed the subject before it got to be too intense for me. “He already knows, brotha. I didn’t tell him shit, even when I suspected it, but he still knows. Too many hits that look like you in the area, and you don’t return his calls.” “Haven’t received any.” “You’re workin’ for the competition. You hate Greco, so what the fuck?” I didn’t reply. He had to have figured I wasn’t going to answer something so blunt. “You ain’t gonna talk, and that’s fine,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to you in the slammer, and you probably aren’t gonna tell me, but I just figured you ought to know he’ll be gunnin’ for you now. I can’t stop that shit.” “I don’t expect you to do me any favors,” I informed him. “Well, I fuckin’ did anyway,” he replied. I looked up at him as he stepped closer to me. “I wanted to give ya somethin’.” Jonathan pulled out a folded up piece of paper and handed it over to me. “I know it’s been a while, and I don’t know where we stand now, but I said I’d find out what I could, so I did.” Tentatively, I reached out and took it from him. As I unfolded it, the letterhead was instantly familiar—a stylized crucifix within a circle of woven wheat. There was also a State of Ohio seal on the bottom of the paper, and across the top were the words “Certificate of Adoption” followed by my name. There were two names on the paper with signatures scrawled below them. The signatures were just above the words mother and father. I could feel my pulse in my wrists as I looked over the document confirming my adoption from Alexander Janez and Anita Arden to Sister Margaret Arden. My maternal grandmother. I knew who Sister Margaret was—she had often taken care of me and the other children at the orphanage. She died when I was in seventh grade—around the same time Mother Superior started spending more time with me. “I confirmed that they’re both deceased now,” Jonathan said. “So is the nun who adopted you, but there’s addresses on the back that’ll tell you where they’re buried. You know, in case you wanted to go there or somethin’.” I couldn’t speak as I stared at the paper and tried to make sense out of it beyond the obvious. Were they too young to take care of me? Were they pressured into giving me up by her mother? Why raise me as an orphan instead of letting me know who my grandmother was? Jonathan opened the sliding glass door, and I followed him dumbly into the apartment and sat on the couch. My heart continued to pound. I could only stare at the paper and try to make some kind of sense out of it. Questions I had considered far beyond answering were popping into my head though I hadn’t thought about it all in years. I had decided I didn’t care—whoever my parents were and why they

decided to ditch me would always remain a mystery. Now that I had a smidge of information, I wanted more. “Well,” Jonathan said quietly, “I just wanted to give ya that. I’ll leave ya be now.” I found my voice. “Hey, Jon?” “Yeah, brotha?” “I have something for you.” I went back into the bedroom to retrieve the “Save Ferris” T-shirt I had bought for him some time ago, still in its plastic bag. I handed it over to him, and he opened it up. At first he looked a little confused, and then his eyes darted over to me. “It ain’t my birthday,” he remarked. “I missed your birthday.” “That was six months ago.” “I bought it in December.” “Why were you going to kill me in December?” Jonathan always was a lot more perceptive than he appeared, and I needed to remember that. I smiled a half smile at him and shrugged. “I was just checking on something. You were clean, though.” “Uh huh,” Jonathan mumbled skeptically. “I was considering it a few minutes ago, too.” I smiled a bit more. Jonathan laughed. “I guess I’m definitely thankful for this—in more ways than one. Thanks, brotha.” We shook hands, and he started for the door. “Oh yeah,” Jonathan said as he snapped his fingers. “I got ya something else, too, but I didn’t bring it with me. Here ya go.” He fished around in his pocket, came up with a couple lighters, shoved them into the other pocket, and then pulled out a key. He tossed it to me with a flick of his wrist and walked out the door. It was a numbered locker key with the name of one of the gyms in the area engraved on it. Far too curious to wait, I made my way to the nearest bus that would take me to the gym. Inside the locker was a large gym bag. Sitting on top of the bag was my old phone, containing several dozen messages from Rinaldo, Mark Duncan, and Jonathan. I looked around to confirm no one was watching me, pocketed the phone, and then quickly unzipped the top of the bag to peek inside. It was my Barrett. Nothing could have surprised me more.

Chapter 16—Narrow Miss As much as I wanted to take my Barrett somewhere private and spend a lot of time with it, I was going to have to wait until I moved Lia to another location. I tossed the bag over my shoulder, and the familiar weight felt fantastic. I wasn’t sure how Jonathan had managed to get evidence away from the Chicago police, but I was definitely grateful. Lia had both herself and Odin ready to go when I arrived. I called a cab because I didn’t want her seen any more than absolutely necessary, and any form of public transportation wasn’t fast enough for me at this point. I watched out the window for the cab to arrive and then ushered both Lia and Odin downstairs. As soon as I walked outside, he was there—the kid with the bomb strapped around his waist. I tensed and fought against the urge to pull my gun out and start firing. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and looked again, but he was still there. He didn’t move—only stood there with tears running down his cheeks. “Let’s get out of here.” I opened the back door of the cab and held Lia’s hand as she climbed in. The cab driver looked more like a chauffeur than a usual cabbie. He had on one of those captainstyle hats and dark glasses. He helped load Lia’s suitcase into the trunk, and we got on our way with Lia sitting in the center seat so Odin could hang his tongue out the window. I gave the cabbie directions to a neighborhood in Avondale. We wouldn’t be staying there—it was just a stopping point to get another cab. He pulled onto the expressway, and I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes. Lia leaned over to put her head on my shoulder and spoke softly. “Where are we going?” she asked. “I’ll tell you when we get there,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “This is just a detour.” She stayed quiet as we traveled quickly down the center lane. I scratched Odin’s neck and ears as he sniffed at the corner of the window, occasionally sneezing into the wind. My mind was occupied enough for the moment that I almost didn’t realize where we were. “You missed the exit,” I called up front. “Did I? Sorry about that. I’ll get the next one.” I narrowed my eyes a bit at the face in the rearview mirror. I was abruptly uneasy and had to fight down the paranoia growing in my gut. I glanced out the window and half expected to see the kid on the side of the road, but he wasn’t there. I took a deep breath and tried to center myself. It didn’t work. “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked the driver as he sped past the next exit and continued on the expressway. “I was going to take Parkview,” he said. “There’s less traffic.”

“Bullshit!” Without hesitation, I released the seatbelt, pulled out my gun, and put it next to the driver’s head. “I’m not putting up with elevated fucking prices from a piece of shit cab driver. Take the next fucking exit.” “Evan! What are you doing!” Lia grabbed my elbow, but I shook her off and told her to sit back and be quiet. She huffed at me but did as I said. “You should listen to Miss Antonio,” the driver said. “Pointing a gun at the driver isn’t safe for the passengers. I could get nervous and make a mistake.” Miss Antonio? How did he know her name? “Please, Evan.” I ignored Lia’s protest. “I’m going to pull the fucking trigger if you don’t pull over now.” “No you won’t,” he said. “If you do that, we’re all meat on the highway.” Something about his phrase sounded familiar—like I had heard someone else use the same words or something close to them anyway. The whole thing was off—a real cab driver wouldn’t be reacting this way with a gun in his face. This guy had been in a similar position before. He knew Lia’s name. “Who the fuck are you?” I asked. “Who me? I could be anybody.” The dude smirked as he glanced sideways at me. “And if you don’t get that piece out of my face, I’m going to ram this car into the fucking barrier.” I wasn’t going to give him that chance. I fired. The driver slumped forward on the wheel. The car began to turn wildly to the left. Lia screamed. With my hands against the side of the bucket seat, I hauled myself into the front and grabbed the wheel. My legs were still behind me—trapped between the front and back sections of the car—but I at least had my hands on the wheel. I tried to get it straightened out, but we were heading into the fast lane of traffic and skidding at the same time. I didn’t want to overcompensate and flip the car. With the unlikely cabbie’s body sliding into me and trying to push me right off the steering wheel altogether and Lia screaming in the backseat, I tightened my grip on the wheel and managed to ease it to the right just enough to stop the sliding. We were still heading straight toward another car, though, and I couldn’t get my feet out of the back to bring the rest of my body into the front seat to hit the brake. “Lia! Shut up and grab my foot!” “What?” There was so much panic in her voice, and I needed her to calm down before we

crashed. The car in front of us swerved into another lane and we whizzed by. “My foot is stuck,” I said with as much calm as I could. “Get it unstuck.” I felt her hands wrap around my boot and give my ankle a painful twist. “Ow! Shit!” “I’m sorry!” “Just get it out!” A twist in the other direction still hurt, but my foot popped free, and I pulled it over the center console and pushed it between the dead man’s legs to get to the brake. I had to kick his leg out of the way but finally felt the pedal against the bottom of my boot. As I sat in his lap, I managed to slow us down and get over to the side of the expressway with only a handful of horns honking at us. I didn’t have time for any other bullshit, so I just opened the door, shoved the body out the driver’s side, and sped off again. Lia was practically hysterical. “Calm down, baby.” “I-I-I can’t!” “Yes, you can,” I corrected softly. “We’re okay now.” “You killed the cab driver!” “He wasn’t a fucking cab driver.” “What?” “Just...just hang on for a bit, okay? I need to ditch this car.” I pulled off the expressway, onto a side road, and down a narrow street. It was lined with buildings containing boarded up windows, which was as good a place as any to stop. “Hold on to Odin,” I instructed. “I’ll get the shit out of the trunk. We’ll have to walk a ways and get another cab.” “Evan, there’s blood all over you.” “I know.” I found the trunk release under the steering wheel, ran around to the back of the car, and opened up one of the bags inside. I pulled out a T-shirt to wipe the blood and tissue off of my face, neck, and arm. “Did I get it all?” Lia looked at me with her lip tucked behind her teeth. “There’s some on your shirt,” she said. I tore it off, tossed it into the car, not giving a shit about evidence at this point—it’s not like I was going to spend time wiping the car for prints—and dug out another shirt. As I was pulling it on, Lia bent

over at the waist and puked near the back tire as Odin whined and paced about on his leash. “You okay?” I asked when she was done. I gave her one of her own shirts to wipe her mouth and hands and took Odin’s leash from her. “No,” she said in a voice I could barely hear. “I’m not sure I will be.” I looked up and down the street. We needed to get away from the blood-filled car as quickly as possible, and I couldn’t accomplish that with Lia freaking out on me. “Just relax, baby,” I said, hoping that would help. It didn’t. “Relax? How can you fucking say that?” At least it got her angry instead of scared. I could work with that. “You know the kind of shit I do,” I reminded her. “Knowing it and seeing it aren’t the same thing,” she said. I couldn’t argue with her on that one. Instead, I pulled her close to me and whispered against her ear. “I’m sorry you had to see that, baby—so sorry. It was the only thing I could do to keep him from killing you.” “Killing me?” There was no point in hiding the truth any longer. I pulled her closer to my chest and pressed my lips to her hair. “My former boss, Rinaldo, knows I’ve hooked up with Greco. He’s taking it out on you.” “What does that mean?” “It means he put a contract out on you. He’s offering fifteen grand to the person who kills you.” She tensed in my arms, and her body shuddered. I knew she was crying even though I couldn’t see her face. I tightened my hold on her and then pulled back to lead her down the street. She didn’t resist though I couldn’t get her to go at a pace I considered quick enough. Odin was also skittish but followed me obediently. We walked about a dozen blocks before I called another cab company– one I hadn’t used before— from a payphone. This time, the driver was an Indian guy wearing a flannel shirt that looked like it came right off the George Lucas line but no dark glasses or hat. He drove us south where we got another cab up north. A few more similar trips and one bribed bus driver to allow Odin to ride later, we were at a small house in a crappy neighborhood. “Whose house is this?” Lia asked as we went in. “Mine,” I replied. “I bought it a few years ago because I needed a place to lie low every once in a while.”

“Like now?” “Exactly.” “You have a bunch of places like this, don’t you? Just like the cabin in Arizona.” “Yes.” “How long will we stay here?” “Not long,” I told her. “I don’t think this place could be traced back to me, but you never know, and people are looking for you.” Lia shuddered again. She looked like she was about to collapse, so I brought her into the bedroom and quickly found some clean sheets to put on the mattress. I didn’t even remove her clothes—just hauled her into bed and held her against my chest. “I don’t know if I can handle all of this,” Lia admitted. Her arms came up around my neck. I closed my eyes and touched my forehead to hers. “That’s why I left,” I whispered. “I know leaving that note and no explanation was a shit thing to do, but I didn’t want you to be exposed to all this.” I pulled her closer to me, wanting to feel like I could protect her with just the proximity of my body and knowing at the same time that it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t protect her mind that way or erase what she’d seen. She was everything I needed, and I was fucking poison to her. I’d known it since the beginning, but I’d been too selfish to push her away. “You’re perfect for me,” I said, “and I’m just…just bad for you.” Lia reached up and placed her hand against the side of my face as she shook her head slowly. “You aren’t,” she said. “This situation is bad, but you’re not.” “Right,” I scoffed. “I just killed someone right in front of you.” Lia flinched, and I immediately felt bad for being so blunt. “You’re warm,” she said as her body pressed against mine, “and you’re so smart. You’re gentle, and strong, and handsome. You’re compassionate and self-sacrificing.” I shook my head and started to correct her, but she shushed me and stroked over my jaw with her fingers. I’d been far too preoccupied to shave, and I could hear the slight scratching sound as her fingertips rubbed against the stubble on my face as she continued. “You went overseas to serve in the best way you could. You led people in battle. You were willing to give up your life for someone you didn’t even know. You stayed strong in your heart, no matter what they did to your body, and never gave them any information even though it might have been easier on you if you had.” I blinked a couple of times. I hadn’t really thought about those years in any way other than the negative, and I wasn’t sure how to react to her words.

“You are perceptive,” she continued. “You always know exactly what I want and need. You’re loyal and brave. You have endured so much—far more than any one person should ever have to face—but you kept going.” “I didn’t endure it,” I replied. “I cracked. I totally lost it.” “Everyone has their breaking point, Evan. That’s not bad; that’s just being human.” All I could do was stare at her. I wanted to deny it all—I wasn’t like that—but it was as if she had wormed her way into my head and dug out all the things I once was and held them to herself as truth. I wanted to remind her of what I had become since then—a cold-blooded, merciless killer—but I didn’t. I kissed her instead. Again and again I kissed her because I didn’t have any words for what I was feeling. ***** Back in the hotel room Gavino provided for me, I placed the bag on the table and quickly ditched my clothes to get a shower. I didn’t bother to shave though I needed to. I was too anxious to get to my weapon. Once I was done with the shower, I pulled on my jeans, poured myself a scotch on the rocks, and quickly turned my attention back to the Barrett M82. Reaching over to the switch, I turned the light on near me so I could see clearly. The light was low, but it was enough for what I needed. I silently pulled back the zipper of the gym bag and pulled out the pieces of the sniper rifle slowly and carefully—nearly with reverence. It was how I felt about the weapon—it had been one of the few constant things in my adult life. Every time I touched another piece of it, I felt like I was becoming more centered. With my heart beating a little faster in my chest, I examined each of the pieces, starting with the upper receiver as I removed them from the bag. I checked for any marks that weren’t there before, checked that the springs were still tight, the impact bumpers weren’t twisted, and the barrel was clean. There were a few minor scratches on the scope that weren’t there before, but overall, it looked like everything was all right. I continued my inspection over the bolt carrier group, the lower receiver, and the bipod assembly. Once I had completed the appraisal, I pulled out a cloth and a small bottle of oil and started to clean it. I went over each and every part—removing powder residue and deposits from the barrel and then lubricating each piece with oil. I caressed the smooth metal, and the touch of it in my hands wasn’t unlike touching Lia in the way my mind calmed and focused on the task. When it was cleaned and oiled to my satisfaction, I began to assemble it. There was no way I could have adequately expressed how I felt to have my Barrett in my possession again. I knew it made my fingers tingle to touch it again, and my mind flashed through the many, many times I had fired the weapon. I remembered handing over seven thousand dollars—all the money I had at the time—just to be able to take it with me when I left the Marines and never regretting leaving myself practically penniless in the process. I could have bought one on the street for less— government spending and all—but I wanted that one. Though I never really referred to it as a she or anything like that, if my Barrett were a woman, I

would definitely fuck her. I had to fire it. Just had to. The shooting range wasn’t going to be enough, either. I needed a real, live, soon-to-be-dead target. Gavino had given me two assignments over the last few days, and it was time to take care of one of them. I had already completed most of the recon on a particular coke dealer named Henry Martin. He kept coming up short on his payments to Gavino, and his excuses were becoming less and less believable. Gavino wanted to make him an example, and I knew exactly where to find him. Henry Martin was into hookers far more than I had ever been. He would go through a half dozen of them in a week, and I knew where he’d been picking them out lately. I also knew of a nice, tall building right down the street with a perfectly unobstructed view of the corner where he would likely pick up a whore. I didn’t even have to wait long. From the top floor of a high-rise apartment building, I located myself inside an abandoned unit at the far edge and watched Henry’s eighties-style Cadillac pull up to the corner. The position gave me a clear view of the area I was targeting on the other side of the river, and no one would be able to locate which unit I was in even if the shot was heard. Without even using the bipod, I held the weapon up against my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment and reveled in the feeling of the Barrett’s stock against my shoulder and my hand on the grip. I opened my eyes again to look down the scope, make a couple of minor adjustments, and wait for Henry to position his car at just the right angle. He seemed happy to comply. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out through my mouth. As soon as all the air was out of my lungs, I pulled back on the trigger. The kickback was welcomed. The scent of the blast entered my nose, and there was no way a hot meal on Christmas Eve ever smelled any better. I didn’t even care so much that the shot was perfect, clean, and precise—it was just having my rifle with me again that mattered. As I slid the window closed, I couldn’t hear the screams of the hooker who had been leaning up against the car. I stood slowly, caressed the barrel, and quickly disassembled the rifle to put it back in the bag and make my exit. I went back to the hotel room and cleaned the whole weapon again just because I could. Nothing could have completed me more than having my Barrett back.

Chapter 17—Altered Plans “We spend too much time on this cargo,” Rurik was saying to Gavino as we all sat around his office and discussed the plans for the next shipment of human cargo. “We should focus on real money— drugs and caviar.” “We must see this through.” Andrey shook his head. “We were cheated with the last batch Jenna picked up, and we must be sure we are not cheated again.” “We weren’t cheated,” Jenna muttered. “It’s not like they crossed us on purpose.” “You don’t know that,” Gavino growled. “That’s why you need a babysitter this time.” “I am not babysitter!” Rurik shouted. Andrey responded harshly in Russian, but Rurik was not to be dissuaded. “You go, then!” Rurik said to the other Russian. “You go be caretaker for babies, and I will take care of caviar. Micah and I have more important businesses.” Andrey glanced at Gavino, who only shrugged. Micah remained uncharacteristically silent. “One of you must be there,” he said. “You want to be a bigger part of this organization, then you are going to represent.” “It is dangerous,” Andrey remarked. “Evan will be there for our safety.” Rurik snorted and shook his head. I leaned back in my seat and raised my eyebrows at him as I took out a cigarette, and they all continued to argue over who was going to be where. Ultimately, Rurik talked his way out of the trip, and Andrey was assigned to go in his place. He seemed very pleased with what was a very minor victory, I thought. Too pleased. If I gave a rat’s ass about Rurik, I might have paid more attention, but I didn’t. I should have. The meeting broke up, and I stood to leave. I needed to get all the details to Trent quickly so he would get off my ass about it. Jenna brushed up beside me as we were leaving. “It looks like we’ll be working together in a couple weeks,” I said. I stepped out of Gavino’s office building and into the cool wind as it blew down the street from the lake, signifying the beginning of fall. Jenna had followed me out, which she often did when we had a little group chat with the boss. It usually turned into a heavy make out session, but we hadn’t done anything else. It still left me feeling uneasy every time it happened, but I kept telling myself it was part of the job.

Jenna leaned against me and wrapped her arms around my body to grip my ass and pull me against her. I’d spent six weeks lying low with Lia—moving her around and making sure no one was following us—and avoiding Jenna. It also meant Lia was right there in my sights the whole time, so I could be sure she was safe. Though I’d kept in contact with Gavino and done a few jobs for him, for the most part, we stayed in hiding. “Mmm…yes, working together will be nice.” Her mouth found mine, and I did my best to seem receptive. Even as I made out with her, my thoughts were focused on the plan that lay ahead of me. Gavino was leaving his office with his goons to get their side of everything organized. The plans had been laid out for picking up a shipment of girls from Haiti, and I was supposed to go along as protection for the group. Gavino was going because he was an idiot. Well, that wasn’t his reason, but it was still true. No one as high up in an organization like his should be anywhere near those kinds of goods, but he seemed to think it was the only way he could guarantee the cargo was what he wanted. The last shipment came loaded with some contagious disease, and the cargo was practically unsellable. It was a sick, twisted business to be in at all, and that was from the point of view of a killer. Jenna seemed perfectly fine with the whole thing, which was also fairly disturbing. Maybe spending time with Lia was making me soft or something, but the more I was around Jenna, the less I liked her. It’s just part of the job, I reminded myself. “When are you going to give this to me?” Jenna hummed against my mouth as her hand found its way to my cock….again. “Maybe it’ll be your reward for a job well done,” I responded. I nipped at her lip before I stepped back a bit and smiled at her. “I gotta get prepared.” “Prepared?” she asked as she gave me a look of disbelief. “What do you do besides aim and shoot?” “It helps to have ammo,” I told her. “I need to go shopping.” Ammo shopping was probably the male equivalent of a chick claiming she needed to wash her hair, but it got me out of the situation for the time being. I had enough for the job as it stood, but I was going to stock up anyway. I had the feeling additional ammunition was going to be necessary at some point, and the last thing I needed was to run out. I also had to meet with Trent and couldn’t have Jenna delaying me too long. Trent went above and beyond to be a total dickhead. “Playing hide-and-seek with your bitch?” he said as he sat down across from me and smirked. I leaned against the plush seat in the 676 Bar and tried to keep my cool. Though it was near the window, I made sure I was carefully blocked from street view.

“Not sure what you mean,” I replied. It was better to sit back and let Trent be an asshole than to let him get to me, though it was difficult a lot of the time. He was a master at pushing my buttons. “Well, you moved out of that posh place on Kingsbury to a crappy little shack up north,” Trent said with a smile. “Now you’ve ditched that one for an apartment downtown. Much more convenient.” And the paranoia button was pressed most decisively. “Keep the fuck away from her,” I growled under my breath. “You keep pushing me like this, Trent, and I don’t give a fuck who you are and who you work for—I will fuck you up.” He laughed. “You can’t touch me,” he said, “or all the evidence goes straight to the courts. You know I have that set up.” I did, too. It didn’t stop me from wanting to put a nice, round hole between his eyes. “You go too far and I’ll no longer give a shit.” Trent leaned in close. “You can’t scare me, Arden,” he said. “I have you by the short and curlies, so cut the shit and give me my information.” Every muscle in my body tensed, and I wanted to spring at him and rip out his throat, but I forced myself to loosen up enough to give him what he wanted. “The shipment will be here in five days,” I told him, “October nineteenth, right before midnight. Greco will be there and so will Andrey but not Rurik. I’m going along as protection for the shipment. He’s nervous; there’s no doubt about that. Jenna screwed up the last time, and Greco doesn’t want it happening again. Just remember, if you’re busting people, I’m your fucking informant. I don’t expect to be hauled away in cuffs, got it?” “That won’t happen,” he said. “You have my word.” Like I could trust that. “It better not,” I said. “I have some insurance as well, you know. If I go down with this, you aren’t going to live to regret it, capicse?” “Since when are you Italian?” “Do we have a fucking understanding?” I pressed, ignoring his comment. “I already said it wasn’t going to happen,” he snapped back. “Now who’s being pushy?” I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him. “Where’s the drop off?” he asked. “Just north of Roosevelt by the south branch of the river, the power substation, and the railroad tracks.” “I know the place,” he said with a nod. “Where will you be?”

“There’s a building right there in the yard,” I said. “I’ll be on top of it.” “Well, that’s nice and close, isn’t it? I take it you’re sniping again.” I didn’t see any reason to respond to him, but I did watch him closely. There was something about the way he was sitting and the slight contraction of the muscles around his eyes that told me he was hiding something. Either he was trying to get me to let something slip, or he knew something I didn’t and was thinking about it intently, but I didn’t know which. There was definitely something wrong. I felt it during our last in-person meeting as well, but I still couldn’t quite figure out what it was—something about the location or about sniping, maybe. I didn’t get the impression he was lying outright, but he was definitely keeping something from me—something vitally important. “Why don’t you just spit it out?” I asked as I continued to stare at him intently. His eyes tensed a bit more, and he reached for his drink—a distraction and delay tactic, most certainly. He didn’t respond other than to smile his nasty little smile at me before he got up and left. I found myself wondering why his eyes looked so familiar, but shook my head to remove the thought. I’d never met him before—I was sure of that. ***** The day before Jenna’s shipment was to arrive, I moved Lia and Odin to a nice apartment close to the area where the whole thing was going to go down and gave her instructions to keep everything packed up and ready to roll. I had my hopes up that all of this was going to go smoothly, and once Trent had Gavino in custody, I could just grab Lia and get the hell out of town. Once I had her safely away and Trent had turned over the evidence he had on me, I would contact Rinaldo and explain everything. Telling Lia exactly what was going on didn’t seem like a great idea to me, so I had told her nothing about the shipment of people destined to go into slavery. Though I expected everything to work out, I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Surprising her by packing up and leaving the city behind us seemed like the better plan. I was getting excited about the prospect of leaving with her and Odin, though, and couldn’t completely hide that. “You’re in a good mood.” I kissed Lia’s cheek and grabbed her ass just for good measure. “I like seeing you when I walk in the door,” I told her as I crouched down and rubbed Odin’s head. “You look fucking hot in the kitchen.” “Is that mostly because you know I’m making you dinner?” “Maybe.” I shrugged and laughed. I wasn’t about to explain how much being able to use my sniper rifle meant to me or how good it felt to have it close by—I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to understand. Instead of explanations, I played fetch with Odin for a few minutes while Lia loaded up plates with steak, green beans, and baked potatoes. After dinner, I shoved all the plates aside and pulled Lia to her feet. With one hand, I bent her over the table as I unclasped my belt with the other. Her jeans and panties quickly found their way to the

floor right before I entered her. I loved to fuck her from behind because it gave me the perfect view of her ass. It was the most beautiful ass I’d ever seen, and I still hadn’t fucked it. I slowed down my thrusts a little as I sucked on my little finger for a moment. “Do you know how much I want your ass?” I asked her. Lia’s panting breaths were the only answer I received as I started thrusting into her faster. “Tell me to stop if you want me to,” I said as I slowly spread her cheeks and rubbed around her backdoor with my finger. “Evan…” “You want me to stop?” I really, really hoped she didn’t. “What are you going to do?” She bit down on her lip as she looked back at me, her eyes cautious. I didn’t want to push her. “Just my finger,” I replied. “That’s all. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” More panting and a quick nod was her reply. I slowed my penetrations again and gently eased my finger into her hole. I heard her gasp, and I paused for a moment before going farther, knuckle by knuckle until my finger was all the way in. My hips moved slowly back and forth, and I started matching the rhythm with my hand. “You like it?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it. “Yes.” Lia’s breath came out in a gasp as I increased the tempo. “I want my cock in there, you know.” “I know you do.” She nodded quickly. “Does that scare you?” “A little.” “I’d never hurt you,” I swore to her. “I know.” “Next time.” I drilled into her with both my finger and my cock until she was rocking frantically on the table and screaming out my name over and over again. With a grunt, I filled her and collapsed on top of her for a moment to catch my breath. “That was intense,” Lia said. “That’s the idea,” I replied. “Think of how much more intense it would be with my cock in your ass.” “I’m not so sure,” she said, still hesitant. I helped her off the table and yanked my pants back up. Lia gathered up her own clothes and

dressed as Odin watched us intently, hoping for a trip outside. “I think maybe if I was prepared beforehand, you know?” Lia suggested. I waggled my eyebrows at her. “Not like that!” She sighed at me and put her hands on her hips. “I mean, give me a little warning so I can mentally prepare.” I reached out and fingered the quarter around her neck. “So if I said let’s do anal tomorrow night, would that count as warning?” “Well…yeah, I guess so.” I dropped the coin back against her skin. “Hey, Lia, let’s do anal tomorrow night.” She laughed and smacked my chest. “I’m serious,” I said. She looked up at me for a minute as she gnawed on her lip and contemplated. “Okay,” she finally said. I was ecstatic. I should have known it wouldn’t last. ***** That night, my dreams took a different tone. “Evan, what are you doing?” “I was trying to find something to keep warm,” I say through chattering teeth. “Why aren’t you using your blanket?” I look at her, confused, but then realize it might be a test. “It’s a sin,” I say. “What is?” “Covering.” “Why do you say that?” I narrow my eyes. “Father Paul said so,” I tell her. “Thou shalt not cover.” Sister Margaret laughs softly, reaches out, and hugs me to her. “Oh, Evan,” she sighs, “it’s covet, not cover. Thou shalt not covet. It means to want something

that belongs to someone else.” I furrow my brow as I consider this new information. “Like Heather’s Game Boy?” “Yes,” Sister Margaret says, “just like that.” “So I already sinned?” I ask. “I do want one.” “Let’s pray about it, shall we? Then you can get covered up and go to sleep.” I woke with the memory still in my head. I listened to Lia’s breathing for a few minutes before shoving myself out of bed and heading to the shower. I brought my razor in with me and shaved in front of the little steam-proof mirror on the shower wall. “Evan, your phone is ringing!” “Which one?” I asked as I stuck my head out the shower door. “The iPhone.” “Can you bring it here?” I turned off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat. Lia came into the room with the phone in her hand, and I quickly glanced at the number. Rinaldo. There was no way any good would come out of a conversation with him, but I answered anyway. “Yes, sir?” “So you do still know how to use a phone,” he said. He didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Just tell me if it’s true or not, Arden.” His voice was cold. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.” “The fuck you don’t!” he yelled loud enough that I had to hold the phone away. I looked up at Lia and motioned her out of the room. “Take the price off her head,” I said when Rinaldo went quiet. “I don’t have anything to say to you until you get rid of that contract.” “It got your attention, didn’t it? At least you answer the fucking phone.” “I didn’t have my phone until recently,” I replied. “Confiscated along with a lot of shit from my apartment.” “You never used to be a man of excuses.” “Things change.” “Apparently.” There was a long pause. “Tell me why. You knew I was going to get you out of there—so why?”

“Revoke the contract.” “No.” “Then I don’t have anything else to say.” “Is it the money? Jesus, Evan—I paid you more than anyone else in my outfit for a job.” “I know, sir.” “So, what is it?” Rinaldo demanded. I wanted to tell him, but if he suddenly stopped being concerned about me, the information would get back to Gavino. If he suspected me, I’d be screwed. “Everything happens for a reason,” I said simply. “Sometimes you don’t get to know what the reason is, though.” There was another long moment of silence from the other end of the phone. “So that’s it?” he asked. “For now.” “I’m disappointed,” Rinaldo said, his voice tight. “The contract stays, and yours is added. I can’t have you working for the competition, Arden. We’re done now.” He hung up. “Fuck,” I muttered. I placed the phone down on the bathroom counter and looked up. Lia was peeking in the doorway. “Who was that?” she asked. “No one.” “Evan…” “It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head and headed back into the shower. I probably should have just stayed half-shaven. When I got out, Lia was sitting on the bed, waiting for me with my phone in her hands. “I didn’t mean to look at it,” she said before I could ask her anything. “It wouldn’t stop beeping, and I didn’t want to interrupt again.” “What is it?” I asked. She handed the phone to me. There was a text message on it from Jonathan. $1 mil. Every fucker in the nation will be gunning for you. “Shit.” “I’m pretty sure I know what that means,” Lia said. “He’s after you now, too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” “That’s a lot of money.” “Enough to bring every contract killer known to man to Chicago.” “Jesus, Evan! What are you going to do?” “Stay out of the crosshairs,” I replied. “We’ll probably have to move again. I’m hoping today will bring me the information I need to get us out of the area altogether, but if the price stays on my head, it’s not going to be enough. I can only hope Rinaldo will listen to me when it’s all over.” I went over to the dresser and grabbed the SIG handgun. I checked the chamber, made sure it was loaded, and flicked the safety on before walking back to Lia and handing it to her. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s a gun,” I smirked. “If you need it, use it.” “Evan, I’ve never shot a gun in my life!” “It’s easy,” I informed her. “Just point it, click the safety off, and pull the trigger.” Lia furrowed her brow but then nodded and dropped her head down to look at the phone in her other hand. “Evan?” “Hmm?” “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” “Who’s the woman on the phone with you?” I glanced at her and then activated the phone. The picture of me with Bridgett standing in front of The Bean was displayed as the background image. I had completely forgotten it was there. “No one.” I said as I walked out of the room. “I’m not trying to pry,” Lia said as she followed me out. “It’s just that you’ve never talked about any old girlfriends or anything.” “She wasn’t my girlfriend.” “Well, she obviously meant something to you. You haven’t mentioned a sister, either.” “I don’t have any family.” She grabbed my upper arm with her hand, and I stopped and turned around. “What?” I asked, somewhat tersely. “Who is she?” Lia asked again. “I don’t like the evasiveness here.”

My hands were shaking just slightly. I could tell by the look in her eye that she wasn’t going to let it go. I was going to have to tell her something, and once I did, she was going to wish she’d never asked. “She was a hooker,” I said, hoping that would be enough. “Those are the kind of girls I’m used to —hookers.” Lia narrowed her eyes a bit. “She doesn’t look like a hooker. She’s all dressed up.” “Christ, Lia—drop it before I actually tell you!” “Tell me what?” I dislodged myself from her grip and went to the closet for my duffel bag of weapons. “Evan-” “I have to go to work,” I said. I brushed her aside as I grabbed my Beretta and holstered it under my arm. As I moved toward the door, I made the mistake of looking back at her eyes. The look on Lia’s face tore at my heart. I didn’t want her to know any of this. I didn’t even want her to know Bridgett ever existed, and now she was pushing me for the real story—a story that was going to scare the shit out of her. Maybe she should know. Maybe she has a right to know what I did. “She betrayed me,” I said quietly. “I killed her.” I turned around and left the apartment. Nothing I did after that was right.

Chapter 18—Double Cross It was nine-thirty in the evening, and I was scouting out the best position for sniping on the rooftop near the drop-off location. I wasn’t actually planning on doing any shooting—I had no target selected, and Gavino had ordered me here just for the sake of protecting the group if something went wrong, but I already knew it was going to go to hell in a handbasket shortly after midnight, and I wasn’t going to save them from that. Trent said he had a whole SWAT team at the ready, and they would be there just in time to catch Gavino Greco and his collection of illegally imported human slaves. He’d go away for life if he was lucky. I was at a safe enough distance that I wasn’t concerned about being caught up in the bust, assuming Trent wasn’t planning on sending someone to my location to grab me. Of course, I wasn’t where I told him I was going to be. I was on top of a funky, S-shaped condominium complex on the other side of the river. It had a better view and a lot more cover than the building near the substation next to the rail yard, but mostly, it was a perfect location because it was not where Trent thought I would be. The more I had thought about his obvious deception during our last conversation, the more I was convinced he planned on screwing me over. He’d go back on the deal and have me arrested along with the rest of them. Maybe he’d try to keep me under his thumb and use me again, and maybe he’d just let me rot, but he definitely wasn’t planning on keeping our agreement. I was sure of it. I found the perfect spot and got myself set up near the railings at the top of the building. There were a few little garden areas around, as well as some tables and chairs for residents, but the area was closed after nine and no one was about. There was also easy access back down to the ground via a long flight of stairs that led to the parking lot. I pulled the Barrett out of its bag and quickly assembled it, carefully going through a complete functions check. I made sure there was a bolt in the chamber before sitting back and eating the sandwich I had tucked away in the bag. No reason to kill on an empty stomach. I tapped my foot against the ornately tiled roof, checked the night-vision scope to make sure everything was functioning correctly, and sat back again. I didn’t mind the waiting—I was used to it—but this little mission had a different feel than most. Assuming everything went well, it could very well be my last. It was what I wanted. At least, I thought it was what I wanted. Reaching out, I slid my hand down the barrel of the Barrett and wondered if I could be completely satisfied using it only for target practice at a shooting range. It was what Lia wanted, and I understood completely. I mean, what woman would actually choose to live with a guy who was a killer? If I stopped shooting people, would that mean I wasn’t a killer anymore? I wasn’t so sure. Eleven o’clock. I scanned the entire area using the night-vision scope and saw nothing out of the ordinary. This area of town was becoming more and more run-down, and not a lot of people were around

this time of night. Even the condos beneath me were mostly empty. Across the river, there was a large building in the center of a huge concrete slab that served as a parking and storage area for a large power substation. There were a few other outbuildings around, a handful of vehicles, and the substation itself. Around the edge near the river were a few short trees and shrubs, as well as a fence that lined the property but didn’t disrupt my view from up high. For good measure, I spun the Barrett around and checked out the area behind me. There were a few homeless people wandering around, but no one close enough to hear me shoot with the silencer attached. Once I confirmed there was nothing of concern behind me, I repositioned the rifle and scanned the area across the river again. Movement. I saw Jenna and the two goons who usually accompanied her step out of a van at the far side of the parking area near the substation. They crossed in front of the building on foot. I focused my scope on Jenna’s face as she looked up in my direction. I knew she couldn’t really see me from where she was. Like Gavino and the rest of his group, she knew where I was going to be. I had only deceived Trent on my location. I moved the scope away from her and scanned around the building again. Each side was clear of people and trucks, which gave me a clear view of the drop-off area. I checked the other small sheds around but saw nothing. There was a small grouping of outbuildings to my left with a pickup truck parked next to them but nothing else. As I began to scan the top of the main building in the lot, something caught my eye. Next to one of the air conditioning units, there was a slightly darker shape that had not been there earlier. I watched for a full minute, but it didn’t move. I narrowed my eyes and waited just a bit longer before I decided I must have missed it before. That was when the slightest of motions brought me to full attention. I focused the scope carefully on the shape I had seen. It was slightly rounded and black. It moved to the left, improving my viewpoint. With the night vision on the scope kicking in fully, I knew exactly what it was—another sniper. He was setting up a rifle behind the air conditioner on the building across the river from me. It was the same building on which I had told Trent I would be located. Would he have sent a SWAT sniper to the same location? It would have been a shitty move if he had. The sniper’s upper body became visible as he laid out his rifle and got into position behind it. I shifted my stance to make myself harder to spot from my vantage point before I focused my sites on the other sniper. Male, Caucasian, setting up a Dragunov rifle—a nice, Soviet-made one that dated back to the sixties but was still a powerful gun. From what I could tell, it only had a five-bolt magazine on it, which would put him at a disadvantage from the one I used. Though Barretts usually held ten-round magazines, mine held twelve. As I watched him closely, I knew something wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t wearing a flak jacket for starters, and all feds wore them when they went after someone. His position wasn’t quite right,

either. He was on the south side of the roof, which gave him cover but not the best vantage point, considering where I told Trent the exchange would take place. It was like he didn’t know where they were going to conduct business and was going with the position that gave him the best view of the whole area. No flak jacket and doesn’t know where to aim. Definitely not a fed. Who then? There weren’t that many options as far as I could tell. Did Gavino hire another sniper? Unlikely. I was the only well-trained one in the city, and he’d have to go out of state to find someone trained on the weapon in this guy’s hands. Had the feds hired an independent from somewhere or maybe recruited out of the military? Also unlikely. Marines and Army alike preferred Barrett rifles. Russian? He was using a Russian weapon though it was a common enough one. Was he one of Andrey’s men? Andrey and Rurik had definitely been at odds about this activity, and either one of them might have decided to send a little added insurance, but I didn’t quite buy it. If either of them had another sniper, they would have had a lot more fuel against me when we first sat down to make a deal. It wasn’t right, and all my instincts told me to get the fuck out. I couldn’t do that though. I had to make sure this went down the way it was supposed to so I could get Lia out of Chicago. Instead of listening to my gut, I scanned the rest of the area with the night scope and found a few other figures who were not with Greco’s organization and definitely not part of a SWAT team—six of them altogether and four of them positioned in places that didn’t make sense. They couldn’t have known enough about what was going to happen, or they would have been in better positions. Not feds, not with either Gavino’s org or the Russians, so who? It was the seventh that eventually made me realize what was going on, but I didn’t see him until a half-dozen SUVs were pulling up. By the time I had focused the scope on his position, one of the vehicles parked in my line of sight. If I had managed a good look at him earlier, maybe things would have gone differently. “Fucker,” I muttered. “Couldn’t you move over three feet?” I tried to get a glimpse through the windows of the SUV, but it wasn’t working out very well. I could see a human shape, but that was it. The tint on the windows wasn’t dark enough to block my vision entirely, but it interfered enough to make it impossible to get any detail. Gavino, Craig, Andrey, and a half-dozen others exited the vehicles and walked toward Jenna. The drivers stayed in the cars in case a quick getaway was needed. Words were exchanged, but I couldn’t hear any of it from where I was. I could see the demeanor of my faux coworkers though. Andrey danced back and forth between his feet, showing how nervous he was about this, even from my view. Jenna was incensed because she didn’t want them evaluating her work in the first place, and Gavino just looked as cocky as ever. I wasn’t going to miss him.

With a rumble and screech of airbrakes, a semi with a long trailer pulled into the area. Jenna and her crew moved to the driver’s side door as a guy with a long ponytail exited the cab of the truck and handed Jenna a clipboard. Gavino and Andrey joined them, looked over the paperwork, and then Gavino motioned to the back of the truck. They all followed the driver as he opened up the back and grabbed a girl out of it. He shut the door again before yanking her over to Gavino and Andrey. She was quite obviously terrified as she was questioned by Gavino and fondled by Andrey. Jenna had her hands on her hips and was obviously not happy with whatever was being said. She tossed her hands up in the air as Andrey led the girl over to the SUV he arrived in and pulled her into the backseat. I moved the scope away from the scene when I realized what he was planning. I didn’t need to watch that shit. Jenna was pointing a finger and speaking quickly to Gavino, but it obviously didn’t matter what she said. He turned away from her and talked to the truck driver for a minute before motioning to Craig, who was still by the vehicles. As I moved my scope to Craig’s area, I saw the person I hadn’t gotten a good view of before as he moved a little closer to the building to get out of Craig’s line of sight. He was a big guy, dressed all in black and had a dark cap on his head. The clothing didn’t matter, though, because I got a clear view of his face. Mario Leone. Mario was Rinaldo’s bodyguard and was never far away from his boss without a damn good reason. There was absolutely no reason for him to be here at a cargo drop-off for Gavino’s organization —none whatsoever. He certainly wouldn’t be here without his boss knowing about it. As my muscles tightened, I checked out the whole area again. Back behind the main building was another smaller structure right next to the substation. There was a familiar car beside it—one that had not been there before. If I had been on top of the main building where I had told Trent I would be, I probably would have seen it pull up. From where I was, the scope’s vision was narrow enough that I missed it. Beside the car were three more people. Two I didn’t recognize, but one I knew very well. Rinaldo. “Oh fuck, no.” I immediately reached into my jeans and yanked out my phone. I hit his number and watched him through the scope as he glanced down, pulled his own phone out of his pocket, and glared down at the display. His eyes looked up to the closest building—right where the other sniper was located—and then started scanning the other tall buildings within view. Through the vision in the scope, it looked like his eyes found me, but I was too far away for him to see. I watched him turn away slightly and touch his hand to his ear. Then he pressed a button on the side of his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Answer the fucking phone,” I growled as I called again. He didn’t. Instead, he touched his hand to his ear again and looked up toward the other sniper. “Fuck.” I dropped down flat against the concrete roof as a bolt whizzed right past my ear. Who was paying the sniper was now completely clear, at least. I grabbed the Barrett and quickly focused on the sniper across the way as another shot rushed past me. He was reloading—not even looking down the scope as I pulled back on the trigger and watched his body slump. Grabbing my phone back off the ground, I typed out a quick text message, hoping Rinaldo would at least read the first bit before deciding to ignore me again. GET OUT NOW FEDS ON THE WAY He didn’t even glance at the phone. “Motherfucker!” Thinking about the consequences of what I was going to do didn’t even really enter my mind—I just knew I had to get to him and make him listen to me. If he wasn’t going to look at the phone, I had only one other choice. Though I couldn’t hear them, I could see the increase in activity across the river. The shots from the other sniper had been heard, and people were starting to duck into and behind their vehicles as they tried to determine who was the shooter and who was the target. I grabbed the Barrett by the carrying handle without even bothering to disassemble it first and tossed my duffel bag over my shoulder. I pulled the bipod assembly up against the bottom of the barrel and held the gun against my side as I raced to the stairwell. There were only twelve stories, so it didn’t take long for me to get down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Now I had a problem. I didn’t have a vehicle with me. The quickest way to get to Rinaldo was likely by boat—there were several right there at the dock next to the condos. However, it made me about as easy a target as I could be. There was no way I could wait for a bus at this point, so my options became limited. I looked around until I saw an older model pickup truck and ran over to it just as I heard another shot from across the river. Less than a moment later, I felt a hot, searing streak across the back of my shoulder. I dove down behind the truck on the side away from the river and tried to ignore the pain in my back. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t think it had done much more than graze my skin. Reaching up, I grasped the door handle, but the truck was locked. The butt end of the Barrett made quick work of the truck’s window, and I reached in to unlock it. Once inside, I huddled underneath the steering wheel and yanked open the panel. Three pairs of wires dangled below me, and I hoped the older truck had wires with conventional coloring. I started with a pair of brown wires, using my fingernails to strip the plastic off the ends and was rewarded with dash lights. The red pair of wires was next, and I knew I had the right ones when a little jolt of electricity ran up my

arm as I tried to strip them manually. I slid the stripped wires against each other, and the truck’s engine roared loudly in the otherwise quiet night. I only had a couple of blocks to travel to get across the river and over to the rail yard, but it took me well out of the sniper’s view as I went around buildings and across the river. I ditched the truck on the street just above the tracks, taking a minute to remove the bipod and silencer from my Barrett to drop the weight a bit. It wasn’t really meant to be shot without the stabilization, but I had done it before. Carrying the heavy weapon in both hands, I made my way around the fence and through some trees. I was on the wrong side of the yard—I needed to get to the other side where Rinaldo was without Gavino seeing me. At least I wasn’t being shot at anymore. Racing over to the substation, I moved quickly and quietly down the length of it. Any sounds would be masked by the hum of the power grid, but I was still cautious. There had to be at least one other sniper in position, and I had no idea where he was. On the other side of the substation was the small building where Rinaldo had been. I came around the back of it slowly and saw his car on the other side. He was standing slightly behind it and talking in low tones to two men I didn’t recognize. Not knowing exactly how he was going to react, I kept a good grip on my rifle, but didn’t quite aim it at him. “Rinaldo!” I both yelled and whispered all at the same time, which had the desired effect, even if the action was an oxymoron. Rinaldo turned quickly, and the gun in his hand pointed in my direction. “Don’t shoot!” I called out in that same voice. “You gotta listen to me. You gotta get out of here.” “Arden, you son of a bitch,” Rinaldo growled. “I’ll save a lot of money just killing you myself!” I raised the Barrett up to my shoulder. “You have to listen to me!” “You weren’t interested in talking, Arden,” Rinaldo said. “And I am now no longer interested in listening.” He leveled the gun at me, and I had no idea what I should do. I couldn’t shoot him with the Barrett from this distance without making a huge mess. If I had the Beretta instead, I might have at least tried to shoot his gun out of his hand. I was out of options. “The feds are on their way!” I finally said. “They wanted you, and I couldn’t let them do that, so I gave them Greco! They’ve got me for Ashton’s murder, and it was the only way to keep you out of it!” “You working with feds?” Rinaldo hissed. “You hate the fucking government.”

“They have my DNA from Ashton’s body,” I told him. “There wasn’t any getting out of that one. They were going to use it against me and against Lia. He wanted me to turn over enough information to take you out, but I wouldn’t do that, sir. I couldn’t. We made a deal to bring Greco down, and that’s exactly what’s about to happen here.” Rinaldo’s eyes scanned my face for a moment, and he dropped his gun slightly. “They threatened your girl, this Lia Antonio, and you still wouldn’t turn me over?” “No, sir. I couldn’t do that.” Rinaldo’s hand went up to the top of his head and ran over the length of his receding hairline. He looked at me intently, lowered his gun completely, and let out a huge sigh. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” “I couldn’t,” I said as I lowered my weapon and walked to him cautiously. “If Greco had any suspicions about my loyalty, it wouldn’t have worked. It had to look like you were after me, too. It was the only way I could protect you.” “But now you tell me?” “That’s why I came over here,” I explained. “The feds are coming to pick him up right now. You have to get out of the area before they show up. You aren’t supposed to be here at all.” Rinaldo nodded. “They have my caviar in there,” Rinaldo said as he nodded toward the truck. “They are stealing from me again. I can’t let Greco continue to make me out as the fool. I could give up the shipment to see him picked up with it, though.” “Caviar?” I questioned. “There’s no caviar—just human cargo.” “I have it on good authority,” Rinaldo said. “My caviar is in the back of that truck.” “Who told you that?” “A man who has been working with us since I lost you,” Rinaldo said, and then his eyes widened. “Shit, Evan—he’s going after your woman right now.” He might as well have punched me in the gut. “What?” I asked, dumbfounded. “Double-crossing little shit!” Gavino Greco marched around the corner with Craig, Andrey, Jenna, and Jenna’s goons. “Rurik warned me not to trust you, and I should have listened!” I wasn’t sure who fired first, only that within seconds, the two men with Rinaldo were on the ground and there was a hailstorm of gunfire in the area. I took cover with Rinaldo behind his car as he began to fire toward Gavino, Andrey, and Craig. A van pulled up beside us, and several of Rinaldo’s men jumped out, weapons at the ready. A shot to Andrey’s shoulder sent him reeling backwards, and he began to crawl toward his SUV. The girl he had dragged back there was trying to get out as he reached the driver’s side door, and she was hit by a

stray bullet. “The truck!” Rinaldo yelled as he pointed. The driver of the semi-truck was behind the wheel trying to pull out. I pulled up my Barrett, used the bumper of the car as a stabilizer, and took aim. My ears rang with the blast, and I watched the bolt go right through the truck’s engine with a massive explosion. The wheels screeched, the cab flew off to one side, but the trailer didn’t go with it. One more carefully aimed shot from my weapon and the cab, spinning in a giant ball of fire, was disconnected from the trailer. The trailer skidded to a stop, somehow managing to remain upright despite the gaping hole in the front of it. The screams coming from inside could be heard above the gunfire. “Evan—get a better vantage point!” Rinaldo yelled at me. I hated taking myself away from him in this situation, but he was right. I would be much more effective from up high. No longer caring who knew where I was, I grabbed the Barrett and ran the short distance to the main building, dodging bullets along the way. I scaled the ladder on the back side of the structure and perched near the corner. Without the bipod, and considering the weight of the Barrett, it was a little more difficult to aim, but I’d done this plenty of times before. Using the ledge around the roof, I balanced the weapon and began to take out Gavino’s men. Before I got another shot off, I felt and heard a bolt right near my shoulder. The second sniper. Grabbing the Barrett, I moved over to the air conditioning unit and placed myself behind it in relation to the other sniper’s shot. I had to shove the body of the first sniper out of my way to get where I wanted to be. There were a few bolt casings on the ground near the body, and I grabbed two of them to put in my ears to dampen the noise. My focus went back to the second gunner. Whoever he was, he wasn’t on this building, and he obviously hadn’t gotten the message that Rinaldo and I were now working together. Where were the fucking feds? I didn’t even want them showing up at this point—the Chicago police would be here soon enough, given the racket we were causing—but the feds should have been here long before now. There was only one other building in the area suitable for a sniper– the one near the street where I had ditched the hot-wired pickup. Once I aimed my scope up there, I spotted him quickly. He was scanning the area, trying to figure out where I had gone. “Sloppy work,” I mumbled as I carefully took aim. I drew in a deep breath, settled the crosshairs on the center of his forehead, breathed out, and pulled back on the trigger. The blast shook my body, but the guy on the rooftop dropped to the ground, unmoving. I closed my eyes for a moment, tried to force my heart to stop pounding, and focused again on the main area of the rail yard. Jenna was the first one I saw. She had a SIG in her hand and was aiming at the trailer of the

truck. When I looked in that direction, I saw three of the girls who were part of the cargo trying to get out. The back door had broken open when the cab was hit, and they were trying to clamber out one by one. Three sharp pops from Jenna’s weapon, and the girls dropped to the ground, unmoving. “Bitch,” I growled as I took aim again. Another blast, and Jenna’s body dropped to the concrete. “You were a lousy fucking kisser anyway.” Moving the scope to the left, I saw a tussle going on between Mario and Craig. Mario was on top, and definitely had the advantage, but Craig’s hand came up and bashed his skull with the butt end of a gun. Mario was stunned, and the next shot went through his chest and out his back, leaving a gaping hole. Craig shoved Mario’s body off just in time to get a shot from my Barrett in the back of his head. Gavino was running to his SUV. I tried to aim at him as he got to the vehicle, yanked the driver out of it in his panic, and got behind the wheel. Rinaldo was running up, firing multiple shots at his adversary, but they were bouncing off the bulletproof glass. Not Barrett-proof, though. As he slammed his foot down, the SUV lurched toward Rinaldo, causing my shot to go wide. My second shot was quick—I didn’t have enough time to aim properly before Gavino ran down Rinaldo— and didn’t hit the cab as I had intended but the back half of the SUV instead. It swerved, tipped onto its side, and smashed into the back side of the building, out of my view. I grabbed the Barrett in one hand and the Russian rifle in the other. I ran for the edge of the building and the ladder, carefully balancing both weapons as I shimmied down. Moments later, I was on the ground again and running toward Rinaldo. Above the hum of the substation, I could hear sirens approaching. The gunfire had stopped, but bodies were everywhere. From the gaping hole in the side of the trailer, caviar was pouring out all over the ground. There were still girls peering out of the back door, but none of them were daring to try to escape now. Rinaldo was next to Gavino’s truck, but there was no Gavino in sight. “Where is he?” I asked. “Took off,” Rinaldo replied. “I didn’t even see him.” The sirens got louder. “Time to go,” I said. “My information was right,” Rinaldo said as he pointed to the front part of the trailer. “There’s my caviar.” “It wasn’t supposed to be here,” I said. “I was in all the discussions about tonight—there was never any mention of caviar. How did you know it would be here?” “My new man,” he said. “He had a contact in the Russian group—someone high up.”

My mind went back to the argument between Andrey and Rurik, focusing on Rurik’s glee when he talked himself out of being here tonight. He had to be the informant. He wasn’t working for Rinaldo—I was sure of that—but using him to get back at Andrey and Gavino. “I might know what happened,” I said, “but we have to get out of here now.” “Agreed. And you need to hurry.” “He has Lia?” “I don’t know,” Rinaldo said. “He said he knew right where you were hiding, and that’s where he was headed when we came here. You better take my car—the keys are in the ignition.” I turned and started off, then looked back briefly. “Who is he?” I asked over my shoulder. “What’s the guy’s name?” “Kyle Davies.” The name gave me a bit of a start. It wasn’t someone I knew, but the name was so close to the private who bummed a cigarette off of me a few days before we were ambushed—Keith Davies. He was the third person in the video when the reporter was executed and the one whose information told the insurgents where to find us all. He nearly faced court-martial when we returned because they were convinced he had given the information willingly. It didn’t happen, but he was ultimately disgraced and ended up leaving the Marines as a result. Coincidence, I told myself as I climbed into Rinaldo’s car and screeched out of the parking area. All other thoughts were pushed from my head as I focused all of my energy on getting to Lia as quickly as possible. If this Davies guy touched her, I wasn’t sure what I would do. Just the thought of something happening to her was causing my heart to thump audibly in my chest and a cold sweat to form on my palms. I dumped the car in front of the apartment without even bothering to turn off the ignition. I pulled my Beretta out as I raced up the stairs to the second story unit, which was where my blood went ice cold. The door was smashed in. Nothing could have terrified me more.

Chapter 19—Incredible Loss “Lia!” I screeched as I rushed to the door. There was no answer. Inside was a disaster with all evidence pointing toward a struggle. The end table was upended, and the lamp that had been sitting on it was smashed against the floor. The bags Lia had neatly packed had been opened, and their contents strewn about the floor. As I looked around, it appeared as though everything we had planned to take with us was dumped out. My eyes moved toward the next room. “Fuck...no, no, no…” Blood. It was on the floor near a pile of things from one of the suitcases—a long streak of dark red, leading back into the bedroom. I couldn’t breathe as I approached the door. The adrenalin in my veins moved my muscles quickly, but my mind couldn’t catch up. Several possibilities were running through my head at top speed, and none of them were good. If anything, the bedroom was worse than the living room. I looked around and tried to keep myself from hyperventilating by forcing air in and out of my nose, but I still couldn’t think straight. Every drawer had been pulled out, its contents dumped and strewn about the floor. Another table and lamp were knocked over, and the blankets and sheets on the bed were a mess. I couldn’t even tell what everything on the floor was—it was all a big blur of mess. A barely audible whine came from the floor behind the bed, the exact location marked by the trail of blood. Odin. He was lying partially on top of his dog bed, looking like a large lump of white fur. The dog bed was upside down amidst a pool of blood. The blood was soaked into his paws and on his side though I couldn’t see a wound at first glance. I dropped to my knees and reached out to his shoulder. He whined softly again, and his tail thumped once against the bedroom floor. “Odin…buddy?” I leaned in closer and wrapped one arm around him to turn him a little. Two round, bright red spots on the front of his chest oozed blood into his white fur. I tried to look him over as carefully as I could but couldn’t find an exit wound. I tore off my shirt and held it to the wounds I could see, and blood quickly soaked it. Odin tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t do it on his own. With effort, I pulled him up against my chest and looked down into his soft, brown eyes. He reached out with his tongue and lapped at the side of my face. “That’s disgusting,” I whispered as my voice cracked. Odin snuffed at my neck, let out a long sigh, and was still.

“No…no, Odin! No! Don’t…don’t…” I squeezed my eyes shut and held his head against my body as I shook and tried to hold in the scream I wanted to let out. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t part of the plan—the vision. Odin was a part of all of it. He was supposed to come away with us. Us. “Lia!” I screamed again, but I knew there wasn’t going to be an answer. I lowered Odin’s head gently to the floor and checked the rest of the apartment, but there was no sign of her. I did find the assault rifle Gavino had given me months ago, so whoever it was obviously was not looking for weapons. I went back to Odin’s side and pulled his head into my lap again. I was frozen, shaking, and completely unable to think or move or act. I had no idea how long I sat there and just held him. Nothing else around me even registered as his body cooled beside me. I knew I needed to move—I had to find Lia—but I couldn’t. All of this was my fault. Odin had been the only constant in my life since I left the convent. He was with me through sniper school and every assignment I was given all over the country. Even when I was deployed, he was cared for by volunteers at the base in Virginia, waiting for me to return. Without him, I would have been completely alone. No matter what I might have done, he was always there waiting for me when I got home. He didn’t judge, and he was never afraid of me. When I was too lost in thought, he would always be there to bring me out of it. He was always, always there when I needed him. He was my companion and my friend. “He’s gone.” My voice echoed around the empty room. With my eyes closed, I leaned over to place my forehead against his. For a moment, I thought he moved, but I realized it was just my own body shaking. I tried to tighten my muscles to make the trembling stop, but it didn’t work. I took a long breath, and when I glanced up, someone was standing in front of me. The kid with the bombs strapped to him. He was closer to me now than I had ever seen him in the past. On his face, I could clearly see the path of every tear, and on his clothing, every grain of sand. There were wires sticking out from under his shirt and leading up to his hand, which was wrapped firmly around a detonator. “What do you want?” I cried at him. “I can’t take it back! I can’t fix it! You’re dead, and now he’s dead, and I can’t fix any of that shit! What the fuck do you want from me?” He continued to stare at me with dark, sorrowful eyes. I couldn’t look away from him—all I could do was stare back and ask inane questions of a ghost from my past. His eyes drifted to Odin and then back to mine.

“Is…is she gone, too? Did you see her here? Did he kill her?” He didn’t respond. “She’s…she’s all I have left. If something happened to her…if that guy killed her…nothing else will fucking matter anymore!” His head slowly shook from side to side. “Why are you here?” I screamed at him. He blinked several times, and his mouth opened. “Don’t you see it?” I knew the voice was my own. Even though it appeared as if the kid was talking, I still knew it was me. As soon as I heard the words, I knew what he meant. “Lia’s like you,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to be there,” the kid said in my voice. “Forced into a war I didn’t want any part of and didn’t understand. I followed because I was told to follow. I didn’t understand what was happening.” One of his hands moved down and rested against the shape of the explosives wrapped around his waist. “I killed you.” My hands were still shaking, and I tried to hang onto Odin’s body to make them stop, but it didn’t help. The rest of me was shaking hard enough to shake his body as well. “She’s the same.” “I didn’t make her come here,” I said as I rapidly shook my head. “She…she wanted to…to be here…” “She wanted you. She didn’t understand the consequences. How could she?” “But I told her everything!” He didn’t have anything to say about that, only looked at me pointedly. “Did I kill her, too?” He didn’t answer. I stood up and pointed the Beretta in his face. “Did she fucking die here because of me?” I screamed at him. He didn’t have any more words, so I shot him. The noise echoed through the apartment, and the bullet blasted a hole in the wall of the bedroom. I shot three more times, and the kid slowly faded away into nothingness. Dropping to my knees, I took Odin’s head in my hands one more time. “I’m sorry, buddy…so fucking sorry…”

I squeezed my eyes shut, told myself to get a fucking grip, and pushed away from him. I stumbled out of the bedroom, holstered my Beretta, grabbed my SIG and the assault rifle, and ran back outside to Rinaldo’s car. I broke every traffic rule in existence to get to Rinaldo’s office in just a few minutes. “She’s gone,” I said as soon as I walked in. “I went to the apartment, and she’s not there.” Rinaldo’s eyes tightened, and he glanced around at the other men in the room before looking back to me. “I was afraid of that,” Rinaldo said with a nod. “He’s not answering my calls, either. I sent him a message that the hit was called off, but he didn’t reply. Where the hell is your shirt?” I glanced down at my bare chest for a second before I looked back to Rinaldo. I should have been cold, but I didn’t feel anything. “Soaked in my dog’s blood,” I replied. “He killed Odin.” Rinaldo’s eyes closed briefly, and he shook his head. His throat bobbed before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about that.” “Davies knew where we were living.” “That’s what I was trying to tell you before all hell broke loose,” Rinaldo said. “Davies went to get her—said he knew right where she was but didn’t tell me how. He’s a new guy, and I honestly thought he was bluffing, but if she’s gone, he almost certainly has her.” “Is she already dead?” I didn’t want the answer to the question, but I had to ask. “I don’t know,” he responded. “I would think if she was, he’d tell me so I could pay him for the job. I don’t know if that counts as hope or anything, but it’s a start.” I flinched. “Where would he be?” “At the warehouse, mostly likely. That’s where he’s been staying.” The warehouse. The combination drop-off site and living quarters near the school bus yard where I’d killed Lenny Yates and his companion some months back. It was a good twenty-minute drive from Rinaldo’s office. I turned and started out. “Hold up,” Rinaldo said. I turned to glare at him. “Here you go.” Rinaldo reached down behind his desk and pulled out the bipod and silencer for my Barrett. “Found these in a truck near the rail yard. I figured they were yours.” “Thanks,” I mumbled as I reached for them. “Anything you need?” “Depends on what I find,” I told him. “If she’s gone, I’ll have to call in that favor you once promised me.”

“What favor is that?” I looked up at him, and all I could think was that he could have been—should have been—my father. “I’ll need you to put me down, sir.” ***** During the drive to the northwest side of town where the warehouse was located, I used every relaxation and focusing technique I’d ever learned as a sniper to control myself and focus my energy. The panic in the center of my stomach wasn’t helping me think, and I had to push it down if I had any hope of finding Lia and getting her away from Davies. I pulled up to the building and slowly drove the car around to the back and parked it right next to the corner of the building. There was a small back door partially hidden by a dumpster several yards away at the far end of the building, but I didn’t want to be too close to it. A bullet slammed into the windshield. It was stopped by the special glass but still left a mark where it bounced off. The shot hadn’t come from the doorway but down near the fence that separated the warehouse from the school buses. I slipped the shoulder strap of the assault rifle up one arm and around my neck. I looked around the outside of the building as I climbed out of the car and crouched behind the door but didn’t see anyone. Was this Davies guy shooting at me? It didn’t have to be him—any of Rinaldo’s guys who hadn’t received the message could be gunning for me. I looked off to my left where the line of trees next to the river darkened the area, which would have been a perfect hiding spot as the ground sloped down to the water’s edge. There was a grassy area to the left just before the line of trees, and I ran in that direction, dropped down to the ground on my stomach, and aimed the assault rifle at the trees. Several shots rang out as the butt of the weapon pounded against my shoulder. Another shot rang out and hit the dirt near my boot. Considering where I was, it was too dangerous to stay. My enemy had the advantage of cover, and I had the disadvantage of needing to find Lia immediately. Instead of continuing the firefight I was destined to lose, I moved back behind the edge of the building. With the shooter at the rear of the building, I decided the back door wasn’t the way to get myself inside. I ran along the edge of the building to the front where there were several windows boarded up. The end of the AR broke through the boards and shattered the glass behind them easily enough, and once I’d made a big enough hole, I pulled myself through it. I kept the AR at the ready as I moved to the first room’s door and shoved it open. I looked in both directions down the hallway but saw no one. There was a door to the left with music coming from the room behind it, so I moved in front of it and kicked the door in with my boot. “Holy shit!” The guy inside was in his early twenties with black, curly hair and dark eyes. I recognized his face, but didn’t know his name. Drug trafficking was most likely his occupation, but I didn’t care enough to find out who he was.

I kept my rifle aimed at his face. “I’m looking for a girl,” I told him. “Davies might have brought her here. You want to live? Tell me where she is.” “You’ve got a price on your head,” the idiot informed me. I turned the rifle to the little clock radio that also served as a docking station for his iPhone and blew it to pieces. With the music silenced, I turned the weapon back to his head. “No shit.” I took closer aim. “You seen her?” He swallowed and nodded his head. “You gonna kill me?” “Maybe,” I responded. “If you don’t answer my fucking question in the next three seconds, yes.” “She’s in the corner room,” he told me. “She’s tied up, but she ain’t hurt or anything, I don’t think. I didn’t touch her.” My hands trembled a little. I didn’t know what to feel first—relief that she was still alive or rage that he had obviously considered hurting her or he never would have mentioned it. I backed out of the room slowly. “Don’t move a fucking muscle,” I said. “You hear?” He nodded quickly. I didn’t see anyone else as I raced to the far end of the building. I paused only briefly when I caught the exterior back door of the building in my vision. I kept the rifle pointed at it as I moved past and found a locked room in the hallway nearby. The door was metal and not one I could just kick in. I took out my Beretta so I could easily aim downward at the lock without endangering anyone who might be close to the door—like Lia. Once the lock was out of the way, I kicked the door open and pointed the gun around the room. It was one of the larger single areas of the warehouse—one that usually held a lot of crates and packages of heroin or guns. At the moment, there were no crates or skids—just a single wooden chair in the middle of the room. On the chair was Lia. She was tied down, blindfolded, and gagged. Her arms were behind her, and her wrists were bound with plastic zip ties. She sat, slumped forward with her head lolled to one side, and for a moment, my vision went red and I couldn’t move. The air in my lungs seemed to freeze along with my legs. I widened my eyes to watch her body carefully for any signs of movement and tightened my grip on the Beretta. If she was dead, I’d just go ahead and turn it on myself. No, I couldn’t. First I’d have to find the fucker who did it. Her chest rose sharply with a deep breath, and I nearly lost my ability to stand. A moment later, I

ran forward, and her head turned toward the sound of my footsteps. As I dropped down and grabbed for her, she began to struggle and scream behind the gag. “It’s me!” I said as I pulled the blindfold and gag from her. “It’s just me, baby. You’re all right. Jesus Christ, you’re all right.” I cut the plastic ties from her wrists with my knife, and her arms came up around my neck. I wanted to do the same—just pull her close to me and promise her I’d never let anything happen to her again—but I knew I couldn’t. I needed to get her out of here as quickly as possible. Whoever had been shooting was more than likely still out there. Hell, Davies could have come back in the building, assuming he was the one who took her. “Where is he?” I asked. “Where is that fucker who took you?” “He knew you were coming,” Lia said. “He ran off.” Lia grabbed my shoulders tightly and looked up at me as tears began to fall. “Oh, Evan! Odin…he tried to…he tried to save me.” I gripped my left hand into a fist briefly, closed my eyes for a moment, and looked back at her. The actual circumstances of what happened to Odin hadn’t really entered my thoughts, but I couldn’t hear any of that now. “Let me get you out of here and somewhere safe,” I said. “Then you can tell me what happened.” I got the rest of the ties off of her and then helped her to her feet. She continued to cling to me, and I was perfectly fine with that. We moved swiftly down the wall at the far side of the warehouse interior and to the back door. “Stay close,” I said. As soon as I opened the back door, a bullet ricocheted off of it, and I found myself thankful that at least this guy was a shitty shot. I aimed my Beretta in the general direction of the trees and shot twice before I peeked around the edge. I could see whoever it was—or the shape of him at least—hiding in the brush near the edge of the river. He was down low behind the same pile of concrete where I’d dumped Lenny’s body. It gave him lots of cover but also a bad angle to hit anything. “We’re gonna run, baby,” I told Lia. “Keep to my left side, keep low, and keep up.” “Okay.” We ran. I fired repeatedly, but knew my bullets were only glancing off the concrete and the dirt around him. The action still worked well as a diversion because he ducked down farther as he continued to shoot, making every bullet go way over us as we made our way to the car. Despite the lousy shooting, my entire body was alert, focused, and tense, but what I was feeling was much more than the adrenaline in my system as I opened the driver’s side door and pushed Lia over

my seat and into the passenger side. “Stay down!” I commanded as I climbed in behind her. “Keep your head under the dash!” Lia complied and the tires screeched as I pulled out of the warehouse parking lot. I heard another shot off the back of the car right as I was turning the first corner and slammed my foot to the gas. I zigzagged through side streets and onto the expressway ramp, topped a hundred miles an hour as I swerved to avoid traffic, and then immediately took the first exit. Navigating additional side streets at top speed, I constantly watched the rearview and side mirrors for anyone following us. I went back to Interstate 94 and headed south briefly before racing to another group of side streets and back north again. I tightened my grip on the handle of the Beretta and clenched my teeth. I couldn’t stop my rapid breathing and the feeling of panic in my gut and chest. I glanced at Lia, who still had her body angled low and her head wrapped up in her arms. My chest clenched, and I checked the rearview mirror again. We were in some neighborhood far to the west of downtown. I hadn’t traveled in this area before, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around at all. I screeched through a couple more stop signs before I yanked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes. Reaching over the center console, I grabbed Lia and pulled her up against me. Her arms went around my neck as I held her tight enough to feel her heartbeat. She’s alive…she’s alive…she’s alive… I could barely convince myself. Shoving the seat back a bit, I slid an arm under her legs to bring her to my lap and tighten my grip on her. I kept wondering if she was going to disappear, and I’d realize this was nothing more than another hallucination. If it was, I didn’t know what I would do. If I lost my shit completely over a dead hooker, how would I survive losing Lia? I wouldn’t—plain and simple. My arms gripped her again, and Lia gasped slightly. “Evan—I can hardly breathe.” I loosened my grip a bit but only enough for her to be comfortable again. She sighed heavily as she relaxed against my chest. “Never again,” I mumbled. “What?” Lia asked. I wrapped my fingers around her hand and held our hands up together. “I don’t want to let go of you—not ever. Once we are out of this city and out of this life, I’m never leaving your side again.” Her grip tightened as I lowered our hands again.

“Where are we going?” “Rinaldo’s house.” “Rinaldo? I thought you were…well, staying away from him.” “Things have changed a bit.” “He knows?” she asked. “He knows everything,” I replied. “Gavino also knows I wasn’t really working for him.” “Did the feds catch him?” “No,” I said. I glanced at her sideways. “They never showed up. They either fucked something up royally or never intended to go through with it. I’ll deal with Agent Asshole later, I guess.” “Shit, Evan, what are you going to do?” “Get you somewhere safe—somewhere with protection for you. After that…well, I’m still thinking about it. I’ve got to find out what happened with Trent, and I need to find out exactly who the guy is who took you.” Lia’s eyes found mine. Her expression was strange, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. It occurred to me that I had no idea what she had been through over the past few hours. “Are you hurt?” I asked as I pulled back and reached up to her face. There were bruises forming there, and she had a nasty red mark on her chin. “Did he fucking hit you?” “I’m okay,” she said quietly. He’d kept her alive, and anyone just looking for the bounty on her head would have killed her back in the apartment. I looked over the beautiful woman in my arms and knew there were other ways of hurting her. “Did he…did he touch you?” I asked. My eyes bore into hers, looking for the answer outside of her words. Her eyes tightened; she swallowed hard, and her breath caught in her throat. I had to fight with my hands to keep my fingers from crushing her arms. “Who?” I demanded as my chest tried to collapse into itself. I struggled not to scream. “Who… who was it?” “He didn’t…” Lia struggled for breath before continuing. “He didn’t…not that—not really.” I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “What did he fucking do?” I roared. “He kept saying…saying he was going to,” she told me. “He pawed at me a bit and said he was going to take everything from you, just like you did to him.” What the fuck did that mean?

“Who was it?” I demanded. “What did he look like?” Her eyes focused on mine. “I thought you knew,” she said. “You were talking to him that one day…” Her voice trailed off. “Who?” I yelled again. “That guy,” she whispered, “the one who came to your apartment before.” I blinked, considered, and shook my head. “Jonathan?” I yelled through clenched teeth, not even able to comprehend him doing something like that to any chick and certainly not one he knew was mine. He was always going on about how Nick and I didn’t respect women enough. The only thing I had done to him was spare his life, but all that would change if he touched her. “Not him.” Lia shook her head. “The really big guy with no hair. The one who showed up when…well, when we were arguing that one day about the neighbor and…and her dog.” I froze. She couldn’t mean him. There was no way. “The one who told you to check into me?” I asked. She nodded, but I kept shaking my head. None of this made any sense. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Lia, he doesn’t work for Rinaldo. He’s a fucking fed.” “The one making you do all of this?” I nodded. “Why would he…?” Part of my initial conversation with Trent came back to me. He had taunted me with the suggestion that I had been working for the insurgents and had given them information—the same thing Kevin Davies, the private who had given up our position, had been accused of doing. At the time, I assumed it was just a tactic to get to me, but now I wondered if there was more to it. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m going to find out though.” I wrapped her hair in my hands and pulled our heads together. I inhaled her scent through my mouth and nose, wanting to capture it forever in my memories. Everything in my head made so little sense, I was half afraid it was still nothing but a dream. I felt wetness in my eyes drop down the sides of my face and into her hair. Something was happening inside of me, and it was strong and powerful. I didn’t have a name for it, only that I equated it to more of an unexpected, physics-defying sunrise rather than a left hook to the jaw. It was like it had always been there, lurking around my body, but was blocked by everything else. Before I nearly lost her, I couldn’t see it for what it was.

Now it was blinding. “I love you,” I heard myself say right before I started babbling. “God…I just…I…I love you, and if you had…if he had…fuck…I can’t be without you. I love you, Lia.” Her hands were on the sides of my face a moment later, and her lips pressed to mine. I returned the kiss with hunger. “Did I hear you right?” Lia whispered as her eyes looked to mine. “Did you just say what I think you said?” I ran my tongue over my lips and nodded. “I love you,” I said again. “I love you, Lia Antonio.” Her eyes brightened with her smile. “I love you, too, Evan Arden.” I took a shuddering breath and listened to the words play over and over again in my mind. The sound was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” I said as the realization bounced around inside my head. Lia’s eyes widened. “No one?” I shook my head. “I remember a lot of shit about how God loved me,” I told her, “but no one ever saying it…not like that. The God shit, well…let’s just say that considering what He’s put me through, God can pretty much fuck off.” Lia’s fingers ran down my cheek with a sad smile. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I think maybe He brought me to you, so I can’t be too mad at Him for the other stuff.” For a long moment, we stared at each other without speaking. “No more of this shit,” I finally said. My hands cupped her face, and I stared into her eyes. “I’m done with it—all of it. We’re getting the fuck out of Chicago as soon as possible.” Lia nodded her agreement, and I kissed her again. That action led to another kiss, and before long, I had to force myself to part with her to make good on my promise. “I have to get you somewhere safe—somewhere you can be protected.” I instructed Lia to get her seatbelt back on as I picked up the phone and tapped a couple of numbers on the screen. “I have her,” I said when Rinaldo answered. “She’s alive?”

“Yes.” “I’m glad to hear it.” “I need a safe place for her,” I told him. There was a long pause. “You going after Davies?” he asked. I was going to have to tell him everything about Trent…or Davies—whatever his name was—but I didn’t want to do that yet. I needed to know something first. “Do you have a problem with that, sir?” “He was just doing a job,” Rinaldo said. “A job I requested. Are you coming after me, too?” “No, sir,” I said. “And yeah, it was a job. Consider retribution an occupational hazard.” I heard a sigh come through the phone. “All right, son,” Rinaldo said, and I felt my heart start to beat faster. “Bring her to my house. Luisa can stay with her.” Much of the tension inside of me subsided, knowing he would be behind me on this even when he didn’t know everything yet. I would tell him when I could do it face-to-face, but knowing he was going to back me up on killing someone he thought was on his side was all I really needed to know. “Thank you, sir.” I drove to his house with Lia’s hand grasped in mine. I didn’t want to lose contact with her if I didn’t have to—not for a second. Nothing would make me leave her unprotected again.

Chapter 20—Startling Revelation Rinaldo opened the door himself before we had even exited the car. His driver came around from the garage and took the keys from me, and I grabbed my duffel bag in one hand and Lia’s arm in the other. I led her up the marble stairs of the mansion, between two huge, white columns, and through the front door. “This must be the one,” Rinaldo said quietly as he looked over Lia. Other men might have been angered by his scrutiny of her, but I saw it immediately for what it was. He wanted to see her—know her—and evaluate her worthiness. Would she be loyal and keep his secrets? Would she be good enough for his valued hit man? I looked to Lia, clenched her arm lightly, and nodded. “Lia, this is Rinaldo Moretti. Rinaldo, Lia Antonio.” “A pleasure,” Rinaldo said as he shook her hand gently. “Apologies for the contract I put out on you. Mister Arden and I may have had a bit of a misunderstanding.” He looked at me with coldness in his eyes, and I dropped my gaze. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t have much of a choice.” “We’ll discuss later exactly what your choices were,” he said with the same coldness in his voice. “Now isn’t the time. We’ve got quite a mess here at the moment. With Mario dead—a fact I’m half inclined to hold you responsible for—I’m going to need a little assistance.” The den in Rinaldo’s house was full of people. He had two of his trusted men with him—Victor and Matthew. They stood on either side of him as he sat down in the leather office chair behind his desk. Luisa was also there, and she took Lia’s hand and sat her on the couch near the bookshelves. Nick Wolfe was oddly present. He wasn’t one to deal with a lot of the business stuff, but with Mario and a handful of others gone, Rinaldo obviously thought he was needed. Even Nick’s Russian piece of ass was there. Milena Severinov watched me carefully from where she stood next to Nick. I hadn’t seen her since that night of drinking at Sweetwater and an almost confrontation with her brother, Micah. I walked past them both as I sat on the other side of Lia on the couch. She was looking around at the grandeur of the room and was clearly impressed and intimidated by the display of extravagance. Luisa whispered something to her, which made Lia smile and her cheeks turn slightly pink. I reached over and ran my hand down her arm before taking her hand and looking at Rinaldo. “We’ve got all-out war here, boys,” Rinaldo said. The obvious addition for three women in the room didn’t stop him from using the term. “Greco’s gunning for us, the Russians are now gunning for him, and they’re all after my enforcer.” He looked at me pointedly.

“In other words, we’ve got a big fucking mess. Business is going to suffer, and I’m low on killers and protection. At the same time, there are fewer and fewer people I can trust. On top of that, Mister Arden here seems to think I need one less guy around.” “He was doin’ a job,” Victor pointed out. “If you’d been around and the same contract came out, you’d kill a chick.” “Not for fifteen G’s,” I replied. “What you got is a cheap, piece-of-shit killer.” “You still gonna take out my guy, huh?” Rinaldo was never one to beat around the bush. I wasn’t either. “You mean the fed I’ve been working with,” I said simply. Rinaldo raised an eyebrow. “Agent Trent and Kyle Davies are the same person,” I informed him. “He’s the one who wanted to set you up initially but agreed to let me give him Greco instead. That must not have been good enough for him if he moved to infiltrate your crew as well. I don’t know exactly what his game is yet, but he’s not on your side.” I looked over to Lia and added, “Or mine.” “How do you know this?” Rinaldo asked. I lifted my chin toward Lia. “She’s seen him,” I said. Rinaldo looked over to her, and Lia looked down to where our hands were clasped together and bit at her lip. I gave her hand a bit of a squeeze, and she looked over to me. “Tell him,” I said. “He’s the same one,” she answered quietly. “He was at our apartment, arguing with Evan a while ago. He’s the one who…who kidnapped me. He shot Odin, too.” “Holy shit,” a voice said from the door of the den. We all looked up as Jonathan Ferris entered. “What is it?” Rinaldo asked. “You guys are talking about Kyle Davies—the big bald dude?” “Yeah,” I said. “Why?” “Because he’s the one who helped me get your shit out of lockup,” Jonathan said. “Your rifle and phone—he’s the one who had someone on the inside sign it all out for us.” My skin went cold and broke out in goose bumps. I didn’t think about my actions; I just reached down to the duffel bag at my feet and brought my Barrett out in pieces. I examined each piece in detail, paying special attention to those parts that didn’t require cleaning on a regular basis.

Inside the scope, I found it—a tiny piece of plastic with a bit of metal at the end was stuck on the inside of the sight, away from where it would be seen looking through the scope. “GPS,” Jonathan confirmed when I handed it to him. “Damn small little bugger, too. What-chama-nuts has his resources, no doubt about it.” “What-cha…who?” Victor shook his head and glared at Jonathan. “Whatever his name really is.” Jonathan placed the device on the tile floor by the fireplace and smashed it under his heel. “That’s how he kept finding me,” I realized. I looked to Lia. “That’s how he knew where we were when we changed apartments and how he knew I was coming for him at the warehouse. The Barrett was always with me.” “How would Kyle know what weapon you always have on you?” Nick wondered aloud. “How, indeed?” Rinaldo echoed. Jonathan had his laptop out a second later, and his fingers flew over the keyboard. Everyone else sat in silent contemplation while he worked. After only a few minutes, he looked over to me. “Hey, Evan—does the name Keith Davies mean anything to you?” “Yeah,” I responded. In my head, everything began to focus, and all the parts of the last few weeks began to merge together. I thought the names had to be a coincidence, but they weren’t—they were the key to everything. “Marine. Infantry.” “Captured about the same time you were.” “Right before,” I said. “Trent…Kyle—whatever the fuck his name is—he’s his brother, isn’t he?” “You got it.” “He blames me,” I said. “For what?” Lia asked. “Keith Davies was the guy who was nearly court-martialed for giving away our position when I was captured,” I told her. “It was my testimony they were going to use against him. He took the option of being dishonorably discharged instead. There wasn’t a lot of evidence against him but definitely some suspicions. No one was ever really sure if he was working for the insurgents or not, but my statements at the debriefing had them checking into him.” “He killed himself eight months ago,” Jonathan said. “It says here his brother was once an FBI agent, but he left the agency a couple years ago.” Keith Davies’ suicide would have been just a couple of months before I had my little episode and would have given his brother plenty of time to find me and work on a plan of revenge. “What did he say to you?” I asked Lia. “Tell me what happened when he came to the apartment.” Lia shifted in her seat and took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I was in the bedroom,” she said, “reading a book, and Odin started growling.” She looked up at me, and I could see the tension around her eyes as she spoke. “I’d rarely heard him growl before, and I started getting worried. He got up and went to the door of the bedroom. That’s when the front door burst open, and he was there.” “Davies?” Rinaldo asked for clarification. Lia nodded. “I knew right away,” she continued, “I knew there was something wrong. His eyes—the way he looked at me and kept smiling, even when…when…” She took in a sharp breath, and I rubbed the back of her hand. “Go on, babe,” I said softly, though the inside of me was ready to start screaming and breaking a few things. “I picked up that gun you gave me,” Lia said to me, “and I…I tried to do what you said, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t pull the trigger—I got the safety off, but I just couldn’t do it.” “Great match for you there, Evan,” Victor snorted. “Shut the fuck up,” I growled back at him. I looked back to Lia. “What did Davies say?” “He pointed a gun at me and told me to drop mine. Odin was still growling, and my hands were shaking. He yelled at me to drop it again, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I dropped it. He came into the bedroom, and Odin went after him.” She paused and her eyes brimmed over with tears. “He was trying to protect me,” she sobbed. “He jumped at him, and I heard his gun go off twice. Odin dropped down in the doorway, and he just kicked him and walked in. He tied me up, went through everything, and the next thing I knew, he was dragging me out.” “Motherfucker,” Jonathan grumbled. “I liked Odin.” Lia started crying harder, and Luisa took hold of her other hand. I was just barely holding it together, trying not to imagine the scene in my head. If I did, I was going to lose it, but some of it sank in anyway. He was a damn fine guard dog after all. My throat tightened up on me, and I turned my attention to Rinaldo, who looked over to Matthew. “Go tell Howard to retrieve the body of Mister Arden’s dog,” he said. “Have him take a crew to clean up the apartment as well. Leave no trace.” “Yes, sir.” Matthew left the room. By the time he returned, Lia had composed herself again. “Go on,” Rinaldo encouraged her.

“He had these little plastic strips which he put around my wrists. He had the gun in my back as he pushed me into a car outside the apartment building. I was trying to watch where we were going, but I couldn’t figure it out—I don’t know the city very well.” “Did he take you straight to the warehouse, where I found you?” Lia nodded. “The whole way, he kept saying how much he was going to enjoy making you suffer, Evan. He said he’d been planning it a long time and he couldn’t wait to see your face when you found me.” I swallowed and looked out toward the window for a moment. The flickering image of the bomb kid was there in the glass, but I didn’t acknowledge him. “He took me inside,” Lia continued. “He kept laughing and telling me he wasn’t sorry it was going to hurt because he wanted you to suffer everything I suffered. He said he was going to kill you eventually but not until you’d paid for what you’d done. I kept asking him why, but he never told me.” She took another breath. “He pushed me down on the floor inside that room. That’s where you found me.” “I found you in a chair,” I reminded her. Lia just shrugged as she looked away from me. My eyes met Rinaldo’s, and I could see my expression reflected in his face. She was hiding something. “What happened?” I pressed. “He put me in the chair when he figured out you were coming,” she said. “What about before that?” Lia was jumpy and kept looking away from me. I reached over and took her chin in my hand to force her to look at me. “What did he do?” I asked. “I told you. He pushed me down on the floor.” “What else?” “He just…well, he hit me. “What else?” “He…touched me,” she whispered, still refusing to look into my eyes. “Where?” Her eyes closed, and she shook her head silently. There was something growing inside of me—something dark and powerful and deadly. I watched her face and knew there was a lot more than what she’d already said. Inside, it felt like my organs were

caught up in the beginnings of an earthquake. “Tell me!” I growled. Her eyes filled with tears. “What did he do?” I demanded again. “He just...he just fingered me, okay?” she finally yelled. “He was holding me down and saying he was going to…to rape me and make you pay for everything you did. I…I think he was going to, but that’s when his phone went off, and he said you were coming.” My teeth clenched as my body started to shake, and everything in my vision went red. The earthquake inside began to rocket to the surface. I had to get out of there, find Kyle Davies, and rip his flesh from his body. I shoved myself up from the couch. “I gotta go take care of something.” “Evan…” Lia placed her hand on my arm, but I pushed it away. “I need to go take care of something,” I repeated. “Evan, you don’t even know where he is,” Rinaldo said. He also stood up from his chair and crossed the room to place a hand on my shoulder. “Now let’s sit down and-” “NO!” I screamed as I shoved him backwards. Both Matthew and Victor were on me immediately. I threw a punch to Victor’s face, which threw him backwards into the bookcase. Matthew grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it away and kicked him in the gut. “Leave him alone!” Rinaldo yelled at both of them as he stood up and straightened his jacket. “You’re just going to get yourselves killed if you don’t.” Jonathan didn’t listen to Rinaldo. He came up from behind me and grabbed both my arms, locking them behind my back. I leaned forward to try to throw him off, but he was expecting it, and Jonathan was a big guy. I couldn’t get the leverage I needed. What if I had been any later? “He fucking touched her!” I screamed. I looked to Lia’s crying face as I struggled against Jonathan’s grip. I kicked backwards and connected with some part of Jonathan’s leg, but he didn’t let up. Luisa had an arm around Lia’s shoulders and was glaring at me. “You aren’t helping!” Luisa spat. “For Christ’s sake, Evan, stop it!” “He…he…” I couldn’t bring forth words. I couldn’t even understand the incredible rage I felt inside of me. I’d never wanted someone dead so badly. I wanted to tear him apart with my hands. I wanted his blood all over me. I wanted to revel in his screams of agony. Jonathan held me firmly.

“I know, brotha,” he said calmly. “I’m gonna be right there with ya when we make that motherfucker pay for it, too. But not right now. Right now, you have to get your shit together and think. She’s still alive. If you go off like this, she’s just going to have to deal with you getting yourself killed.” I looked at her and watched more tears fall from her cheeks and onto her shirt. I pushed against Jonathan once more but with only minimal effort. He slowly loosened his grip as I tried to get my breath back under control, but he didn’t let go entirely. “I want his fucking balls on a platter,” I snarled over my shoulder. Jonathan let go, and I dropped back down on the couch next to Lia. I reached over, moving slowly because I knew I had scared her, and ran my hand down her arm. She stroked my cheek. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” she whispered. I opened my mouth to say something, but the only words I had were of blood and violence so I closed it again. I reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb. “We’ll git ‘em,” Jonathan promised, “but we do it smart, right? We gotta find him, first.” “I know where he is,” Milena said. Jonathan grabbed my arm again as I stood up and took a step toward Nick’s girlfriend. “Easy, brotha.” “Where?” I asked. “Tell me where—right fucking now!” Nick stepped forward and took Milena’s hand. He was obviously ticked off at the way I was talking to her, but I didn’t give a shit. If she didn’t give me what I wanted, I’d gut her right in front of him. “He’s with Rurik,” Milena said. “Micah’s with him, too.” “Where?” I demanded again. “I’ll tell you,” Milena said, “but there’s a condition.” I pulled out my Beretta, cocked it, and aimed it at her head. “The condition,” I told her, “is you getting to live for telling me what I want to know.” Nick moved in front of her, but Milena—bravely or stupidly—pushed his arm away to look right at me. I saw Rinaldo roll his eyes, which meant he didn’t realize how serious I was. “No, that’s not the condition,” Milena said, “well, not the only one, anyway. Micah’s my brother. He can be as dumb as a box of rocks, but he’s still my brother. I don’t want him dead.” “I’m not making any fucking promises,” I snarled. “Then you’ll have to shoot me and figure it out for yourself,” she said with a shrug. “Me, too,” Nick piped up. I moved the business end of the Beretta to Nick. “Evan.” Rinaldo’s voice held a warning I couldn’t completely ignore.

I took in a long breath and huffed it out my nose sharply before I dropped the gun to point at the floor. If I was going to be the least bit successful, I needed Rinaldo on my side. I couldn’t do that if I shot his kid. I glared at Milena. “Fine,” I said. “He lives. Tell me.” “There’s a construction site just south of Quay—a little restaurant and bar on East Illinois.” “I know the place,” I said. “There’s a little outbuilding there—that’s where they are hiding. Davies is there with them along with that other guy who’s always with him. At least, they were headed there a few hours ago.” “Johnson,” I said. “That’s not his name,” Milena said with a shake of her head. “He’s Russian, too.” “Figures,” I muttered. “Hey!” Nick called out in protest. “Enough, Nicholas,” Rinaldo responded. He walked forward and took his illegitimate son’s arm to lead him over to the opposite couch and sit him and Milena down away from me. “Evan, do you have what you need?” “All I need is this,” I said, indicating the weapon in my hand. “I’m going with ya,” Jonathan said with conviction. I wasn’t going to argue with him. “Then go take care of your business,” Rinaldo said. “We’ll watch over Lia.” I moved back over to Lia, and she stood up to meet me. I held her against me for a moment. We parted slightly, and I looked into her eyes, still red from crying. “I’ll be back soon,” I told her. “Then we’re gone, you hear me? We’re going to leave.” I turned my attention to Rinaldo. “I’m done here,” I told him. “This is my last job, and then I’m out—permanently.” His eyes went dark, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t agree, either. “We’ll discuss that when you return,” he said with a meaningful look. I leaned in close to Lia. “We’ll leave as soon as this is done,” I vowed. It was a promise I intended to keep. She closed her eyes and nodded. We touched our foreheads together, and I leaned a little closer to press my lips softly and briefly to hers before I turned to leave with Jonathan behind me. “I’m going to need a drink when all this is done,” Jonathan said as we went out into the hallway. I was about to respond when an explosion rocked the house.

The blast was enough to send both Jonathan and me to the ground. I rolled to the side, Beretta out, and looked back down the hall toward Rinaldo’s office. The door had been blown off completely, and there was debris everywhere. “Lia!” I shoved myself up and ran back down the corridor. I could hear Jonathan’s footsteps behind me, but all my focus was on what was up ahead. The window of the den had been blown out completely, the bookshelf was toppled over, and people were coming in from outside. “Motherfucker!” Rinaldo was screaming. “How dare you come to my house? My house!” Shots rang out, but I couldn’t pay attention to them because I couldn’t see Lia anywhere. I pushed my way into the room and tried to make out shapes through the dust that clouded the air. I could hear more shouting and recognized the voices, but I was too focused to register whose they were. “Evan!” To my right was the toppled bookshelf, and Lia was on the floor next to it. I rushed over to her and knelt down. “Luisa!” Lia cried as she pointed to the shelf. I could see one of her legs and part of an arm sticking out from underneath it. Crouching down, I got a good grip on the edge and shoved up with my legs as hard as I could. The shelf only moved a foot, but it was enough for Lia to grab onto Luisa and pull her out from under it. She was bleeding from a gash in the back of her head, and her arm was obviously broken. I checked her head, but the gash wasn’t deep—just a lot of blood. I pulled off my shirt and held it against her scalp as I pulled her and Lia back behind the upturned couch. With the Beretta back in my hand, I peered out to the scene in the room. Rurik Dytalov and Micah Severinov were right at the edge of the window surrounded by three of their goons. Micah was yelling at Milena. “You never fucking listen to me!” he screamed. “You’ve joined the fucking enemy!” Nick pushed Milena to the side as Micah fired. She fell amongst fallen books and Rinaldo’s globe-shaped bar as Nick screamed and dropped down beside her. “Nicholas!” Rinaldo cried. His gun fired rapidly toward the two Russians, but my attention was drawn to the figure behind them. Kyle Davies. His eyes met mine, and everything I was feeling before abruptly resurfaced. It wasn’t just a feeling, either—I could see it. I could see him holding Lia down on the floor of that warehouse and threatening her. I could hear the words she said he spoke, and I could see the terror in her eyes has he forced her to the ground.

“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” I screamed as I pushed away from the couch and ran forward, gun firing into the dust-filled air. A flash brightened my peripheral vision, and a searing pain in my calf caused me to lose my footing in the mess of glass, wood, and brick scattered around the floor. My head slammed hard onto the floor, and my Beretta flew from my hand as bright spots formed in my vision. Johnson was on me a second later, slamming my shoulders into the ground as I rolled to grab for him through blurry vision. He pulled back to try to aim his weapon in my face, but I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and shoved his head to the floor into a pile of glass. He screamed, and I pulled his head back to slam it down again. One of the pieces of glass embedded in his neck, and blood began to pour onto the floor. More shouts. More shots. I didn’t even know where they were coming from. My head was pounding, and I still couldn’t see clearly. Blood covered my arm, but I held firmly to the back of Johnson’s neck until he stopped struggling, his face a mess of gashes. Just as I released him, a sharp blow to my gut sent me reeling to the side. A burst of nausea trampled its way through me. I shook my head to try to clear it, and when I looked up, Davies stood over me, his gun in his hand and a smirk on his face. “You get it all figured out, asshole?” he snarled down at me. “I figured out you’re a dickless piece of shit,” I replied. “You can’t handle me yourself, so you have to pick on girls.” “She has a nice, tight little pussy,” he said. “I figured you couldn’t fill it up.” He stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked on it. I pushed myself up, lashing out with one boot to his shin. Davies lost his balance and fell but kept hold of his gun. I grabbed for his wrist, and we rolled to the side. He cried out as he hit the glass, then wrenched his hand free and punched my gut with the butt end of the gun. My left fist made contact with his jaw, and his head snapped back. It didn’t deter him, though. He punched me again with the revolver, knocking me back to the floor. My head swam. I was on my back again, blissfully not in a pile of glass, but I could barely move from the dizziness in my head. I looked up to see Davies standing over me again. “Time to pay, Arden,” Davies said as he raised the gun to my face. “Who’s the fucking hero, now?” The blast rang through my ears, leaving me deaf for a moment. I waited for the pain, but there was nothing. For a moment, I thought I might be dead, but then I realized I could hear Lia screaming. “It’s all right, babe,” Jonathan’s voice echoed from behind me. “You did good.” I pushed myself up on my elbows and focused on the body of Kyle Davies lying near my feet. There was a gaping hole in the back of his chest and blood everywhere. I looked over to Lia who held my Beretta in her hands.

Her face was white. The dust was clearing, and as my vision returned, the nausea subsided. I looked around the room to see Rinaldo standing in the middle of it, a gun in each hand. He was looking over the scene with his knuckles white against the pistol grips, his nostrils flared, and his eyes blazing. There were no more shots. I made my way over to Lia and kneeled in front of her. She still held the gun out at the ready as she looked into my eyes. “I killed him,” she whispered. “I know,” I replied. “It’s okay.” She shook her head rapidly, and her hands clenched. I needed to get the gun out of her hand before she inadvertently fired it again. “Give me the gun, baby,” I said softly. Lia’s eyes were still wide, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. I reached forward and placed my palm over the barrel of the Beretta and gave it a bit of a twist, freeing it from her fingers. She collapsed into a heap as soon as I did, and I dragged her closer to me. “It’s all right,” I told her. “You’re okay—I’m okay.” “I killed him,” she said again. “I know.” I held her to me. “You had to, baby.” Rinaldo was holding Luisa gently by her good arm as he picked his way through the rubble, kicking at Rurik’s body in the process. Victor and Matthew both lay still, but I couldn’t tell if they were dead or just unconscious. Milena was holding Nick’s head in her lap, but his eyes were open and he was talking to her as tears ran down her cheeks. I looked toward the window and saw Micah’s body bent at an awkward angle on the floor. “You okay?” Jonathan asked. “I think so,” I said. I looked down to my leg. The tear in my jeans revealed the bullet wound across my calf. “Hurts like a bitch, but it’s not serious. We need Doc Franklyn.” “I’ll get him,” Jonathan said. “Call in a cleaning crew, too,” Rinaldo called out as Jonathan stood and headed out. By the time the doctor arrived, Jonathan and Rinaldo had moved Matthew and Victor’s bodies to one side of the room and Micah, Rurik, and three of their cohorts’ bodies to the other side. Johnson—or whatever his name was—and Davies were still right where they fell. Jonathan had cleared an area in the center of the room for Luisa to relax and for Rinaldo to pace. Nick was sitting up, but like me, he had also been shot in the leg. The wound was deeper, and the bullet was still inside, but Franklyn didn’t think he would lose his leg or anything. He bandaged it, but said he wanted to take him to his office to get the bullet removed and his leg properly patched up.

Luisa’s scalp needed a couple of stitches, and her arm was put into a sling until Franklyn could get everything he needed to reset the break and apply a cast. The doctor checked over Rinaldo, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, he was fine as was Jonathan. Franklyn bandaged up my leg after agreeing that it wasn’t anything too serious and then handed me a bottle of antibiotics, which I pocketed after taking one of them. He was more concerned about the obvious concussion I had suffered, but I told him to get off my ass and deal with the others. Rinaldo looked over to me as the doctor wrapped my leg. “It’s on,” he said as he looked around to everyone in the room. “No one comes to my house like that and lives. We’re taking out all of Greco’s organization and the Russians. None saved.” “Retribution,” Luisa hissed. “Those fuckers are going to pay—all of them.” Milena held on to Nick, but he just looked between his father and sister before he nodded his head in agreement. I turned my attention back to Lia. She was still white as a sheet, and I had the doctor come over and check her out. “She’s in a bit of shock,” he said. “Keep her warm and yell if she gets worse. She’s going to have a nasty bruise there on her leg, but she’s otherwise unharmed.” The phrase made me cringe. I knew by the look in her eyes that she was anything but—it was a look I’d seen many times before, often in the mirror. I took her face in my hands and tried to get her to focus on me. As soon as she did, she broke down and started to cry. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as tightly as I could. She’d saved my life, no doubt, but right now, she couldn’t see it for what it was. “He would have killed me, baby,” I whispered into her hair. “If you hadn’t pulled the trigger, he would have killed me just like he did Odin.” Lia clung to me, sobbing against my bare chest as her fingers gripped my shoulders. “It’s over now, baby,” I told her. “It’s over.” “Take me away from here,” she whispered. “I can’t do this anymore, Evan—I can’t!” “You don’t have to,” I said. “I love you, and we’re going to leave.” Nothing would stop me from taking her far away from all of this.

Chapter 21—Final Goodbyes Lia wasn’t happy about it, but I insisted she stay at Rinaldo’s southern house while I bought replacement items for the things that were destroyed when Davies wrecked the apartment. I also had a few other things I wanted to get done before we left, and I couldn’t do all of those things with her in tow. I also needed a little time to myself. I kicked at the curb as I loitered and wished I had put on a warmer jacket. It was only late October, but the wind from the lake was chilling. After a few minutes of waiting, I looked up to see Mark Duncan as he was coming out of his office. With a shout and a wave, I flagged him down before he could get to his Land Rover. “Hey, Mark!” “Evan?” He stepped away from the vehicle and walked over to me on the sidewalk near the office building. “What can I do for you?” “I just wanted to tell you I was leaving town,” I said. I shoved my hands into my pockets to provide a little warmth. Mark snorted out a sharp laugh through his nose. “Now you decide to tell me something?” His shoulders rose and fell with his breath, which froze into vapor as it came out of his mouth. “Where are you going?” I reached up and scratched at the back of my head. I needed another haircut. “Not sure exactly,” I said. I really did have a place in mind, but I hadn’t even told Lia where it was yet. I wasn’t sure how thrilled she was going to be with the location, but we could always move somewhere else later. “So what made you stop here?” I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but what had always been there—genuine concern for me. It felt odd to recognize it for what it was, but I knew it had always been there from the beginning. Maybe I could see it now because of Lia and her influence over me. I didn’t know for sure; I only knew she made me see things differently—clearer and with a mindset more toward what I could be, not what I have been. “Well, I thought you might like to know I don’t think I’ll be seeing that kid anymore,” I said. “You know—the one with the bombs strapped to him.” “I remember.” “Yeah, I think he’s gone.” “Why do you think that?” Mark asked.

“Because now I know why I kept seeing him.” “How did you figure that out?” Mark asked as he appraised me. “He told me,” I said with a shrug. He raised an eyebrow, and I snickered. “I guess I told myself. Anyway, it’s kind of why I’m leaving. Well, partially.” “Are you taking Lia with you?” “Yeah, definitely.” “I can only hope this is a good move for you, Evan. Let me know where you end up, and I’ll recommend someone to continue your treatment.” “Sure,” I said. I looked into his eyes, and we both knew I wasn’t going to do it. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked. “I’ll manage,” I said. “Thanks for trying to help me.” Mark reached out his hand, and I shook it. “Good luck, Evan.” His tongue darted out over his lips. “If you do ever need anything, let me know, okay?” “I can do that,” I said with a nod. We parted. I finished my shopping and then joined Rinaldo at his office. He shooed Nick out of the room so we could talk privately. “There’s only one real kind of retirement in this business,” Rinaldo said flatly as soon as we were alone. I stiffened in the chair across from him. “So we’re going to say you’re on sabbatical, got it?” I took a calming breath. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” “You saved my daughter,” he said. “You’ve saved me a number of times. I owe you a little something, but don’t ever forget I may need something from you one day in the future. I’ll respect what you need, but that doesn’t mean we’re parting ways forever, capisce?” “Capisce.” “I made sure the contracts were removed from both of you,” Rinaldo said. “That should keep anyone from following you. I also had Lia contact the police in Phoenix and resolve the missing person’s report her ex filed on her. She talked to her mother as well.” I’d forgotten all about that. “Thank you, sir.”

“In case you were wondering, all the charges against you have been resolved. You’re on probation, but don’t worry about checking in—Jonathan is covering all that for you.” I blinked a couple of times. “Seriously?” “Apparently, he’s got an app for that.” I laughed. “Your mental state coupled with the extensive treatment you are currently undergoing is enough for the state.” Rinaldo smiled. “Everything else has been wiped clean.” “Damn,” I muttered. “That’s pretty good work.” “If you would have talked to me in the first place, maybe it would have happened a little sooner.” I glanced down at my hands and swallowed hard. “You made some bad choices, Arden,” he informed me. I looked down, the scolding leaving me feeling genuinely contrite for once. “If you get yourself in a bind, you fucking talk to me about it. We could have figured this one out together, and maybe we wouldn’t have the fucking disaster we have now.” “I know, sir.” “That said, I’m not holding you accountable. I know what you’ve been through, and I appreciate that. You’ve always been of great service to me and my family. I can’t discount that, even if you did demonstrate shit judgment on your part.” “Yes, sir.” I took a breath and looked up at him. His expression softened. “If you ever need anything from me in the future, you just let me know.” Rinaldo leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as I nodded. “And let’s not make it putting you down, all right?” I smiled. “Yes, sir.” “You and Lia going to leave right away?” “As soon as I’m done with a few errands, yes.” “Do you know where you’re going?” I shrugged noncommittally. “Not saying?” “I’d prefer to keep it to myself, sir. If someone decides to look for me, I’d rather no one in your org know my location.” Rinaldo nodded.

“We’re going to be busy with all of this. Even with the Russians mostly out of the picture, we’ve still got Greco to deal with. Once we’re reorganized, he’s going to have to pay for everything he’s done to this outfit and my family.” “I’m sure he will, sir.” “If I get wind that he’s looking for you out of town, I’ll let you know through your email.” “I’ll keep an eye on it,” I promised. Rinaldo stood, and I copied his movement. I thought he would reach out and shake my hand, but he came around the desk and hugged me instead. I returned the gesture a little awkwardly at first but then with tightened arms around his shoulders. We parted, and I took a slight step back. “I’ve got your back,” Rinaldo said. “I hope you decide to stay in touch.” “Maybe eventually,” I said. “I’ve got to try and figure out this whole real life thing, you know?” “All of this hasn’t been real enough for you?” He waved his hands around the office and smiled. “Nah.” I shook my head. “I think I slept through most of it.” Rinaldo laughed. “I hope you will rest easy now.” “With Lia, yeah,” I said, “I think I will, sir.” “Take care, son.” My heart raced as I looked at him, nodded slowly, and turned to leave before I decided to change my mind. I made my way down the back steps without looking back. It felt strange to walk out of his office with no intention of returning. I knew there would always be the possibility of him calling in a favor—and I would probably do whatever he asked—but for now, he would leave me in peace. I looked out at the Chicago skyline as I boarded the bus and found two seats together so I had a place for my packages. It was equally strange to know I wouldn’t be riding around on the same CTA buses, looking up at the same buildings, or walking along the lake with Odin chasing seagulls and pigeons. There were so many memories, so many things I had done here, but more often than not, they weren’t pleasant things. I rode the bus to where my car was parked and then found myself driving around Lake Shore East Park. Someone had fixed the warning sound for the parking garage. It wasn’t as loud as it used to be, but it still made me cringe. There was a spot open, so I parked the car and looked up to the balcony of my old apartment as I walked around the park. Without actually meaning to, I went inside the dog run. There were a few people hanging out there, and I sat down on a bench for a minute to watch the dogs sniff and bark at each other. A golden retriever mix came up to me, and I rubbed his head before his owner called him back. Memories of Odin flooded through my mind, but they were all good ones.

I left the park, drove to Giordano’s, and ordered a pizza. After I had stuffed myself, I walked by the 676 Bar and Grill, but I didn’t go in. It was too early for Michele with one “L” to be working, and besides, the last memories I had there were of Davies. I’d known then he was hiding something, but I thought he was just planning to turn me in along with the rest of Greco’s group, not kidnap and try to rape my girlfriend. My hands clenched into fists. Lia hadn’t said anything else about it, but I knew she thought about it. She’d woken up last night in a cold sweat, crying. I held her against my chest until she fell back to sleep. I supposed I owed her a few nights of that. I was pretty sure she and Luisa had talked about it more, and I was glad she had another woman to go to because I couldn’t even deal with my own traumas, let alone help with hers. I could be there for her, but I didn’t have any words to take away what had happened to her. After all of that, she still felt guilty about taking his life. I only regretted not doing it myself. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turned away from the lake wind and made the trek back to the car. I drove slowly through downtown traffic and watched the tourists with their shopping bags and Chicago-themed sweatshirts walk up and down the street, looking at maps and smartphones as they tried to figure out where they were. I drove by the corner where Bridgett used to hang out and wait for tricks. “You need to stop this shit,” I told myself. “Too many fucking memories.” With a quick twist of the wheel, I got myself onto Lakeshore Drive and headed toward the less damaged of Rinaldo’s homes. When I arrived, all of Lia’s things were in a pile on the porch next to mine. As I pulled up, she came outside with Luisa and Jonathan behind her. “Ready now?” she asked. “Definitely,” I replied. Luisa and Lia shared an awkward one-armed hug, carefully avoiding bumping the bright pink cast over Luisa’s arm and elbow. They spoke a few soft words as I threw the last of our things into the car and shut the lid to the trunk. Jonathan came over and clasped his hand on my back. “You take care of yourself, brotha,” Jonathan said as he shook my hand vigorously. He was wearing his Save Ferris T-shirt, which made me smile. “You ever need anything, you know how to find me.” “Thanks, dude,” I replied. “You sure you’re okay with taking care of…of Odin?” “It’s my next stop,” Jonathan said. “He’s getting the biggest fucking stone in the pet graveyard, so if you ever come back, it’ll be easy enough to find.” We looked at each other for a long moment, but there wasn’t anything else to be said. As strange as it was, given how many bodies I had disposed of during my tenure with Rinaldo’s organization, I

couldn’t bring myself to take care of Odin’s. The very thought of it brought me to the point of vomiting. It could have been left over from the concussion, but I didn’t think so. When Jonathan had volunteered, I knew my dog would get the best final services he could. Thanks wouldn’t have been anywhere near enough, and Jonathan already knew how I felt about it anyway. “Don’t put up with any shit from this guy!” Jonathan said to Lia as he gave her a quick hug and opened the car door for her. She laughed. “He wouldn’t dare,” she said with a wink to me. I rolled my eyes, waved goodbye to Luisa, and got behind the wheel. Lia settled in beside me, and I pulled around the circular driveway and off into the street. “We need to make one last stop,” I said. “Where?” Lia asked. “The old apartment over on Kingsbury. I’ve got to grab a couple things from there.” “What?” “Cash,” I replied. Lia came with me as we headed up the elevator and then to the unit we had inhabited. She stood near the door and looked around as I grabbed a couple of suitcases from the back of the closet. When I came out, she was staring at a spot on the floor in the living room. Odin’s spare rubber bone was lying there. “Get it,” I said quietly. She glanced at me, and there were tears threatening to spill from her lashes. She didn’t say anything, just quickly walked over and grabbed the bone. She shoved it into her purse, and we headed back downstairs. I tossed the suitcases into the trunk and was about to slam it shut when a voice shouted out from behind me. “You there!” I startled and went for my gun. Lucky for her, the crotchety old woman with the bitch Odin had knocked up didn’t end up with a bullet in her head. “You owe me eight thousand dollars!” she snapped. “I have four mongrel pups I can’t sell for anything!” For a moment, I could only see red. I was dangerously close to strangling the old hag, but before I did, I glanced behind her and saw her dog on the lawn with four playful, white pups rolling around in the grass. One of them perked her head up and looked over to us. Her tail began to wag furiously as she tried to bound over in our direction but tripped on her own feet instead. Distracted by whatever scent

filled her nose upon impact, she attacked a blade of grass and forgot about us. “You’re a nut,” I informed the woman. “Fuck you and the dogs.” I turned around and started to walk away, but Lia stopped me. “Evan?” Lia said as her hand rested against my elbow. “Evan, can we…can we take one of them?” My chest tightened. At first, I wanted to say no. I wasn’t replacing Odin—there was no way. But these pups…they were part of him, too. He took a bullet for her. I went back to the car, looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching, and then opened one of the suitcases full of cash. I quickly counted out eight grand and brought it over to the woman. “Here,” I said. “Don’t ask for another fucking thing from me, and don’t give me any shit about it —we’re taking one of the puppies.” She opened her mouth like she was going to argue with me anyway but thought better of it as she stared at the cash in her hand. I took Lia’s arm and led her over to the fluffy white, wriggling balls of fur. The same puppy that fell over her own feet earlier bounced over and licked Lia’s hand. “That one,” I said definitively. “I think you are right,” Lia replied as she picked her up. She twisted and turned to get out of Lia’s arms at first, but then turned toward her face and licked her chin. “That’s disgusting,” I told the pup, and her ears perked up at the sound of my voice. She stared at me intently for a moment and then struggled to get out of Lia’s arms and over to me. I rubbed her head, but Lia kept hold of her. “She’s perfect,” Lia said as we got into the car, and the pup watched out the window as I pulled away. “What are we going to call her?” “Freyja,” I said without giving it another thought. “What’s that from?” “She’s the Norse Goddess of fertility, love, and beauty,” I told her. I left out how she was also the goddess of death and war—that shit didn’t make sense to me, anyway. It sounded better to leave it as it was. “That’s perfect,” Lia said with a smile. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she rubbed the pup’s head and started to tear up again. “She’s got her dad’s eyes,” I remarked, and Lia nodded in agreement. “Her breath is better,” she said as she wiped the wetness off her cheeks. “Do you think she’ll like

to play fetch?” “Definitely.” I pulled onto the freeway and headed northwest, out of Chicago. “Where are we going to go?” Lia asked. “Canada,” I replied simply. “I have a cabin up there.” “Like the one in Arizona?” she asked. “Not exactly,” I said with a smile, “but similar.” “Middle of nowhere?” “You got it.” “Will this place have electricity at least?” she asked. “It’s got a propane tank,” I replied. I looked over to smile at her slyly. “Mostly gets used to heat the hot tub.” Lia laughed, and I reached over to hold her hand. Freyja licked the back of my knuckles. “Disgusting,” I grumbled and sped up the highway as the Chicago skyline disappeared behind us. I would miss it—well, parts of it—but everything important to me was with me. I reached over to hold Lia’s hand as we drove away. Nothing could have been better.

Epilogue—New Life It’s fucking cold. I kind of like it. I stood out on the enclosed front porch of the small cabin in a desolate wasteland somewhere in Northern Ontario. There was a good-sized lake not far off, and I could see the iced edge of it from the front of the cabin. Evergreen trees surrounded the other three sides of the property, encasing it in serenity. I adjusted the towel around my waist and took a sip of my scotch. Behind me was the bubbling sound of the hot tub that had come with the place, and I planned on taking full advantage of it—for about the hundredth time—as soon as Lia was done cleaning up from the dinner I had cooked for her on the gas stove. At least there was heat inside the cabin. It had a living room, good-sized bedroom, a kitchen, and actual plumbing in the bathroom as long as the pipes were kept warm from the gas heat. There were fireplaces in each room and three cords of wood in the back, already seasoned for the winter. I’d have to get more for next year. The cabin really was a lot nicer than the place in Arizona. It was a good thing, too—I’d paid quite a bit for it, given the remote location and lack of amenities. Some rich fisherman had the place built a decade ago but died of a heart attack before he ever had the chance to use it. I bought it off his widow as one of the many getaways I might need when the time came. The time had come. The door opened, and Freyja bounded out with Lia close behind her, Odin’s old bone in her mouth. She’d already grown a lot and resembled her father a little more than what made me comfortable, but I was getting used to the constant reminder of my old friend. Lia had looked up her name and found out Freyja had been worshipped for war and death as well, but we ultimately decided it made sense. All you had to do was look at us—from war, death, and suffering, we’d achieved beauty, peace, and love. Lia was dressed in a string bikini, which I found utterly ridiculous, but she never just came out to the hot tub naked. I wasn’t sure if she thought someone was going to spy on us all the way out here or not, but she refused to walk around outside without wearing something. The bikini usually lasted about thirty seconds after Lia got into the hot tub, and even more often, ended up never making it to the water. “Holy shit, it’s cold!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Don’t do that,” I whined. “I can’t see your nipples now.” “I’m right, though, aren’t I?” she pressed. She came up, stole a drink of my scotch, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “It’s getting even colder! I thought Chicago winter was bad.” “It’s barely December,” I reminded her. “We haven’t even hit winter officially. It’s going to get a lot colder.”

She looked out over the snow and got a faraway look I didn’t like much. It meant she was thinking —remembering—about shit she shouldn’t have to think about. She shivered, and I moved up beside her to wrap my arm around her shoulders. For the most part, she was keeping herself busy with correspondence school to finish her degree in nursing. It would only work for another year before she would have to be near a hospital to complete her studies, but we’d figure all that out when the time came. It was a sacrifice she’d made to be with me, and I’d thrown out my Beretta so she wouldn’t have to look again at the only gun she’d ever fired again. The Barrett was still with me, but I took it far away from the cabin to shoot it. The noise made Lia kind of panicky, and Freyja didn’t care much for it either. I set a target up about a mile away, and though the trek out there was a long one through the trees and snow, it was worth the effort to give her a little peace. Lia had her scars from the whole ordeal, and I didn’t begrudge her those. She’d done things she never thought she’d have to do, seen shit she never wanted to see, and she knew far more than she ever wanted to know. There was no way I could erase those thoughts from her memory any more than I could erase what happened to me in the desert. As much as I’d hated the thought, I told her she didn’t have to stay with me—not if it was too painful—but she just told me to shut up, and I wasn’t about to push the issue. I needed her. Maybe we needed each other. I hoped so. There was only one other thing still lingering in my mind—I still didn’t know why my parents ditched me in the first place. I still had the address of the cemetery where they were buried, but I hadn’t gone there. Maybe in the spring, we could take a trip to Ohio and see their graves, but I wasn’t sure what kind of information I’d really get from that. It would be a good excuse to see Jonathan, though, and maybe get an update on the war in Chicago. Maybe I’d just leave it alone. Lia shivered again, and I lifted her up and lowered her into the hot tub before ditching my towel and climbing in myself. Freyja went up the small step stool beside the spa and put her paws on the edge, but she didn’t like the water and wouldn’t come in. She did like to sniff at the bubbles and watch us fuck, though. Perverted thing. I’d been thinking about fucking since I walked outside, so I didn’t waste any time getting rid of the damn bikini and pulling Lia on top of me. I slowly lowered her down on my cock, and that feeling of peace, love, and home washed over me along with the bubbling heat of the water. Lia moaned softly against my neck, and for a while, I stayed inside of her but didn’t move. It was a feeling that made me think Lia might be right—maybe there was a God, and maybe He did care.

Lia’s lips found mine, and her fingers ran over my chest and stomach. I kissed her deeply as I started raising her body up and down over my cock. She moaned into my mouth, and her thighs clenched around mine as we moved slowly. I’d fuck her hard later. She liked it that way. For now, we needed the peace. I kissed her neck and shoulders, then moved down to take a wet, hard nipple between my lips to suck at it. Lia gasped and arched her back, causing my cock to slide deeper inside of her. Her hands moved to my shoulders, and she gripped them tightly. “You feel so good,” I moaned against her skin. “Warm like the water.” My hand moved around the globe of her ass, seeking her backdoor with one finger. She tensed as I ran my fingertip around it and then cried out as my finger penetrated her along with the motion of my cock. “Evan…oh, fuck…Evan!” “You know I still want that ass,” I reminded her as I kept up the motion with my finger. She moaned again as I added another finger. I pulled her down against me hard, ground my hips upward, and felt her come apart with my cock and my fingers. “Jesus,” she whispered against my shoulder through panting breaths. “You’re trying to break me, aren’t you?” “I just want you,” I replied, “every way I can possibly have you.” She leaned back, and I looked up at her flushed face. Her eyes focused on the spot where her hand rested on my chest, and she nodded her head. “Do it,” she said. “Now?” She nodded. I didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, I stood up, taking her with me. Holding her like a child, I climbed carefully out of the tub. Freyja followed us inside and whined briefly as I shut the bedroom door before she could enter. “Poor pup,” Lia remarked. “Whatever,” I said with a smile. “She’s a pervert. I want you to myself for this.” Lowering Lia to the floor beside the bed, I tossed a couple of logs on the fire before grabbing a towel from the bathroom. I dried both of us off a bit so the bed wouldn’t end up all wet, then leaned down to kiss Lia’s lips, run my tongue across hers, and revel in the feeling of her mouth on mine. Her hands came up my sides, and I dropped the towel to take her face in my hands and kiss her

more deeply. My tongue explored and tasted as her fingers explored my back, shoulders, and arms. My hand brushed over the quarter she still wore around her neck—a constant symbol of our first encounter. My eyes moved to her face, but she was looking at her hand wrapped around my forearm. “I love your arms,” she whispered. “You make me feel safe.” “I’ll always keep you safe,” I swore to her. “I’ll never, ever put you near danger again.” I kissed her, took both her hands in mine, and led her over to the bed. She got in hesitantly. “Get in the middle,” I instructed as I crawled in behind her. “Get on your knees and spread those beautiful legs.” She grinned as I winked at her, then did as I said. “Beautiful,” I murmured. I tossed a bottle of lube beside her before moving up between her legs, pushing them a little farther apart with my knees. “We’re going to do this slow, okay?” “Yes,” Lia breathed out the word as she settled on her hands and knees. I placed my hand between her shoulder blades. “Down farther,” I said. “Put your arms down on the bed.” She did so, which further angled her ass up to me. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said quietly. I ran my fingers down her back and over her butt, feeling the softness of her skin. My cock bobbed and strained like it knew exactly what was coming. Lia looked over her shoulder at me. “I love you, Evan.” “I love you, too, baby.” Watching her body below me, I ran my hands up and down her sides, pausing to cup her breasts as I leaned forward and kissed the middle of her back. I pulled at her nipples a bit, then leaned back and grabbed the bottle of lube. I spread some on my fingers, my cock, and around her ass. Lia’s cheeks clenched. “That’s cold!” “Sorry, baby.” I rubbed a bit more between my fingers to warm it up, then used them around the rim of her ass again. “Better?” “Much.” With one hand circling around to tease her clit, I used the other one to gently insert a finger in her. Since I’d already had two in her while we were in the hot tub, there was little resistance from her body and Lia remained relaxed below me. I went with a second finger, moving them slowly inside of her for a minute before pulling out, wrapping my hand around my shaft, and guiding it into place.

Slowly, I pushed forward until the head of my cock slid past her sphincter. Lia gasped. “You okay?” I asked quickly. “Yes.” Her voice was breathless. “You sure?” It was taking all my willpower not to push in farther. The tightness of her ass around the head of my cock felt glorious. “I’m sure. Just…go slow?” “I will.” I did. Wonderfully, painfully slowly. Sweat gathered on my brow. I was nearly all the way inside of her, and my cock throbbed with the tight grip her body had on it. I caressed her skin, leaned forward, and drove myself the rest of the way in. “Oh, fuck…baby!” I cried out. Every muscle in my body seemed to contract at once with the sheer level of emotion I felt as I was enclosed inside of her. I reached up and wrapped my hand in her hair, pulling back slightly. My eyes blazed down at her as she turned her head to look at me. “You’re everything to me, you know that?” “I know,” she nodded. “Everything,” I repeated so she would have no doubt. I moved. Slowly…carefully. Her body adjusted, and soon I felt her pushing back against me with her ass. “That’s it,” I whispered. “So good…” I pulled out most of the way and then entered her again. My thumb pressed against her clit as I drove forward, and Lia moaned softly into the sheets. Her legs trembled, and I ran my free hand over her thigh. My pace increased, back and forth, until I could feel her pussy clenching around my fingers and her ass squeezing my cock. “Ugh…ugh…oh, shit…baby…” I groaned as my legs began to shake with the effort of holding back. “You feel so…damn…so good!” Lia’s hands reached out and gripped at the rails on the headboard. She tightened her fingers around them as she cried out incoherently, her ass bucking back against my cock. I kept stroking around her clit as she thrashed below me but wrapped the other arm around her waist and leaned forward, pushing myself deep inside of her.

The tightness of her ass and the depth of my penetration were too much. My balls tightened, and it felt like electricity was shooting through my cock as I filled her ass. With my energy completely spent, I fell on top of her. Lia’s legs gave out, sending us both to the mattress as my cock popped free. “Jesus Christ,” I mumbled. “If I had known it was going to be that good, I would have pushed for this a lot more and a lot sooner.” Lia giggled. “I’m surprised,” she remarked. “By what?” “How good it felt. I thought it would hurt.” I rolled off of her and pulled her against my chest. “Did it?” “Maybe just a little at first, but not really.” She looked up to my face and stroked my cheek. “Stop looking like that.” “Like what?” “Like you did something wrong.” “I didn’t want it to hurt at all,” I said. “It was wonderful,” she said. I relaxed as she continued to run her hand over my jaw. “You’d do it again?” I asked. “Definitely.” I smiled and began making plans in my head. She smiled at me, and my heart felt like it could rupture under nothing more than her gaze. I rolled to my back and held Lia against my chest. For a long time, I just felt her skin against mine in the warmth of the room and wondered how, after everything I’d done, I still managed to end up with the girl. In some ways, it didn’t seem to be universally fair, but I wasn’t going to point that out to God or anything. Maybe He finally decided He owed me a little peace. I was still pissed at Him, though. So we both had scars, but I didn’t have nightmares when she was with me, and she felt safe as long as she was in my arms. If that was what life was going to give us, we were going to take it. In my head, I couldn’t think of a better way to exist than with her, out in the middle of nowhere, exactly the same as we had started.

So here I would stay. Lia at my side. God willing, we’d remain otherwise unharmed. ~The End~

Isolated Shay Savage

Chapter One—Unexpected Truce It’s fucking cold. My head is spinning, and I can’t focus on anything around me. Just a few moments ago, I’d fired my assault rifle into rock and snow with the intent of triggering an avalanche. It was either that or be strangled by Sebastian Stark, the reigning champion of illegal tournament battles to the death. The trick had worked, but I’m not so sure I’m in better shape now. The avalanche itself has run its course. Somehow, I’d ended up on top of the snow, painfully pressed against some rocks but not buried. I can’t explain why, but I’ll take this over being covered in ice. Stark is presumably buried somewhere underneath the snow. I find it somewhat ironic that he’ll likely die of suffocation, considering he had been trying to strangle me. I breathe frigid air into my lungs and shake my head to clear it. The movement causes me to scrape my temple on a rock, and I glance down to get my bearings. There is rock and ice wrapped around the left half of my body. My leg and arm are totally buried, and as I try to shift around, I find out very quickly that I’m stuck. When I try to move my arm at all, shooting pain runs from my neck to my fingertips. It’s the only way I know my arm is still attached to my body. Random thoughts about phantom pains reported by amputees enter my brain, but I choose to ignore them. When I tense the muscles in my fingers, I can feel the movement. I’m pretty sure my arm is still attached. I can move my leg a little but not enough to get it out from under the rock. I try to push some of the ice away with my free hand, but I accomplish nothing. The wind whips around my exposed face, and I realize my facemask is somewhere down below, buried in the snow along with the GPS locator and the camera that might have told someone where I am. Maybe I will be found lying here and maybe I won’t. It’s not a large island, and a helicopter might spot me. It’s the only chance I have at this point; I can’t free myself. Maybe that’s best. I close my eyes and rest my head on the rock. It is far from comfortable, but at least it isn’t sand. I’d spent months in a hot, sandy hole as a POW, and I prefer anything to that. The cold is seeping into me, and I realize hypothermia is going to set in quickly. I try to recall if that’s considered a good way to go or not, but I can’t remember.

A good way to go. Have I given up? Am I going to just lie here and let myself die? There are no answers to my internal questions. I’m as cold inside as I am outside. I can’t deny that it would be easy to just let go. I’m tired, hungry, and freezing to death. My Barrett M82 sniper rifle, my pride and joy, was damaged in the fighting, and I was forced to leave it behind so I could move faster. Without it in my possession, letting myself slip away does have a certain appeal. At another time in my life, I probably would have done just that. It’s different now. Now I have a reason to return home. Lia. Before she came into my life, I’d only gone through the motions. I killed because it was my job, but I never felt anything about it. Not good, not bad. I like shooting, so there has always been that level of enjoyment about what I did. The bodies that stacked up in my wake are just a part of that. Lia gave me a reason to kill—to protect her. She also gave me a reason to live. It’s so easy for me to picture her face. Maybe that isn’t unusual for other people, but I never thought about women’s faces. Even when I was intimate with them, I preferred them face down. I would give them what they wanted, but I didn’t really care who they were. There were a couple of exceptions during my life but not many. I love to look at Lia’s face when I fuck her. Or make love. The term matters more to her than it does to me. I know how I feel when I’m inside of her. The sensations are beyond orgasms and the act more than just physical. It’s peaceful and calming. It’s centering and relaxing. I sleep without ominous dreams when she’s with me. A slight scraping sound in front of my face brings me out of my thoughts. At first I think it’s just snow and rock settling, but a moment later, a hand pops out of the snow beside me. With wide eyes, I stare in disbelief as Sebastian Stark’s gloved hand begins to push the snow around, making a hole. The fact that he has survived is surprising enough. Landing literally two feet from me is simply fantastic. I watch him push snow around to give himself a wider opening, listen to him take some deep breaths, and then go back to digging himself a hole. When a handful of snow hits me in the face, I realize I’m still staring at him. Slowly and quietly, I reach down my side and grip the butt of the Beretta at my waist. I unclip it with my thumb and then pull it up close to my chest. Stark has his head uncovered at this point and is trying to look around a bit, but I’m pretty sure he can’t see me from this angle. As I extend my arm, I can

just reach him. An unaccustomed hesitation hits me. I pause to try to get as good a look at him as I can. I’d done this the night before during the pretournament festivities, but I wasn’t nearly as close as I am now. I do see similarities though they are subtle. There’s something about the curve of his jaw that reminds me of my own, and our eyes are the same shape though different colors. I’d done minimal research on the other competitors, but when I realized Stark was my main threat, I’d looked up everything I could find on him. Jonathan, my cohort in crime and only friend, had done some digging as well. With his cyber-sleuthing genius, he always seemed to be able to find something on anyone. Finding Stark’s organized crime history, his reasons for secluding himself on a sailboat in the Caribbean, and his subsequent status as a rescued castaway were easy enough to find. There was something else in all the information Jonathan dug up—something I found far more personally interesting. Sebastian had taken the name Stark after he began fighting under the tutelage of Landon Stark, but that wasn’t his actual surname. He wasn’t even from the Seattle area like Landon Stark and his boss Joseph Franks were. Sebastian had been born in Chicago and abandoned by a young woman trying to escape her abusive husband. She’d ended up dead shortly afterward, most likely at the hands of her estranged spouse. Her name meant nothing to me, but the man listed as her husband was a name I recognized—Alexander Janez. The same name appeared as the biological father on my own adoption certificate. Sebastian Stark was once called Sebastian Janez. And he is my half-brother. I’d stared at the papers for hours, trying to make sense of it all. I suppose I should have realized before then that I might have a sibling out in the world somewhere; it’s every orphaned kid’s fantasy that there is a family out there to be found. It was never anything I gave enough consideration to warrant a search. Maybe I should have. Maybe if I’d taken the information Jonathan had discovered about my own parents and looked for any remaining ties, I would have found out about Stark sooner. By the time I knew, I was already locked and loaded for this tournament. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. I have a job to do, and I am going to do it. Guilt never plays into my motives, and our vague blood relationship is irrelevant. Stark doesn’t seem to have any idea of his own lineage, and there isn’t any reason for me to change that now.

I release the safety and press the end of the gun to Stark’s temple. His neck stiffens as the rest of his body goes motionless. “Aren’t you supposed to give me some kind of ‘ha-ha-I-knew-I-was-going-to-win-the whole-time’ kind of speech first?” Stark asks. I stifle a laugh and shake my head. “Not really my style.” I have nothing else to say to him. As a veteran hit man for the largest crime organization in Chicago, I never hesitate or play games with those I intend to kill. In my mind, he’s already dead. I pull the trigger. Nothing happens. “Fuck.” I pull the weapon back to my chest and check to make sure there’s a bullet in the chamber. There is, but there’s also a lot of ice and rock around the barrel. I knock it against my chest a couple of times to dislodge whatever is causing the malfunction. Some of the ice falls away, but it still won’t fire. “Run out of ammo?” “No.” I don’t know why I even bother to answer him. “Jammed. Probably from the ice or a rock or something.” Just as I say it, I see a chip of rock that is likely causing the problem. I try to use one finger to pry the fragment out, but it’s jammed tight. With my gloved hand, I can barely hold the weapon. There’s no way I can dislodge the rock even if I take off my glove. I only have one hand available. If I take the glove off, I might not be able to get it on again, and that would be worse than the lack of firepower. “Motherfucker.” I clench my teeth and smack the Beretta against the ice beside me. Nothing seems to work; the rock stays firmly lodged. “Having a problem?” I can hear laughter in his voice, but I don’t find anything terribly amusing. “A bit,” I admit. I pull the gun up close to my face, wondering if I can get a grip on the rock with my teeth, but it’s in too deep. “Something I can help you with?” Stark asks. You can die on your own, I think but don’t say anything aloud. I take in a long breath and let it out slowly as I look around and consider my options. My lack of mobility is the biggest issue, and I don’t see a solution to it. There’s nothing around me to use as a digging tool, and with only one arm available, I won’t be able to dig effectively anyway. I rotate the weapon in my hand, grasping the barrel tightly. I don’t have enough reach for a bludgeoning to be horribly effective, but it’s the only option. I pull back my arm and slam the butt end of the Beretta against the back of Stark’s head.

“Ow! Motherfucker!” It isn’t a good hit, and I try again a couple of times before Stark manages to grab my hand and scuffle for the gun. I keep my grip as best I can, but when he slams my hand against a rock, I lose my hold and the weapon tumbles out of sight. “Fuck,” I mutter. “Why didn’t you just fucking shoot me?” “Still jammed,” I tell him. “I thought you were a fucking gun expert,” Stark replies. “You telling me you can’t unjam a gun?” “Not with one hand.” My words are a mistake, and I realize it almost immediately. I’ve just given away my weakness. Stark shuffles around enough that he is able to turn and appraise my situation. I meet his eyes for the first time, and his expression is hopeful. He lets out a short laugh. “Well, you’re fucked,” he states. I can’t argue with the sentiment. I need to stop giving him information. Anything I tell him can be used against me. Even my expression could tell him how bad off I am. What difference does it make now? I’m completely without weapons. In a bare-fisted fight, Stark would certainly beat me. I’m stuck in ice and rock, and I can barely feel my left arm. I’m immobilized; the temperature is well below deathly cold, and I have zero chance of digging my way out. Stark, on the other hand, appears much more hopeful. He pushes more ice and snow out from around him, clearing his shoulders and part of his chest. I’m completely screwed. I lay my head against my shoulder, trying to keep my exposed skin off the ice. As I close my eyes, I realize how easy giving up can be. It’s tempting. No, it’s beyond tempting. It’s downright appealing. Stark is going to free himself, and then he is going to use whatever is handy to beat me to death— probably just his fists. I won’t be able to do anything to stop him. That thought pisses me off. If I’m going to die, I’d at least rather be able to fight back to the end. This way will suck. I open my eyes and look down the edge of the cliff where something catches my eye. There’s a layer of rock lined up in the ice, surrounding a darker shape. As I squint, I realize the dark shape is actually Stark’s leg. I look up at his face and at the angle of his body. His leg is badly broken, possibly crushed. It’s also lodged against one rock at a tight angle. Even with Stark’s strength, he’s not going to be able to pull his leg out. He’s as trapped as I am. The thought offers me only a little comfort. At least I won’t be helplessly beaten to death. Instead, we will both die of exposure, and there will be no winner in this tournament. Rinaldo Moretti, Joseph Franks, and the other tournament organizers might not even find us, considering the cameras and GPS locators are buried in the avalanche.

They will still know I outlived the other Chicago-based organizations. Maybe that will be enough for Rinaldo to get what he wants. It shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. I’m not in this for myself; I’m in it so Rinaldo can win. I’m not even supposed to be involved anymore. “This is supposed to be my fucking retirement,” I mutter under my breath. “Mine, too,” Stark says with a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah?” I shift my head lower to rest it on the snow and sigh again. “What are you doing here, then?” “Killing your ass is the plan.” I roll my eyes. In my opinion, the whole banter thing these tournament veterans find so entertaining is simply tedious. They are all so casual about it, but the puffing is annoying and pointless. It makes them sound like characters out of a Marvel comic, and I’d never enjoyed those for the same reason. All those elaborate plans and plots the villains would conjure up just to have the heroes escape at the last minute in some ridiculous way. I tend to go with the straightforward approach—aim and shoot. “I’ve heard that before,” I say. “Everyone who ever said it is floating in the Chicago river.” “Everyone I’ve ever said it to is six feet under.” I look at him and try to gauge his expression. Though the words are cocky, I don’t see the same cockiness in his face. He’s just stating facts, not bragging. He’s got history on his side as well. He’s out of practice, though, and skills do fade. “So I’ve heard,” I say, “but you’ve been out of the games for a long time.” He doesn’t respond, and we lapse into silence for a time. I keep picturing Lia and wondering what she is doing right now. She would be back from her trip to her mother’s and at home in our cabin. Right now, she’s likely taking our dog, Freyja, out for her afternoon stroll through the wooded area nearby. I wonder where she thinks I am. If I don’t return, how long will she wait? Days? Weeks? Will she try to reach out to someone to learn what happened to me? Would anyone tell her the truth? She’s going to be seriously pissed off. I look over at Stark and wonder if his girl is pissed off at him. She knows what’s going on, but does that make it better? He’d been out of the games for so long, I have to wonder what made him decide to play again. When I ask, the answer doesn’t surprise me. He’s fighting for her and his son. I didn’t realize Franks was actually holding the two of them hostage, forcing Stark to participate. I thought he was in it for the money or glory or whatever.

When he inquires about my reasons for being here, I see no reason to lie. “Rinaldo asked me to do it.” “You always do what he asks?” Stark asks as he eyes me. “Pretty much,” I confirm. “Why you?” I smile a little to myself though I certainly don’t feel any joy. Rinaldo already had a tournament player lined up, but the guy had gotten in my way, pissed me off, and I put a bullet in his skull. If I had any kind of control over my temper or if that guy had just been somewhere else that day, I wouldn’t be here at all. “I killed the guy who would have otherwise done it,” I admit as I look skyward. The cloud cover is thick enough to block the sun, and everything above me is gray. “You killed one of your boss’s men?” I just look at him in response. I don’t feel the desire or need to repeat myself. “You got balls,” Stark remarks. “He was an asshole,” I say. “There are plenty of those around. You can’t kill them all.” “Maybe.” I’m not sure I agree with him. I’m actually pretty good at removing the assholes in my life. It’s easy when you don’t feel any remorse for what you do. As we talk about how we got here in the first place, the similarities are all too obvious. Both of us intended to be out of the business, but here we are—freezing to death for a cause neither of us cares about. We both share loyalties to the father figures in our lives, which is my reason for being here. Stark has additional reasons. Franks has his woman locked up along with his son. All that research I had done, and I hadn’t discovered much about Stark’s kid other than he was brought back to the States after his mother and her husband were killed. I had assumed Franks was using him as leverage against Stark. I’d gone as far as to threaten Stark’s kid right to his face just to see how he would react. He’d attacked me right in the middle of the tournament conference, confirming my suspicions. Sebastian Stark is fighting for his family. Well, there’s one difference. Though I want to live and return home to Lia, I’m not here because of her. No one is threatening her life, and I have no reason to think anyone will harm her after I’m dead. I’m here because Rinaldo asked, and what Rinaldo asks for, I give him. It doesn’t matter. Neither of us is going to get out of this. As Stark takes out a child’s drawing of a couple and a little boy, I wonder if he realizes this and decide to state the obvious.

“You’re never going to see her again, not the kid, either.” I watch as he balls his hands into fists. There’s a vein in his neck that starts to pulse. Almost as quickly as his body tells him to fight, I can see him drop back into the hole slightly. His eyes glaze over as he stares at the snow. “Fuck you!” he yells at me, but there’s no fire in his eyes. “I’m getting out of this, fucking you over, and going home to them.” “No, you aren’t,” I say with a shake of my head. I want to push him. It’s the best way to determine his mindset. “You know it, too. You just figured it out.” My words have sunk into him, and he’s teetering on an edge inside his mind. I can feel it inside myself as well. We are survivors, my half-brother and I, but we also know hopelessness when we encounter it. Our options have dwindled to nothing. Part of me is okay with that.

Chapter Two—Risky Deal “How do you know that?” Stark glares at me, and I shrug with my free shoulder. My words might have hit home with him, but he doesn’t want to accept them. “Your posture just changed,” I tell him. “You slumped down, and your eyes dropped. There’s no way to dig yourself out, and we aren’t going to help each other, so there will be no winner for this tournament. You were looking at that crayon drawing when you realized you’d never see her or your kid again.” I watch as his eyes widen, and he stammers at me. “I’m pretty perceptive,” I state. He starts yelling at me again, but I’m only partially listening. He’s determined, at least in word, to win this game. When I point out the futility of it all, he denies it over and over again. I admire his resolve. He seems convinced this will be his last fight and that he’ll be allowed to go live out his life in peace when it’s done. I find the notion ridiculous even though I had once thought it possible. I know better now. “We’re too good for them to just let us go,” I say. “Even if they really want to, they’re always going to need us for something one last time.” I watch his posture change again as my words sink in. He knows I’m right even if he can’t admit it out loud. “Fuck you.” Stark bares his teeth a little, and I raise an eyebrow. There’s no more bite in his words. He goes back to mumbling. “I’ve got bigger priorities now.” I remember the picture I’d acquired of his girlfriend, Raine. She’s cute and about half his size. She may be Frank’s prisoner right now, but he won’t have any use for her when this is over. I wonder if either Raine or Stark’s son will be allowed to live after they find us dead. At least Lia is safely out of harm’s way. She’s never going to know what happened to me, but at least she will live. Despite our similarities, I can’t help but notice how different our motives are. Stark didn’t want to be involved in this game but agreed to fight to save Raine and his son. My reason for being here is… Is what? Because I have been in this life for too long. I don’t know any other way. The next thing I know, I’m telling Stark all about Lia. I can’t say why I’m talking about her at all —I have no idea. Maybe it’s because I know I’m going to die, and I want to go thinking about her and not

how I got here in the first place. I play dumb when Stark brings up Raine, but I slip up a little, and he calls me out on it when I act as if I don’t know Raine isn’t his son’s mother. I am a little surprised when he accuses me of killing the mother of his child. “Franks put the hit on her,” I tell him. I don’t have any loyalty to Franks or his organization, so I don’t care if Stark knows who is responsible. “Rinaldo told me about it.” I lay my head back, trying to stretch out the muscles in my neck. They’re stiff from the cold and the angle of the ice. I see movement up above me, and the vision of a teenage boy dressed in plain, tan clothing appears on the ledge above me. I close my eyes for a moment, but he’s still there when I open them. I don’t know his name. No one ever knew who he was or where he came from. When I was in Iraq, he had walked up to the camp where my unit was stationed with a bomb strapped around his chest. I killed him with a single bullet from my sniper rifle before he could get too close. Apparently, being dead isn’t enough to keep him away from me. His specter follows me everywhere. Stark is still talking about Raine, calling her a saint for putting up with him. It doesn’t sound like he’s much of a boyfriend, which just comes with being wrapped up in organized crime. Our relationships, if we have any at all, are never good ones. When he says something about Raine’s friends not liking him, I realize Lia doesn’t have any friends at all. In my desire to always keep her safe at my side, she’s sacrificed anything that ever might have looked like a normal life. At least Stark had attempted to try to be a boyfriend. I am probably better described as a keeper. A fucked up keeper. I tell Stark about how I plan my hits around Lia’s school schedule; he says I’m crazy. “Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I’ve got the diagnosis to prove it.” He stares pointedly into my eyes. “PTSD,” I tell him, not seeing any reason to lie about it. “I’m a certified nut.” “From being in the Marines?” “From being a POW, yeah.” I take a breath and hold it for a minute, trying to keep my mind from immediately going back to that hole in the sand where I spent a year and a half. Maybe it is an excuse for how I act with Lia, but there are things in my head I just can’t control. Considering the other characteristics Stark and I seem to share, I wonder how he justifies his actions, so I ask. “Why are you

such a dick to your girl?” “I just…have a nasty temper. I used to drink to make up for it.” “Not anymore?” “That’s the one thing she’d leave me for,” he admits. “If I drink, she’s gone.” “And that’s enough to keep you off it?” “Yeah,” Stark says. “Well, mostly. I’ve fucked up but just once.” “She forgave you?” “She did.” I wonder how many times Lia has forgiven my misdeeds. There are the number of deaths she knows I’d had a hand in and countless others she knows nothing about. If she had any idea I was still working for Rinaldo, would she forgive me? No, probably not. “I don’t think Lia would be so forgiving if she knew I was still in the business.” “If she’s anything like Raine, she’d have your balls.” I have to laugh because it does sound like Lia. Apparently, Stark and I have something else in common—the women who put up with us would probably be great friends. Of course, they might compare notes and decide to just get the fuck away from both of us. The mounting similarities between my half-brother and me are interesting, especially since we hadn’t grown up anywhere near each other. There are a few times I’m tempted to tell him, but I don’t. There is no point. Instead, I watch him become agitated as he finds new energy to try to dig his way out of the hole he’s in. There’s no way—not with his leg stuck the way it is. I give a half-hearted effort myself, but I know it’s pointless. “I want a fucking cigarette,” I say out loud. I can’t hide my shock as he hands me one. As the smoke fills my lungs, I think about how pissed off Lia would be if she caught me smoking. The irony that I worry about that instead of the fact that she’s never going to know why I never came home isn’t lost on me. As Bastian and I continue to discuss how pissed off our women would be at us and the various ways we are likely to die, he says something that does catch my attention, a quote from his father figure, Landon. “Victory is in your head first. If you decide that’s how it’s going to be, then that’s how it will be.” Even as I spout off the possible outcomes—all bad—other thoughts creep into my head. I look at

Bastian’s leg caught in the rocks and realize I could reach it with my foot easily enough. If I could kick the rock away, he just might be able to pull his leg out. It would hurt like a bitch, but if anyone could handle the pain, he could. If he were freed, he could free me. There’s no camera for anyone to see what happened to us. And then what? I think back to how things have been over the past year: living a double life with Lia on one side of it and Rinaldo on the other. I’d be just as trapped between the two of them as I am trapped between rocks and ice now. Death seemed like the only way out. As long as I am alive, Rinaldo will still have a hold over me. I will still feel obligated to him, and I will still do whatever he asks me to do. Lia will eventually catch on to what I’m doing, and I have no idea how she’ll react. Well, I have some idea. It won’t be good; that’s for sure. I’ve been a selfish bastard. I want her and I want my ties to Rinaldo. When we first left Chicago, I really did intend to live life on the straight and narrow, but I’m not capable of denying Rinaldo what he wants from me. It’s just not possible. Now I keep her in the dark about my activities, and she is stuck with me when she’d probably be better off if I never came back. She could move on then, live a normal life without my interference, except I can’t go on without her. Selfish asshole. If Rinaldo would really let me go, maybe it could be different. He won’t do that though—not as long as I’m alive. What if he thinks I’m dead? If he really, truly believed me to be dead, our relationship would be severed. I wouldn’t be called on to do his bidding, and he would no longer have a hold over me. Without the obligation, I could be a real partner to Lia. No more lies. No more hiding. I can feel my energy shift. I want what Bastian has managed to achieve despite his temper and other transgressions. He is here to fight for his life with her, and I realize that I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave Lia like that. I need her, and if Bastian Stark and I work together, I can finally be there for her. Always. A plan begins to form in my head. There’s only one thing to do, only one hope left. It will be tricky, but it’s possible. The loss of my Barrett might prove to be a positive thing—it will help convince Rinaldo that I’m really gone. All I need to do is convince Stark that this could work.

I decide to strike a deal with him. “A deal?” Bastian Stark is hesitant. More than hesitant, really—he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Yeah,” I say, “a deal where we both end up retired for real with the women we fight for.” “The only way that happens is when one of us dies,” he says. “There isn’t a prize for second place.” “Yeah, I get that.” I take a breath and look at him. He’s not thinking beyond the norm, and I have to convince him to consider options that wouldn’t usually be possible. The loss of our cameras in the avalanche has left us in a unique situation. Without any communication to the group, we have freedom of movement. We can plan without their knowledge. Bastian’s only thoughts are of winning, but that isn’t my priority. “You can have the trophy—I don’t give a shit about that. I just want to walk away with people thinking I’m dead.” He’s not convinced and argues with me, calling me insane. I can’t refute the facts there and decide to let him know just how far gone I really am. Maybe it will be enough to convince him that I’m crazy enough to make this work. “Look over there,” I say as I point near the top of the ridge. The kid stands there, staring down at me with his hand pressed against the bomb at his stomach. “You see anyone?” He looks quickly before telling me he doesn’t. “I still see him,” I say. The kid crosses his arms over his chest and glares as if he can’t believe I’m admitting to his existence. “Who?” “A kid I killed in Iraq. He follows me everywhere. He’ll go away for a while—sometimes for months—but he always comes back when shit gets real.” Bastian stares at me with an open mouth for a moment and then glares. “Dude—there’s no one there.” “I know,” I say with a shrug. “I still see him. I have nightmares all the time about killing him. Not just him, but being in the desert, tied up in a hole for months. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it, and when I do, I can’t sleep at all—sometimes for days. When I’m with Lia, I sleep better.” Bastian’s shock is apparent, but even I am surprised when he says he also has nightmares, and that Raine makes sleeping easier. It becomes clear to me that we both rely on our women to survive mentally, and I have to get him to see a way for both of us to come out of this alive without our pasts continuing to follow us. My devotion to Rinaldo holds me to the life, and I realize who has a hold over Bastian. “I’ll kill Franks,” I tell him. I can practically see the little wheels in his head spinning. I’d do it far away from wherever Stark ends up and wait several weeks before completing the task. It would never be traced back to the

tournament, and Stark still comes out the winner. Franks would be my last kill. I come out presumed dead, which is exactly what I want. “So what’s your plan?” Bastian asks although it’s clear his guard is up. “Neither of us can move without help.” I point out the obvious and continue. “I’m guessing you can’t see what I see.” “A kid I’ve killed in the past?” he says with bite. “No, I don’t see that.” “Not him.” I shake my head, not wanting to think about the vision on the ledge above, let alone talk about it. “The position of the rock next to your leg.” “Where?” Bastian twists his neck around. “I don’t think you’ll be able to see it, but it’s jammed up against your leg, holding it to the ice. With that angle, there’s no way you can pull it out. The rock has to go.” “So what are you going to do? Yell at it?” “I’m pretty sure I can move the rock up against your leg out of the way with my foot. Once it’s gone, you should be able to pull yourself out and keep your leg intact. Well, as intact as it is now. It’s broken.” “Yeah, I can tell that.” As much as it has to hurt now, it’s gonna hurt a lot more when I kick it out of the way, but he knows it’s better than dying where he is. “Do it,” he commands. I don’t hesitate. “Fuck!” Bastian yells. His body tenses as he grips the edge of the hole with his fingers. “Almost got it,” I tell him. “Fucking hurry.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “That’ll hurt more.” “I don’t give a shit!” he yells back. “Just fucking do it!” I pull my leg up to my chest and slam it forward as hard as I can. He screams like a wounded animal as it rips its flesh on the teeth of a trap. The rock tumbles down the edge of the mountain, and Bastian manages to move his leg a little. He looks like he’s about to pass out from the pain. I can see him fighting against the urge to vomit,

but he manages to get himself back together. “I think that did it,” I inform him as he curses. “I should have asked for a bullet to bite on.” He shakes his head and blows out puffs of vapor from his mouth. “I have a few,” I say with a smile. “I should have offered.” “Bastard.” He tries to pull his leg out again as his face goes red with the exertion. My stomach knots as I begin to think he won’t be able to do it—he’ll pass out before he can free himself. He doesn’t. He grits his teeth and keeps pulling even though I can hear tearing sounds as he finally moves another couple of inches. There’s one more rock, and I start to tell him to hold on a second so I can kick it away but decide to just do it instead. He screams and curses at me, but he finally gets his leg loose before he drops his head against the ice, panting. Bastian’s eyes are closed, and I think maybe he did finally pass out from the pain. He only takes a few seconds before he opens his eyes again, twists and turns his body, and eventually pulls himself out of the hole and drops to the ground beside me. I’m beyond tense as I wait for him to catch his breath. There was no avoiding this moment, and I don’t know what he will do. As it is, he has the option to just pick up a rock and bash my skull. There’s no way I can stop him if he decides to end me now. I can see the debate in his eyes, and my mind considers all the things I might be able to say to convince him to live up to his end of the deal. I can remind him about my promise to kill Franks, but he already knows that. How will he react if he knows we are half-brothers? I lick my lips, and just as I’m about to give him that little piece of information, he grins at me. “Shall we get you out?” Fucker. I let out the breath I’m holding and nod. Bastian grabs a flat rock and starts digging out my arm first and then my leg. With both arms free, I can help with the last part. Once I can stand again, Bastian pushes against my shoulder, and it pops back into the socket as I wince. “You okay?” he asks. “Yeah, I’m good.” I look him over as my whole arm throbs. I know the pain he’s feeling is much worse. “Your leg is a mess.”

He glances down, and I wonder if there is any chance he’ll be able to keep the leg. It looks completely crushed. “How are you going to climb?” I ask. “I’ll manage. How are you going to get out of here?” “I’ll manage.” I give him a smile and a raised eyebrow. He laughs and looks down the mountainside. “Keep out of sight,” he says, surprising me with his concern. “I’m pretty good at that.” I lick my lips and stare at him. “You’re going to tell them I’m dead, right?” “That’s the plan,” he says. “I don’t think they’re going to spend much time looking for you.” “They won’t,” I agree. I think about my Barrett sniper rifle, abandoned at the bottom of the cliff. “Rinaldo knows me too well.” Bastian looks as if he’s about to ask what I mean, but his attention is directed at his leg again. He tries to set it on the ground and lean into it, but he nearly falls. Balancing himself, he reaches for his waist, and I tense as he brings out a long bolt. He must have retrieved it from the dude with the crossbow. I relax as he holds it up against his leg, checking the length. It will make a pretty decent splint. “I can do that,” I say as he starts looking for something to hold the bolt to his leg. He looks at me suspiciously, and I shrug. “I do have some training as a medic.” I set his leg with the bolt and the wire he’d tried to garrote me with a few hours ago. It works better than I expect, and I think it will at least give him a fighting chance. That’s all he seems to require. “It’s going to have to be reset,” I tell him. “A few more hours, and it’ll have to be broken again to get it to heal right.” “I’ll deal with that when I get to the bottom of the mountain.” “Yeah, I was wondering how you were going to do that,” I say as I look down the steep slope. “I’m going up and over, away from where they might try to land a helicopter.” “You know there’s no other way off this island,” he says. “It’s not like you can swim it.” “I have an idea,” I respond. “Don’t worry about me.” “I’m not,” he says. “I don’t give a shit about you, but I do have a vested interest in your survival now.” Again, I am tempted to tell him about our relationship. I’m curious as to how he will react. His eyes narrow at me, as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. He’s paranoid, but with good reason, I suppose. My brother and I have that in common, too. I will get off this island, and I will kill Franks for him. I think I’d do it even if we hadn’t made a deal.

“I’m going now,” I tell him. “You’re not going to make it,” he states as he looks up the side of the mountain. “Yeah, I will,” I say, making a promise to myself as well as him. “You’ll know it, too—as soon as you hear the news about Franks.” He nods, but there’s still mistrust in his eyes. I want to tell him. I want him to know. Just as I have myself convinced, I realize there is no way he’ll believe me. Instead, I reach out and shake my brother’s hand before I turn and walk away. I don’t look back until I reach the top of the mountain.

Chapter Three—Frigid Escape I reach the top of the slope and glance down at the dark shape of Sebastian Stark as he makes his way down the side of the mountain. I have no doubt that he’ll make it despite his injuries. He’s one tough bastard, and I admire him. I sigh as I look down the side of the snowy ridge and swing my legs over to start my own descent. I need to find a good hiding spot until anyone who might be looking for me is gone. As I make my way slowly down the rocks, I wonder how long it will take for them to decide I’m buried in the snow. There aren’t a lot of options for hiding, but as I hear the whir of helicopter blades, I duck behind a ridge and press my back against the rock. The movement jars my dislocated shoulder, and I have to grit my teeth against the pain. All things considered, I’m lucky to be alive. I know it, but I don’t feel it. Just an hour ago, I was ready to die. It would have been a relief. Giving up, even briefly, had felt good. I probably just need a decent night’s sleep. A vision moves beside me, and as much as I want to ignore the specter, he stays in my sights, looking over at me with dark hair hanging in his innocent eyes. He’s not there. I know he’s not really there. Even with the intense cold, his presence makes my palms sweat. I let myself look in his direction even though I don’t want to. The kid looks the same as he always does—disheveled, dressed in a simple cloth shirt and trousers, no shoes. There is fear in his eyes as if he knows exactly what is about to happen to him. “Don’t you have some other poor asshole to harass?” I ask aloud. The kid tilts his head but doesn’t speak. He rarely does. I use the back of my glove to rub at my eyes. The snow melts on my skin, causing a chill as the wind hits my face. I need to stay dry, so I use the strip of cloth covering my mouth to wipe the melted snow away and then yank up my gloves. The helicopter passes over my head and out of sight. I glance over my shoulder at the icy mountain behind me. Mt. Windsor is the only actual land formation that makes up tiny Buckingham Island in Canada’s unorganized Nunavut territory. On a good day, the temperature might reach zero, but it’s not a good day. Soon, it’s going to be a really shitty night. I don’t think I’ll live through it.

Shuffling away from the rock, I rub at my sore shoulder and start down the side of the mountain again. It’s slow going. Balancing with one arm basically out of commission isn’t easy, and the terrain is rough. The wind is at my back, trying to push me over, but I manage to stay on my feet. The vision of the kid, occasionally kicking at rocks that don’t move, follows me all the way down. My head pounds along with my heart. I close my eyes and shake my head, but he’s still there. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do anymore. I can’t get rid of him. When I first started seeing him, before I realized what he was, he would disappear soon after I first saw him. Now he lingers, taunting me with the memories of the boy I killed overseas. He doesn’t bother to hide when the helicopter passes over again, but I have to duck underneath a rocky outcropping. When I drag myself back out, he still stands there, staring at me. Maybe he’s feeling bolder since I told Stark about him. “Fuck you,” I mutter. Before I trudge on, I pull a small black box from my pocket. I have to take off my glove to tap at the keys, and my hand is nearly frozen by the time I’m done. “Always have a contingency plan.” I nod to the kid. The words make me tense as I listen to myself say them. Maybe if the kid had bothered with Plan B, he’d still be alive. I close my eyes and rub my temples as I keep walking down the slope. Exhaustion is setting in. With all the hours trapped and immobilized, I should feel rested, but I don’t. The cold is seeping into me. I barely notice when I reach the bottom of the mountain, and the terrain levels out. My eyes burn from the sting of the frigid wind. I can no longer tell if I’m shivering or not; my body is too numb. That’s probably for the best, all things considered. My shoulder has definitely popped back out of its socket again though I can’t remember what I did to make that happen. If circumstances were less lethal, I might have thrown myself against a rock to get it back in place, but if I pass out from the pain, I’m screwed. I’ve tried to wrap my arm up as best I can to keep it close to my body and unmoving, but the flashes of sharp pain I had been feeling before have been replaced by the slightest of aches. I have to keep moving. I know if I stop, the cold will kill me. It’s been hours since I used a small satellite transmitter to send a single, coded message. I have no idea if it reached its intended recipient or not, and all I can do is wait. The kid keeps pace as I walk toward the ice, look out as far as I can see, and then walk back toward the foot of the mountain. Because there is nothing else for me to do but wait, I pace back and forth

across the rocks and think about how I got here. Tournament games—organized crime’s favorite pastime. Each of the organizations’ best fighters battle against those from the other groups. In the end, there should be only one man standing, but this time there were two: me and Bastian Stark, my half-brother. I smile to myself and shake my head at the ludicrous circumstances that have finally brought us together. Weeks ago, I’d been so tempted to end Stark on the beach in Miami from a quarter mile away. From the rooftop of a construction site, I’d had my finger on the trigger of my sniper rifle, and he’d been in the crosshairs. I hadn’t done it though. The night before, I had learned about our shared lineage, and I wondered if that was going to change how I felt about killing him. It hadn’t. At least, I didn’t think it had. Regardless, I didn’t shoot him. I’d gone down to the beach to taunt him instead. I’d sat in the sand with the sound of the waves surrounding me, trying not to think of the hole in the desert where I’d spent eighteen months of my life as a POW. It hadn’t worked. I’d had nightmares every night after that, and by the time the tournament was imminent, I’d barely slept more than two hours at a time. I knew I had to do something to help myself sleep, so in Canada, I’d brought a hooker back to my room. I never fucked her. I felt guilty enough just having her sleep beside me. Visions of Lia consumed me as the nameless brunette slept coiled around my torso, but I’d slept without dreams. I did the same thing the night before the tournament with one of the groupie whores I’d met at the gathering of tournament players and investors. Winning meant being able to focus, and I couldn’t stay on my toes without sleep. I knew my competition would be rough. It was, too. Well, at least Stark was. I’d mostly sat back and let my competition take each other out. Stark fought harder, hid better, and his constant movement made it difficult to get a lock on him from a distance. My aim wasn’t as accurate in the frozen environment, and I needed to be closer to get a clear shot. Unfortunately, he’d found me first. I think about the desperation I felt when presented with my own death, and they only thing I could do was to trigger an avalanche, nearly killing us both in the aftermath. I think about the deal we cut while lying trapped in the middle of rocks and snow. By now, he has been deemed the winner, and I am presumed dead. My ties to Rinaldo are severed, and I can finally be with Lia without the distraction of my obligations to Rinaldo Moretti. I can only hope Stark was convincing enough.

It feels like leaving an arm behind, but I don’t go back for my Barrett sniper rifle, broken at the bottom of the mountain and left as proof of my demise. Rinaldo would know I’d never part with it willingly. I am still tempted to go seek it out, but he probably took it with him. Stark would emerge victorious, and in turn, I would kill Joseph Franks—the leader of the Seattle mob. Stark would be free to go off and live his own life with the woman he loved, and so would I. Lia. The idea of missing someone when they were away is foreign to me. The other times I have been away from her over the past year were short, and I never felt the sense of loss I do now. I was always glad to be back and in bed with her, but I didn’t think about her while I was away. Now I want to see her face, look into her eyes, and run my hand over her cheek. I want to feel her body give way as I slowly enter her from behind, the bedroom of our small cabin filling with the sound of her moans. I close my eyes as I trudge across the frozen rocks, memories of our last time together flowing through my brain. She’d made barley stew that night. It was warm and delicious as we sat on the floor in front of the fire and ate. She was all smiles and laughs, looking forward to seeing her mother the next day. I’d surprised her with a two-week trip back to Arizona to cover my own absence. I even had Freyja, our dog, booked to go with her. I’d watched her be all domestic as she cleaned up the dishes and put away the leftover stew. When she was nearly done, I’d wrapped my arms around her from behind and inhaled the scent at her neck. She’d giggled as I nipped at her skin with my lips, then picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. I’d undressed her slowly, taking my time to kiss every part of her as her clothing fell to the floor. I run my tongue over my chilled lips, wishing I could still taste her there, and the cold wind stings the flesh near the cut on the side of my mouth. My arm throbs, and I hold it a little tighter against my body. She’d looked so beautiful lying on her back beneath me. Before Lia, I’d almost always taken women from behind. Seeing their faces just didn’t matter to me, but Lia was different. Everything about her was different. I loved watching her move under me and feeling her push up to meet every movement I made. I’d moved slowly in and out of her, watching her face as her head tilted back against the pillow and her mouth opened to take my tongue. I’d taken my time, fucked her slowly and gently, brought her to the brink and back over and over again until she finally came apart in my arms.

I’d gasped as I thrust into her one more time, holding myself against her as the orgasm rippled through me, leaving my body trembling as I’d collapsed on top of her, panting. She’d wrapped her arms around my neck and shoulders, humming in contentment as she pressed her lips to the skin at my temple. I’d slept so soundly afterward. I shake my head to clear it and look back over the icy Arctic Ocean. I replay the last few hours in my head as I continue to pace over the rocks. I’d spent the first couple of hours just staying out of sight of the helicopters as they picked up Stark first and then the bodies of the other tournament players. There isn’t a lot of cover—Buckingham Island is far above the tree line—and I have to settle for ducking behind the vertical ridges running up and down the mountain. The only way I know for sure that I haven’t been spotted is because no one comes down to retrieve me. The plan must have worked. Rinaldo would now believe I’m dead and would be returning to Chicago as the loser of the tournament overall but still the Chicago winner. I served him well, even as the loser. I will still have to complete my end of the bargain I’d made with Bastian. I will kill Franks if and when I return to the civilized world, but I will worry about that when the time comes. It isn’t going to be a rush job, and I will have plenty of time to make up my absence to Lia first. I walk a little faster as if my quickened steps will bring me to her sooner. They won’t, but maybe they will keep me alive long enough for my ride to show up. In the meantime, there’s nothing but me and my thoughts—never a good combination. My young hallucination continues to follow me through the snow. My shoulders are tight as I keep waiting for him to speak, but he says nothing. It’s the anticipation of what he might say that has me on edge. I’m running out of energy. The meager sustenance I had is long gone, and I’m feeling the lack of calories in my body. I don’t feel hungry, and I assume that’s because I’m far too cold to notice. I’m likely dehydrated, and I wonder if I should find a way to melt some of the snow. Where is he? As if in answer, a sound reaches over the wind to my ears, and I look out toward the water as a black shape emerges from the depths. I expect it to be louder, but after the initial crack from the ice, there’s little more noise than the icy waves already make. A tall cylinder emerges, followed by a long, flat shape at the top of the water. I’d been on a submarine once before while on duty near the Persian Gulf, but this one is tiny in comparison.

I let out a breath and nearly fall to my knees. I am going to survive this. Don’t stop moving. I want to walk farther out, but I don’t know how thick the ice over the ocean might be, and I can’t risk going out too far. I know I’m already suffering from hypothermia, and getting even a little wet will likely kill me. I can make out movement at the top of the submarine, but it appears blurry. I hear voices but can’t make anything out. I keep walking back and forth as I hear a motor start, and a small vessel makes its way toward me. There is a hand on my arm before I realize they’ve reached the shore. “Holy shit, LT!” I barely comprehend Eddie-boy’s words though I recognize his face and voice immediately. He is the only person I trust from my life in the Marines. As the communications expert, he had been off gathering data and absent from the compound when the rest of my men were killed, and I was captured. I can see his hand gripping my good arm and holding me steady, but I can’t feel the pressure from his fingers. He speaks softly as he leads me to the small craft, lowers me down into it, and starts the motor. My vision blurs again as we approach the sub. Eddie-boy helps me out of the boat and into the hatch. I hear voices speaking Russian but don’t recognize any of the faces of the crew. “Can they be trusted?” I ask through chattering teeth. “Of course,” Eddie-boy assures me. “Mercs. Skeleton crew with no direct ties. No one here has any idea who you are.” I nod. At this point, I’m too cold to care. I’ll worry about it later. As soon as Eddie-boy leads me over to a cot along the narrow hallway, I slump down into it and welcome the blackness.

Chapter Four—Secretive Travel Darkness. Coldness. Disorientation. Strange noises flood my ears. I can’t place them. The sounds are mechanical but not quite familiar. I feel trapped and sense danger, but I can’t move. Panic sets in. My arm throbs as I try to reach for my waist, searching for the gun that should be there, but there is nothing, not even a holster. My chest feels tight, and it’s hard to breathe. My head swims, and the darkness overwhelms me. I felt the tug of the rope wrapped around my wrists as I was pulled backward through the compound. They had just beaten me, and I could barely walk. They didn’t seem to care about asking me questions anymore—I’d never given them anything. As far as I could tell, they were just in it for the fun now. Back in the hole, face first. I pushed myself up as best I could to keep my mouth from filling with sand. The heat was unbearable, and I knew my back had to be covered in blisters from the sun. It would be dark soon at least. Maybe they would let me sleep a while. I jerk awake, the pain from the dream a near scream on my lips. For a moment, I have no idea where I am. Voices speaking in Russian startle me, but one of them is familiar. I sit up and look over in the direction of the noise and see Eddie-boy leaning up against a panel of lights, chatting away with a man I don’t recognize. I’m on the submarine. I swallow hard and take a few breaths to get myself together before I take inventory. The parka and other cold-weather gear have been removed, but I still have a woolen cap on my head, and my body is covered with an electric blanket. I pull it back a bit and see that I’m dressed in sweatpants and a button down shirt that is way too big for me. The left sleeve has been cut out, and my arm is dressed up in a sling held tightly against my chest. I can feel bandages around my left leg as well. I’m sore everywhere, and there’s a chill deep inside of me despite the temperature of the room. Well, hallway, actually. The sub is small, and there aren’t a lot of furnishings to be seen. I’m sitting up on a small bunk just off the main walkway. Eddie-boy notices me and comes over. He’s followed by a tall blond man in blue trousers and a white jacket. A cigarette dangles from his lips. It’s the same man Eddie-boy had been speaking to when I first woke up and presumably the captain of the vessel. “Hey there, LT,” Eddie-boy says quietly. “How are ya feelin’?”

“I’m good,” I say. He eyes me, knowing full well that I’m lying. Another man approaches, this one in overalls and boots. He speaks to Eddie-boy in Russian and then checks out my arm and leg. He shoves a thermometer at me, and I roll my eyes as I place it in my mouth. “Medic says ya gotta keep warm,” Eddie-boy tells me. “Yeah, no shit,” I respond. “How much training did he get to tell me that?” “Don’t be an asshole, LT,” Eddie-boy says. “He’s been watching you for hours.” I glance at the man and try to take in everything I can. My head hurts, and I don’t seem able to process much information. He’s got a wedding ring on his left hand. The ring is worn, but clean. When he’s not tending to me, the medic uses his thumb to spin the gold ring around and around his finger. He misses his wife. He hasn’t seen her in a long time; I’m sure of it. I can’t say how long it has been but more than just the few days they’ve been waiting around for me. Maybe she left him a long time ago, but he can’t bring himself to remove the reminder. He speaks, and I look to Eddie-boy, who shrugs at me. “He’s surprised you weren’t ripping your clothes off,” he says, translating. “What the hell does that mean?” More Russian words are exchanged, and Eddie-boy smirks. “Apparently, some hypothermia victims tear off their clothes,” he says. “You were a little delusional but not quite that far gone.” “Well, there’s a plus.” I don’t bother to hide the sarcasm. I’m handed two hot water bottles and a jacket to wear. It’s not easy to get the jacket over the sling, but I manage. Eddie-boy thanks the medic for me, and he gives me a tight-lipped smile before gathering up his stuff and hauling it out of my sight. The captain of the sub speaks in my direction, and Eddie-boy, the communications guru, translates. “He says your life isn’t a meadow.” “What the hell does that mean?” “Ah, I think he’s glad he’s not you.”

I look the man over briefly. He seems to be good-natured enough, and he wins me over when he offers me a cigarette from his pack. I inhale deeply, and Eddie-boy waits for me to finish before he speaks again. “So, did you win?” “Not really,” I admit. “As far as anyone knows, I’m dead. I need to keep it that way.” “For how long?” “Forever.” Eddie-boy stares into my eyes for a long time. It’s very possible that this is the last time we will work together or ever see one another again, and he knows it. “Well, let’s get some food into ya,” he suggests, his voice rough with emotion. “I kinda thought I’d lost ya for a minute there.” The food is meager but warm. I down about a gallon of water along with it. My leg is sore, and my arm hurts like a bitch, but I feel a lot warmer after getting something in my stomach. Eddie-boy brings me an extra blanket and drapes it around my shoulders. He also hands me a backpack. “Everything ya had on ya is in there.” I open it up and try to hold it with my left hand while I reach in with my right. There isn’t much— the transmitter I had used to call Eddie-boy, some ammo, matches, and my cell phone. A wad of cash has been added to my things as well. I don’t have to count it—I know exactly what’s there. I’d given it to Eddie-boy before this whole tournament shit started. Always have a contingency plan. “Is there someplace I can plug this in?” I ask as I pull out the phone. I want to hear Lia’s voice even though I know she’s going to be pissed off. I’m not about to tell her over the phone about anything that’s been going on, but I still want to talk to her. Eddie-boy looks at the captain, points to my phone, and then translates my request. “Da,” the captain says. I plug it in, but nothing happens. I give it a few minutes to warm up, but after an hour, there’s still nothing. I bang it on the counter a couple of times, but the action is fruitless. “Fried?” Eddie-boy asks. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ve got a sat phone you can use.” I shake my head. At this point, I’ll be home in three days. Lia will have been back from her trip for the past five days and will undoubtedly be pissed off at me. A couple days can’t make that much difference. It will be easier to talk her down when we’re face-to-face anyway. I’m not looking forward to the conversation, but I still can’t wait to be back in our cabin with her and Freyja. I can already feel my patience wearing thin, and a submarine is not a fast way to travel. It is, however, quite secretive, and that’s exactly what I need. “Do I owe this guy any money?” I ask Eddie-boy. “Fifteen,” he says. “I told him you’d be providing it when you were safely on shore again.” “You paid him the rest already?” “Every cent ya gave me. Had to pay a little extra for the medic, but I figured ya might need him.” “You were supposed to keep some of that for yourself.” “You can owe me,” Eddie-boy says with a shrug. “I think I already do.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll wire it to you,” I tell him. If I have to pay the sub captain fifteen grand, I’ll only have five left in cash to get me home. I hope it will be enough. I’m still exhausted, and after I’m checked over by the medic again, I decide to try to sleep a little. I’m not sure what the upcoming days will hold for me, and I’ll need whatever sleep I can get. Should’ve had Eddie-boy bring a hooker along. I lie on the bench-like bed in the hallway and cover up with the blankets. I wrap my good arm around the tiny, square pillow and tuck my face up against it. I still can’t seem to get warm, and though the medic says I’m mostly recovered from the moderate hypothermia I had suffered, I’m not sure I believe him. I doze off. I was hog-tied, and every part of me had ached for days. I’d been given a little water, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten anything. At that point, my stomach might have just rejected it. I wasn’t even feeling the hunger anymore, only the pain. It hurt just to breathe in the hot air around me.

I jerk awake, sweating. Shoving the blankets off of me, I jump from the hot bunk and find myself with my back against the opposite wall, breathing heavily. I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep. It feels like only a few seconds. It’s quiet in the hallway. There are a few lights along the floor to keep people from tripping over things, but it’s mostly dark. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and the specter of the kid I shot shuffles down the hall toward me. I close my eyes, and he is thankfully gone when I open them again. My mind is still spinning out of control, and I slump down on my ass on the cool floor. I can hear gunfire, tanks moving across the sand, and screaming. The sub’s engines hum in the background, and I try to focus on the sound of the craft instead of the sounds in my head. It works but only enough to allow me to get back on my feet and sit back on the bunk. I lie down but don’t sleep again. ***** “We’re ready to surface,” Eddie says. “This place is isolated enough, but stay on your toes anyway. There’s still a hint of Canadian military in the area.” “What town?” I ask. “Churchill,” Eddie-boy says. “There’s a good-sized airport there. You should be able to get wherever you’re going. You sure you don’t want a phone?” “Yeah, I’ll pick one up later.” He gives me a roughly drawn map of the area that shows where he’s dropping me off along with the location of the airport. It seems simple enough. I just need to get myself a flight close enough to home to locate a car and get back to the cabin and Lia. I’m getting jittery though I’m not sure if it’s from the anticipation of seeing her again or just the lack of sleep. The sub resurfaces, and Eddie-boy operates the small motorboat to get me to the rocky shore on the north side of town. I can’t help but get wet getting out of the boat. The sun is shining, so I should dry off fast enough. “Anything else you need?” Eddie-boy asks as he hands me the backpack with my gear. I look through the pack and notice the Glock and holster Eddie-boy has included with everything else. I look up at him and nod slightly. “This should be it.” I sling the pack over my good shoulder and shift the weight around until it’s

comfortable. “Stay sharp,” he says with a nod. I return the gesture. “Thanks for all the help.” I reach out and shake Eddie-boy’s hand. He gives me a smile and a nod. “Anytime, LT,” he says. “You know that.” “Yeah, I do.” I return his smile. “I think you are currently the only person I can really count on.” “That’s ‘cause I’m the only one who knows you’re alive!” He laughs. “Let’s keep it that way.” “You got it, LT.” “Stop calling me that.” “Yes, sir!” He straightens up and gives me a salute. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant Arden, sir!” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Take care of yourself, Eddie-boy.” “You too, LT.” I turn and walk up the beach toward the nearest road as Eddie-boy climbs back into the small boat and starts up the motor. I don’t watch him leave but focus instead on the small map he’d given me. The airport is just a little over a mile away to the south. I walk past Fort Churchill along the way and wonder if it has anything to do with Eddie-boy choosing this location as a drop site for me. If memory serves me correctly, it had been used as a communications test site back in the day. The place is deserted now, no longer able to maintain funding for research projects or satellite launches over the arctic. The runway for the airport is just on the other side of the fort. I have very little luck at the airport departure gates. For this area, Churchill Airport is pretty big, but they don’t have a lot of flights going to smaller towns. I could get myself to Winnipeg pretty easily, but I’d have to get another plane to Thompson or drive a lot longer. The more stops I have, the more of a footprint I leave. I don’t want to risk it. If I can find a flight immediately, I would get back in time for supper, but that doesn’t seem too likely. As I meander around, I notice a service counter for small charter planes. The worn posters in the area boast of fabulous glacial views, polar bear sightings, and trips over the Wapusk National Park.

Worth a look. There is only one guy in the area. He’s leaning against a doorway and thumbing through a magazine with a pair of snowmobiles on the cover. I can’t see the title, but the copy is crumpled and looks like it’s probably last year’s issue. The guy is in his early forties and sports a full beard. His clothes are scruffy, and he looks bored. I approach and stand at the counter, watching him. He’s staring intently at the page, but his eyes don’t move, so I know he’s not actually reading an article. He’s definitely deep in thought about something because it takes a few minutes for him to notice me. “Oh, hey,” the bearded man says, “you need some help?” “I need a flight,” I tell him. “Well, I do have a plane,” he replies with a laugh. “What are you wanting to see?” “Can you get me to Thompson?” He scratches at his chin and eyeballs me. “I don’t actually fly to Thompson,” he finally says. “I mostly just do the tourist thing around here, ya know? The main terminal has flights to other cities.” “Yeah, but not until tomorrow.” “In a hurry?” “A bit.” I watch as he licks his lips, glances out the window, and then looks down at his gloved hands. He rubs at the hole in one of the fingers. The overalls he’s wearing have seen better days, and his boots are worn nearly all the way through the leather at the toes. “Tourism is a little slow this time of year,” I remark. “Yeah, it is,” he says. “How long is the flight to Thompson?” “A little over an hour air time.” He straightens his shoulders. “Each way, of course.” “What do you usually charge for an hour of your time?” “Five hundred.” He’s lying, but I don’t care.

“Well, I don’t seem to have any Canadian cash on me.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a roll of hundred dollar bills in U.S. currency. “Let’s say I pay you two grand U.S., and hopefully that will cover your time and whatever the exchange rate is.” I count out the bills and lay them on the counter. He stares at them suspiciously for a moment, then picks one up and looks at it closely. I would give him a higher offer, but after paying off the sub captain, I have limited funds. I’m still going to need to find transportation from Thompson to the cabin, and it’s not like I can just go buy a car on credit and keep my movements untraceable. He fingers a couple other bills, checking them for consistency. The guy must be satisfied that the cash is real because he looks up at me and nods. “Yeah, that’ll work.” “Let me know when you’re gassed up and ready.” “Thirty minutes.” The plane is a tiny one and only seats six people. I’m the only one in the passenger area, and that suits me fine. The flight is short and bumpy, but we arrive in Thompson almost exactly one hour after takeoff. It’s early evening by the time I’ve thanked the pilot and headed out of the airport. I’m starving. The walk into Thompson is a good three miles, and I’m not in any shape to get my ass there. There’s hardly anyone around, and lifting a car is out of the question—it would be noticed far too quickly. I hang out in the parking lot for a while until I find a guy who looks pleasant and has his keys in his hands. He agrees to give me a lift into town after I tell him I just flew in to visit my sister. He yaks about how boring his job is loading and unloading luggage and eventually drops me off at the local Pizza Hut. Pineapple and mushrooms on cheese-stuffed crust—it’s exactly what I need. I savor every bite until the entire pie is nearly gone. I’m tempted to just sit there for a while and watch the people go in and out, but I don’t want to delay my homecoming any longer, and I still need to find transportation. There’s a neighborhood just north of the restaurant, and I find a house with dimmed lights and a four-wheel drive vehicle parked outside next to the garage. There aren’t any windows facing the vehicle, and its absence probably won’t be noticed before morning. I drive into the night, pass the airport, and cruise down the small highway out of town. I fiddle around with the radio, but I can’t get much of a signal. In the center console, there’s a collection of CDs —mostly rock from the seventies and eighties. I pull out The Who’s Quadrophenia album, slide it in, and crank up the volume.

“The girl I used to love Lives in this yellow house. Yesterday she passed me by, She doesn't want to know me now. Can you see the real me, can ya? Can ya?” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and resist the urge to crank up the heat. I’m tried, and I need a bit of a chill to keep me awake. Highway 391 is a decent road, but it also winds around a lot. There are a dozen frozen lakes and bridges along the way. In the dark, I definitely have to pay attention to what I’m doing to avoid going into a ditch. As I pass by a sign for Leaf Rapids, the tiny mining town near our cabin, I feel lighter. Two hours, tops, and I’ll be home. I run my tongue over my lips as I think about what she might be doing right now. It’s late, and she may have already gone to bed by the time I get there, but sometimes she stays up. I can almost see her leaning up against a stack of pillows on the bed or maybe propped up in front of the couch near the fire, reading one of those smut books she likes. Freyja would be lying next to Lia with her nose on her paws. I won’t have to leave her again. I smile at the thought, turn the music off, and crack the window. I like the smell of the cold air. The sky is clear, and I look up at the constellations: Orion, the Big and Little Dippers, Draco the Dragon. Without the light pollution of cities, the stars in the sky are bright and clear. I can even see the sparkling river of celestial bodies that make up the Milky Way. Maybe tomorrow I can take the dog out for a long hike in the woods. She loves running around and shoving her nose into every rabbit hole she comes across. When I get back, Lia will probably have something warm cooking on the stove. I’ll bring in a fresh load of firewood from the stack outside to make sure Lia’s warm enough as the night winds howl around the cabin. I’ll wrap my arm around her shoulders as we sit on the couch and watch some stupid chick flick. If I bitch about it enough, I’ll convince her to watch an action movie instead. Fuck it. She can have the chick flick. I don’t really care. I just want to be home with her.

Chapter Five—Completely Alone It’s late when I arrive. I’m tired and in too much of a haze to focus on what’s around me, but my brain catalogs information anyway. The meaning just doesn’t register with me yet. The snow on the ground is fresh. There are no recent tire tracks, no footprints around the door. Everything is quiet. Cold. Empty. Trudging onto the porch, I tap my feet against the wall near the door to knock the snow off my boots and then open the door. It’s warmer inside but not warm. There’s no fire going in the fireplace and no sound from the back room or the television. I’m not greeted by barking or a wet nose on my face. “Lia?” Silence. The kitchen is immediately to the left as I walk in. There are no dirty dishes in the sink or clean ones drying in the rack. The scent in the room is bland and sterile—no evidence of recent food preparation. I glance back at the entryway, and the empty coat hook finally holds meaning. Is she outside? I walk slowly to the sliding door that leads to the back porch. There’s a clear view of the woodpile out back, but no signs of Lia or Freyja. There are no tracks in the snow going to and from the woodpile. The porch is devoid of snowy boots. “Lia?” I call again. Nothing. Back in the kitchen, there is only one item left out—a sheet of notebook paper on the counter near the stove. My throat tightens as I drag my feet across the linoleum floor, and my hand shakes as I reach for the paper. Dear Evan, It’s been weeks since I last saw you, and more than ten days since every one of my calls went straight to voice mail. I don’t know where you are or even if you are alive. I know you’ve been lying to me. I think part of me has always known. You leave for days at a time without any real explanation, and when you return, your eyes are always dull and blank. I’ve seen that look too many times not to understand what it means.

I have no one I can confide in. Even the idea of having a friend feels strange to me now. I thought you would be enough, but when you leave, I am left alone to imagine what you might be doing. I keep wondering why I bother with school. What will I do when I complete my degree? Where would I work when we have to live in secret? I can’t do this anymore, Evan. I love you with all my heart, but I can’t cope with this. I can’t live wondering where you are, what you are doing, or if you’re going to come back home at all. I can’t reconcile what I know you are still doing with my conscience. I can’t be okay with it. I’m going back to Arizona. There are some job openings at the local hospital, and my mom is going to help me find my own place and get settled in. I wanted to do this in person, but I had no idea when you’d return. I don’t even know if you’ll return. I’m sorry, Evan. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I will always love you, but it isn’t enough. Lia There’s no date on the page. I have no idea how long ago it was written. Days? Weeks? I place the paper back on the counter after I’ve read through it four times. There’s tightness in my gut, and for a moment, my mind flashes to blazing heat, the feeling of sand on my torn knees, and the grip of a rough hand around my throat. I try to swallow past it, but I can’t. I can’t even draw breath into my lungs. Previous thoughts of food, warm beverages, and the heat of a body next to mine as I sleep dissipate. I walk absently to the bedroom at the back of the cabin and stare at the neatly made bed. I drag my fingertips over the bedspread, tracing the abstract pattern. Her scent is long gone from the room. I slump down to the bed and grab her pillow. It only smells like laundry detergent. Still, I hold it against my chest and bury my face in it. My body is exhausted, but my mind is racing. When I look toward the nightstand, something catches my eye. It’s a slender, silver chain. Threaded through it is a quarter. Aside from the lamp, it’s the only item on the nightstand. It is laid out neatly and deliberately. In my head, I can see Lia slowly taking it from her neck and displaying it there. It is the symbol of our first encounter. Seeing it there feels like a punch in the gut. Shoving the pillow away, I push myself off the bed and stomp back into the main room. I stare at the fireplace and the handful of logs stacked neatly beside it. Grasping one of them, I clench my fingers

around it and feel its weight against my palm. “Evan, that’s not a fire. That’s a bonfire!” Lia laughed and tossed a piece of popcorn at me. “It’s negative twenty degrees out there,” I told her. “I gotta keep you warm.” “There are better ways to do that.” She tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow at me. I looked into her eyes, smiled slightly, and pretended to contemplate. “You need another blanket? Is that what you mean?” More popcorn hit my chest, and I dove at her, spilling the contents of the bowl all over the floor. She giggled as I pushed her down on her back, spread her legs with one of mine, and pinned her to the floor. I rocked myself against her core. “You looking for a little something?” I said into her ear as I pressed the tip of my cock against her opening. I nipped at her earlobe with my lips. “That’s not a little something,” she stated. “Sure it is,” I countered. “It’s your little buddy. He wants to play hide-and-seek.” “He always hides in the same spot.” “Not always.” We quickly shed our clothing and rolled to the rug in front of the fire. With one quick thrust, I was buried inside of her. The heat from the flames warmed my skin as I held myself against her flesh and kissed down her neck. I felt her hands grabbing my ass and pulling me down against her and took my cue to start moving. Slowly. I kissed her softly, my tongue gliding over hers and savoring every taste of her. I let my hands roam over her body, feeling her twist and turn beneath me to produce more pressure. I knew her body so well. Every movement was natural, unhurried, safe. She moaned into my mouth and bucked her hips up against me. I pushed down, keeping the pressure and rotating until I felt her tighten around me and then relax. With one hand on her hip, I quickened my pace and released inside of her. I stayed right where I was, holding her body against mine and panting against her skin. The heat from the fire was nearly painful on my skin, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to move.

“I love you, Evan,” Lia whispered. “I love you so much.” Without thinking, I swing my arm, and the piece of wood goes flying, smashing a hole in the drywall above the couch. It’s not enough. The next piece also flies through the air. Then the next and the next. When the stack is depleted, I grab the fireplace poker and start smashing the lamps in the room. Every move is accompanied by a scream. Every crash is cathartic. It’s still not enough. I drop to my knees in the middle of the wreckage and press my palms into my eyes. I try to swallow, but it’s painful. I can’t take a deep breath, and my lungs burn when I try. Instead, I breathe in staccato gasps. Every part of me aches. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve actually managed to hurt myself in my tirade or if it’s due to exhaustion. There’s a chill in my body that seeps through to my core, and I can’t stop shivering. I grasp blindly at the couch with my fingers to try to find the blanket Lia always kept there and wrap it around my shoulders. I’m warmer at least, but my fingers feel numb. I drop to the floor on my bad shoulder, and as much as it hurts, I don’t move. My head is pounding. When I open my eyes, I can’t focus on anything, so I keep them closed. Pressure behind my eyes threatens to burst forth, but I hold my breath and keep it in. I’m too late. She’s gone. She’s fucking gone. I have no idea how long I lie there, trying to breathe and trying not to think. It doesn’t work. I keep running over everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did I pick the wrong escape route? If I had been here a couple of days earlier, would she still be here? Should I be packing a bag and jumping on the next flight to Arizona? When I finally open my eyes, I’m looking at the Iraqi teen leaning against the sliding glass door to the porch. His arms are crossed, and he glares at me. As I watch, he approaches and drops to the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of my face and stares at me. “You fucked it up.” “I was going to fix everything,” I tell him. “No you weren’t.” “I just…I just need to explain. Tell her I couldn’t walk away before, but now it’s different.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“I could call her,” I whisper. “I could tell her it’s all okay now. I’ll promise not to do it anymore.” “You’d be lying.” “I mean it,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “No more contracts; no more hits. I’m done.” “For how long?” he asks. “How long before the urge to kill brings you back to Rinaldo? How long before your loyalty to him outweighs your need for her?” I have no answer. The kid moves forward, and I flinch. He places his palms on the floor and leans his head down until we are face to face. “You are a killer.” I swallow. I open my mouth, wanting to protest, but I can’t. “I’ll…I’ll change…” I don’t believe the words even as I say them. I gasp for air and try to sit up as my body shudders. “You don’t deserve her.” As I hear the words and recognize the truth of them, I release all the tightness in my body. I slump against the floor again, head buried in my arms. The air around me is so heavy, it’s oppressive. I can’t move. I don’t have any reason to move. I knew this day would come. Part of me has always known it. When we left Chicago to escape the life I had there, my intentions were pure. I had planned to get out of the business and live a quiet life with Lia. I should have known better, but it’s what I had wanted at the time. It wasn’t possible to stay away from that life. It had taken six months for Rinaldo to contact me after I left Chicago, but if I was to be honest with myself, I was glad when he did. Target shooting was never quite enough for me. I craved the real shot—the real kill. I took the odd jobs, escaped Lia with some lame excuse, and flew out to wherever I needed to go to take out whoever Rinaldo had assigned. At first it was just a couple of jobs, but they became more frequent. But now he thinks I’m dead. How long would it be before Rinaldo figured it out? How long would it be before my own desire

to return to that life interfered with my time with Lia? Would I even last a year before I went searching for information on Rinaldo’s activities with thoughts of doing what I could to help him? I can’t blame Lia for leaving. I want to, but I can’t. My shoulders shake, and I don’t know if I’m sweating or crying. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I know if I open them, my persistent phantom will still be there. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to look into his eyes and know he’s right. I can’t change. I fall to my stomach, no longer able to control my sobs as images of Lia scroll through my head. My leg is pressed against something sharp. It might even be cut, but I don’t care. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can’t close my mind. She’s everywhere inside of me. I see her for the first time as she walks to my cabin in Arizona. I see her through the sights of my Barrett as I take shots randomly around the local park. I see her as she wraps her arms around me, tells me it will be all right, and runs her fingers through my hair. It’s not all right. It’s never going to be all right. Curling into a ball, I finally lose consciousness. I wake up, screaming. ***** My eyes are dry and achy as I stare into nothingness, lost in my own thoughts. I’m not sure how long I’ve lain in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by the shambles of my outburst. I know my stomach stopped growling at me long ago. I’m not even thirsty anymore. A thump at the door startles me, and I look up. I can see through the window a thin outline of a man on the front porch. He crouches briefly and then stands again. Instinct kicks in, and I roll myself away from the center of the room and take cover at the end of the couch. I don’t have a weapon on me. The closest gun is in the kitchen, still inside the backpack Eddie-boy handed me on the beach. The shadow in the window moves, and I tense. Whoever it is turns and thumps down the steps to the driveway. I push myself to my feet and race to the kitchen to retrieve the Glock from the backpack and then head to the window in the front room. Barely pushing the curtain aside, I watch a UPS truck pull away from the cabin.

On the porch is a long, brown package. The return address is a post office box in Thompson. When I squat down to pick up the parcel and carry it inside, it’s heavy. I’m wary, to say the least, as I place the box on the kitchen table and slice open the packing tape. As I push the top half of the box away, I see my disassembled Barrett M82 sniper rifle. I run my finger over the sleek metal. Near the trigger, the metal is darker with no scratches from wear and tear. It’s been repaired, and I have no doubt that it will work perfectly. When I lift the barrel from the box, I discover a small piece of paper. Finish your business and return home. Rinaldo had not been fooled. He had known exactly what I was doing the whole time. Home meant Chicago—there is no doubt in my head about that. I don’t know if I want to scream or cry. I do neither. I laugh instead. The sound is empty and hollow in the deserted room. In the back of the bedroom closet, there is a small safe. From it, I remove an old flip phone and select the only number entered into it. It only rings twice. “Evan?” I close my eyes as I hear Rinaldo’s voice. I have to swallow before I answer. “Yeah.” “You got my package.” It’s not a question. “Yes, sir.” I want to ask him how he had known I had survived, but I don’t. He probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. “There are a lot of changes coming,” Rinaldo says. “I’m going to need your undivided attention.” “You have it,” I say. “Really?” I take a deep breath, but I can’t quite bring myself to say the words. “Evan?” “She’s gone,” I finally say in a harsh whisper. “Finally had enough of my shit.” There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry, son,” he says, “but it might be for the best.” I can’t agree with him, so I say nothing.

“Take your time and do what you need to do,” he tells me. “Yes, sir.” “Keep in touch.” The phone goes silent. I pack a bag. The cabin looks like a tornado went through it, but I’m not cleaning it up. I doubt I will ever even return to it. As I take a last look around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, the quarter on its chain beckons me. I touch the coin, tracing its edge with my finger. Slowly, I drag it across the surface of the nightstand and hold the quarter in my palm. As I grip it, I can feel the metal warm from my body heat. I remember the day I did the same thing in a far more rustic cabin in the Arizona desert. I left her behind because I had nothing to offer her but apologies. Just like now. “Sorry,” I whisper as I drop the quarter onto the center of the bed. I stare at it a moment, square my shoulders, and pick up my bag. Near the front door, the duffel with my Barrett sits underneath the coatrack. I bundle up against the cold, pick up all my gear, and lock the door behind me. The cold wind is in sharp contrast to the heat I felt when I was leaving the Arizona cabin. The same feeling of my chest being ripped apart is glaringly present, but I have no canine companion to share it with this time. I drive off. Passenger side empty. Completely alone.

Epilogue—Clear Shot Cool mist dampens my face. I’m sure at some point it stops raining in Seattle, but I’ve never experienced a dry spell here. With a duffel bag over my shoulder, I scout out the security around the Space Needle and ultimately decide it would not be a good place to set up. It might have been fun, but there aren’t enough ways to get out, and the chances of being caught are too great. I have two other options. I jump a bus and head down to the pier near Pike’s Place Market. The area is fairly open in many places, and transportation is easy to find. My target shops here every Saturday. Once a month, he takes a dinner cruise from Tillicum Village. There are plenty of docks along the edge of the Puget Sound—lots of hiding places. Taking him out while he is on the water gives me maximum escape time, and he’s already scheduled his dinner for next weekend. I don’t even bother checking out the third location. It is too close to his home—too close to his additional security. I walk back to my hotel, soak in the bathtub, and pretend to myself that I’ll get some sleep. There’s no way. I’m too pumped up. By the time the sun is rising, I’ve slept maybe an hour or two. I shower, shave, and dress in workman’s overalls. I put a change of clothes, my binoculars, and a pair of gloves in my duffel bag before I head out to the pier. There’s a catwalk above the entrance to the ferry. Two large air circulation units provide the perfect cover and a close-up view of the water. I walk casually around and watch various dock workers as they go through their morning routines. The ferry fills up with vehicles and pedestrians wanting to travel to Bainbridge Island. Kneeling near the ladder to the catwalk, I pull out my gloves and slide my hands inside them. There’s a ton of activity as the ferry prepares to take off, and I use the chaos to mask my quick ascendance of the ladder to the top of the platform. It’s cool and breezy, but the view is perfect. I kneel down and listen closely, but I hear no one yelling out to me. I’m not surprised. The key to moving in restricted areas is simply to look like you know exactly where you are going. Few people will actually question you. Taking out my binoculars, I get a better look at everything around me. Tourists mill about the shopping areas and the aquarium. The view is perfect, but there is an obvious problem—I’m too low to the ground. There are other walkways at my level, and I could be too easily spotted. The wind is going to make my shot difficult, and the trajectory is low. I need to be higher up, but there aren’t many tall buildings.

The building housing the fire department has a tower on it. I’m not sure if it’s functional or decorative, but it’s close to my location. There’s always the Alaskan Way Viaduct, but I’m not a fan of shooting from a roadway, and I can’t see any overpasses. On the other side of the viaduct, there’s a parking garage with several floors of office space above it. Beyond that, a federal building is the tallest and most obvious place for height, but there will be too much security there. I decide to check out the office space instead. The building looks like an ideal spot, and roof access isn’t difficult. There are security cameras, but those are easily dealt with from my end. There’s no outside fire escape from the roof, though. I’d have to make my way down from the inside. I watch the building for the next two days. There aren’t any security guards, and the cameras are easy to locate. The main breaker is just inside the gated parking garage, and I see no signs of a backup generator. Getting to the roof isn’t challenging. The back stairway leads to a service elevator, and there aren’t any cameras in that area. The service elevator requires a key code, which is laughably hackable— 15951. I barely have to put any effort into it. In the center, there’s a small rooftop park—trees and flowering plants are everywhere. People from the ad agency inside seem to like it as a place to eat their lunches. They don’t even make eye contact with me as I walk around carrying a watering hose and tend to the plants. When the area empties, I discard the hose and head up a ladder to the very top of the building. There is a lot of wind coming off the sound, but I’m going to have that issue anywhere. The stairway at the top of the building is locked but uses the same code as the elevator. Where the stairway exits is slightly higher than the rest of the roof and easily scaled. I climb up and sit there, watching the ferries come and go. This is definitely my spot. I watch the sun set over the water. The traffic noise keeps the area from being as peaceful as the scene implies, but it’s still nice. Shortly after the sun goes down, it starts to rain, and I make my way down the stairs and out of the building without running into a single soul, and it’s only just past six o’clock on a weeknight. Perfect. When the day arrives, I’m set up early in the morning. I’ve spent the past two days sitting up here and haven’t been noticed by anyone at all. I’m not sure if that’s a west coast mentality or what, but no one

seems to care who I am. I disabled two cameras yesterday—the only ones that will have a view of my escape route—and no one has noticed that either. I take out a dowel rod with a bit of cloth tied to it and place it at the corner of the rooftop. The little flag waves around, indicating wind speed and direction. From my duffel bag, I pull out the pieces of my rifle and start assembling it. Running my fingers over my Barrett is comforting. I know every inch of the metal. Every scratch on the surface is a memory. I feel at home and alive with the weapon in my hands. She will never leave me. I shake the thought away. I’m not going there, and I’m not thinking about that—about her. It’s done. It’s for the best. I don’t need anyone. I position the Barrett’s bipod on the left side of the air intake unit on top of the stairwell and lay down on my stomach behind it. Taking out my binoculars, I scan the Puget Sound and the docks, taking it all in. It will be hours before Joseph Franks takes his final dinner cruise, but I have patience. I watch some of the other dinner tours through my binoculars. It isn’t that far to the ship—only about four hundred meters at the optimum position—but the wind, sporadic rain, and the need for precision still make for a difficult shot. I wish I could shoot off a couple of practice rounds, but that obviously isn’t going to happen. A black SUV pulls up to the pier, and two large men exit the vehicle. One of them opens the back door, shields the area with a large black umbrella, and Joseph Franks steps out under its cover. I can feel the adrenalin pumping through me. With a bodyguard on either side of him, Franks putters around the pier, chatting and laughing into his phone. A shot now would be easy, but I don’t consider it. His bodyguards would be on me before I could get out of the building. For a while, he disappears into the shops around the pier, returning to the street. There’s a large shopping bag in his bodyguard’s hand. I glance at my watch. It’s exactly five thirty-nine and time for Franks to board the ship for his six o’clock sunset cruise. For the next thirty minutes, I see no sign of him. As the light rain diminishes to barely a mist, the ship fills up, but I can’t locate him on the deck. The passengers begin to take their seats inside, and I finally catch a glimpse of him at his usual table. I switch from the binoculars to the scope of my Barrett. Twisting the knob at the side, I focus and aim. He’s standing sideways, and I don’t have a clear shot. The window will impact my aim if I go for

his head, and I don’t want to risk him surviving a body shot. He starts to sit, then stands again quickly. With purpose, he marches toward the back of the ship and out to the deck with both guards in tow. He grips the phone tightly in his hand, and his mouth moves quickly. He stalks the aft deck for a moment, then leans and grips the handrail. The light from the setting sun flashes off the metal of his phone. I set the crosshairs at his cheek as I take slow, steady breaths. I check the flag at the edge of the roof, adjust the scope a click, then aim again. He turns toward me, and he moves his eyes in my direction. There is no way he could have sensed me, but it’s unnerving all the same. I inhale deeply, place the crosshairs at his left eye, and slowly breathe out. As my lungs empty, I pull back on the trigger. Franks drops. His bodyguards begin to scramble, shouting loudly enough that I can almost make out their words. With weapons drawn, they look all around the deck, then rapidly around the docks. They have no idea where the shot originated. With a slight smile, I push myself and my Barrett backwards along the rooftop until I’m completely concealed. Everything goes inside the duffel, and I jump off the far side of the staircase entrance, tap in the code, and make my way to the ground floor. I leave the flag. Someone can find it later; I don’t care. My rental car is parked just behind the building, and I slowly ease into traffic. I drive past Safeco Field, where the Mariner’s play, and park on the other side near the coast guard museum. I get out, light a cigarette, and take a short walk to the water. The sun hasn’t completely disappeared yet, and the red and gold glow over the water is beautiful. I inhale deeply, blow out smoke, and pull a pre-paid cell phone out of my pocket. I tap in a memorized number. “It’s done,” I say. “Landon will be on the move,” Rinaldo replies. “Undoubtedly. Do I go after him?” “Not yet. Let Seattle flounder a while. That should help once Landon is out of the picture.”

“Yes, sir.” “They’ll fall apart quickly.” Rinaldo continues his prediction. “Even if it does come back to us, it won’t matter. There won’t be enough of them left.” “Agreed.” “I think that’s enough,” Rinaldo tells me. “It’s time for you to come home, son.” “Yes, sir.” I end the call, rip the phone in half, and toss it into the water. I drive my rental car to Kings Street Station and buy a train ticket to San Francisco. I leave the station and walk several blocks to a limo service place I saw earlier in the week. “Can I help you?” the clerk asks. “Limo to Sea-Tac,” I respond. “When did you want to book it?” “Now.” I lay a few hundreds on the counter, and after the clerk gets over his surprise, I’m escorted to a long, black limo and seated inside. I lean back in the seat and poke around at the contents of the bar. After selecting a whiskey, I put my feet up on the seat and look out the window. It’s good to leave in style. In a few hours, I will be back in my hometown—Chicago. Maybe I will even clean up my old apartment and live there again. It won’t be the same without a dog, but I’m hesitant to consider trying to replace Odin. Even Freyja, his offspring, was never quite the same. I’d be alone, but then again, I always am. Always have been. On my own. Isolated. It’s who I am. It’s what I deserve. ~The End~

Irrevocable Shay Savage

Chapter 1—Typical Night I’m fucking annoyed. I toss my keys on the counter and try not to sigh audibly. The blonde hooker in the tight red skirt drops a stupidly large purse next to my couch and turns to me with her hand on her hip. She smiles with lips that match her clothing and then goes back to snapping her chewing gum. My vision blurs a little, and I have to place my hand on the counter to keep from swaying. I’m not sure when I last slept for more than an hour at a time; I only know it’s been far too long. I need sleep, and this is the only way. “Yer a quiet one,” the hooker says. Her mouth opens and closes rapidly. I can see the little piece of red gum in contrast to her lipstick. I have no idea what her name is. If I asked when I picked her up on the corner, I don’t remember her answer. The chewing was too distracting. I stare at the countertop for a long moment, trying to focus my thoughts. The counter is dark grey granite, and it reminds me that I’m still not used to the new place. I had originally planned to move back into my old apartment near Lakeshore East Park, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I saw reminders everywhere. Now I’m only a couple of blocks away from there in a high-rise one-bedroom with a great view of the river. It’s not a big place, but I don’t need a lot of room. It’s only me after all. “So, whatcha lookin’ for tonight?” I pull a beer out of the refrigerator without responding. As soon as I’ve popped off the cap, I realize I don’t want it, and offer it to the hooker instead. Hopefully, she’ll discard the gum to drink the beer. She doesn’t. Instead, she downs the beer and goes right back to chewing. “Do ya have any music?” she inquires. “I could dance for ya.” Her voice reminds me of a caricature out of an Edward G. Robinson movie or maybe an I Love Lucy episode. It’s high-pitched and whiny, regardless of the words she utters. It grates on my nerves. I obviously should have talked to her before picking her up instead of just looking at her ass. “I’m tired,” I finally say as I rub my eyes. “Well, let’s getcha ta bed then!” The hooker steps up to me and places her hands on my chest. She trails her fingers down to my stomach before lifting her head and pressing her lips to mine. I respond automatically, taking her tongue into my mouth and gripping her backside with my hand. I can taste the beer laced with cinnamon, and it’s rather revolting. When she reaches down to palm my dick, I grab her wrist. “Come on,” I say. “This way.” I end all physical contact with her and head for my bedroom. She follows, and I can still hear the

smacking of her gum. “Spit that shit out of your mouth.” I point at a small, lined trashcan next to the bed. “You got it,” she says. It sounds like she’s hocking a loogie when she spits it out. I can’t help but sigh out loud this time as I close my eyes and shake my head a bit. Maybe I’d do better hooking up with a girl in a bar rather than a streetwalker. It’s cheaper, at least. Then again, I could end up with someone who expects me to call her in the morning instead of just handing her cash on the way out the door. I don’t need that kind of complication. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it at the laundry hamper. The garment hits the top and falls to the ground beside it. Normally, that would bother me enough to go pick it up and place it inside, but I’m too tired to care. I waver a little as I unbuckle my belt and pull it through the loops of my jeans. The hooker comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. She runs her hands up my chest as she presses her cheek to my back. I place my hands over hers and turn around to face her. She places her mouth on mine immediately. When she grips my ass with both hands, I pull back just a bit. I’m feeling dizzy, and I don’t think I can stand much longer. When she grabs for my dick again, I push her away. She looks up at me with slightly narrowed eyes. “Look,” I say as I take her chin in my hand, “I really am tired. Right now, I just want to go to sleep, you got it?” Her eyes are wide as she nods slightly. Maybe I sound harsher than I intend to, but I’m exhausted and my patience is wearing thin. I probably shouldn’t have just grabbed the first available prostitute. I should have found a nice demure one instead. Do they make them that way? My thoughts dart to Bridgett, and I clench my teeth against the memory. Yes, she had been a little on the demure side. She wasn’t street-hardened or a junkie. She was sweet and kind. What did it get her? A bullet in the head, that’s what. “What the hell did you drag me all the way up here for, then?” I am starting to wonder if this particular prostitute is destined for the same fate. “Just—just lie down.” I sound like an ass, but I don’t really know what else to tell her. Admitting that I can’t sleep unless there’s someone in the bed with me sounds so ridiculous. “I’ll fuck you in the morning.” “Seriously?” “Yes.” I drop my jeans down around my ankles, realizing I haven’t taken off my boots yet. I don’t think I can actually bend over and untie them without landing on the floor. “Yer gonna pay for me to just sleep in your bed all night?” she asks. “I mean, there ain’t no discount or anything.”

“I’m not looking for a discount,” I say, snapping at her. I sit on the edge of the bed in my boxers and reach down to unlace my boots. “For fuck’s sake, I just want to go to sleep!” Once my boots and socks are off with my jeans piled up on top of them, I put my hands over my face and rub my eyes again. My stomach turns over, and for a moment, I think I’m actually going to throw up. I hate that feeling, and I swallow hard against it. “M’kay,” she says in a softer voice, “we’ll just sleep or whateva.” I inhale a long breath through my nose and nod once. I turn and crawl up to the head of the bed and practically collapse on the pillow. It’s cool against my face, but it warms quickly. The hooker slides in beside me, pulls the blanket back, and wraps it around us both. I wrap one arm around her, appreciating the warmth only briefly before I feel myself starting to fade. She says something to me, but I can’t comprehend the words before I fall asleep. “Left ten degrees,” Zach, my spotter, says quietly. “Top of the building.” I look up and then adjust my scope. I can see the target clearly and begin to take careful aim. Zach calculates the wind speed, and I make an additional adjustment before pulling back on the trigger. Blasts come from all around us, and the chunk of the brick I’m hiding behind explodes into dust around me. “We’ve been heard!” We pull back, and more shots rain down on us. It only takes another thirty seconds for us to realize we are surrounded. “We’re fucked, Arden!” “No, we aren’t.” I calmly place the Barrett up to my shoulder and aim through the dust and debris. I fire three times before I hear Zach’s scream. “Man down!” I cry into my radio. “Marshall’s been hit!” There is nothing but the dust falling all around me and the sound of gunfire in my ears. Zach’s screams diminish as voices through my radio crackle incoherently. My head pounds along with my heart as I awaken. My throat is dry, and I can’t breathe. It’s as if my whole chest has seized up on me, and I feel the panic as it takes over my body. It starts with my feet, travels up my legs, embeds itself in my gut, and then finally escapes through my mouth as I gasp and choke. I’m shaking as I look around the room. The bed is empty. I want to call out for…for…I don’t know her name. The light isn’t on in the bathroom, and the door is still standing open, so she isn’t in there. Did she leave? Did she fucking walk out on me? I register the sound of people talking from the other room. A man speaks slowly, and then a woman answers him at a faster pace. They’re arguing, but I can’t hear the words.

She betrayed me. How? Why? It doesn’t matter. I’m too well known in Chicago, and there are plenty of people willing to offer someone money in exchange for information about me. It isn’t the first time I’ve been screwed over by hired pussy. I roll to my side, grab the Beretta from the nightstand drawer, and I check the indicator to make sure there’s a bullet in the chamber. It’s fully loaded and ready for whoever is in my apartment. I climb off the backside of the bed and make my way silently to the bedroom door. When I hear the sound of gunfire, I can feel my muscles tighten in alert. I grip the weapon tighter as my heart begins to pound. Another shot. Another. The sound isn’t right. It registers in the back of my head, but I can’t quite make sense of it at first. I realize the sound is too quiet—too muffled. Silencer? No—it’s not like that, either. Still tensed, I take a quick peek out the door. There are no lights on in the living room, but there is a familiar, eerie glow. The television. I close my eyes for a moment, take a shaky breath, and rub my head to clear it. The voices argue a little louder, and I recognize the man’s as Keanu Reeves. Despite the realization, I can’t seem to shake the feeling of being on high alert. The adrenaline continues to flow through my system as more gunfire erupts from the TV’s speakers. With the gun still in my hand, I walk out into the living room. She’s there on the couch, wearing nothing but her bra and panties—bright red, just like her skirt, lips, and gum. On the far side of the room, flickering in the light from the television, there’s a vision of an Iraqi teenager. He raises his hand and points his finger at me as if he’s holding a gun. Fucking hallucinations. The less sleep I have, the more this kid appears around me. I ignore him and look back to the whore on the couch. “What the fuck are you doing!” The hooker startles and nearly falls off the couch. She sees the gun aimed at her head, screams, and scrambles off the furniture onto the floor and around the edge of the coffee table. She’s screaming, crying, and I honestly don’t know if I’m going to shoot her or not. “One thing I wanted—one thing!” I’m still shaking, and I can’t seem to stop. “Just fucking sleep with me!” I stalk a few steps closer to her, and she pushes herself back with her heels. “Don’t fucking move!” She heeds the warning in my voice and stops.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to watch a movie!” “Turn that shit off!” I motion with the gun toward the television, and she grapples for the remote, rapidly presses buttons, and the screen goes black. She holds the remote to her chest as tears stream down her face. The room is now silent except for her crying and my quick breathing. I close my eyes, trying to regain control, but it doesn’t work. Instead, I’m overcome by nausea for a moment. I need to sleep. “Get back in that bed!” I don’t even open my eyes as I snap at her. “I will! I will!” she stammers, but I don’t hear her move. “Now!” I open my eyes and glare at her. She scrambles quickly, making her way around me while keeping as much distance between us as possible. At the last second, she turns her back to me and runs through the bedroom doorway. I follow, and she’s cowering on the floor near the bed. I feel my finger tense around the trigger of the Beretta, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do. She’d left me alone, which is a betrayal as far as I am concerned. I just needed her to stay there long enough for me to get a few hours of peaceful sleep, and she’d abandoned me for a fucking movie. I can’t catch my breath, and my gut aches as if I’ve just done a hundred sit-ups. I can taste sand in my mouth, and I feel like retching. My fingers tighten uncontrollably around the grip of the Beretta, and I can feel my pulse in my temple. Even in my agitated state, I know I’m overreacting. The hooker at my feet is terrified, and I still need her. If I kill her now, I’ll have to go out and find another one. I’m not even sure I can drive at this point. Ultimately, I don’t want to clean up a big mess, so I point the gun away from her and try to calm my voice. “I’m not going to kill you,” I say slowly. “Get up off the floor.” She does as I say, still blubbering. “Don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me!” “I just said I wasn’t going to do that,” I say slowly, still trying to relax. She’s got her eyes trained on the gun, and I realize I can’t just leave it out in the open. As soon as I’m asleep, she won’t hesitate to use it against me. I don’t know if she realizes who I am, but I can’t take the risk. I walk with purpose to the closet, open the door, and look at her eyes as I tap the combination into the safe inside. I deposit the gun on top of a bunch of paper and cash and then close the safe again. “Not going to kill you,” I say again. She can only nod in response.

“Get back in bed.” She complies, but she’s trembling all over as I approach. I feel like I’m dealing with a wounded animal, and I don’t have the patience for it right now. It’s taking all my energy to keep myself from shaking. The gunshot blasts from the television are still echoing in my ears. Strangely enough, they never bother me when I’m the one pulling the trigger. I close my eyes, center myself, and then crawl back into bed beside the hooker. I settle against the pillow and meet her eyes. “I need sleep,” I tell her. “If you leave, I’ll wake up again, capisce?” “I didn’t know,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes. “You know now.” My words are too harsh, and I feel her stiffen beside me. “I need sleep and quiet and no fucking television. You stay put.” “I will.” Her voice is barely audible. I reach over and pull her tense body against me. With my head on the pillow, I close my eyes and try to ignore the pounding in my head. My breath comes too fast, and I know if I open my eyes, I’ll see that kid across the room. I can feel his presence even when I don’t look in his direction. I suppose that makes sense since he’s just a figment of my imagination. The real one was buried long ago. It takes a while, but eventually I fall asleep again. When I wake, I immediately realize I’m not alone. There is a brief moment when I search for the familiar scent of a girl who is long gone, but I smell only cinnamon. It brings back my recollection of last night, and with a little trepidation, I look to the sleeping hooker in my bed. To say that I had treated her like shit would be an understatement. I unwrap myself from her and make a quick trip to the bathroom. My head is clear now, and though I don’t check the time, I know I’ve managed to sleep a good eight hours or more. There’s light coming in around the curtains in the bedroom, and it’s likely late in the morning. The hooker is still sleeping when I return, and I crawl back under the sheet beside her. The movement must be enough to wake her because she opens her eyes and glances at me as I settle against the pillow. I look at her red-rimmed eyes and smeared makeup, telling myself I should be convincing her how sorry I am, but I don’t say a word. I don’t feel any remorse, and I don’t think I can manage to sound sincere. I know I freaked her out, but she didn’t come to any actual harm, so I can’t bring myself to feel sorry. The closest I can come is a slight twinge of embarrassment for losing my shit. The hooker rolls toward me, and the lacy material of her red bra bunches up around her tit, exposing her nipple. I lick my lips as I feel my cock react to the sight. She doesn’t miss my look, and presses her body closer to mine. Without a word, she reaches into the opening of my boxers and wraps her fingers around my dick. She slides her hand up and down slowly until I’m completely hard and throbbing. Before I lose myself in

the feeling, I grab her wrist and stop the motion. “Why are you doing that?” I ask. “Well, ya said ya wanted to fuck me in the morning.” The nonchalance in her voice is a little unnerving. I’d scared the hell out of her, and though I’m not about to apologize for it, I can’t help but feel like I owe her something. “You don’t have to,” I tell her. “It’s my job,” she replies with a shrug. “That’s what ya brought me here for.” If I were a better man, I would just tell her to get dressed and take her back where I found her. I’d still pay her full price for the entire night because she did what I really needed her to do, which was to help me sleep. I’m not a better man, though. I’m not even a good one, and I don’t make the offer. I’d had a decent night’s sleep, and I’d woken up horny. She is right—she’s here for a reason. “Roll over,” I tell her as I reach over to the nightstand to find a condom. “Up on your knees.” She complies, understanding what I want without me having to say it. I kneel behind her, and as I place my hands on her hips, she tenses. It’s only brief, but I still feel it. I want to take her in the ass and have a vague memory of telling her that last night, but now I feel like I should go easy on her. I close my eyes for a moment and then slip my fingers in her pussy. She’s nowhere near ready for me, so I take a little time to play with her before I take my cock in my hand, roll a condom over it, and slowly press against her opening. I rub her clit as I take her from behind, but I can tell her moans are faked. Giving up on the pretenses, I run my hands over her ass, close my eyes, and lose myself to the feeling of her warmth around my dick. It’s been a while, and I don’t last long. She seems relieved when I finish and pull out of her. She doesn’t look at me as she rolls off the bed and grabs for her clothes on the floor. She dresses as I take a shower. We don’t speak as I walk her out of my apartment and head to the lower floor and the parking garage. The rusted out Volvo station wagon I acquired from a parking lot near the airport clacks and clunks as I start it up. The whore says nothing as I pull out of the garage and onto the street, and I only glance at her once when I have to stop at a red light. She stares out the window with makeup-smeared eyes. Her hair is a mess around her shoulders. I have to stop for gas before I go too far. As I pull into the BP station off Congress Parkway, I have to navigate around a homeless guy holding a cardboard sign asking for food. He has a long, grey beard and looks to be about a hundred and ten years old. He’s disheveled and thin, wearing a coat that isn’t nearly warm enough for a Chicago winter. I ignore his pleading looks as I fill up the tank. The whore in my car continues to stare into space. When I climb back into the car, I fish some bills out of my wallet. “Here,” I say as I hand her a wad of cash. It’s more than her rate, but I figure I owe her a little extra for putting up with me.

She doesn’t count it. Instead, she shoves it into her purse without making eye contact. As soon as I pull up to the street corner where I first saw her, she opens the car door and leaves without a word. I have the feeling finding a decent hooker is going to be an ongoing problem.

Chapter 2—New Faces Two days, zero sleep. I can’t even lie down in bed for more than ten minutes. Ralph is hanging out in my kitchen, watching me silently. Ralph is the name I’ve decided to give the vision of the kid I killed in Iraq. I was tired of just referring to him as “that kid” in my head, and I see him too much not to give him a name. I’ve started talking to him more often as well. I’m not sure what that says about me. I know I’m fucked up—I’ve never denied it. When you know you are crazy, does that make you more sane or less sane? “You’d be more useful if you’d make breakfast,” I say to Ralph. He doesn’t respond, but I go on anyway. “Even a pot of coffee would be better than nothing.” I scramble up a couple of eggs and eat them with dry toast. I don’t have a lot of time. Rinaldo Moretti has called an early meeting today, and I don’t want to be late. It’s the first time I’ve done anything official since I got back from Seattle, and I want to keep the boss-man happy. The Volvo won’t start, so I take the bus to Rinaldo’s office. It’s only a few blocks from the bus stop, and even though the wind gusting around the building is bitterly cold, I enjoy being out in the open air. It’s also easier to ignore Ralph in the crowded street. Rinaldo’s office is a bare, tan brick building with five stories and very few windows. Many of the offices inside are only sparsely furnished and otherwise empty. Sometimes they’re used for temporary storage of whatever illegal shipments we have coming in and out of Chicago, but most of them remain unused. Only the fourth floor sees any action. I run up the steps, keeping my breath nice and steady as I go. There are elevators, but I prefer a little exercise. I don’t know how long this is going to take, and I get a little agitated when I sit for a long time. Most of the important people are already in the large office when I arrive. I take quick note of everyone as I sit on a small, uncomfortable couch. There are three people I haven’t met before—two men and one woman—but the rest of the faces are familiar. Rinaldo gives me a nod and starts talking business. There are two large shipments arriving on Tuesday, and everyone has his or her part to play. Rinaldo’s even incorporating a few people from a recently disbanded mob family—that of Gavino Greco. He came out a loser in the death-match tournament I’d participated in as a means to end the mafia wars in Chicago. Greco is now out of the picture altogether—shipped back to Sicily and probably hiding out, waiting for an assassin to show up at his doorstep. No one has approached me for the job though I’d do it gladly. Greco and his people had caused me more than enough headaches in the past. Greco’s demise has left only the Russians in the area as far as organized crime goes. They have their numbers, but they’ve been good about sticking to their own side of town. There have been some rumblings of gangs from Auburn Gresham on the far south side of Chicago—something about heroin distribution—but otherwise, things have been quiet.

“This is the biggest one we’ve had in months, so no fuckups.” I’m only half listening to Rinaldo. He’s going over gun shipments and acquisition strategies, not killing, so I don’t need all the details. Other members of his crew are listening intently to his words, but I watch them instead. To my left is Jonathan Ferris. He’s a hacking genius, able to bust into any computer system on the planet, as far as I know. Jonathan introduced me to Rinaldo Moretti years ago, and I have been his key hit man ever since. Some might think that’s a bad thing, but I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now if Jonathan hadn’t brought me to Chicago. He falls into a very small category of people I can trust. Jonathan’s a pretty carefree guy. He doesn’t take himself or even this business too seriously and prefers to just tinker around with his computers and other electronic devices. That’s what he’s doing now. He’s got a cell phone opened up, and he’s poking around at the insides. I have no idea what he hopes to accomplish, but it’s probably related to Rinaldo’s defense plan for an upcoming shipment. On the other side of Jonathan is Nick Wolfe, Rinaldo’s illegitimate son. As much as I might like to hate the irresponsible pothead, I just can’t. He makes me laugh, and that’s a rare thing. He’s been trying to get his shit together, but he just isn’t cut out for this kind of life. Being born into it didn’t serve him well. He was good at being a millionaire playboy, but even that came to an end when he met Milena. Now they’re engaged, but she’s from the Russian side of the business, and we aren’t in a Shakespeareinspired play. Though I quietly think they’re doomed, I never say anything about it. Maybe it will work out. It would be nice if someone around here got some happiness. “Nine o’clock is the pickup time,” Rinaldo says. “I’m going to need plenty of cover, Evan.” “Yes, sir,” I respond automatically. I’m quite familiar with the drop-off point and not concerned about the logistics. “We’ve used that spot before, but there are three places for me to set up, including one I haven’t used before. It’s tight.” “Good.” Rinaldo nods at me before he continues. Lucia Moretti, Rinaldo’s daughter and heir apparent, sits across from Nick and tries to focus on her father’s every word but is failing. She’s picking at the peeling nail polish on her thumb and is probably going to have a meltdown if she doesn’t get a fresh manicure soon. Rinaldo wants her to take over the business when he retires. He’s also not sure she can handle it. I’m positive she can’t. She’s the perfect debutante if that’s what he needs, but this business requires force of hand, and Lucia has none of that. I keep waiting for Rinaldo to find the perfect match for her so he has proper support for his businesses when he retires, but Lucia remains unattached. Beni Segreti, Rinaldo’s third or fourth cousin, I can’t remember which, stands with the two guys who are responsible for all the loading and unloading of gun shipments, leaning against the windowsill on the far side of Rinaldo’s office. Beni was big in Italy and is expected to rise quickly in the Chicago businesses. He had just come on board around the time I was leaving Chicago, presumably for good. Though I had looked him up when I got back into town, this is the first time I’ve seen him in person. He is supposed to be quite the shooter, but I will have to see him in action and make my own call on that subject. Rinaldo trusts him, and that goes a long way with me. There are a handful of others in the room as well but very few of note—mostly couriers and

backup guards. Rinaldo speaks to the people I haven’t met before, and I make note of their names. “Paulie, I want you near me at all times. Evan’s your backup, but I’ll need you close.” “You should wear a vest,” Paulie says. I look at him and notice he has the same eyes as Rinaldo’s cousin and assume he’s also in the Moretti family. He could even be Beni’s brother though Paulie has at least a head on Beni in height and forty more pounds of muscle. He’s an intimidating figure physically. “Why is that?” Rinaldo narrows his eyes a bit. “Because I can’t be everywhere.” Paulie crosses his arms over his chest and stares right back at the boss. “I think he’s right, sir,” I say. “It can’t hurt.” Rinaldo eyes me for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. “Becca is taking care of inventory,” Rinaldo says as he continues. “Cody will need copies of the lists.” Cody’s a little guy—thin and wiry with curly blond hair—and he’s been a courier in Rinaldo’s crew for several years. I don’t know him well, but he is loyal enough. He’s in the business for the money, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When issues arise, he always does his best to help out. “I’ve got lists of everything coming in,” Becca says, “so if that changes, I’ll need to know immediately.” She runs a hand through her spiky, bleached-white hair and looks back at her notebook. She’s about my age if I had to guess, and she’s dressed as if she were ready for a night out at a goth club—all black leather and lace. Paulie watches her every move out of the corner of his eye. He probably thinks he’s being subtle, but she definitely knows he’s looking. She leans forward a little, causing her shirt to gap in the front and show off her cleavage. I tune out Rinaldo’s words and go back to watching the group, trying to keep track of every detail I notice. Nick’s eyes are a little glazed over, and he’s quickly devouring a bag of trail mix, but that’s no surprise. Lucia’s trying to look interested in the discussion, but is far more interested in the phone texts she’s been receiving all morning. I haven’t been close enough to be able to see who they are from, but she has to contain her smile as she reads. Maybe she has found a guy. Cody has a song stuck in his head. He keeps tapping his foot rhythmically, making himself stop and then tapping again. I watch his mouth to see if he lip-syncs some words, but he doesn’t, so I have no way of knowing what song it is. I don’t listen to a lot of music, so I probably wouldn’t recognize the lyrics anyway. Becca is taking copious notes, and I wonder if she’s also taken on all the secretarial duties, not just inventory. She nods at everything Rinaldo says, but she must be jotting everything down in shorthand or something because her notes are far too brief.

Beni interjects a lot in a thick Italian accent. He’s trying; I can see that. Many of his ideas are shot down by Rinaldo, but that doesn’t stop Beni from interrupting the next time he has half a thought. Whenever he catches Lucia’s eye, he winks at her. Something is off, but I can’t figure out what. I’m typically very perceptive. Most people don’t realize it, but they give away little clues about their lives all the time. It might be the way they are standing or sitting, or it could be how they react when someone asks them a question. I’ve always watched for such things, but I feel as if I’m off my game. I need another hooker. I’m agitated, and it’s taking every ounce of control I have to not visibly fidget. Paulie flicks his revolver’s safety on and off with his thumb, and it’s pissing me off. I’m tempted to pull my Beretta out, release the safety, and point it at his head. I rub my fingers into my temple instead. A woman walks into the room. She’s tall with wavy, dark blonde hair and bright pink fingernails. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a fuzzy black and white sweater. I’ve never seen her before, but her presence doesn’t impact the other members of Rinaldo’s crew as she walks straight over to him and leans close, whispering. Rinaldo smiles at whatever she’s said to him. He gives her a nod and a peck on the cheek before she walks back out, closing the door behind her. “Who’s that?” I ask Jonathan. “Felisa,” Jonathan informs me. “She’s been around for a few months. She was studying in New York or somethin’ before she moved here. She’s family.” “Whose family?” I ask. “Rinaldo’s?” “Not directly,” he says. “But in the family, ya know. First gen. She’s a Bianchi, I think.” I nod as my mind begins to work, replaying her interaction with Rinaldo. His slight kiss had seemed innocent enough, but his gaze had followed her out of the room in a more intimate way than he’d look at a niece or a cousin. Rinaldo screws around on his wife, and she knows it. Gabriella Moretti, known as Lele, is a traditional mob wife. She knows both her husband’s business and her place in it. She never interferes and usually just stays the hell away from the dirty parts. Lele is a fantastic cook, and for that reason alone, Rinaldo would never jeopardize his relationship with her. He’s messed around with hookers and club dancers but never someone in the business. I don’t like it. Something about her immediately sets me off, but I don’t know what it is. The meeting ends, and Rinaldo dismisses the group. There’s a lot of milling around as the crew discusses the details of the plan, and I use the opportunity to officially meet Rinaldo’s new security. “Evan Arden,” I say as I reach my hand out to Paulie. “Paulie Vecini.” He takes my hand and squeezes it tighter than necessary. The lame display of testosterone is almost comical. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“It didn’t last,” I say with a shrug. He laughs. “Well, welcome back.” “Thank you,” I reply politely. “If there’s anything you need from a security standpoint, let me know.” “I’m pretty sure I have everything under control,” Paulie says as he squares his shoulders and stands up straighter. He already has a few inches on me, and the act is as amusing as his handshake. People who feel the need to demonstrate their physical size as a means of intimidation are usually very insecure about their abilities. I’m positive Paulie is no exception to this rule. He narrows his eyes as he evaluates me, and the smug half-smile he displays is an indication that he doesn’t believe all those “rumors” about my skills. I’m fine with that—let him underestimate me. That could play to my advantage at a later date. “Evan!” Rinaldo calls. I excuse myself from Paulie and head over to the boss. “Evan, meet Beni Segreti.” Beni nods, shakes my hand, and greets me in Italian. I raise an eyebrow as a sense of déjà vu sweeps over me. I can’t count the number of times someone from the family tried to intimidate me by making it clear that I’m not one of them. It didn’t work in the past, and it doesn’t work now. “Piacere di conoscerla.” My accent isn’t great, but it’s clear enough. Beni widens his eyes at my response, and Rinaldo chuckles. “Beni has been handling some of our newer business ventures,” Rinaldo says. “He’s been quite an asset to my group since he arrived.” “I’m sure he has.” I nod my head toward him. “Lucia probably appreciates the assistance.” I watch Beni closely as I mention Rinaldo’s daughter’s name, and his eyes dilate slightly as he glances in her direction. He wets his lips and runs his hand over black, greasy hair before he speaks. “Lucia’s very talented.” He smiles and looks to Rinaldo. “Her father must be very proud of her.” There is no doubt in my mind—slight relation or not, Beni’s hitting that. Rinaldo just smiles back, and it’s clear he has no idea. Then again, he might be all for it. He’s wanted Lucia to settle down and gift him some grandchildren for a while now, but hasn’t managed to come up with a suitable mate. Maybe he even brought Beni over from Italy for that very purpose. All I know for sure is that I’m not on the approved list. Rinaldo’s made that clear. “Rinaldo, here’s the paperwork we discussed before.” Becca bumps me with her hip, and she moves between me and my boss. She makes no excuses, and the slight look she gives me out of the corner

of her eye tells me the act was intentional. “Thank you, my dear,” Rinaldo says. He takes a binder from her hands and places it on his desk. “Have you met Evan?” “Not officially,” Becca says as she turns to me with a large, pink smile. “I remember him from a couple of years back when he visited the club.” I’m not sure which club she means—Rinaldo owns several and I’ve been to all of them at some time or another. New people usually put me on edge, but knowing she’s been around the business for a while relaxes me slightly. I shake her hand, and she gives me a playful smile and wink. I resist rolling my eyes. With the introductions complete, everyone begins to file out of Rinaldo’s office to head out to accomplish their tasks for the day. Returning to the couch, I grab my duffel bag and toss it over my shoulder. “Wanna get a beer?” Jonathan asks. “Sure,” I say. “I took the bus here, though.” “You and your damn public transportation.” Jonathan shakes his head. “The Volvo died on me,” I reply with a shrug. “I need to get a new battery.” “No worries. I’ll drive.” “That’ll work.” We start to head out the door, but Rinaldo calls me back. “Evan, stick around a minute.” “Yes, sir.” “I’ll wait for ya outside,” Jonathan says. Once everyone has left the room, Rinaldo steps over to the mini bar near his desk and takes out a large bottle of scotch. I don’t ask what he wants to talk about; I just wait until he’s ready to speak. “How are you, son?” A significant amount of the tension I’ve been feeling all morning vanishes with his use of the term “son.” I’ve gone through enough therapy to understand why it impacts me so much—orphaned, raised in a convent with limited male role models, and never having any real roots to anyone or any place. The desire to belong to someone is ingrained in me. I’d felt some sense of family in my early years as a Marine, but Eddie-boy, the communications guy, is the only one from my unit left alive. “I’m fine, sir.” He tips the bottle to the glass and then pauses, raising an eyebrow and challenging my words. “Really,” I say, “I’m okay.”

Rinaldo pours a glass half full of amber liquid and offers it to me. I decline, and he takes a sip himself. “You all settled into your new place?” he asks. “For the most part. I don’t have a lot of stuff, and the place was already furnished, so there wasn’t a lot to do.” “Are you ready to be a full-time member of this organization again?” “I am, sir.” He stares at me for a long time before speaking again. “I only let you leave because I knew it wouldn’t last.” My chest tightens. I look away for a moment, swallow hard, and take a deep breath. “She’s a good girl,” Rinaldo says. “She wasn’t right for this life, and you can never separate yourself from it.” I don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about Lia. I mistakenly thought taking her out of Chicago would keep us both away from Rinaldo and his business. I couldn’t stay away though. I don’t know if it’s loyalty to Rinaldo, devotion to the business, or just my need to find someone in the crosshairs of my rifle, but I couldn’t remove myself from this life. Understanding that he’s right doesn’t make it any easier to take his words. He knew. He knew all along that being with her would fail. “You could have said something before I left.” My words sound harsher than I intend. “Would you have listened?” I close my eyes for a moment and clench my teeth. I fight against the urge to pull out my gun, but I’d never actually harm Rinaldo. I don’t want to shoot him; I just want to shoot someone. I feel his hand on the side of my face before I see him move toward me. I look at his eyes and his soft, concerned expression. “Sometimes you have to see for yourself,” he says quietly. “I knew I couldn’t convince you then. You had to experience it. I didn’t want to see you hurt, son.” “You knew she’d leave me?” “It was a matter of time,” he says with a nod. He drops his hand from my cheek, and the cool air from the room gives me a chill where our skin had met. “She’s not going to come back.” “I know that. I don’t want her to.” Rinaldo takes another swig from his scotch. I’m tempted to rethink the offer of a drink. Alcohol consumption is not a normal pastime for me, and I’m definitely not a “drink to forget” kind of guy, but a drink does actually sound good right now. Maybe more than one. “Are you ready for business?” Rinaldo asks.

Focus on business is a better remedy. “It has all my attention.” My confirmation is enough for him. “I want you completely involved in all the channels. Guns will be back in your hands, obviously, but also the caviar and meth. There are the legitimate businesses as well—the clubs, uniform manufacturing, and car lots.” “We’re dealing meth now?” “Dealing, no.” Rinaldo takes a folder from the top of his desk and hands it to me. “Transportation from the south and distribution to Chicago dealers, yes. You should recognize the local names.” I look at the top sheet of paper from the stack. I know most of the names. Everything else is a bit of a surprise to me. I’ve only been on the periphery of the legal businesses under Rinaldo’s umbrella in the past. I don’t even deal much with the laundering of my own money. I just keep it stashed away in cash. I know plenty about the guns, caviar, and clubs. “Everyone knows you,” Rinaldo says. “They know who you are, and they know what kind of influence you have. You are the best I have to keep everyone in line.” “Are people skimming?” I ask. “It’s always an issue with the new managers,” Rinaldo replies with a shrug. “More with the clubs than anything else.” “I can take care of that.” “I am quite sure you can.” He’s right. I’m already forming plans in my head, based on the club managers. None of them will be too difficult to handle. If anyone is, they’ll be replaced. “The thing is,” Rinaldo says, continuing, “I’m not sure it’s the clubs this time.” “I’ll check it out. Dig into some numbers. I’ll figure out where money is going.” Rinaldo and I go over a few more details about caviar importation. They’re all tasks I can handle, and I’m not concerned. I prefer sticking to the killing, but I am always pulled into the other ventures. Rinaldo trusts me to get the job done, whatever it may be. We go over some numbers before he switches the subject. “I’m thinking of sending Nick away,” Rinaldo says. “Since Milena came into his life, he has less interest in the business than he had before, which was little to none.” “At some point, he’ll become a liability,” I say. “I would rather send him away than have him end up on the wrong side of your rifle.” I raise an eyebrow and give him a little nod. If it needed to be done, I wouldn’t hesitate, but killing Rinaldo’s offspring isn’t something I’d look forward to doing.

“I could send him out West,” he says as he taps a finger against his lips. “We need eyes in Seattle, and considering what a mess they are right now, I don’t think he’d be in much danger.” “It’s too soon. It’s unlikely, but if Landon Stark or someone else gets a notion that we had something to do with Franks’ death, Nick would be an immediate target.” Landon Stark, former trainer of death-match participants for the Seattle mob had gone missing shortly after I killed Joseph Franks and sent the Seattle folks scrambling. They haven’t recovered, but it’s only a matter of time. Landon is also the mentor and father figure to my half brother, Sebastian Stark. Sebastian has no idea of our relationship and had nearly succeeded in killing me during a tournament game in the Arctic. I’d traded my life in exchange for killing Franks and removing the hold he had over Sebastian. In return, Sebastian had agreed to let everyone believe I was dead. That didn’t last long. “Landon is still missing,” Rinaldo says. “He was a SEAL,” I reply. “He just might stay missing forever.” “Do you have any suggestions?” “If you put Jonathan to task, he might find him eventually. It would take effort though. If Landon is determined to remain missing, he’s no longer a threat. It might not be worth the expense in time.” Rinaldo nods in agreement as he drums his fingers on the top of his desk. It’s not a customary habit for him, and I wonder what has him on edge. “Sir?” I cock my head a bit to the side, but he just stares at me. “Is there a problem?” For a long moment, he says nothing. Then he walks over to his desk and unlocks the top drawer before speaking. “I want to show you something.” Rinaldo pulls out a ledger in a green binder and opens it up near the back. A spreadsheet with a lot of numbers, calculations, and graphs takes up most of the page. “See anything?” he asks. Narrowing my eyes, I look closely at some of the numbers highlighted in yellow. There are a few lines that don’t match up. The amounts are small, but there are a lot of them. “Someone’s taking quite a chunk.” “Looks that way.” “How did you find it?” “Becca pointed it out,” Rinaldo says. “When she took over the books, she went back a few months and audited the accounts. The skimming seems to have stopped about the time she came on board.” “Who was the former bookkeeper?”

“Beni did it part-time when he first arrived,” he tells me. “I think it started before then, though. Before he took over, it was Justin Taylor. Remember him?” Rinaldo stares at me pointedly. Yes, I remember Justin Taylor. He hadn’t been just a bookkeeper; he had also been Rinaldo’s tournament fighter. I had been doing a job for Rinaldo last year while Lia had been visiting one of her professors about a project. Justin seemed to think I was getting paid too much for what I did and stuck his nose into my business. He’d gotten in my face about dumping bodies where they could be found, and I’d added his corpse to the pile. “I remember.” I try to sound apologetic, but I don’t think I pull it off. If Justin had fought in the last tournament instead of me, I might not have lost Lia. I also wouldn’t have found out I have a half brother. I don’t consider the information an even trade for her leaving me though. “He was good with the numbers, despite getting hit in the head a lot. Justin even had a bachelor’s degree in accounting. Becca doesn’t have any kind of degree.” I turn a couple of pages, making note of the dates where discrepancies were apparent. “Did you track where the money was going?” I ask. “Not a trace.” “Has Jonathan looked?” “Not yet.” Rinaldo pours himself more scotch and swirls it around in the glass. “He’s been working on some new security for the warehouse. He wants to be able to control all of it from his damn phone.” I chuckle. Jonathan has an app for everything. “Do you want me to check it out?” “Not yet.” Rinaldo finishes the drink in a big gulp and sits down. “Becca is running the numbers again to be sure. You just be aware and check out the club managers. Make sure we didn’t miss something there.” I nod and rub at my temple. I can’t shake the damn headache I’ve had for the past two days. No amount of caffeine or ibuprofen seems to help, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. “What has you on edge?” Rinaldo asks as he leans forward on the desk. “Not sleeping.” It’s nothing new, and he knows it. “I need you at your best, Evan.” “I know. I am.” “Not if you aren’t sleeping.” Rinaldo narrows his eyes. “How are you spending your evenings?” I give him a half-smile and shrug. He knows my preference for hookers. “I hope you aren’t giving the competition your money.”

“No, sir.” I look at his expression carefully, but I can’t determine if he seriously thinks I’d pick up one of the Russians’ girls or not. “I stick to the far south.” “Have you picked out a favorite?” This time Rinaldo’s expression gives away his concern. The last steady whore I acquired ended up with her brains all over his basement storage room. “No, sir. I haven’t done any repeats.” “Going to keep it that way?” I consider his question for a minute. I’m not going to lie to him. “I’d rather not. I don’t want to have to go looking for it, and having a steady one on the side makes it easier. I just haven’t found one I like. I’ll be careful this time, though.” “I hope that’s a lesson you’ve learned.” His voice is stern and fatherly. “It is, sir.” “Good. Back to business talk.” Rinaldo leans back on his desk and looks up at me. “I need someone to take over the gun sales.” “Who do you have in mind?” “I was hoping you would have a suggestion.” “Beni makes sense, but I don’t know if he’s ready for it. He hasn’t been around long enough to do it on his own, but he could shadow you for a while until he gets the hang of it. Jonathan is capable, but I wouldn’t use him long-term. He’d get bored, and that could end up turning into sloppy. You need someone who can focus on the task.” “What about Becca?” “I don’t know her.” I rub at the chain around my neck, wondering when I had put my dog tags on. I don’t remember doing it. “Where did she come from?” “She was running one of the clubs up north,” Rinaldo says. “She’s good at books and numbers.” “I don’t have an opinion.” “Form one.” “Yes, sir.” “What about Lucia?” I’m treading on dangerous ground, and I know it. I also know Rinaldo expects me to speak my mind when we’re alone, and I’m not going to paint a picture of puppies and rainbows when the subject matter is a pile of dog shit. “She can’t handle the pressure,” I say simply. “She’s great at the diplomacy, but she’ll never be able to handle the rough decisions.” Rinaldo closes his eyes for a moment, sighs, and looks back at me.

“I’m afraid you are right.” He finishes his drink in one gulp before setting the glass on the desk with a thump. “I thought she was getting better at all of this, but that fiasco with the Russians and the division of caviar sales were enough to make me consider a vasectomy.” I can’t help the half-smile that appears but keep myself from laughing out loud. It’s a little late for that sort of action anyway, and Rinaldo’s a devout Catholic. Well, in name anyway. “What if she started doing more of the bookkeeping?” I suggest. “You know you can trust her. That will open Becca up for other opportunities, assuming she’s able, and you really think she’s with us long-term.” “Not yet,” he says with a shake of his head. “I want you to get a better feel for her first.” I glance at him sideways, wondering just what he means by that. Rinaldo laughs. “Feel free to use what you have at your disposal,” he says. He gestures up and down my body. “They can’t seem to resist you. I think you are better off sticking with your hookers though.” I chuckle a little, but I’m also relieved. I didn’t want to have to pursue some chick to get information on her. Thinking of Becca in such ways reminds me of the other new woman in Rinaldo’s employ. “Can I ask you something, sir?” “Of course.” “Felisa has been around for a few months, correct?” “Yes, she has.” His voice is guarded. “Are you going to keep her around?” “I plan on it.” He studies me for a moment. “You don’t approve?” “Does Lele know about her?” “Of course she does,” Rinaldo says with a snort. “She brought her here from New York.” “Does she know about her?” I ask again with more emphasis. Rinaldo leans back against his desk and looks at me for a long moment. “It’s not what you think,” he says. I’m completely unconvinced. He looks away from me, no longer meeting my eyes, and I’m certain there’s more to it. “What is it, then?” “It’s none of your damn business. That’s what it is!” Rinaldo suddenly yells. “Now you have your assignments. I suggest you go and get prepared for them!” I blink a couple of times, somewhat in shock. Rinaldo has given me more than my fair share of

lectures, but raising his voice to me is new. He has his hands balled into fists as if he would actually hit me. For a moment, I wonder if he will try. He doesn’t. Instead, he turns away from me, sits at his desk, and rubs his fingers into his temples. He refrains from addressing me again or even looking up. “Yes, sir,” I say quietly before turning around and heading out of the room. I don’t know what to think about the encounter. There is something else going on besides a simple affair. Maybe it’s just that; it isn’t a simple affair. It’s a complicated one. Maybe he’s in love with this Felisa woman. Maybe she returns his feelings. I decide I’m going to have to do a little more investigating. Jonathan is waiting outside, but instead of beer, he insists on taking me car shopping. I start to argue that the Volvo would be just fine as soon as I replace the battery, but he’s not interested in my arguments. He also hates Volvos and has been giving me shit about it since I got back to Chicago. Jonathan pulls into a little place that’s known in the community to have a lot of hot cars. It’s one of Rinaldo’s businesses, though a small one, and a lot of his people shop here. There’s a collection of sports cars and high-end sedans out front. Most of them are pretty new, and all purchases include a VIN that can’t be traced. The paperwork is just enough to make your registration look legal if you get pulled over, and all transactions are done in cash. “I don’t really need another car.” I get out of Jonathan’s pickup and drop to the ground. The snow has been plowed off to the side, but it’s still a little icy in places. “That piece of crap you scrounged up has to go,” Jonathan tells me. “I don’t know why you even let yourself be seen in it.” “I try not to let myself be seen at all.” “Well, that shit only works from rooftops.” We walk around a bit, but nothing really catches my eye. Jonathan keeps going on about cars not built in America, but I’m only half listening. I walk over to a deep black Beemer near the side of the building, but as soon as I get near it, my eyes are drawn to the parking lot behind the office. In the back lot, there’s a line of old muscle cars. Most of them are pretty beat up, but there’s one that looks like it’s in good shape. Forgetting the Beemer completely, I walk around the office and to the vehicle that has captured my attention. It’s a 1969 Camaro Z28. The finish is satin black with grey racing stripes down the center, and it has blacked-out windows. It’s decked out with fat back tires and gunmetal grey wheels. Like many boys, I’d fantasized about such cars as a kid. “I thought you were all about German engineering,” Jonathan says as he walks up beside me. “I like this one.” Jonathan walks around the back and laughs. “It’s definitely you!” He beams as he points to the back bumper. There’s a little bumper sticker on

the back that says Soccer Mom on it. I grip my hands into fists. “What motherfucker would put a fucking bumper sticker on this beauty?” “It came in that way.” A voice from behind me provides the answer. I turn around and eye a short, tubby dude with greasy overalls and a baseball cap pulled down too low over his eyes. “Whoever did it needs to be shot.” I’m actually seeing red. Putting any kind of bumper sticker on a car like this is grounds for dismemberment. “It’ll come off with a little work,” Tubby says with a shrug. “If not, you can always get ‘er a new bumper—have it sanded and repainted to match.” His nonchalance is pissing me off. He’s a car guy, obviously—doesn’t he even care that someone did this to a classic? How long has it been sitting here with that thing on it? “I’m taking it.” I fold my arms across my chest and stare at the guy. “I haven’t put it up for sale yet.” “Well, get your fucking paperwork in order,” I tell him, “because I’m taking it home today.” I refuse to even leave the lot to obtain the amount of cash the guy wants for the car. Jonathan pisses and moans about it but eventually agrees to go get the cash for me while the car dude mocks up some paperwork. I’ll pay Jonathan back later. By midafternoon, I’m driving my new baby off the lot. I have the feeling I’m going to enjoy my spontaneous purchase.

Chapter 3—Family Ties I’m in love. With the Camaro. I’m really not much of a car guy. I have always seen cars as a means of getting from one place to the other and not much more. I do admit to having been fascinated with old muscle cars in my youth, and apparently I never quite lost that attraction. There’s really only one cliché way to describe my new baby—the engine roars when I step on the gas. It fucking roars like a lion that has just noticed his cage is open, and there is a pack of lionesses in heat just outside the door. I’ve scared the shit out of a couple of pedestrians, and I really don’t care. I open it up, driving north on I-94, heading for the suburb of Wilmette. Rinaldo’s house is on the far north side of the area and is the epitome of extravagance. The place backs up to a golf course, part of an exclusive club that if I cared to try, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to join because I can’t come up with my lineage. I slow down and park in the circular drive and head to the front door. The doorbell chimes around the porch in an elaborate melody. “Evan! I haven’t seen you in ages!” “Hello, Lele,” I say with a smile. She takes me into her ample arms and gives me a big hug. Lele was once a dancer in one of Rinaldo’s clubs, and she turned more than a few heads while she was there. As soon as Rinaldo spotted her, he knew exactly what he wanted. She’s from “the old country,” as they say, speaks fluent Italian, and cooks like she was weaned on marinara sauce. I can smell it as soon as I walk into the house. “I hope you’re hungry,” she says as she leads me into the kitchen. “If I had just finished a nine-course meal,” I tell her, “I would still be hungry for whatever you’re making.” “Flatterer!” she says with a chuckle. “Just telling the truth, ma’am.” Lele doesn’t have the dancer’s body she once did, but she’s still a looker. Long, black hair and bright blue eyes give the impression she can see right through you. I would never be caught at it, but I’d be a liar if I were to say I have never checked out her ass. “Don’t you ma’am me.” She wags her finger in my direction as she heads over to the stove to stir the sauce. “I’m not that old!” That is certainly true. Rinaldo has about fifteen years on Lele. “Is Naldo coming home as well?” Lele asks. “He’s pretty tied up,” I tell her. “I honestly don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”

It’s a lie. I know he’s not coming. We sit down to dinner. By the time it’s over, I’ve eaten four pieces of garlic bread along with her savory pasta, and I’m ready to burst. It doesn’t stop me from tearing into the homemade cannoli, though. “I can’t begin to express how much I’ve missed this,” I tell her. “Aw, dear!” Lele gushes. “I miss your company!” “Now, who is the flatterer?” I laugh. “Well, you must be getting a few home-cooked meals,” she says. “How is that pretty girl of yours?” I’m not often caught off guard, but for the second time today, I’m at a loss for words. Eventually, I manage to smile at Lele. “Wiser now,” I say with a shrug. She understands the implication of my words and reaches over to pat my hand. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Lele says. “Esperienza, madre di scienza.” “Experience is the only mother I’ve had,” I counter. I may not speak Italian, but I know enough to understand the phrase. Lele smiles sadly for a moment, pats my hand once more, and stands to clear the table. I help without being asked, rinsing the plates and placing them in the dishwasher. “Naldo will have to make do with leftovers again,” Lele remarks. “Has he been away a lot lately?” “Business,” Lele says with a dismissive wave. “I don’t want the details; I know this much.” “Has Felisa been helping with the business?” I ask, trying to sound casual. Lele eyes me. “Oh, is that why you’ve graced my doorstep?” Again, I’m taken aback. I must be losing my touch because I can’t even manage to stammer out a reply. Lele laughs and shakes her head. “Naldo needs his distractions,” she says. “Despite what time he returns, he always awakens in my bed.” “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t trying to…” I’m not sure how to end the sentence. “Oh, my Evan,” Lele says as she takes my hand in hers, “my heart warms to know you have concerns and would bring them to me. Not many men employed by Rinaldo would do such a thing, but you have nothing to worry about.” “Where did she come from?” I pull at Lele’s arm until we are sitting next to each other on the couch. “I know she was in New York before Chicago.”

“She’s from Sicily, of course,” Lele tells me. “She’s my sister’s niece on her husband’s side. Her family goes back many generations. She finished her degree in psychology last spring, and my sister asked if I could find her some work here in the city.” “As a psychologist?” “Don’t you think Rinaldo could use someone with such skills in his organization?” It’s not her psychology skills I think he’s interested in, but I don’t say that aloud. “You think we’re that fucked up?” I realize my mistake as her eyes narrow at me, and I quickly correct myself. “Screwed up, that is.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “My apologies.” Her nod tells me I’m forgiven for my language. “The work a man does can impact other areas of his life,” Lele says. “It is not an easy life you live, and it is hard on you and those close to you. Perhaps I brought her here too late for some, but I hope she will be able to help those who cross our path in the future.” I think about it for a moment and wonder if she’s right. If Lia had someone to talk to about what I did, would she have been able to cope with the ramifications? I’m not so sure. “People who aren’t in this life shouldn’t try to be a part of it,” I say. “You may be right,” Lele says softly, “but sometimes we can’t help but wish they could be.” “Because there’s no way out of it.” “No, Evan dear, there isn’t. You just have to make the best of what you have.” At first, I think she’s talking about me, but as I watch her fingers twist together, I know this is selfreflection on her part, and I don’t like it. Maybe she’s willing to put up with Rinaldo’s infidelity for the sake of peace, but that doesn’t make me any less pissed off about it. Despite her words, I know Lele feels hurt. Betrayed. If Rinaldo is my father figure, Lele is as close to a mother as I’ll ever have. Seeing her hiding her distress doesn’t sit well with me. If this situation continues, I might have to do something about it. ***** Three weeks. I’ve been driving up and down certain well-known streets of Chicago and searching for the perfect hooker for three weeks straight. I’ve taken seven of them back to my apartment and fucked three of them, but none of them knew what to think about me just wanting to sleep. The whole idea seemed to freak them out, as if my plan were to wait for them to doze off so I could slit their throats. I tried finding a random hook-up at a few of the bars and nightclubs around the Loop, but those didn’t work out for the same reason. Tonight is no different. I’ve passed up three prospects for various shortcomings—flat asses, gum

chewing, and probable drug use. I don’t need that kind of annoyance. If I were to wake up to find a chick banging heroin in my bathroom, I would probably kill her. Ralph is hanging out at every street corner. Sometimes he points out one of the girls. Mostly, he annoys me. I wish he would just sit in the back seat or something so I could at least yell at him over the Camaro’s engine. I’m about to give up on whores altogether when I drive down one last street. There are three girls on the corner. There’s no pimp in sight, but I’m sure there’s one close by. There always is. I recognize one of the whores as Loretta, the girl I took home the previous week. Dark-skinned and tall, she wouldn’t have anything to do with just sleeping in my bed. She left without even being paid. One of the others is small and blonde. She looks more like a prepubescent boy than a woman and does nothing for me physically. I doubt she’s even eighteen yet. The third catches my attention. She has long legs and light brown hair that reaches almost to her rounded ass. She’s wearing tights under her short skirt and a jacket open enough that I can see her cleavage. I’m somewhat impressed that she doesn’t seem as willing to freeze her ass off like the others appear to be. Loretta walks up to the window of my car as I pull over. As soon as she looks in, she shakes her head. “No way,” she says as she places her hands on her hips. “I ain’t playin’ your games!” “I want to talk to her.” I point to the one with the really long hair. “Fine with me,” Loretta says as she steps away from the window. She calls out to the other girls and motions to them. “He wants Alina.” I take note of the long-haired girl’s name, hoping I have enough cognitive function to commit it to memory. She walks up to the edge of my car, then looks over her shoulder at her comrades before leaning over and looking through the window at me. “What are you looking for?” she asks. “All night,” I tell her. “I’ll bring you back here in the morning.” Alina looks over to Loretta, who turns her head to one side and raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. Alina examines the car for a moment before looking back inside at me. Her eyes are bright blue. I stare straight into them while she contemplates. If her hair were darker, she would look a lot like Lele did in her younger years. A moment later, she nods over to the group and tosses her purse up over her shoulder. She opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. When she settles, she runs her hands over her skirt to straighten it before reaching back to find her seat belt. “I’m Evan,” I tell her as I pull back into traffic. “Alina,” she responds quietly. I merge onto I-90 and then catch the Stevenson to make my way north to Lake Shore Drive, passing Soldier’s Field and all the museums. As I slow down to turn onto Wacker, she speaks.

“Would you mind if we stop at a drugstore?” “I have condoms,” I tell her. She licks her lips quickly and glances up at me. “That’s good to know but not for that. I just want to grab a couple of things.” “Okay with me.” I pull over at the next corner and park next to the sidewalk. “You need help?” “No, that’s all right,” she says as she opens the car door. “I’ll only be a minute.” When she returns, she’s shoving a small plastic bag into her purse. I half wonder if she’s bought a can of mace or something. I’ve dealt with far worse, and such tactics would never stop me if I were planning something more devious than sleeping and fucking. I consider asking her what she’s bought but decide against it. It doesn’t matter, and I don’t really care. “All good?” I ask. “Yes.” She runs her hands over her skirt again as she sits. The motion draws my gaze to her legs, and I wish she wasn’t wearing those tights, practical or not. I can tell how nicely shaped her legs are, and they’d look especially good up over my shoulders. I shove the car into reverse and back out of the parking spot. It’s late, and there isn’t much traffic on a Tuesday night, so it doesn’t take me long to get back on the street, and I’m loving the roar of the Camaro’s engine. There’s no more conversation until we reach my apartment. Even in the elevator, she barely looks at me. She keeps her eyes on the ground just in front of her and occasionally licks her lips or grasps the strap of her purse but says nothing. After we enter my apartment, she slides the jacket off her arms, and I hang it along with mine in the coat closet. Her arms are long and slender, and her skin is perfect. The lack of jacket reveals more of her ass, and I appreciate it as she moves away from me. She walks to the kitchen and looks over the counter at the open living room and the view beyond but still doesn’t speak. I can’t decide if it’s unnerving or peaceful, so maybe it’s a little of both. I open the fridge and start to reach for the beer but grab a couple of bottles of water instead. I offer her one, and she takes it with a quiet thanks. Alina looks around the apartment, taking in the sparse furniture and lack of décor. The place came fully furnished with a smattering of wall art, and I haven’t done anything with it since I moved in. I give her a few moments to check things out before I take a breath and open my mouth. “Look,” I say, starting my prepared speech, “I’m really kind of tired. It’s been a long day and all. I think I’d like to start just by getting some sleep. After that, you can earn your money. Consider it a night of relaxation or something.” I smile at her, but she only looks at me sideways. The information doesn’t surprise her, and I know she must have heard something about me from Loretta. Whatever the whore had told Alina, she hadn’t been scared away. Well, not yet.

“The bedroom’s this way.” I direct her to the hallway and the left-hand door. She takes in the room as I remove my watch, place it on the dresser, and begin to unbutton my shirt. “Do you want me to get undressed?” Alina asks. “Your choice.” I shrug off my shirt and shove it into the hamper. My dog tags clink against each other. I still don’t know why I’m wearing them, and I turn away from her to take them off and coil the chain next to my watch. “Well, I don’t exactly have any pajamas on hand.” I look up at her and see the hint of a smile on her face. With a shake of my head, I open up one of my dresser drawers to find a T-shirt. “Will this do?” I ask as I toss it to her. Alina catches the shirt easily and looks it over. It’s just a plain white one, but she smiles up at me anyway. “Perfect.” She places the shirt on the bed and takes off her heels. I sit on the edge of the mattress to take off my shoes and watch her undress. She doesn’t make a big show of it; she just strips down to her panties and bra before picking up the shirt from the bed. I look her over, appreciating the creamy color of her skin as it’s revealed. It looks soft and smooth, and her legs are better than I’d imagined when the tights come off. I get a flash of rounded tits as she discards her bra before pulling the T-shirt over her head. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” “It’s right across the hall.” She picks up her bag, and I watch her head out of the room, focusing on the curve of her ass. Once she’s gone, I remove everything but my boxers and climb onto the bed. I’m still tense; so many of these nights have ended badly. I’ve already gone three nights without any real sleep. I have endured much longer, but it’s enough to keep me on edge. Alina returns and lowers herself onto the bed beside me. Stretching out, she turns to face me as I wrap one arm around her waist and pull her body against mine. I can’t identify the scent on her skin, but it’s slightly familiar. “You smell good.” She licks her lips and glances at me for a second. “It’s lavender,” she tells me. “It will help you sleep.” “It will?” “That’s what they say.” I ponder a moment. I’m not sure who they are, but I have to admit the scent is relaxing. I rest my cheek against her shoulder and inhale deeply. Exhaustion overcomes me quickly, and the smell of her skin fills my head as she places one hand on my back and runs her fingers up to my shoulder. She slides her

other arm underneath my head, cradling me. With her arms around me and the scent of lavender washing over me, I fall asleep. Crack, scream. Crack, scream. Crack, scream. I feel a calloused hand under my jaw before my head is roughly pulled up. A dark, bearded face with wild eyes glares at me. “Location!” he yells for the thousandth time. I wet my lips, take a deep breath, and nod. “They’re…they’re…” I pause and gather saliva in my mouth. The bearded face leans closer to hear my whispered words, and I pull my head back, look straight into his eyes, and spit in his face. Words are yelled in Farsi as I am unchained from the ceiling and thrown to the ground. Hardtipped boots kick at my ribs before I’m dragged backwards from the building and out into the sun. No, no, no…not back there! Not back in the hole! No, no, no! “Don’t put me back! No! Please, please, don’t put me back!” “Shh…” My heart is pounding, and I can’t catch my breath. Though the images of the dream have faded, I feel sweat all over my body and taste sand in my mouth. There are arms around me, and for a moment, I tighten my grip on them and press my fingers into soft flesh. “Get them away!” “There’s no one but me, Evan. It’s all right. You’re all right.” I breathe in gasps, my eyes burn, and no matter how many times I swallow, I still feel gritty sand in my mouth. I open my eyes, confused by the unfamiliar surroundings—a room I don’t quite recognize, a bed that doesn’t quite feel familiar, and a woman whose name I don’t quite recall. I blink rapidly, taking in my surroundings. I’m in my new bed—my new apartment—not in the desert. There’s a soft body pressing against mine and fingertips rubbing against the top of the tendons on the back of my neck. I inhale a luxurious scent and drift off again. ***** In the morning, I wake alone, but the spot next to me is still slightly warm. I can hear movement from the kitchen and smell the scent of coffee and bacon. Pushing myself from the bed, I wander into the hall, rubbing my eyes. Alina is in the kitchen, wearing my robe and flipping pancakes. Her hair has been pulled up into a ponytail, and her feet are bare, but she doesn’t seem to mind the chill of the hardwood floors. My warped mind briefly conjures up an image of what she would look like if she were pregnant, but I quickly push the ludicrous thought aside. She reaches over to the counter and casually lifts a coffee cup to her lips. The whole scene is surreal.

She looks over to me and widens her eyes as her body stills for a moment. She watches me for exactly four seconds before her shoulders relax, and she sets the cup back on the counter. “You were asleep for a long time,” she says softly. “I thought you might be hungry.” “I am.” It’s the truth, too. I’m famished, and the food smells fantastic. I pour myself a cup of coffee and watch her in silence as she arranges everything on two plates. I do cook for myself, and I’m not too bad at it, but there is something about a woman’s cooking that has always tasted better to me. Maybe it’s because I only put effort into the consumption of the meal and not its preparation. Regardless, it’s delicious and reminds me of Lele’s cooking. I devour everything on my plate and head back for more. I’m finished before Alina though she didn’t serve herself nearly as many pancakes. I get myself another cup of coffee and sit at the counter, watching the river out the window. The morning traffic is brisk, but the rush hour hell over the Clark Street Bridge seems to be dissipating. There are a few snow flurries in the air, but none of it is sticking to the roads. Aside from the slight clinking and clanking of the dishes as Alina washes them in the sink, there is no sound in the apartment. I don’t offer to help; I’m pretty content to just sit here and let her do her thing. The apartment is warm despite the wintery scene out the large floor-to-ceiling windows, and it’s been a long time since I felt so relaxed. Watching her do her thing is enticing, but I must still be feeling the aftereffects of finally sleeping more than an hour or two at a time, and I’m too groggy to act on my baser instincts. I get to thinking instead. Reflection isn’t a typical pastime of mine. I used to force myself to do it by attending regular therapy sessions with a government-approved military psychologist, but I’d stopped playing that game the last time I left Chicago. The shrink had been a good guy, and I always knew he did his best, but I am ultimately unfixable. It’s something I’ve accepted—maybe even embraced. I don’t reflect on anything in particular as I stare out the window. I’m reminded of other Chicago winters, traffic jams, and the spot around the bend in the river where I’ve always preferred to dump bodies. I attempt to count up the number of notches I could put on the barrel of my Barrett but quickly give up. I lean back on the stool at the counter and stretch my neck. Usually being this calm comes from holding my rifle and narrowing in on my target. I’m attracted to that feeling of complete confidence and control—confidence that my aim will be true and control over the entire situation—life and death included. It’s elating. I finish my third cup of coffee as Alina comes out of the bedroom, dressed in her tights and short skirt again. I glance up at the clock on the stove and see that it’s nearly eleven in the morning. “It’s late,” I say. “I should probably take you back now.” Alina nods, retrieves her bag from the kitchen counter, and then goes to the closet for her jacket. I grab mine as well, and we both head out to the elevator and down to the parking garage and the Camaro. As she walks around the back of the car, I see her glance down at the sticker still affixed to the

bumper. I haven’t had a chance to get it off yet. Alina presses her lips together to stop from smiling, and I glare. “Don’t say a fucking word about it.” She has to put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh but quickly contains herself. I huff through my nose and get in the driver’s seat. Alina slips in beside me and buckles up. The ride back to the street corner where I picked her up is again silent. I’m not only getting used to it; I’m beginning to like it. I pull over to the side of the street and fish my wallet out of my pocket. I count off hundred dollar bills and hand the stack to her. She thumbs through it before separating the bills into two stacks. She places one stack deep into her purse and the other into her bra. There are no words spoken as she opens the car door and quickly walks away. I have the feeling I’m going to search for her again.

Chapter 4—Stolen Cargo “It’s good to have you back, Evan.” Lucia places her hand on my back as I crouch next to the Camaro, checking the contents of my duffel bag. I stand and face her, giving her a half-smile. “Thanks,” I say. “It’s good to be back.” “Sorry I didn’t have a chance to talk to you the other day, but I had to run off for an appointment.” “That’s all right,” I say. I had figured she had a date with a manicurist. Lucia looks over her shoulder toward Rinaldo and some of his crew. They’re several yards away, but she leans in closer to me anyway. “I feel a lot better knowing you are here, protecting him,” she says. “Since Mario’s been gone, Daddy’s been through three bodyguards. None of them made me very comfortable.” Mario had been Rinaldo’s personal bodyguard and head of security for many years before he was killed at the beginning of the Chicago mob war. Replacing a man like him is a difficult task. It’s not just a matter of being a big dude or having skills with a gun—there’s a lot more to consider. “What do you think of Paulie?” “He’s still too new.” Lucia shakes her head. “That’s part of the problem. Loyalty like that is cultivated, not bought. Mario went down saving Daddy. I can’t see Paulie doing the same, but you…” She runs her hand down my arm and twines our fingers together. “I know you’d do that for him, wouldn’t you?” “Without thought.” It’s the truth, too. If there were a gun pointed at Rinaldo, I’d be between him and the gun without consideration for myself. All of my attention would be on his safety. Lucia nods and smiles before leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’ve got to head over to the office,” she tells me. “Keep him safe, okay?” “Always.” “Maybe we can catch up later, hmm? Get a drink somewhere?” “Yeah, okay.” I’m not sure what to think of her offer. Lucia and I have never really hung out socially unless it was with a group of Rinaldo’s people. Her eyes are indicating something more intimate. She’s the boss’s daughter. Off limits. Rinaldo had suggested in the past that he might be inclined to see me with his only recognized offspring but ultimately decided against it. He knows me too well to want me that close to his daughter. Lucia walks away, and I grab my equipment and head up the side of the building. It’s too damn cold to be out on a rooftop, and the wind is up. My aim is going to suck if I actually have to shoot someone. The howling of the wind is also making it difficult to hear the conversation on the radio.

At least it’s not snowing. I’m on high alert, but I feel good. My head is clear due to Alina’s presence in my bed last night, and I’m in my element, confident in my own abilities. The cool metal of the Barrett feels so right in my hands, I’m not even wearing gloves. It’s cold, but I prefer having skin on the trigger. I survey the area through the scope and check the flag I’ve posted for the wind speed. It keeps changing in intensity and direction, and if I need to make a clear shot, I’m going to be screwed. I relay this into the radio at my neck. “Not expecting problems,” Beni informs me. “I’m not relying on your expectations.” I take a long breath and huff it out. “Paulie, keep your eyes open.” “That is my job.” His voice crackles with static. I focus the scope on Beni. He has that smug look on his face again, and it makes me want to put a fist through his teeth. He’s standing tall and alert next to Rinaldo, so at least he’s listening. I swerve around to view Paulie a few feet away. He’s staring at the ground. “Paulie! Pay attention!” He jerks slightly and glances up at me. I can see his eyes clearly in my crosshairs. He nods once and then starts looking around at his surroundings. He takes a step closer to Rinaldo and places his hand on the butt of his gun. “Asshole,” I mumble. The wind picks up. It’s time for the shipment to arrive, but there’s no sign of the truck. Becca’s got her phone up to her ear, but she doesn’t respond when I call to her on the radio. I hear a lot of crackling, but the words are garbled. “Come again!” There’s no response—just static. “Rinaldo, do you copy?” “I…screech…you now. Screech...In position!” There’s a lot more crackling, and I ask for a repeat. “Stay!” It’s the only word I can actually understand. “Got it.” I’m going to have to rely on my eyes more than my ears. I’d rather be down on the ground at this point. My assault rifle is in the car and would be more effective overall. The wind refuses to hold steady enough for me to shoot straight from a distance. Four forty-five. The truck is definitely late. I try to get some answers over the radio, but nothing is coming through clearly. I move away from the edge of the building to try to receive a better signal, but nothing helps. Concerned about being away from position, I get back behind my Barrett and scan the whole area. There are only Rinaldo’s people and no trucks approaching. I take another look around. “Somebody tell me if I need to start scouting for people!” I yell into the radio.

There’s some garbled talk, but I can only make out the word “truck” and a bunch of cursing, likely from Rinaldo. He’s not a tech guy and never knows when his radio is on. Whatever is going on, I’m not going to get any information from the radio. I pack up the Barrett and head down the side of the building. When I reach the rest of the group, Jonathan approaches me. “What’s the deal?” I ask. “The truck isn’t showing up?” “No truck,” Jonathan says, confirming what had become obvious. “Where is it?” “That’s what Beni’s trying to figure out.” Jonathan tosses his cigarette and stamps it out under his heel. “Have we heard from Cody or the other couriers?” “Not yet. Becca’s trying to contact them.” I head over to the Camaro, ditch the Barrett, and return to the group with the AR slung over my shoulder. “Nice rifle,” Paulie says appreciatively. “Rock River Arms?” “Yeah.” “Nice scope, too.” I nod, but don’t answer. As much as I would normally like to discuss my guns, I don’t like how this delivery is shaping up, and I’m agitated. Rinaldo watches our exchange with an impatient look. “Could you see anything from up high?” he asks. “No, sir. No sign of the truck but no sign of anyone else either.” There’s a shed at the far side of the parking lot. It’s not particularly tall, and I would never snipe from there, but it’s a better vantage point while still close to the ground. I strap the AR over my shoulder and climb up on the dumpster beside the shed. I hoist myself to the roof where I have a good view of the streets around us, but there is very little activity. I’m there for about fifteen minutes before Rinaldo and his crew on the ground start gathering together. I take one last look around and then climb down to join them. “What’s the status?” I ask as I approach. “Found the truck!” Becca tells me. “Driver’s been shot, and the cargo is gone.” Becca’s phone bleeps, and she looks at the screen. She holds up her phone and shows us all a picture of the truck. It’s been painted with orange gang symbols all over the hood and sides. “Motherfuckers!” Rinaldo balls his hands into fists, and I take a step back. If he decides to hit someone, I’d rather it not be me. I’ll take it if necessary but don’t want to stand in the line of fire. “Those are Marcello Harding’s colors,” Beni says. “Did they find anything else?”

He and Becca take a few steps away and go through the pictures as they are sent from the couriers. I keep a close eye on Rinaldo. “Those fuckers have ended my patience,” he says with a snarl. He’s trembling a bit and turns to spit on the ground. I tense but don’t step away. “This isn’t the first time?” “With guns, yes. They did the same with the Russians’ heroin shipment two months ago. There are all kinds of territory wars going on with the gangs, but trying to move into my areas? I can’t stand for that, Evan. I can’t.” Rinaldo’s face is tinged with red, and I can see the vein near his temple throbbing. He turns to me, and his eyes speak volumes. “I got it, sir.” He nods once, and I head over to Beni just as Cody is coming around the corner in a van. He parks and jumps out, running to Beni’s side. “Definitely Marcello?” I ask. Cody nods. “The truck was emptied, but this was left behind.” Cody hands me one of those plastic bracelets people seem to like so much. This one is orange and black—the colors of Marcello’s gang. It’s ripped up, likely caught on something in the truck. “They all wear them,” Beni tells me. “Are they this stupid?” I ask. “I’ve taken out members of the south gangs before.” “You haven’t been around,” Beni says with a sneer. “Word got out. They got bold. I don’t think they realize you’re back.” “They’re going to know now.” I flag Jonathan over. “I need everything you can get on Marcello’s crowd,” I tell him. “Now.” “On it.” Jonathan jogs over to his truck and grabs his laptop. “I know where Marcello lives,” Paulie says. He moves to stand over me with his hand on the butt of his gun. “I can take care of him.” “Where he lives is the last place he’ll be.” I look into Paulie’s face, debate filling it with a slug from his own gun, but resist. “You are staying with Rinaldo. I’m dealing with this lot.” “I’m in charge of security here,” Paulie says as he puffs out his chest. “Yeah,” I agree with a nod, “and you failed.” Paulie’s fingers tighten around his weapon, but he doesn’t draw it out. I rather wish he would so I’d have an excuse to put a hole in his head. No such luck.

“I will take care of it,” he repeats slowly. “No, you fucking won’t.” I step up closer to him. I have to tilt my head to look into his face, but his size does not intimidate me. “You are going to do exactly as you are told and stay right by Rinaldo’s side like an obedient little puppy. Capisce?” His hands are trembling as we stare at each other. He bares his teeth slightly and seems as if he’s about to say something else, but we’re interrupted by Jonathan’s voice. “Got something! Come take a look!” Paulie breaks eye contact first and stares at the ground as I shove past him to take a look at the computer. Jonathan’s brought up various images and names, including security camera footage from their own hangouts and meeting places. He has a list of the places where they gather and when. It takes only minutes to know where I can find them later tonight. They’ve crossed a line—physically and metaphorically. They’re going to pay. ***** Sometimes you just have to go with the direct approach. Marcello’s gang is known for its hangouts. They’ve put down roots in every establishment from Marquette Park all the way south to Ninety-fifth Street. They have worked hard to implant themselves on the streets of Auburn Grisham, and no one dares cross them in their own territory. Fuck that. I open up the Camaro and fly off the Dan Ryan Expressway to Seventy-first Street, nearly going airborne as I race over a slight hill. I slow down enough to make the turn and then barrel through two red lights. Focused on my goal—my targets—I don’t give a shit about traffic laws. There’s a crappy little bar where Marcello and his group all hang out on weekdays—the whole lot of them. They do their business there, terrorize the neighborhood in general, and usually end up killing at least one of their own every month. How they flourished so quickly in my absence is beyond me. I’m not sure I completely believe Beni’s assessment that they became so bold when they discovered I was no longer in Chicago. I’d been gone before. Something or someone has to be driving them up north. I’ll think about that later. Pulling into the alley next to the door of the small, run-down bar, I let the engine roar once more before I turn it off. I’m not going for stealth here. Reaching over to the floor of the passenger seat, I grab my assault rifle and step out onto the pavement. A bunch of graffiti defaces the side of the building, depicting various gang symbols and a bunch of names in stylized letters. Everything is orange and black as if Halloween never ended. Overconfidence should be a synonym for stupidity. They don’t even have anyone standing at the

door. It wouldn’t have mattered, but I had at least expected it. This is too easy, and it puts me on guard. It’s a few minutes past nine in the evening when I silently open the door and step inside. There’s rap music playing, but it’s surprisingly subdued. There’s a woman cleaning up spilled beer on the countertop, and two more chicks in orange miniskirts are sitting at the bar, yakking away. Marcello and eight members of his group are at the far side of the room near the end of the bar. Marcello is divvying out cash, and everyone is focused on him. They don’t even look up as the door opens. Everyone in the place seems to be an associate of Marcello’s though it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not here for a single kill. I’m here to send a fucking message. There’s only one guy on the other side of the room who makes eye contact with me. His eyes are bright in contrast to the black bandana tied around his head. I watch his mouth drop open as I swing the AR up to my shoulder. Shots ring out, and people start scrambling. I swing the weapon from side to side. Blood splatters across walls and tables, and screaming competes with the sound of the gunfire. Bodies fall. Those that don’t, I target. The two women who had been gossiping at the bar fall to the floor, arms flailing amidst a heap of chairs. A few more blasts and they are still. Turning to my left, I blast holes in the bottles across the back of the bar. The bartender must be hiding behind the counter because I don’t see her anymore. I blow holes in the wood until I hear another scream. The blasts leave me partially deaf, but I keep shooting. I walk up to the near end of the bar and back around, finishing off the bartender. There’s a guy who has managed to sneak back there with her, and I step over her body to get to him. He’s half buried by the bartender and has multiple wounds in his legs but nothing life-threatening. I decide to go the tactical route. It might save me a return trip later. “You know who I am?” I ask the guy on the floor. I recognize his face from Jonathan’s research, but I can’t remember his actual name, only that he goes by Harpy. “Fuck you!” he screams at me. I point the AR at his groin and pull back on the trigger. He writhes on the floor, screaming and cussing. “Let’s try this again,” I say. “Do you know who I am?” “Yeah.” Harpy’s voice is just a little mouse-squeak. “Say my name.” “Ar-ar-Arden,” he says. “Evan Arden.” “You ever going to forget it?” “N-n-no!”

“There was a deal made a long time ago. You were probably still trying to figure out what your dick was for at the time, but you might remember something about it.” He’s starting to convulse a little, and I figure he’ll be going into shock before long. He might not make it after all. “It is actually quite simple,” I say. “Forty-seventh Street is where your activity stops and mine begins. You crossed that line. In fact, you didn’t just cross it, but you thought it was a good idea to fuck with my business. I’m just here to let you know how unwise a move that was.” I kick at his leg, and Harpy cringes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, but a tear escapes anyway. I smile. “You going to tell your friends my name?” I stare downward and focus the tip of the AR in his face. I nod my head up and down a few times until he gets what I mean. “Yes?” “Say that with a little more confidence.” “Yeah! Yeah, I will!” “And you’re going to let them all know what happens when they leave this shithole and try to step into my territory, aren’t you?” “I’ll tell ‘em! I swear! I’ll tell ‘em all!” I nod slowly and then kneel down beside him. I look down at his leg before shoving my finger into one of the bullet holes. He screams and tries to twist away from me, but he’s stuck under the body of his comrade. I twist my finger a little before pulling it out and wiping the blood on his shirt. “Make sure they know it was only me here,” I tell him. “Remind them that this is what I can do on my own. If I ever decide to bring the rest of my boys down here, there won’t be anyone left to remember what happened, capisce?” “Yeah, I’ll tell ‘em.” He nods as he tries to get his breathing under control. “You’re a lucky man, aren’t you?” He stares up and me and swallows audibly as I stand. “You get to crawl out of here.” After quickly surveying the place for any additional survivors and finding none, I leave him surrounded in bodies and bullet casings. Bloody footprints mark my departure. The Camaro is still warm inside when I ease into the seat, check my reflection in the rearview mirror, and calmly drive away. I have the feeling I won’t need to return.

Chapter 5—Complicated Companions The only sound is the Camaro’s engine. I hope Alina isn’t going to request a drug store stop because I want to get to my apartment soon. I haven’t been there in several days. Rinaldo thought it would be best for me to lie low until the gangbangers down south relaxed a bit, so I’d been staying at a hotel up north. This afternoon, Duane “Junko” Keevers came by Rinaldo’s office. He referred to himself as Marcello’s cousin and offered his apologies. The gangs would stay south of Forty-seventh Street as they had in the past. Rinaldo accepted the apology along with the stolen guns on the condition that he receive ten percent of the gang’s heroin sales for the next year. Junko would have been stupid not to accept the offer, and apparently he has some brains. I’d been spending my time alternating between staring out the hotel window and staring at the hotel ceiling. When I got the all-clear notification, I headed south immediately, looking for Alina. The first time I pass by the corner where I had seen her before, she is nowhere to be found. My head is swimming, and it’s hard to focus on the road. I stop at a gas station nearby and debate getting caffeine. I’m really hoping to get some sleep tonight, so I decide against it. The last thing I need is a can of Coke keeping me awake. I get myself a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes instead. I smoke two as I lean against the hood of the Camaro and then make my way back to the street corner. Alina is there this time, and I flag her over. “Got a free night?” I give her a half-smile and cock my head a little. “Not free,” she responds, “but I’m available.” “Close enough.” She climbs in, and I start to head towards Wacker Drive. My head feels heavy, and I slow down a bit more. It’s nearly midnight, and there’s thankfully little traffic. I think I might be swerving a bit. “Are you all right?” Alina asks. “I’m good.” I change lanes and prepare to turn left. Just as I start my turn, someone walks out right in front of me. I slam on the brakes and the Camaro skids sideways before coming to a stop. “What the fuck!” I yell. I look back over my shoulder to see if I can locate the pedestrian. Ralph stands in the middle of the street, staring at me blankly. “Shit,” I mumble as I place my head in my hands for a moment. I glance at Alina. She’s gripping the door handle tightly as she stares straight ahead with her mouth hanging open. “Sorry about that.” I consider blaming my actions on a jaywalking hallucination, but that’s probably not a good idea. I reach down and grab the gearshift and then pull the car to the side of the street to get my bearings.

“Would you like me to drive?” Alina asks as she composes herself. “I remember the way.” My immediate thought is to say no. No one else has driven this car since I got it, and I don’t think I want to change that. On the other hand, my head is practically spinning now, and Ralph is hanging out just in front of the hood of the car. Maybe it’s best to give up. “Can you drive a manual?” “I can.” I nod and open the driver’s side door. We switch places, and Alina gently eases the Camaro back onto the street. Ralph is smirking at me from the other side of the window. “Fucker,” I mutter. Alina glances over at me, and I just shake my head. She doesn’t ask, and I don’t give anything up. Some things are best left unsaid, and the extent of my insanity is probably one of them. It only takes a few minutes to get to the parking garage under my building, but by that time, I’m shaky on my feet, and Alina ends up helping me out of the car. I feel a little ridiculous, but I also know the only way to get any relief is to get into my bed with her beside me, so I let her lead me to the elevator and up to my apartment. She takes me straight to the side of the bed so I can sit down. She kneels in front of me, and my cock takes notice of the position. I’m only half awake as she starts removing my boots, but I’m still tempted to have her do a little work before going to sleep. Her hand brushes the inside of my thigh as she removes my socks, and I almost place my fingers over hers to move her hand up higher. I blink a couple of times—I think—and she’s back on her feet. My shoes, socks, and shirt have been removed, but I can’t recall exactly how that happened. I’m still in my jeans, but I manage to push those off myself. Alina picks them up off the floor and drops them in the hamper along with the rest of my dirty clothes. She opens the drawer where my T-shirts are stored and picks one out. She lays it on the bed beside me before she starts to get undressed. I’m looking at her more closely tonight as she removes her clothes. Her hair is down, and I like the way it flows around her back and shoulders as she pulls her tank top over her head. I consider helping her get the rest of her clothes off, but I can barely stand on my own. If I demand a blowjob, I will probably fall asleep in the middle of it. Alina steps across the hall to the bathroom, and I lie down on the bed. I don’t even open my eyes when she returns and climbs in beside me. My nose detects her, though—the scent of lavender is all around me. I tuck my face into the space between her neck and shoulder and breathe deeply. “Do you like it?” Alina asks. I open my eyes just enough to focus on her face. “The lavender? Yeah, I do.”

“I hope it helps.” I can’t form words to respond to her. I’m trembling a bit though I don’t feel cold. She rubs the back of my shoulder with one hand and presses her cheek to the top of my head. With her other hand, she trails her fingertips over the tattoos on my arm. “When was the last time you slept?” Alina asks. “I slept last night.” “For how long?” “Maybe an hour.” “When was the last time you really slept?” “When you were here.” I’m not sure if my words are clear enough for her to understand, but I don’t have the energy to repeat them. There’s a pause before she speaks again. “That was nearly a week ago.” “Yeah.” “Jesus,” she whispers. She tightens her grip on me for a moment. I think she says something else, but I’m asleep before it can register. When I wake, I’m warm. Not too warm like I’ve been dreaming of the desert, just nicely warm. The lavender scent has faded, but it must have done the trick. I don’t remember waking up during the night at all. It’s late in the morning again. I feel the sunlight coming through the window before I open my eyes. Alina is beside me with one hand on my forearm and the other behind my head. It’s basically the same position we were in when I fell asleep, and I wonder if we’ve stayed that way all night. She’s already awake, and as I look at her, she begins to run her fingers in a tight circle on the back of my neck, right at the top of the tendons. My body reacts without any direction from my brain as my back arches with the touch. I press down with the balls of my feet and stretch. I think I even groan a little. Meeting her eyes, I’m a little embarrassed by my reaction. She smiles slightly, and her fingers continue to massage my neck. It feels fantastic, but as soon as my mind conjures up images of Lia giving me a backrub by the fire, I pull away from Alina. I clamber out of bed and head into the bathroom without a sound. Turning the water up as hot as I can tolerate it, I stand in the stream and let it pour over me. My mind is blank. Even as I try to determine how I’m feeling, I can’t seem to come up with any words. I’m unwilling to think about Lia. I don’t even want to remember her name. When I get out of the shower, I can detect the aroma of Alina’s cooking again, and my stomach rumbles. I quickly pull on some clean clothes and join her in the kitchen. “Pancakes again?”

She glances up as I smile at her. “You don’t exactly have a fully stocked kitchen,” she tells me. “I have to make do with what’s here.” “Be careful,” I say, “or I might just go shopping.” “I’ll make you a list.” I sit at the table with a cup of coffee and watch her. She seems completely comfortable in my presence, which is strange. All the others have been terrified of me come morning. Maybe I had managed another night without dreams. She brings over filled plates and sits down beside me. I dive straight in. The pancakes are perfectly cooked, and the bacon is nicely crisp. Alina watches me as she eats slowly. When I’m done, she picks up my plate and rinses it in the sink before sitting back down again. “How are you feeling?” she asks quietly. “I’m good.” I glance at her, wondering what she’s getting at. “I wasn’t sure how well you had slept.” She licks her lips and peeks at me through her lashes. Her hair falls over her shoulder as she turns toward me a little and places her hand over mine. “You have nightmares all the time, don’t you?” Well, that answers the dreaming question. Her bluntness has caught me slightly off guard, and I can’t respond right away. Instead, I just stare at her hand on top of mine. “Some of the time,” I finally admit. The look on her face says she doesn’t believe me, and I look away with a sigh. “Do you remember them?” “Usually.” “That must be very frightening.” I pull my hand away from hers, stand, and go to refill my coffee. Ralph sits on the counter next to the coffee pot with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of self-satisfaction. “Not real.” “Of course they aren’t,” Alina responds. “That doesn’t mean they don’t affect you.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud. Alina moves behind me and runs her hand over my arm. “They aren’t just nightmares, are they? They’re memories.” My throat tightens, and I have trouble getting the coffee down. I close my eyes as my muscles go weak and my legs threaten to give out. With one hand on the countertop, I force a deep breath into my

lungs. “Yeah, they are.” My confirmation isn’t a surprise to her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. She wraps her arms around my waist and places her cheek between my shoulder blades. As I feel her chest rise and fall against my back, I try to match my breaths with hers. Closing my eyes, I lean back to get more contact. I’m becoming very aware of her hand placed against my stomach, and how easy it would be to have her move it down a little. Her touch moves from calming to electrifying, and I turn to face her. I run one hand up her arm and over her shoulder. I pause when I reach her cheek, cupping her jaw in my hand. She looks up at me with clear, blue eyes and runs her tongue over her lips. She drops her gaze to my mouth, and I can sense her anticipation. Is this what I want? Is this what I need? I have no idea, but I know it feels right for now. At this moment, it’s all I can think about. I wrap my other arm around her waist, pull her tight against me, and lean forward. My phone goes off. “Motherfucker,” I mutter as I release Alina and grab for the phone on the counter. It’s Rinaldo, and he summons me to his office immediately. “Sorry,” I say as I hand her some cash. “I have to run. Hope you can find your way home all right.” “I’ll be fine.” She touches my forearm and looks up at me. “Will you be all right?” I give her the most convincing smile I can muster. “I’ll be just perfect.” ***** It’s too early in the morning to be doing business on the weekend, and I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have a headache. The sun is well over the horizon out the east-side window of Rinaldo’s office. I’ve already been here an hour, and I really just want to find that hooker again and go back to bed. “So what’s missing?” I ask. Becca hands me another spreadsheet with a list of guns we have yet to recover from Junko and the other leftovers from Marcello’s gang. Most of them had been returned, but a significant number had disappeared altogether. “All handguns,” Becca says. “More Rugers than anything else.” “A dozen Ruger LC9s and four Glocks.” I toss the list back at her. “The Rugers are good ones and easy to conceal. Accurate, too.” “You think they kept them?” Beni asks. “Only if they’re idiots.” I look up at him and raise my eyebrows.

“Are they idiots?” Becca asks. “They are.” I pull out my Beretta and check the clip. I already know it’s full, but I feel the need to confirm it anyway. I just might be headed south. “So, what do we do next?” Becca slides the papers into a large envelope and closes it with a metal clasp. “Jonathan, what intel do you already have?” “Well, none of them have appeared for sale on the street,” he says. “I’m sure of that. I did track the van that moved some of them to a rail yard. The camera angle isn’t right to see just what happens, but they meet up with two other guys for about ten minutes, then go their separate ways.” “Which guys?” I ask. “Can’t tell for sure.” Jonathan pulls up the surveillance on his laptop. “White dudes, I can say that. Tried enhancing the picture, but the camera is too far away.” The picture is grainy and taken from a distance. I can make out two men wearing the kind of greyblue overalls guys in mechanic shops wear. One of them strikes me as familiar but only slightly. I don’t think I actually know him, but maybe I should. I can’t put my finger on it. “So Marcello sold some of them off early,” Paulie says. “He probably made a deal with someone before he even got the weapons—maybe in exchange for info on them.” He’s really getting on my nerves. He’s also probably right. “I want to know who Marcello met.” I tap at the screen. “White or not, they could still be southern gangs.” “We have no more worries from the gangs in the south,” Paulie says confidently. “Yeah,” I say as I lean back against the wall and cross my arms, “thanks so much for taking care of that, Paulie.” Jonathan laughs, and Paulie glares at me. He starts to open his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to speak. “Enough.” Rinaldo walks in and silences us all with a gesture. Lucia follows him into the room and sits on the couch. “Get me up to speed.” Beni takes it upon himself to tell Rinaldo everything we’ve learned, and I let him. He seems to like playing top dog though he doesn’t seem capable of actually figuring anything out for himself. He and Lucia exchange a few glances, but she says nothing. Once Rinaldo has all the information, he turns back to me. “Is there anyone left of Marcello’s group?” “Just one,” I tell him. “Goes by Harpy.” “James Hartland,” Jonathan says as he clicks around on his laptop. “He was one of Marcello’s dealers.”

“Talk to him,” Rinaldo says to me. “Not going to be possible,” Jonathan says. “Looks like he got checked into the hospital. The dude’s in a coma.” Rinaldo glares at me, and I shrug. “Sorry, sir.” “Other options?” “Watch for sales on the street.” Paulie’s suggestion is beyond useless. “There won’t be any.” I push off the wall and walk up next to Rinaldo. “We should be checking the police reports and hospitals for gunshot victims. Look for those who’ve been hit with Rugers.” “I can do that,” Jonathan says. “It will take a while though.” “Focus outside the south.” Rinaldo taps his fingers on the desk. “Especially anything happening around the Russians.” “You got it.” The group begins to disperse as Rinaldo sits at his desk and looks over more of Becca’s paperwork. Beni trails behind, waiting for Lucia to say goodbye to her father before following her out of the office. “Anything else, sir?” We’re the last ones in the room, and Rinaldo is looking a little nervous. I can’t pinpoint why. Yes, there are missing guns but not that many. We’ve had bigger losses in the past, and they didn’t put him on edge this much. “No, you’re good to go.” “Are you sure, sir?” He looks up at me and sighs. “I’m sure, son. See what you and Jonathan can track down.” “Will do, sir.” As I am about to leave, Felisa walks in the door. I watch as her eyes widen a bit when she sees me. She’s not expecting anyone else to be there, and she hesitates before moving the rest of the way inside. “Come on in,” Rinaldo says. “We’re done here. Evan, contact me later.” “Yes, sir.” I walk out into the hallway, but don’t quite leave. The door is only partway shut, and I can hear them talking inside. “I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Felisa says. “Not at all,” Rinaldo replies. There’s a pause in the conversation, and I’m fairly sure their

greeting has become more intimate. “I’m worried about him.” “You worry about him a lot, darling.” Darling. I feel a little nauseated. “He’s very important to me, Felisa. He is as much a part of my family and this organization as anyone. In some ways, he’s the strongest and most suited to come after me, but I don’t know…” “You’re wondering if he’s stable enough.” “As long as he’s working, he is,” Rinaldo says. “It’s when he’s distracted from his purpose— that’s when he’s the most dangerous.” “Do you think he’d hurt you?” “Me? Oh no, Evan would never hurt me. I’m more concerned he’ll hurt himself.” “Maybe you should have someone watch him,” Felisa says. “He would notice,” Rinaldo replies. “It would probably just get whoever was following him killed.” “Is he really that quick to respond that way?” “It’s the only way he knows how to respond. Now, enough of that—I have something for you.” I hear Rinaldo’s desk drawer open and Felisa gasp. “Oh, Naldo!” I tense at her use of his nickname. I’ve never heard anyone call him that but Lele. “It’s so beautiful!” “Well, if you want to learn to play tennis, you ought to have the right kind of bracelet!” He laughs. “Shall we head to the court?” Not wanting to be spotted, I head down the hallway and quietly open the door to the stairwell. Once outside, I lean against the Camaro and smoke a cigarette, waiting to see if they’ll come down together. Only a few minutes pass before they exit the building, and Rinaldo has his arm around her. She’s smiling up at him, and he’s beaming back at her. The tennis bracelet on her wrist sparkles in the sunlight. Though I’m standing in plain sight, they don’t look in my direction as they get into his car and head off. I’m tempted to follow. Ralph appears beside me, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? Why not?” I glare at him. “Because you’re pissed off, and you’ll do something stupid.” I shove the cigarette between my lips and inhale deeply, biting down on the butt. I finish it and throw it to the ground before getting into the Camaro and slamming the door shut. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all, but I’ll refrain from doing anything about it.

Yet. I head off to locate Jonathan. I really need to figure out how to handle this.

Chapter 6—Random Encounters There’s nothing like a good bar fight to relieve tension. At least, that’s what Jonathan often says. Sweetwater has always been my least favorite place to hang out, but I seem to end up here all the time anyway. A typical sports bar, it’s filled with large-screen televisions and features a college-aged, male crowd with an extra boost of testosterone. It’s a close walk back to my apartment, so it has that going for it. Jonathan lives nearby as well, and he’s pretty friendly with the bar staff. I can’t stand the bartender, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. He always takes forever to bring me a damn drink. It’s a pretty young crowd tonight, and the bartender is checking a lot of IDs. Chicks are buying lemon drop shots and guys are nursing beers, hoping to stay just a little more sober than the women they surround. Half of the guys are watching a basketball game on the big screen televisions, hooting and hollering every time a basket is scored, which is more than a little annoying. I return with two bottles of domestic beer to the table Jonathan has procured. Bottled beer is not my preference, but they are easier to obtain than a draft, and I’m not about to wait for the asshole bartender to actually draw the good stuff. Jonathan always starts the night with a big glass of chocolate milk, but he had already bought a carton and finished it while we were walking to Sweetwater. “That chick at the bar is checking you out,” Jonathan says. “Which one?” “The blonde.” I glance over quickly, determine which one he’s talking about, and then look down. “Not my type.” “Oh yeah?” Jonathan elbows me. “What is your type?” “The type that wants my cash, not my phone number.” “Ha! That’s custom.” He keeps laughing as he chugs half the beer. Looking up at the closest television, he makes some comment about the teams that are playing, but I don’t care and barely listen. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” There’s a group of four guys at the table behind us. At first, I think they are big basketball fans, but their shouts don’t correspond with plays from the game. I glance over my shoulder. They all have some degree of facial hair and are dressed in decent clothes. They’re closer to my age than that of the student population, and I get a bit of a yuppie vibe from them. The loudest one in the group has a scraggly beard and wears a jacket. He looks like a college professor right out of the seventies. When I listen more closely, the conversation is political in nature. I quickly tune it out. “I still think you should tap that,” Jonathan says as he points the top of his beer toward the blonde at the bar. “Hell, give her my number when you’re done. I don’t mind.”

“You into sloppy seconds now?” “Dude, I haven’t gotten laid in a month. I’d take anything about now. I’ve been spendin’ my nights doin’ nothin’ but diggin’ into the past of that guy Rinaldo has guarding him now.” “Paulie?” “Yeah.” “What’s up with him?” I lean back in the seat and put my feet up on the chair opposite me. “I thought he was already vetted.” “He was,” Jonathan says. “Becca checked both him and Cody out, but after that shit with Marcello’s gang, I’m lookin’ a little closer.” “Rinaldo doesn’t trust them?” “Just bein’ cautious. I haven’t found anything.” I think about it for a while, and I’m concerned about how many people in Rinaldo’s organization I don’t know. I used to know everyone quite well. Maybe I need to do some of my own investigating if Rinaldo is nervous. Obviously, someone gave Marcello information about the shipment, and someone still has a collection of our guns. “How did the South Side gangs manage to get so bold?” I ask. “Gradually,” Jonathan says. “Beni thinks it’s because I wasn’t around.” “Nah.” Jonathan shakes his head. “Somethin’ else.” “Agreed. Someone has to be working with them, but who?” “Not the Russians. They’ve been hitting them harder than us, goin’ after their drugs.” “Has to be someone inside.” I make the comment more to myself than to Jonathan, but he still perks up. “How you figure?” “Someone is skimming,” I tell him. “Rinaldo asked me to look into it. If someone is skimming, and someone is also tipping off the gangs about our business, it has to be the same person.” “Makes sense.” “Also explains why they’d go straight for us,” I say. “If they have someone on the inside, they get that invincible feeling.” “I think you fixed that.” “For now, maybe. It didn’t get all our merchandise returned.” We drop the business talk in public, finish our drinks, and decide to get another round. I refuse to deal with the bartender again, so Jonathan goes up to get fresh ones. I stare at the television screen just

long enough to know that Ohio State is playing Wichita and that Ohio is up three points. “I told the blonde you were shy.” Jonathan makes his announcement as he drops back down in his seat. “I bet she comes over here after another shot or two.” “Great.” I don’t hide my sarcasm. The game is interrupted by a brief news report of military activity in the Middle East. The image of a reporter standing near a group of tan buildings surrounded by sand appears on the screen. I grip my beer bottle a little tighter as I hear the sound of artillery in the background. “…don’t know why those idiots don’t just take the fuckers out and be done with it.” The college professor guy behind Jonathan is running his mouth about the war from the other side of a dividing wall, and I’m trying hard not to listen. I tap my fingers against the tabletop and clench my teeth until the news report ends, and we’re returned to the program already in progress. “If our military had any idea what they were doing…” “Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” With a snarl, Jonathan suddenly turns to the guy. “Talk about a subject where you aren’t totally ignorant—maybe jacking off to pictures of your mom.” “Kiss my ass,” the professor replies. He flips his middle finger at Jonathan before turning back to his friends. Jonathan grabs his drink and takes a long draw. “Mother jokes?” I roll my eyes at Jonathan. “Really?” “First thing that came to mind.” He slams the bottle back on the table. “Can’t stand motherfuckers who spout shit out of their mouths without havin’ a fuckin’ clue.” I know what he’s doing. Jonathan has always had my back when it comes to my military past. He knows a lot more of the details than most people. I stay out of political discussions as much as possible. People who haven’t been there don’t know what it’s really like, and I’m not here to educate them on the subject. As the group behind us orders another pitcher, the professor starts going on again. I try to ignore his words, but the more he drinks, the louder he gets. Even the guy’s companions are fidgeting in their seats a little. Jonathan glances at me repeatedly, and I try to ignore that as well. He can be a bit of a hothead when it comes to certain subjects, but I’m not one for this type of confrontation. The professor can have his misguided beliefs if he wants. Jonathan, however, feels the need to set him straight. “Maybe if I dropped you in the middle of all that shit, you’d get your head out of your ass!” he yells across the divider. “It’s your kind of attitude that keeps that war alive!” the professor yells back. “It’s dickheads like you that get their fucking faces pounded in for being stupid!”

“What makes you the fucking expert?” They continue back and forth until I feel as if the vein in my temple is going to rupture. I just want them both to shut the fuck up. The two of them are shouting over the divider between the tables. Eventually, I can’t take any more. “Turn around.” I meet the guy’s eyes for the first time, and he flinches. “Go back to your drinks, and keep your opinions to yourself.” “What do you know, asshole?” He raises himself up in the seat some more and turns to get a better look at me. Now that he’s standing, I realize he’s a lot bigger than I thought. His drunken glare removes any resemblance to a professor. He definitely has more of a tough-guy look about him when he’s standing. One of his friends grabs him by the arm and tells him to back off, but he doesn’t move. “I was over there for three years.” Unlike Jonathan, I don’t raise my voice. I just stare into the guy’s eyes. “I guess I do know a little something.” “Well, why the fuck didn’t you actually do something to get it over with?” My stomach quivers. “You don’t know shit!” Jonathan is now completely out of his seat and taking a step toward the other table. “Sit down, Jon.” He looks at me with fire in his eyes but ultimately complies. “Yeah, sit down and shut up!” The bearded guy laughs as he drops back down in his seat. “That dickhead needs to be taught a fucking lesson.” Jonathan picks up his beer bottle and nearly drains it. “Undoubtedly.” With everyone seated again, Jonathan and I finish our drinks in silence as he picks at the label on the beer bottle. The basketball game ends, but I don’t look to see who has won. “Sorry if I made that worse,” Jonathan suddenly says. “You didn’t,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “I’m good.” He looks me over and probably knows I’m lying. “You know I’m always one to take the moral high ground,” Jonathan says with a casual shrug. That gets a chuckle out of me. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Since when?” “I’m a gentle soul at heart,” Jonathan manages to say with a straight face, “but some people just need to be beaten like a harp seal.” I laugh at the mental image of Jonathan holding a big club and smacking the guy right upside his scraggly beard. I wonder if there’s enough hair to make a fur coat.

“Let it go,” I say. “Drunk morons aren’t worth the trouble. I got the tab.” I toss a few bills at the bartender and tell him to keep the change. He gives me a little salute off the brim of his baseball cap, and I tense at the gesture. When I get back to the table, Jonathan is back at it with the asshole behind him. “You don’t know who the fuck yer talkin’ to!” Jonathan yells. “You need to shut that fucking trap of yours before you end up uglier than you already are!” “Let’s get out of here,” I say. I tap Jonathan on the shoulder to get him moving. “Fucking punk,” Jonathan says, muttering as we start to head out. Apparently, the guy doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. Maybe he’s one of those people who just need to have that last word. “Hey, GI Joe,” the asshole screams, “you’re a fucking coward! Go crawl back into whatever hole you came from!” I pause and turn slowly. I feel heat on the back of my neck as if the desert sun had just reached its peak. I can taste sand in my mouth, and I can feel the sting of boots against my ribs. “What did you say to me?” I respond slowly. “I said”—the guy repeats his words as he squares his shoulders and moves up closer to me—“that you’re a fucking coward.” There is no thought to my actions. I ball my hand into a fist and swing. He’s expecting the blow and doesn’t go down. He manages to hit me in the face before I jump forward and slam my forehead into his. He’s not expecting that. He goes down, and I’m on top of him. Left, right, left, right. I pound his face as he tries to kick at my sides and shove me off of him. He’s got more weight on him than I do and eventually dislodges me. As he stands, he connects with my mouth, and I taste blood. I regain my footing quickly and take another swing, connecting with his gut and doubling him over. I can hear Jonathan laughing and cheering behind me. One of the guy’s friends grabs his arm and pulls him back. He’s bleeding all over his shirt from a broken nose and busted lip. His hands are shaking, and his eyes are wide. I debate continuing the fight but decide he’s had enough of a lesson for one night. I feel perfectly calm. “Next time, use some manners,” I tell him. From the corner of my eye, I see the bar’s bouncers heading in our direction and figure it’s time to slip out the back door. Jonathan is still laughing as we quickly exit. “You rock,” he says as we step out onto the sidewalk. He grabs a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket and lights up. “I love hanging with you, bro.”

“Always a barrel of laughs.” I reach over and snag one of the smokes for myself. Jonathan holds the lighter out for me as we walk to the corner of the street and wait for the light to change. “You needed that, ya know,” Jonathan says. “Did I?” I rub some blood off my lower lip. There isn’t much, and I barely feel any pain. “Yep.” I think about it for a minute. I do feel a lot less tense than I had before I walked into Sweetwater. I replay the encounter in my head. “You know, it’s actually funny when a Marine lieutenant with a dozen medals is called a coward by a nebbishy tough guy in a sports bar.” “Nebbishy?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that Yiddish?” I shrug. “I used nebbishy because ‘pussy-waste-of-rations-mattress-stain’ is no longer acceptable.” I grin up at him. “Standards must be maintained.” Jonathan laughs and we both head down Lake Street. Maybe he’s right. A bar fight was just what I needed. I feel a little lightheaded with elation. Up ahead of us is a homeless guy reclining against one of those walls put up to block the public from construction areas. I recognize him from the gas station a few weeks back. He’s still wearing the same worn coat and threadbare gloves. The coat isn’t even buttoned up to ward off the cold, and part of his chest is exposed. I see a tattoo on the left side of his chest, up near his shoulder, depicting an American flag and what might be eagle’s wings around it. I can’t see it all, but there’s a bit of green and yellow in the design as well. Taking a closer look at his face, I notice he’s the right age to have been in Vietnam. “Hey, dude!” I say as I reach down and shake his arm a bit. He looks up at me with glassy eyes and blinks a few times. “I ain’t bothering nobody!” he exclaims. “You can’t arrest me!” “Do I look like a cop?” I ask. I point to my busted lip. “Come on, let’s warm you up.” “What the fuck are you doin’, Arden?” I ignore Jonathan and haul the vet up to his feet. He’s got a collection of plastic bags filled with God-knows-what, and he gets them all arranged over his arms before reluctantly coming along with me. There’s a hotel in the next block, and I bring him up to the door. “He can’t come in here,” the late-night doorman tells me. “He can if he has a room here,” I say, arguing. “Well, he doesn’t.”

“He will in a minute.” I stare at the guy in the stupid red uniform until he looks away. “Come on.” “You’re nuts,” Jonathan says as I grab the bum’s arm and lead him up to the front desk. Jonathan doesn’t follow. “Give me a decent room,” I tell the woman behind the desk. She pokes around at her computer for a minute before giving me a price. I tell her to add a room service steak dinner and the breakfast buffet to the tab and then drop a few hundreds down. I lead the bum up to the fourth floor, and he looks around the room with wide eyes when I hand him the key. “Get warm,” I say to him. “Dinner’s on the way, and there’s a buffet for breakfast. You’re all set for the night.” He stares at me for a long moment. I can see our connection in his eyes long before he removes his coat and further exposes his tattoo, complete with the POW/MIA logo below the eagle and the flag. Before he can say anything, I turn around and leave. Jonathan is still out front, smoking a cigarette and calling the doorman an asshole. He’s probably regretting not getting more physically involved in the bar fight. “What the fuck was all that?” Jonathan asks as I start walking down the street again. “Since when did you become a good Samaritan? I can only shrug. “Did you know that guy?” he asks. “No, he just looked cold.” I can’t say anything else. Some things just can’t be explained aloud. “You’re a fucking nutcase.” Jonathan tosses his cigarette into the gutter. “You know that, right?” “Yep.” I felt good. “With a room like that, the bum is more likely to get laid tonight than I am,” Jonathan says. “He deserves it more than you do.” “Yeah, he’s obviously worked real hard for his change today.” “Fuck off.” I’m not really pissed off at Jonathan or anything. If he had noticed the guy’s tattoo, he wouldn’t be talking shit about him. He ignores my comment anyway. “I might have to go your route and get me some hired pussy.” “It does make things simpler.” Images of Alina flash through my mind—long legs, curved ass, and bright blue eyes. I wonder what her hair would look like if it were in two braids. “Is that your plan now?” Jonathan asks as we get close to my apartment. “You gonna go find you a hooker?” “Probably.” “Well, I’m out then,” he announces. “This weekend’s a bust.”

We go our separate ways, and I jump in the Camaro to go looking for Alina and her long legs. Maybe we could stop at the drug store for a few of those hair ties. Then again, I bet her hair would feel good if I were just running my fingers through it. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Save the braiding for later. Of course, when you have an actual plan in your head, the world likes to work against you. I can’t find Alina anywhere. When I eventually stop and ask another hooker where she is, I’m informed that she has the night off. I’m finally in a good mood and horny, and she takes a vacation day. Damn my luck. ***** After more than a year away from Chicago, returning to the routine of work and life in the city has been easy for me. The streets are familiar. The bus schedules haven’t changed much, and I still prefer public transportation to driving in the traffic. Aside from the gang-bangers down south, Rinaldo had only sent me out on two hit jobs. One was out of town and completed with ease. The other was one of the former Seattle guys who thought he’d set up shop in our area. He was mistaken. At least I haven’t lost my touch. Though I make plenty of money on a hit, and I’m not a huge spender anyway, Rinaldo has also been paying me to keep involved in more of the day-to-day business. I have a pretty good head for the numbers and organization of legitimate businesses for money laundering, and I’m learning more about the operations of those facilities as well. It makes for long days, but I’m all right with that. Felisa has appeared more than a couple of times, and each time she does, I feel less at ease about her. I don’t like how close she is to Rinaldo. I’ve followed her a few times. She’s living in the building where I used to live, and Rinaldo has her set up with a bank account and a credit card. At the same time, I don’t think she’s just a gold digger. If she were, I probably wouldn’t care so much. She’s interfering with Rinaldo and Lele. That I care about. I try not to think about it. I try to tell myself it’s ultimately none of my business, but it still nags at me. I need to keep my mind off of the whole thing. I need a distraction. That would be good for me because it keeps me out of my own head, and that’s in everyone’s best interest. What I really need now is to get laid. I’m tired, no doubt, but I’m not completely exhausted. The last couple of nights have at least allowed for a few hours of sleep. The nightmares have taken a different tone. I keep dreaming that I’m in a firefight in the jungle, which is new. I can only assume the image comes from seeing the homeless vet on the street. The dreams are still horrific, but at least they’re something different. Since the night of the bar fight, I haven’t been able to locate Alina. No one will give me any information on her whereabouts, and I’m starting to wonder if she didn’t take a month-long cruise in the Bahamas or something. All right, it hasn’t been a month since she was last in my apartment, but it has been three or four days. I still haven’t fucked her. When she had been there before, I had been content to get some sleep rather than do anything else, but I feel different now.

I want her. I don’t just want a hooker; I want that hooker. She never even questioned the lack of sex, and I definitely appreciate that about her. I’d caught her eyeing me a bit in the morning when I drove her back to her corner, but she never asked anything. She never even brought up the nightmares again. I know she spent the night holding me until I fell back asleep, surrounded by the scent of lavender, but she didn’t make a fuss about it. I’m grateful for that. I cruise up and down the usual streets, looking for the one and only hooker I actually want to fuck, but she’s nowhere to be found. I do find Loretta and eventually get her to come over to the car. “I ain’t goin’ with you.” “I’m not asking you to,” I say. “Have you seen Alina?” “She’s my roommate,” Loretta says. “Of course I seen her.” “Well, where is she?” “She got picked up a while ago.” Loretta shrugs and looks down the street. “I been busy, so I ain’t been lookin’.” So much for the vacation. “Do you know when she’ll be back?” “Do I look like her keeper?” Loretta puts her hands on her hips. “She’s got normal johns to take care of.” Why do you even care if it’s her? One is as good as another. I consider offering Loretta double to come home with me, but it’s not only a lost cause; it’s also rather demeaning. What’s worse than a desperate john? While I debate with myself, Loretta walks off without another word. I glance up and down the street once more, but the only face I recognize is Ralph’s. He’s loitering around the back of my car, eyeing the Soccer Mom sticker. I have to get that thing off the bumper. I drive to the nearby gas station and fill up the tank. While it’s filling, I go around to the back bumper and try to scrape the sticker off. It’s really stuck on there, and all I manage to do is fray the edges a bit. I buy cigarettes and hang around the door to smoke one. Then I go back inside and get an iced coffee, smoke another cigarette, and finally climb back in the car. She has to be back by now, right? The street corner is empty when I drive around the block. Loretta must have found someone she can tolerate. I take a short drive around the neighborhood before coming back again. Alina’s still not there.

“Fuck her,” I mumble to myself. I shove my foot down on the accelerator and go look for action on another street. It doesn’t take me long to find an available whore. She gets in the car, and as I move into traffic, she starts talking. “So, I’m Angela,” she says as she tosses frizzy red hair off of her forehead, “and I’m a Sagittarius! You wanna maybe get some dinner? I’m famished!” “No.” She looks at me with a giant, fake smile. Her face is thin and gaunt; her eyes can’t seem to focus properly, and I’m fairly sure she’s high. “What are you thinkin’, then?” I check around the immediate area and locate an alley. I pull over and yank up the parking break. “Just blow me.” I unhook my belt and unbutton my jeans. “Sure!” She’s trying to sound enthusiastic about the whole thing, but she fails. I stare out the driver’s side window as Angela sucks my cock, trying to focus on the sensation of her lips around me. I close my eyes, lean back in the seat, and try to be in the moment—just feel. I need to get off, release some tension and experience a moment of pleasure, no matter how brief. If I could come up with some way to relax for a while, I could get through another night or two. My body is reluctant to cooperate. I’m hard, but I can’t seem to bring about that feeling. Maybe it’s because I know Ralph is standing near the car and looking in on us. Maybe it’s because I know there isn’t anyone there at all. “Take me deeper.” Angela complies, licking and sucking my cock as she does. I close my eyes again and concentrate on the warm moisture of her mouth. I hit the back of her throat and feel it constrict around the head of my cock. “Yeah, that’s it.” She changes her angle a little, rising up on her knees in the passenger seat. I reach over and squeeze her ass. She’s got a nice bubble butt. I consider getting her up underneath me and fucking her ass instead of just taking the blowjob, but apparently the thought of it is enough to get me going. My thighs contract as I push up into her mouth. She takes me deep in her throat, and I hold her head while I come. She finishes me off with a long lick around my head and shaft and then sits back in the passenger seat with a disingenuous smile. I run my tongue over my lips and ride out the aftershocks of the orgasm. At least my body has calmed. I breathe in cool air as I dare to look out into the alley. Ralph is thankfully nowhere to be seen. I button up my jeans, grab my wallet from my back pocket, and toss a couple of bills at Angela. “Thanks,” I mutter as she opens the door. “Anytime!” she replies with another fake smile. She walks around the front of the car, out of the

alley, and back toward her corner. I really hope this will be enough to keep me going.

Chapter 7—Untrustworthy Associates I shouldn’t be here. Rinaldo and Felisa have been in her apartment for the last two hours. It’s not like I’m out here, staring at the front door, wondering what they are doing—it’s quite clear. I don’t even wonder why it makes me so angry. It is obvious this isn’t a casual fuck for him. If it were, he’d already be done with her, not buying her diamonds. They were at Tiffany’s earlier, picking out matching earrings to go with the bracelet. Knowing Felisa is also acting as Rinaldo’s therapist doesn’t make it any easier. In fact, it just seems to lead me to try to psychoanalyze him. He has Lele. He loves her—I know this. He’s been head over heels for her since the day he met her, and that’s never changed. So why is he doing this now? Did something change while I was gone? I've been racking my brain about him, and it's led me to consider myself as well. I know I'm far worse than he is, but if Rinaldo can screw things up, how am I supposed to believe I can do better? I've never had a relationship that's lasted, but I thought Rinaldo's was different. I mean, I don't give a damn about the sex. It's just sex. But feelings? That's something else entirely. Doesn't he realize he's jeopardizing the one thing with real meaning in his life? He has to know that power can be taken away in a heartbeat—but love? No, nobody can just take that away. I didn’t grow up in the business, and Rinaldo did. That doesn’t make me any less consumed by it now, but I didn’t start out that way. I’m not sure the way I started was any better, but it was definitely different. I pace back and forth a bit. The wind shifts and brings the intoxicating smell of grilled meats from the steak and sushi place down the street. I’m hungry, and it’s almost enough to make me abandon my post. I’m really not sure why I’m still standing out here in the cold. There isn’t any point. It’s not like I’m going to jump out at Rinaldo and yell “Boo!” when he emerges from the building. If he were to come out, I’d hide myself away quickly to make sure he doesn’t realize I’ve been following him. He wouldn’t be happy about that. Rinaldo is right about one thing: I would never hurt him. I also won’t allow him to hurt himself. My phone rings, and I see Jonathan’s name on the screen. “I got somethin’ you need to see,” he says immediately. “Where are you?” I ask. “You close to home? We could meet at your place.” Well, I do need a reason to get out of here. “Yeah, I’m nearby.”

“Be there in ten.” He hangs up. Glancing once more at the building where I used to live, I head down the sidewalk to my current apartment and make my way to the elevator. I’m only home long enough to take a piss before Jonathan shows up. “Like the new digs,” he says politely as he looks around the place. “It’s all right.” I shrug as I look around. I really haven’t paid much attention to it. The only adjective I can use to describe it is empty. I guess it suits me. Jonathan pulls his laptop out of its bag, and I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. “Want one?” I ask. “Sure.” I toss Jonathan a bottle, and we head into the living room. “I’ve had someone followin’ Beni,” Jonathan says as he sits down and opens his laptop. “See this guy?” He pulls up a grainy photograph of Beni talking to a blond guy with broad shoulders. He’s decked out in a tan suit jacket and striped tie, and they’re both drinking from whiskey glasses in the back booth of a bar. I can’t tell which bar from the picture. “Who is he?” “Don’t know the name,” Jonathan says. “Not much of an accent, so can’t tell where he’s from. Might be from around here. Could also be from Seattle or something. I’m still checking him out, but look at this.” He flips to a picture I’ve already seen—Marcello’s boys in a van, presumably with our guns, and possibly exchanging them for cash or heroin. The camera angle isn’t clear enough to know for sure, but every time I see the grainy picture, I feel like I should know one of the guys in it. Maybe it’s one of the Russians. “Looks like the same guy, don’t it?” I flip back and forth between the pictures. Neither is a clear shot, but there is definitely a resemblance. A tingle runs up my spine. Where have I seen him before? “So, what are you thinking?” I ask. “Well, either Beni knows where the missing guns are, or he at least knows who’s got ‘em.” Jonathan sits back and pulls out a cigarette. “Don’t you have a balcony or somethin’ here?” “No, this place doesn’t come with one.” “Open a window? It’s too damn cold outside.”

I sigh and go over to the large window in the living room. It opens to pour in sounds of traffic from below and frigid wind from above. “Smoke quick!” “Sure thing, brotha.” I go back to the laptop and flip back and forth between the pictures again, trying to make some sense of them. Beni is family and should be trusted before others, but there is definitely something off here. If the pictures are indeed of the same guy, and Beni is meeting with him, it’s not good. I try to think of a reasonable explanation, but nothing comes to mind. Another thought strikes me though. “Does this laptop get me into the accounting files?” “Sure,” Jonathan replies. “Just get to the desktop. There’s a picture of a pig on the right side, near the bottom.” “A pig?” “Piggy bank!” He grins wildly, and I shake my head at him. “You’re not right.” “Never claimed to be.” I open up a couple of files before I find the right one. It’s the same one Rinaldo showed me the other day—the one with the discrepancies. I’m not looking for anything going to Beni’s accounts though. Instead, I pull out my phone and check my notes. It only takes a couple minutes of digging to find the right reference. Some of the missing money is going straight into the account Rinaldo set up for Felisa. Some, but not all of it. He’s skimming his own profits and telling me not to look into it. I wonder what he told Becca about it. Where is the rest going? I scroll back to the year before when Justin was still looking after the books. As I’m trolling through the lines of numbers, a couple of them stand out. The name on the entries is Marshall Miller—a code name I’ve used in the past—and the lines should match up to what I was paid for my hits last year, but they don’t. The numbers are way off, or I might not have noticed. This isn’t a little bit of a discrepancy, but tens of thousands of dollars for each line compared to the cash I had actually received. I start to search for a corresponding entry to make up the difference, but Jonathan calls over to me before I can find anything. “Could he be doin’ his own investigatin’?” Jonathan asks as he finishes the cigarette and dumps the butt into his mostly empty bottle of water. It takes me a second to realize Jonathan’s talking about Beni. I close out the accounting file and

flip back to the photographs as he moves closer. I’m not ready to share the information related to Felisa. “Possibly, but I seriously doubt it. He thinks he’s above that kind of work.” “We need to show these to Rinaldo.” Jonathan sits back down on the couch and pulls the laptop closer to the edge of the coffee table. “No,” I say as I shake my head, “not yet. Keep it between us for now. If Beni is involved in some way, he may not be on his own. I don’t want any speculation out just yet, or we could alert the wrong person.” “Whatever you say.” “Someone’s been pulling money from the business, too,” I tell him. “If Beni’s involved in that, he has to have help. I want all the evidence together before we take it to Rinaldo.” “Don’t Becca keep track of that shit?” “Yeah, she does.” “Maybe she knows more about it?” “I’m not sure,” I say. “If she’s anywhere near as good at bookkeeping as Rinaldo thinks she is, she ought to be able to account for every penny. If she can’t, well, maybe we need to check her out more closely, too.” “I gotta get the warehouse security shit in order,” Jonathan tells me. “That’s gonna take a couple of days.” “I think we have time.” “I gotcha, brotha.” Jonathan closes the laptop and shoves it back in its bag. “I’ll let ya know what I find out.” “Thanks for bringing this to me.” “Always.” Jonathan heads out the door, and I follow shortly after. I need to talk to Rinaldo. I need to understand what he’s planning and how much he already knows. ***** “I was trying to call you.” “My phone’s been on the fritz,” Rinaldo says as he takes off his coat and hangs it up on the rack near the door. He wipes his shoes on the rug before sitting down at his desk and leaning back with a big sigh. The phone problems are bullshit. If Rinaldo’s phone wasn’t working properly, he’d have a new one within an hour. I know exactly why he hasn’t been answering, but I don’t let on. I want to get right into it, and the phone is just a distraction. “Rinaldo, I looked into the skimming you told me about the other day.”

He looks at me without speaking, glancing from one of my eyes to the other. I try to remain expressionless. “And?” “And I think I know why you didn’t want me to look into it.” I can see the tightening of his jaw as he clenches his teeth. “Then you know it’s not worth bothering with,” he finally says. “Is there anything else?” “Yes, sir, there is.” He sighs and then nods for me to continue. “There’s more missing than just what’s been transferred to that one account. Justin’s entries for my payments are way off, but I’m not sure where the money went. He probably thought I’d never be close enough to check.” “He’s not the one skimming now.” Rinaldo’s forehead creases as he thinks. “I told Becca I would take care of it. I don’t need her sticking her nose into it right now.” “What’s the big deal?” I ask. “Why don’t you just tell her it’s moving into Felisa’s account? Call it her therapist salary or whatever. What does Becca care? Then she could figure out what else is missing.” “It was a bit of a test for her,” Rinaldo replies with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she would bring it to my attention.” “And now that she has, you’re not going to have her pursue it? She’s going to become suspicious.” “I’m afraid I didn’t think it through all the way. Besides, if it was Justin, the problem is already eliminated, isn’t it?” “Maybe.” I’m not confident with the assessment. The corners of his eyes tighten. He grips his fingers slightly around the pen on his desk, but he doesn’t have any intention of writing anything down. He chews on his lower lip nervously. He’s still hiding something from me. I look into his eyes and feel my shoulders drop a little. I want to call him out on it, but I can’t bring myself to do so. I wish he would just come out and tell me, but I can see that he won’t. Rinaldo looks at me for a minute and then drops his gaze to the desk and lets out a long breath. He taps the pen a few times before glancing at me and then looking at his watch. “I have to get back,” he finally says. “I want you to focus on what happened to the guns, and let me deal with the skimming.” “You said before you wanted me involved in all the businesses.” The reminder obviously doesn’t sit well with him. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. I’m pushing it, and Rinaldo is known to have quite a temper. Of course, when it flares, I’m the one usually doling out the punishment. He looks straight at me, his eyes stern.

“Evan, go find my guns.” He leaves no room for additional conversation. I nod and stand as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, sans formalities. Like the obedient son, I head toward the only lead I have—a man I put in the hospital. Harpy is indeed in a coma. He lies in a room with other unconscious patients, and I can watch him from the hallway through a large window. When the nurses are changing shifts, I sneak into the room and get a glance at his chart. It’s clear that the shock from his wounds hasn’t left him much of a chance. He’s off life support but completely nonresponsive. I won’t get anything out of him, but I am a patient man when I need to be. Back in the hallway, I watch visitors come and go until I find one who might be useful. She’s an older woman with a deeply wrinkled brown face. Her head is wrapped in a brightly colored decorative scarf. I watch her eyes focus on Harpy’s bed as she rubs a rosary clutched in her hands. “It’s hard to see them like this,” I say kindly. “It is, it is,” she replies. She smiles up at me with tears dotting the corners of her eyes. “He’s always been a troubled boy. I can’t say I’m surprised he’s here, but yes…very hard.” “Your son?” “Grandson.” “My aunt.” I point to a woman in her fifties, hooked up to machines just beyond Harpy’s bed. “Car accident.” “I’m so sorry.” She places her hand on my arm, her concern genuine. “On your mother or father’s side?” “Mother’s.” It’s easy enough to make up a story on the spot. “Mom’s been gone a few years. Breast cancer. Aunt Betsy has pretty much looked after me since then.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Almost thirty, and I still need someone looking after me.” I shake my head. “We all do, dear.” She pats my arm. “Would you like to pray with me?” Well, that would be different. “Yeah,” I say quietly, “I would.” She places her hands over mine, and I can feel the beads from the rosary against my knuckles. She closes her eyes, and I do the same. After a moment of silence, she begins to pray. “Dear Lord, please hear our plea. Our loved ones, Jimmy and Betsy, they need your help. We don’t know what you have planned for them, but we beg you to have mercy. They are loved and needed here in our lives.” She pauses for a moment and grips my hands tighter. “Please show us your grace, your forgiveness, and help these good doctors and nurses bring our loved ones back to us. In Jesus’ name.” “Amen,” we say together.

She opens her eyes and tilts her head to smile up at me. “Thank you,” she says as she releases my hands. “You have been a blessing to me today, but I have to return to work.” “You’re welcome.” I’m sure I’m not truly counted in her list of blessings, but I rather hope she never realizes this. “I’m going to light a candle in the chapel on the way out. I’ll light one for your Aunt Betsy, too.” “She would appreciate that.” I touch her arm, and she walks away. After a few minutes, I follow her out to the parking lot where she heads to the bus stop. I let her sit for a moment, then drive up close by and roll down my window. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?” She squints until I stick my head out the window a bit more so she can recognize me. She smiles broadly, nods, and gathers up her purse. “The good Lord definitely sent you to me today!” she exclaims as I help her down into the low seat. “Those benches at the bus stops are not friendly to my back. What’s your name, young man?” “Michael.” “I’m Sonja, Michael dear. I think you truly are an angel!” I grin and put the Camaro in gear. I ask her where she’s going, and she gives me directions to a seedy 7-Eleven a couple of miles from the hospital. As I drive, she tells me stories of Harpy—Jimmy, to her—as a child. Apparently, he started getting into trouble at a pretty early age. “All he had done was bump his bicycle into this poor woman’s car. She wasn’t even angry about it, but he still lied through his teeth that he hadn’t done the deed. There was only a little scratch, and I don’t even think she wanted money for it. She only wanted him to admit what he had done and apologize, but not Jimmy. He never took responsibility for what he’d done.” “I’m guessing he got into the wrong crowd as he got older.” “That he did.” She bobs her head up and down. The colorful cloth slides down on her forehead a bit, and she reaches up to adjust it. “It’s so hard for the boys in this neighborhood not to get involved in the gangs. I wanted his mother to move farther north, but who can afford such places?” “Not many.” “Not many indeed!” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I wanted to get out of Chicago altogether when I was a young woman, even moved to Gary for a short time, but when I found out I was about to have a little girl, I had to come home to my mama for help.” She prattles on, and I try to ask questions that will give me some information I need, but she seems quite stuck on stories of the past, not the present. As I pull up to the parking lot of the 7-Eleven, she grumbles under her breath. “Lord help me.”

I follow her eyes to a group of young men and older teenagers. They’re wearing orange bandanas and bracelets and seem quite content to hang at the corner by the ice machine and shove each other back and forth. “Jimmy’s friends?” “Friends!” she snorts. “That boy there—the one with the half-shaved head? He’s the one who dragged Jimmy into the gutter. Not that the boy didn’t go willingly, but all the same…” Her voice trails off and she sighs. I exit and go around the front to help her out of the car. “Thank you so much, Michael. You have truly brightened my day.” “You are very welcome, Sonja. Take care of yourself.” I watch her head inside the convenience store. Getting out of the Camaro isn’t a stealthy move on my part. As soon as I finish getting Sonja on her feet, I notice the gang members have stopped shoving each other and are now watching me. I meet the gaze of the half-shaved one. He moves his hand to the back of his jeans. I know he’s going for a gun, but I also know he won’t use it. There’s a cop car parked a block down, and the guy certainly knows it. I nonchalantly pull a cigarette out and light it. Leaning against the side of the Camaro, I take a long drag and blow smoke in his direction. Looking nervously to his comrades, he speaks in a tone too low for me to hear. A moment later, he walks up to me. As he approaches, I recall his name from Jonathan’s list of Auburn Grisham’s local ruffians. Omarie Keevers—Junko’s brother. “What are you doing here, Arden?” “Giving a nice old lady a ride,” I say with a smile. “She’s a little troubled you know. I understand her grandson is in the hospital.” Omarie glares and starts to reach behind his back again. “Not a good idea.” I glance in the direction of the police car. He heeds my warning without asking for more explanation. At least he has some brains. He plants his feet firmly and stands up taller. “You goin’ on your way then?” He intends for the words to be a command, but they come out a question anyway. “Not sure yet.” I take another puff off the cigarette. “It’s such a nice neighborhood. Maybe I’ll go apartment shopping.” “You’re south of Forty-seventh,” Omarie says, trying to sound bold. “Out of your territory.” “Must be a reason for that.” I toss my cigarette at his feet and push off the car. “It seems something that belongs to me has been misplaced. I think it might be misplaced around here somewhere.” “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” His answer is far too quick. He doesn’t ask what

because he already knows the answer. He glances over his shoulder at the group and then looks back to me. “You need to get movin’ before my boys get aggravated. It’s too early for bloodshed.” “I’m going to get moving because I’m out of cigarettes, and I’m pretty sure they don’t have my brand here. You let Junko know I’m looking for my merchandise.” Omarie takes a few steps back as I walk around the car and get in. I rev the engine before pulling out of the parking lot. “Nice bumper sticker!” I’m not sure who yells it, but they’re all laughing. That thing has got to go. Back at Rinaldo’s office, I dig up everything I can find on Omarie Keevers. He hasn’t been a big player down south, at least not until Marcello’s demise. He must be moving up in the world quickly to have approached me out in the open, showing off for his homies, no doubt. He knows where my guns are. I grab a USB drive out of my bag and plug it into the side of Rinaldo’s laptop. As I start to transfer a few things, the computer throws up an error telling me the USB drive is full, and I check to see what’s still on it. It’s all the information I had gathered about the tournament players. I open a couple of files to see if there’s anything I still need before deleting them, and a thumbnail of a photograph catches my eye. It’s a picture of Landon Stark. This isn’t surprising, considering Sebastian Stark was my primary competition, but it’s not what piques my interest. There’s a man behind him. He’s younger, blond, and the way he tilts his head to the side makes me realize he is the same person from Jonathan’s security footage. Joshua Taylor—Joseph Frank’s arms dealer. He’s the guy who met with Beni, and he’s the guy who picked up the gun shipment from the southern gangs. Joshua Taylor. Justin Taylor’s relative? There’s no way it can be a coincidence. It doesn’t take long to figure out that the two men had the same father, and that Joshua relocated from Seattle to Chicago about two months after I killed Justin. The address he was at then is no longer valid, but I can’t find any evidence of him leaving town, either. I jot down a couple of addresses listed under J. Taylors to check out later. As I’m finishing up, the door opens. It’s Lele. She’s all bundled up in a fur coat and hat, but she’s not wearing any makeup. Her eyes are a little red and her typically perfectly manicured nails are chipped at the thumbs. “Evan, have you seen Naldo?” Yeah, he’s at the apartment he set up for his mistress. He’s also skimming from his own business to set up a nest egg for her.

“Not since yesterday.” I manage to say the words with a completely straight face. “We had a meeting in the morning, but I don’t know where he went from there.” She purses her lips together and wrinkles her brow as she stares down at her hands. “Lele, what’s wrong?” “He didn’t come home last night,” she says quietly. “He wasn’t home the night before either, but he left me a message that he was working late. I haven’t heard from him since, and he’s not answering his phone.” All thoughts of misappropriated funds leave my head as I reach over and take her hand. “He said his phone has been acting up,” I tell her. It’s at least partially true—he did say it. He was lying to me at the time, but the words did come from his mouth. “There’s a lot going on right now. I know you don’t want the details, but I have barely been home myself.” She squeezes my fingers and nods. “I shouldn’t worry,” she says, “but he always comes home at least to change his clothes or get some real food in his belly. This is so unlike him.” “He’s fine,” I tell her. I lean in and kiss her cheek, hoping I can reassure her even when I don’t believe a word I’m saying. “He’s just busy. I’m sure things will calm down soon.” “I’m sure you’re right.” She tries to smile, but the corners of her eyes are tight. “I was trying to get hold of my brother, but he’s not answering either. I was hoping Naldo had heard from him.” “He didn’t mention it.” I’ve never met Lele’s brother, and I’m not even sure of his name. Lele nods slowly, gives my hand a final squeeze, and leaves the office. I watch as she walks slowly out to her car. After she sits down in the driver’s seat, she pulls a tissue from her purse and dabs at her eyes. I curl my fingers into the palm of my hand hard enough for the nails to dig into my skin. Sweat forms at my temples, and my vision blurs a little. I’ve had enough. As a plan begins to form in my head, I know the first thing I really need is a good night’s sleep. I won’t be able to focus and get everything right if I’m not well rested. I immediately start looking for Alina. It’s early in the evening, and there aren’t too many girls out on the street yet. Those that are milling around are way too young. I wave a couple of them on as I park along the street and wait for Alina to show up. I’m not going to drive around in circles and possibly miss her. I end up waiting about thirty minutes before I see her walking up the sidewalk. Her long legs are accentuated by the hooker-heels she wears, and her hair is bundled up on top of her head to keep the wind from blowing it too much. She’s dressed all in blue, and I feel my heart quicken at the thought of how the bright clothing will bring out her eyes.

I lick my lips as she gets closer, watching her in the passenger-side mirror. I see her tilt her head up as she recognizes the car. She smiles as she focuses on the back bumper, and I roll the window down as she stops next to the car. “Need a lift?” I say with a smile. She presses her lips together and narrows her eyes at me. “What’s with the one-liners?” “I thought I was being polite.” I reach over and open the door, staring at her legs as she climbs into the low seat. Without thinking, I begin to speak. “It’s early. Maybe I should take you out for dinner or something first.” Alina eyes me again, probably trying to decide if I’m serious or not. I’m not completely sure myself, but my stomach growls a bit at the thought. “How do you feel about sushi?” “I like sushi,” she says. “I know a really good place off Michigan Avenue.” “That sounds good.” There’s hesitation in her voice, but I choose to ignore it. I know my behavior is atypical, but that’s typical for me. I park the car at the valet station and get a table for two inside the restaurant. “Is everything all right?” Alina asks once the server has left with our order. “Everything is fine,” I reply automatically. “Why do you ask?” “Well, you’re early, for starters.” Alina places her napkin neatly in her lap before meeting my eyes. “You’ve picked me up very late at night the other times. The whole dinner thing is unusual.” She’s observant; I have to give her that. “Those things go together,” I tell her. “It is the dinner hour.” She concedes the point and sips at some water. I was right about her clothes bringing out her eyes. They practically sparkle over the glass. She has long lashes, and they frame her eyes beautifully. “Try one.” I take the sushi roll with my chopsticks, dip it in the soy sauce, and hold it up to her. Alina keeps her eyes on me as she leans in and opens her mouth so I can slide the roll inside. My throat constricts as she wraps her lips around the whole thing, and my pants are suddenly a little too tight for my cock. I watch her devour the roll and then run her tongue over her lips, catching a little soy sauce that escaped. I can practically feel the moisture from her tongue on my dick, and I want dinner over though we haven’t even finished half the sushi rolls. I need to take a drink of my water to clear my throat. “You about full?” I ask, my voice still raspy. “I’d like to be,” she responds softly.

Jesus. It could be an expletive; it could be a prayer. I’m not sure which. “I’ll get the check.” There’s a line of people waiting for the valet. The club next door hosts a lot of fancy, exclusive parties, and one of them must have just let out. There are so many people milling about the valet station, I can’t even get out of the restaurant. Glancing around, I see a small alcove over to the side of the hostess station and make my way toward it, holding Alina by the hand. The light doesn’t quite reach the area, which appears to be storage for a few jackets, likely for the staff. I pull Alina into the shadows with me and stare into her bright blue eyes. I wet my lips as I bring my hand up to her cheek and use my arm to bring our bodies closer together. We’ve been close before, even mostly naked, but this is different. I’m aware of every part of her that touches me. I can feel the warmth and softness of her skin beneath her clothing. I stroke her lower lip with my thumb and then lean in. Our mouths touch softly and briefly, and I can feel her breath on my lips. Kissing her again, I take longer to explore her lips this time. She runs her fingers up my arm and tightens them around my shoulder as she presses her body against mine. I can feel her breasts as they smash against my chest, and I grip her tighter. I slide my tongue between her lips, and she opens her mouth and turns her head to give me access. I take it, pressing my lips firmly against hers and moving together. I keep the rhythm slow, and all I can think about is fucking her at the same pace. My hand is still on her face, and she turns toward it. With her eyes still on mine, she opens her mouth slightly and sucks at my thumb. I feel her teeth bite down lightly on the pad, and it sends a shiver from my hand straight to my cock. “I need to get you back to my apartment.” “Yes, you do.” She stands on her toes and pulls my ear close to her mouth. “I want to feel your cock in me tonight.” If she had placed her hand on my dick first, I would have come in her hand. I can’t even form words. All I can do is nod dumbly, grab her hand, and force my way through the crowd waiting for their cars. I glance down the sidewalk as I approach the valet. Next door, there’s a big sign proclaiming some charity event going on tonight, and everyone around is wearing their finest. Couples mingle and chat, laugh at each other’s jokes, and all wait to retrieve a car from the same group of valets. As the voices rise into the air in a stream of white noise, I hear Rinaldo’s voice above the rest. “I’m not going to argue with you about it. You’re troubled, so I’m staying with you tonight.” “You don’t have to do that, Naldo,” Felisa responds. “I know Lele has to be wondering.”

“She’s fine.” Rinaldo waves his hand dismissively, then takes Felisa by the arm and leads her to his waiting car. I grab Alina and pull her to the other side of the doorway to keep from being seen. “Evan? What is it?” “Shh.” I place a finger over her mouth. “Just wait a minute.” “I still worry about it, Naldo.” “Lele knows her place,” he says. “She isn’t going to make trouble.” “I realize that, but she did bring me here from New York, and I…” The rest of the sentence is cut off as the car door closes, and they drive away. If I hadn’t already been sure of what needs to be done, I am now. Every muscle in my body is tight as I stare at the back of Rinaldo’s car as it heads down the street in the direction of Felisa’s apartment. “Evan? You’re hurting me.” Alina’s voice is soft but enough for me to notice I have quite a grip on her forearm. I release her and stomp up to the valet to demand my car. Alina is silent as I speed down the street, whipping past other cars as drivers shout at me. I’m reminded of one of those daytime talk shows where they go on about road rage and how you never know if the guy in the next car is carrying a gun. Yeah, I am. I’ll use it, too. The faces of various people I don’t trust flash in front of my eyes as I park the Camaro and head for the elevator. Beni, Becca, Joshua Taylor, Paulie—everyone. I don’t trust any of them, but they aren’t my biggest concern right now. Someone’s trying to get in the middle of my family. All right, they aren’t really my family, but I don’t fucking care. No one messes with them. No one. I barely remember that Alina is still with me until I turn around and she’s in the apartment. She standing near the door and looking at little like a beaten puppy—refusing to make a squeak for fear of being noticed. I take a long breath and walk into the bedroom. I can’t imagine I’m going to sleep well at this point, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need it. I’ll need all my wits about me tomorrow because tomorrow I will put an end to this. I can’t stand it another day. I’d do it tonight, but Rinaldo would be there. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him know. I begin to formulate a plan as Alina quietly crawls into bed with me. She doesn’t speak and waits until I put an arm around her before reaching around to cradle my head. The position calms me slightly— or maybe it’s the lavender scent. I relax, emotional and physical exhaustion collide to overcome the rapid thoughts in my head, and I sleep. As soon as I awake, I know I’ve overslept. The sun is coming in through the northern window, and Alina is already up. I can hear her in the kitchen.

Shoving myself out of bed, I grab for the nearest clothes and head to the bathroom. After a threeminute shower, I’m toweling off and dressing. Alina’s in the kitchen, and she smiles as I enter. “I gotta run,” I tell her. I shove money into her hands. “There’s extra in there for a cab. They can hail one for you down in the lobby.” “Okay.” She looks from the cash in her hands back to me. “Do you want something to eat before you go?” I glance at the clock. It will take hours to get everything set in motion, and I don’t have a minute to spare. “No time.” I see a plate of biscuits on the counter, and grab it. “This will hold me over.” “All right,” Alina says quietly. She walks into the bedroom and gathers her things. I type out a quick text message to Jonathan, telling him to meet me at Rinaldo’s office. I only hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. “I’ll see you another time.” Alina closes the door before I respond. From the front closet, I grab my duffel and empty almost everything out of it. I grab a few things I will need, but I’ll have to shop for the rest after I meet with Jonathan for a little lesson on hacking smartphones. I grab the biscuit I had left on the counter and bite into it, surprised by how delicious it is. I only make those that come in a can, but these must be homemade. I look over to the kitchen table, and see that Alina had laid out quite a breakfast spread. There are eggs, bacon, gravy for the biscuits, and orange juice. “Motherfucker.” I should have set a damn alarm so I didn’t have to send her away so quickly, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. I need time to get everything into place, and I want to take care of it quickly. I still need assistance from Jonathan, but I’ll have to keep him from knowing why. There can’t be any trace this time. I can’t stand another day of Felisa in Rinaldo’s life.

Chapter 8—Stress Relief With a new battery in my rusted, nondescript Volvo, I head back south. I hadn’t planned to move so quickly, but my plans have officially changed. My head is full of possible betrayals from a dead former bookkeeper and the obvious connection between him and the only living major player from the Seattle mob. Somehow, they’re using the southern gangs to dig into our gun business, and they all need to know they can’t get away with taking things that belong to us. There’s also another person who needs to understand she can’t get away with stealing from my family. I need to take care of that first so I can focus on what’s important. Omarie is easy enough to locate and easier still to follow. When he seems to have had his fill of handing out “samples” to the neighborhood kids, he jumps into a dented Lincoln and heads west out of town. I follow at a safe distance, but he’s far too interested in bouncing around to the radio than in the car behind him. The southern gangs have always perplexed me. They deal with similar illegal business ventures as the organized groups, but they rarely end up ahead. They spend too much time fighting within their own outfits and using their own products to come close to financial security. They maintain they’re in this for the money, but they still live in crappy apartments and drive around in cars that should have been junked years ago. Omarie drives west all the way to the river and then turns south. There’s very little out this way. The neighborhoods end abruptly for the sake of a nature preserve. Beyond the wooded area, there are some industrial buildings and a dusty lot filled with rusty ocean containers. He drives into the lot and parks, and I drive past him slowly, watching which direction he walks. The nearby rail station is deserted, so I park near the building and cross the street on foot. From the near side of the line of ocean containers, I can see him heading to one near the end of the line. There isn’t a lot of cover, so I stay on my side of the line and listen as he fumbles with the metal door on the second to last container. I hear voices coming from inside, but I can’t make out the words. After about thirty minutes, someone walks out of the container and wanders off across the dirt to smoke. His back is to me, and I can’t see his face. What I can see, shoved into the back of his pants but still over the top of a bright orange hoodie, is the butt of a Ruger. Creeping across the dusty ground, I ease up behind him. He’s got a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he taps away at a game on his phone. I stretch my fingers, slide up behind him, reach around, and break his neck. Slowly lowering him to the ground, I fish the Ruger out and take a look at it. It’s identical to those that went missing from Rinaldo’s shipment. I’d have to do a more thorough check to verify it is one of ours, but I don’t really care. It’s close enough for what I need. I back away quickly but quietly. It will be a few minutes before the dead man is missed, and I have plenty of time to get out of the area. There’s a shed near the rail station where I’m parked, and I’m lucky enough to find what I need inside.

With a shovel tossed into the back of the Volvo, I don’t even have to go very far. ***** With everything set in motion, I switch cars—making sure all the necessary equipment is moved from the Volvo to the Camaro—drive to Rinaldo’s office, and wait. Sitting on the couch in Rinaldo’s office, I check the Ruger in my duffel bag. It’s fully loaded and ready to go. There’s also some duct tape and plastic bags shoved in the bottom of the bag, but I don’t think I’ll need them. I’m wearing an orange T-shirt I found at a thrift store. I’ve spent a lot of time in various shrinks’ offices over the years, and I have a pretty good idea what to expect from them. They’re observant—it’s part of their job—and I’m going to have to be very careful about exactly what I say and do around Felisa. If I make a wrong move or say the wrong thing, she could get suspicious. Suspicious will turn into messy, and messy leaves evidence in the wrong place. For once, I don’t want anything to lead back to me. My phone makes a small chirping sound, but I ignore it. It will happen again in five minutes, just as I set the phone’s alarm to do. I sit quietly on the couch in the empty office, patient and calm. I’ve positioned myself on the edge of the couch, an unlit cigarette dangles from my fingers, and my elbows are on my knees as I stare at the floor. Attempting to look stressed-out isn’t a major hardship. I’ve got anxiety to spare. With a little luck, I’ll be removing one of those stressors before nightfall. Twirling the cigarette, I ignore Ralph as he sits on top of Rinaldo’s desk with his feet folded under him. He glares at me, crosses his arms, and huffs. It doesn’t matter. I’m not seeking his approval. The door opens, and I glance up, feigning surprise. Tucking the cigarette into my shirt pocket, I wipe my palms on the thighs of my jeans and stand. “Sorry,” I mumble, “I was looking for Rinaldo. He’s not answering his phone.” “No need to apologize.” Felisa smiles politely. She crumples a small piece of paper in her hand and shoves it into her jacket pocket. I recognize it as the one I left in her mailbox. I’m actually quite good at faking Rinaldo’s handwriting. “Have you seen him?” I ask, sounding hopeful. “I was hoping to meet him here,” she says. “I thought I was going to be late.” My phone chirps again, and I slip my hand into my pocket to bring it out. Tilting the phone toward the left, I make sure Felisa’s line of sight won’t allow her to see what’s displayed on the screen. I tap at the phone before returning it to my pocket. “It’s okay,” I say as I stand up. “I just wanted to talk to him, that’s all. I’ll find him later.” Felisa’s phone goes off, and she glances down at the text message displayed. Right on cue. “Evan, wait!”

“Yeah?” I stop in my tracks and look at her quizzically. “It looks like Rinaldo isn’t going to make it, and my ride has already left.” She shrugs her shoulders and smiles sweetly. “I was hoping we could chat a bit. Then maybe you could give me a ride home.” “Chat? What about?” The key is to be reluctant. Shrinks want to believe they are dragging information out of you against your will. As long as they think they are getting what they want out of you, they aren’t looking for what you are trying to get out of them. She continues with the sugary smile and sits on the opposite end of the couch. Tilting her head to the side, she pats the cushion next to her. “Sit down for a minute.” I wonder if the inclusion of a couch in the room was her idea. It’s a new addition to the office since the time I was out of town. There used to be two chairs here instead. I move tentatively but sit next to her. Not too close; I don’t want her to think I’m being friendly. I pull the cigarette out of my pocket again to give myself something to fiddle with to feign nervousness and run my hand through my hair. Tapping my fingers against my knee, I glance over at Felisa. She’s still smiling. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know you at all.” Her start is innocent enough, except no one ever tries to cozy up to the guy who does the killing unless they need a job done. I’m pretty confident she’s not going to request my services. “I’m just me.” I shrug one shoulder and look down at the floor. “You’ve been with Rinaldo a long time.” “A few years.” “He thinks very highly of you.” I narrow my eyes a little. I’m careful not to give her too hard a glance. I don’t want her scared— not yet. “I get the job done.” “He’s told me a little about you,” she says. “About your history before you moved to Chicago, that is.” The information doesn’t surprise me. Rinaldo has spent a lot of time with her, and talking about me would have come up eventually. “Yeah? So?” I lean back on the couch and cross my arms. “So, that’s a lot for a person to take on without help.” “I’ve had help. Thanks anyway.” I start to get up, but she reaches out and coaxes me back to the couch.

“I’m not trying to pry, Evan. I promise.” “Sounds like prying to me.” I don’t meet her eyes, but I keep my voice low enough to be defensive but not hostile. It’s a balancing act. “He worries about you, you know.” I clench my hands. The motion is involuntary. Her words aren’t what I am expecting, and I have to process the information before I can respond. “I’m fine.” It’s her turn to cross her arms and give me a hard look. It reminds me of Lele in a way that pisses me off, reminding me of my goal. “I don’t sleep well.” The statement is careful enough. It doesn’t give her anything, but her widened eyes and the way she leans a little closer to me tell me that she feels she’s made progress. “What’s going on, Evan? You seem troubled.” I rub my chin with my fingers and clear my throat. I start biting at the edge of my fingernail and pretend to contemplate. “You know whatever you tell me won’t be repeated, right? Not even to Rinaldo.” Believe me, you aren’t going to be saying anything to anyone. “Oh yeah?” I say. “I thought you shrinks had to report shit if I said I wanted to hurt someone else or myself.” I laugh humorlessly. Felisa smiles and nods. “Maybe,” she says, “if I worked in a clinic or if I was concerned about losing my license.” “I would hope you’d tell Rinaldo anything you heard,” I tell her. “You work for him, right?” “Yes, I do.” “Well, he’s the boss, and you shouldn’t keep shit from him.” Placing her on the defensive is a risky move, but if I can pull it off, she’ll buy anything I say afterwards. She keeps her eyes trained on mine. I can read the thoughts in her mind as easily as if they were displayed across her forehead. She thinks I’m trying to divert the conversation—steer it away from myself. She waits patiently and silently for me to get back on track. I let out a big sigh. “I haven’t talked about it for a long time,” I say. “I had a shrink a while ago, but I haven’t seen him.” “I’m happy to listen to whatever you have to say, Evan.” I lick my lips, going for nervousness. I glance at the open office door and furrow my brow.

“Would you like me to close the door?” she asks. “Yeah…well, actually”—I pause and look up at her—“would you mind if we went somewhere else? Fuck knows who will walk in here.” “Sure,” she says, smiling again. “Where shall we go?” “My car’s outside. Maybe just go for a little drive?” “That would be nice.” No, it won’t be, but it’s necessary. “I’ve wanted to get to know you a little better,” she says as I open the passenger door of the Camaro and take her hand to help her inside. Felisa smiles up at me as I close the door and get in on the other side. “Well, what do you already know?” I ask as I put the car in reverse. “I know you were in the Marines, and I know what happened to you over there.” “Yeah.” I lick my lips. I know there will be a certain amount of actual talking just to get where I want to be. I need to keep her focused on me and not where I’m going. “Being a prisoner of war, captured by people who aren’t exactly following any kind of rules about your treatment…” She lets her voice trail off. “No,” I say, my throat suddenly dry, “they didn’t.” I merge onto the main road and head southeast. “Can you tell me about some of it?” “I got beat up a lot.” I laugh, and the sound is too loud in the small car. “I’m sure you did.” She doesn’t say anything else. She only watches me and waits. “They kept me in a hole most of the time,” I tell her. “Just a hole in the sand, tied up with the sun beating down on me.” “That must have been terrifying.” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. If I had a bullet for every time someone said those same words to me, I could take out half the city. “That’s what I wake up thinking about in the middle of the night. I wake up thinking I’m still there.” “A lot of people who have been in such terrible circumstances sometimes think their real lives are a dream, and they are actually still in the midst of what happened to them.” “I know what’s real and what isn’t.” “Of course you do.” Felisa leans forward in the seat and turns toward me. “But sometimes you might feel like what is happening now isn’t real. When you first wake up, what’s going through your

head?” “Who’s there.” The answer is too abrupt to be dishonest. It also sounds like the second part of a child’s joke. “Who is where?” she asks. “Who’s in the room with me,” I say. My temple starts to throb. “Who’s in the bed.” “Who do you think is there?” My knuckles have gone white. I’m not expecting going into so much detail, but her voice is calm and reassuring. It’s a deliberate tone on her part, but the knowledge doesn’t stop me from being affected by it. “I’m afraid I’m alone.” I barely hear my own words. “They left me alone for days at a time. No water, no food—just the sand and the heat.” I untwist my fingers from the steering wheel and wipe the back of my hand over my lips. It comes back damp with sweat. I let out a shaky breath and nearly miss my exit. I need to get back in control. “What do you do when you wake up?” Felisa asks softly. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” She pauses, but I don’t have a different response. “Do you go back to sleep?” “If there’s a hooker with me, yeah.” She nods and her eyes glisten with knowledge. Rinaldo has told her about my nightlife. “Having someone in your bed helps you sleep.” “Most of the time.” “Do you think it helps to bring you out of the dream, back into reality, when you realize you aren’t alone?” I have never thought about it that way, but something about her words sounds right. “I suppose so.” I glance over at her, expecting some kind of self-satisfied look on her face, but there isn’t one. She’s not making any judgments about me, and she’s not feeling all justified in her questions. Her hand twitches as if she wants to reach out and touch my arm, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes are soft—caring. There’s a hint of pity, though. It’s enough to bring me out of the trance the memories have induced. I pull off the main road and onto a smaller one. “I don’t think I’ve been out here,” Felisa says. “Where are we?” “A little nature preserve west of the city. It’s a nice relaxing place.” We drive a little farther before I turn right onto a dirt road. There’s no one around, and the trees

hang low all around us. Some of them brush against the car, and I hope they don’t leave scratches on the bumpers. I still need to get that damn sticker off. “This really is the middle of nowhere,” she remarks. “It’s a good place to get away from it all.” I look over and give her a half-smile. “It’s usually pretty damp and humid around here, too. No sand.” “Do you still feel like you are trying to escape, Evan?” She’s still putting forth her best effort. I have to give her props for that. “Maybe. Sometimes I just like to deal with other things that upset me. Like today.” “What’s upsetting you now?” Her tone is slightly different. The confidence has dropped a little. She looks away from me and glances at the woods on the other side of the window. I slow the Camaro to a stop at the edge of the woods and reach around the back for my duffel bag. “There have been a lot of changes since I left,” I tell her. “New people around, and I’m not sure who I can trust. Trust is a big thing with me. Some people think they can just walk in and have someone else vouch for them, but I know opinions can be swayed by a smooth-talking politician. It’s easy to get wrapped up in other concerns and forget who you’re talking to. I’m rather protective of Rinaldo and his family, and not knowing the people close to him…well, that bothers me.” “I noticed you and Paulie don’t seem to get along.” “Paulie is careless and not all that bright,” I say, “but he’s loyal. Stupid, but loyal.” “It’s good to know Rinaldo has you on his side.” “I will always protect Rinaldo,” I state with a grin. “A lot of the time, he doesn’t realize what I’ve saved him from, but it still happens.” Yanking the duffel into my lap, I climb out of the car and open the passenger side door. Reaching in, I take Felisa’s hand and start to pull her out as I swing the duffel’s strap around my shoulder. “Evan?” Felisa pauses and pulls back on my hand. “Where are we going?” “To a favorite spot of mine.” She hesitates, and I can see the hint of fear in her eyes. She seems to have realized she can’t trust me, and she’s right. It’s way too late now, but she’s definitely right. “I think maybe I’d like to go back.” “Do you?” I ask as I pull her forward a bit more. She grasps a hold of the emergency brake to anchor herself into the car. “I didn’t realize how far we’d gone.” She glances over her shoulder at the empty road behind us. “It’s getting late, and Rinaldo will start to wonder why I didn’t meet him.” “Rinaldo didn’t ask you to meet him today,” I tell her. “He’s spending some much needed time

with his wife.” I reach over and grab her hand off the brake, then pull her from the car. I bump the door with my hip to close it, making sure I have a firm grasp on Felisa’s arm the whole time. She’s still got a deer-inthe-headlights look in her eye, but she’s figuring it out quickly. “Evan…what are you doing?” Her hand wraps around mine as she tries to pull at my fingers. “Just what needs to be done, Felisa. It’s nothing personal.” I laugh aloud. “Actually, that’s a complete and total lie. This is personal. Quite personal.” “Does Rinaldo know you’re with me?” “No. As far as he will ever know, you just disappeared. If you’re found, I’m fairly certain the gangs will get the blame for it. Those bastards.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shake my head. “Evan…Evan, please!” She pulls at my arm ineffectively. “I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you. I’m loyal to Rinaldo. I swear I am! I’m not sure if you realize what kind of relationship he and I—” “Oh, believe me”—I stop and turn on her—“I know exactly what you and Rinaldo have going on. Why do you think you’re here? Did you think you were going to be graced with my cock, too?” I grab her arm and shove her through the brush at the side of the trail. A few feet into the woods, a clearing opens up. The large hole dug in the center of it looms ahead. “Evan! Evan, no!” Felisa begins to really fight me now. Her fingernails dig into my arm painfully as she kicks at my legs. She twists and turns, but I have a good grip on her. She only slows my progress toward the hole. She screams as loud as she can, and I let her keep it up until she goes hoarse. “No one can hear you,” I say. “That’s why we’re all the way out here.” We reach the edge of the hole, and I wrap one arm around Felisa’s throat as I reach around and pull a pair of gloves out of the bag. Once they’re in place, I grab the Ruger. The silencer isn’t necessary way out here, but I always have a contingency plan, and the sound of shots do travel through the air farther than screams. “Rinaldo will find out! You know he won’t like this! He’s not going to forgive you for this, Evan! You can’t do this!” All of her words are pointless. I shove her down to her knees next to the hole and kneel across the backs of her legs to keep her there. I drop the bag from my shoulder to get it out of the way. I check the chamber of the Ruger once more before placing it against the back of her head. “Please, Evan, please!” She’s crying now. “There are things you don’t know!” “Sometimes I have to save Rinaldo from himself.” I lean back a bit and pull the trigger. A muted thwack echoes through the trees. Felisa falls to the ground at the edge of the hole, and I kick her inside with the toe of my boot. Her body falls awkwardly into the rocks and clumps of dirt at the bottom, but there isn’t any reason to jump down there and straighten her out.

I toss the gun in after her, then pull the T-shirt over my head, wipe the blood off of me with it, and add it to the pile along with the gloves. If anyone ever finds her, the weapon should be easy enough to trace and the color of the shirt a blinding clue. Grabbing the shovel, I get to work. Once the hole is filled, I cover it with brush and smooth out the tracks leading up to it. I toss the shovel into the back of the Camaro. It doesn’t fit well, but I just need to drive far enough to ditch it somewhere. There’s a change of clothes in the back as well, and I quickly button up the shirt I find there. As I reach for the gearshift, a glint from the sun through the leaves reflects off something between the passenger seat and the center console. I reach down and feel something cool against my fingers. I pull on it, but it doesn’t want to give, so I yank harder. With a snap, half of Felisa’s diamond tennis bracelet flies into my hand. It must have fallen off when I pulled her out of the car, and now part of it is stuck in the track for the seat. I reach down and grasp the end with my fingers and manage to get another piece out. I take the two pieces in my hand. Together, they’re about the size of her wrist, so I think I got it all. I glare at the jewelry and consider tossing it out the window, but it’s too close to her body. I need to get rid of it somewhere else. There’s a lake not far off the dirt road right before I get back to pavement, so I drive to the edge of the water. “Some pussy just isn’t worth it, boss,” I whisper to myself as I throw the bracelet far off into the lake. I can barely hear the splash before it sinks into the murky green water. ***** I turn up the radio on the way back into town. It’s playing some classic rock, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and hum along. It’s a little early still, but I veer off a few exits before mine to pick up Alina. I’m not actually tired. I’m a little elated. That is, until I get to Alina’s corner and can’t find her anywhere. Loretta is there, standing close to one of the whores I’d taken home weeks ago—the one I nearly ended up shooting. She’s still got gum in her mouth. Even at this distance, I can see her chewing it. I don’t stop. I pull around to the gas station and wander around in the convenience store for a little while. I buy cigarettes even though I already have a full pack, and it takes me three or four days to go through one. Back in my car, I troll the streets a while. There are hookers everywhere but not the one I want. I end up pulling into a drive-through fast food place and eating a burger while leaning against the car. It doesn’t sit well with me, and by the time I’m out looking for Alina again, my anxiety is right back where it was at the beginning of the day. I make three trips around the block before I see her. She wasn’t there a few minutes ago, but now she’s hanging out with the gum-smacking whore. I pull up and call over to her. Alina smiles as she drops into the passenger seat. “Hello, Evan. I haven’t seen you for a while.” Not for my lack of looking.

“Been busy,” I respond with a shrug. The silence is comfortable as we head back to my apartment near the river. It’s unseasonably warm this evening, and the windows are down a bit. Alina closes her eyes against the wind, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She turns to me and starts to ask something about putting the radio on but stops. In my peripheral vision, I see her widen her eyes and close her mouth quickly. I glance down in the direction where she’s looking and turn my arm toward me so I can see the back of it. I notice some dark brown spots on my arm. It’s blood. I don’t know how I missed it. I thought I had wiped it all off. There’s nothing I can or will say, so I ignore her reaction and continue to drive. As soon as we reach our destination, I head for the shower, feeling uneasy and a bit idiotic. I should have washed off more carefully before going to find her. Alina’s already in the bed when I finish. She’s noticeably tense as I slide in beside her but tries not to show it as she turns toward me and wraps her arm around my head. With no words spoken, I close my eyes and go to sleep. In the morning, I wake up early. I can’t remember any dreams, but my muscles are still tense. I take another shower to try to relax, but it doesn’t help. I’m still aggravated when I walk back across the hall with a towel wrapped around my waist, dripping wet. Alina is standing beside the bed in her bra and panties, reaching down to strap on her shoes. Her back is toward me, and as she bends over, the clear view of her ass covered in black lace grabs my full attention. I’m hard seconds later. Maybe it’s the rush of a kill. Maybe it’s just seeing her bent over like that. Maybe it’s memories of Lia. It could even be that it’s just been a while, and I want to get off. None of that seems right, but I can’t pinpoint my reaction either. I just want her. Now. Coming up behind Alina, I place my hands on her thighs. I run my fingers up to her hips and pull her up against me. She startles briefly, and I realize she didn’t hear me come back in the room. She recovers fast though. She stands, drops the skirt in her hand, and reaches up around my neck with one hand. Grinding against her ass, I move my hands around to her stomach and then up to her breasts as I press my lips against the side of her neck. Her tits feel good in my hands—firm and soft, just the right size. She tilts her head to give me access to her throat as she closes her eyes. I press my lips against her neck for a moment, inhaling the lingering scent of lavender. I spin her around so she’s facing me and push her up against the wall near the bed. I glance down, admiring her sleek build, and lick my lips. Staring into her eyes, I touch the side of her face with the tip of my finger, leaving a wet trail over her skin. I lean in slowly, then hesitate. I’m not even sure why. This woman has been paid to sleep with me for two nights now, and I haven’t touched her—not really. Not like this.

What the hell is wrong with me? I shove the towel away from my hips and reach around to skillfully unclasp Alina’s bra. She drops her arms to allow it to fall to the ground as I shove her panties down to her ankles. She barely has time to kick them off before I’m lifting her from the floor and pressing her back against the wall. I cover her mouth with mine, opening her lips and finding her tongue. She wraps her legs around my waist as I lift her a little higher. She brings her hands to the back of my head and grips me hard. Turning my head, I devour her mouth again. I hold her up with one arm as my other hand caresses her side, down to her hip, and then back up to her breast. I thumb her nipple as my mouth moves down to her throat. I lick the hollow there, and I can feel the thrumming of her heart. Her hands grasp my shoulders as she tilts her head back and moans. I can’t wait any longer. I press her body against the wall with my hips before I reach down and grab my cock. I run the head over her pussy lips a couple of times, but there is no doubt she’s ready to take me. “Condom!” “Fuck!” I release my cock and set her back on the floor. I pant hot breath and look at her through narrowed eyes. I run my hand through my hair and growl. “Get on the damn bed!” Alina scurries into the middle of the mattress while I yank open the nightstand drawer and tear a condom from its wrapper. I feel as if I’m going to come before I even get inside of her, and I’m just barely controlling myself. I can hardly get the condom on because my hands are shaking so much. I’m on her half a second later, pressing her shoulders to the bed and shoving her legs apart with my knees. I sink into her. Immediately after I’m inside of her, I hold myself completely still. There’s an odd sensation of total darkness around me that has nothing to do with my closed eyes. It’s not a frightening or foreboding kind of darkness. It’s something different. The peace I felt when I first woke has returned. I’m dimly aware of her hands on my back. She uses slow, gentle strokes over my skin, and I try to match my breathing to the motion. Raising my head, I look down at her beneath me. Her eyes are bright, but there’s a hint of trepidation in them. Moving slowly, I press my lips to hers, kissing her softly. She holds still as I gently kiss her and run my tongue across her lips. I pull out slowly and then move back inside of her at the same rate. I keep kissing her as I move, keeping the slow pace until she begins to move with me but pushing me to move faster. I slide my hand down her side and then move up to cup her breast. Alina wraps her arms underneath mine and up over my shoulders. She holds tight as I rock against her. The little gasps Alina makes as I stroke into her are enticing, and I speed up just to hear more of them. She holds tight to my shoulders and wraps her legs around my thighs.

I want this to last. I don’t care if I ever come. I just want to stay like this. I thrust into her in a smooth, steady rhythm. She tenses around me, drawing me in with every penetration. I try to focus on something other than the feeling of being buried in her flesh, but her sounds drag me back with each thrust. My thighs tighten, and I have to pause to keep from losing control. I take several deep breaths and ignore the throbbing in my cock. I grit my teeth for a second to steer my mind in another direction. It works—just barely. I want her to come first. Holding myself up with one hand, I stroke my fingers over her from neck to stomach. I lean down and lick her nipples one at a time, then blow cool air over them as she shivers. Using my free hand, I pull her arm out from around me and move her fingers down between us. “Touch yourself,” I whisper in her ear. “Show me what you like.” With her eyes closed, she reaches for her clit and slowly starts rubbing. I place my fingers over hers and time my thrusts with her movements. I watch her face, view the tension around her eyes as pushes up to meet me, and match my breaths with hers. When she reaches her tongue out to wet her lips, I meet her mouth with mine. She moans against me, pushes up hard, and I feel her tense around my cock. She tightens her legs around my thighs, pulling me deeper inside her. I feel the contractions of the muscles in my legs and stomach, and it’s almost enough to make me lose my balance. The orgasm hits me hard, and I moan against her as I let go. My arms and legs are shaking, but I hold my position over Alina as I pant against the skin of her shoulder. I feel her fingertips against my abs, stroking around to my back, over my hip, around my ass, and then back to where we are connected. She wraps her hand around the base of my cock and the edge of the condom, gently pushing me out of her. So professional. My jaw tenses, and I shove off the mattress with my palms and land on my back, grasping the condom and ripping it off. I toss it in the trashcan near the bed and stare at the ceiling. I’m shaking ever so slightly, and I have to contract my muscles to keep the trembling from getting worse. My head is full of random images—the look on her face as she came, the crosshairs through the scope of my rifle, explosions around dry, sandy ground, Jonathan laughing and smoking a cigarette, and that fucking Soccer Mom sticker on my car. None of it makes any sense. All of it pisses me off. “Would you mind if I used your shower?” “Suit yourself.” I sound terse. Any remnants of the calmness I felt when I first woke up are gone. Though I’m no longer tired, I am as tense as I had been before I brought her here. Alina disappears into the bathroom, and I get up and slam some dresser drawers, looking for clothes. Apparently, I need to do laundry.

“Bullshit,” I mutter. I grab the last clean pair of boxers and shove the drawer hard enough for it to shake the whole dresser. My dog tags rattle in their dish, and I grab them in my fist. Pulling the chain around my neck, I stomp out of the room. I head into the kitchen in my boxers. It’s too cold, but I don’t care. I listen to the water in the shower as I make myself a piece of toast and devour it. In the back of my head, I remember Alina making me breakfast. I should return the favor, but I don’t. Ralph is in the living room, leaning against the couch with his arms folded across his chest. I want to walk over there and punch him. Knowing how pointlessly insane that would be doesn’t make me feel any better. I glare at him for a moment before turning away and grasping the edge of the counter with my fingertips. I’m angry—not just annoyed, but completely consumed by unnameable rage. I have no idea why. Every muscle in my body is tense. I keep clenching my hands into fists, but it doesn’t help. My breath is shaky, and I realize I’m just staring at a plate full of breadcrumbs. A moment later, I’ve hurled the dish, shattering it against the wall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tell myself to get it together. I want to slam my fist into the countertop, but self-preservation won’t let me break my own hand on the granite. I don’t know what to do with the boiling rage inside of me, and I can’t manage to shove it back down into my gut. I’m also terrified. I feel tears at the corner of my eyes. I’m holding my breath, and the pressure in my lungs is causing my diaphragm to contract. I want to scream, but I can’t open my mouth. I want to pound my fists against the counter, the wall, the window—I don’t care which—but I can’t make myself move. Breathe, Arden! Breathe! I gasp as I drop to my knees on the hardwood. A huge wave of tension flows over my skin, and I almost fall the rest of the way to the floor. I end up with my palms against the wood planks, rocking slightly. I stare at the patterns made by the grain of the wood, focusing all my attention on the wavy lines and circles. A minute later, the feeling has passed. I glance up, and Ralph is still there, staring at me. Little bastard. I swallow, push myself off the floor, and go back to the bedroom to pull on a dirty pair of jeans and a T-shirt that doesn’t smell too awful. As soon as Alina gets out of the shower, I inform her that I’m taking her back. I don’t even offer her a fucking cup of coffee. I really need to get my shit together.

Chapter 9—Missing Person “Evan, hang back.” “I’ll catch ya later, brotha.” Jonathan leaves with the rest of the group, and I stay in Rinaldo’s office to see what he needs from me. Despite the sleep I’d had last night, I’m mentally exhausted. It has been a while since I had a proper panic attack, but I’d had them often enough in the past to know just what they are. Afterward, I’d be left in a foggy, confused state for several hours and sometimes for days. When I have had them before, I had always known what the trigger had been. This time was different. I really don’t know what set me off. I’d killed someone. I’d slept well. I’d finally fucked Alina. Everything about the past twentyfour hours had been good, so why the freak-out? There are things you don’t know. Felisa’s last words echo through my head. I have no idea what she might have meant, but I had been too impatient to have her out of the way to find out. “What have you found?” Rinaldo walks over to his desk and leans one hand against it. “There’s definitely a connection to Seattle.” “Really?” Rinaldo raises a brow. “They are still scrambling and fighting with themselves. How do you figure this?” “I should say”—I raise a finger in the air—“that there is a connection to people formerly associated with the Seattle group.” “Which is?” “As much grief as you gave me for taking care of Justin Taylor, I was doing you a favor.” “Justin was playing with the numbers.” Rinaldo’s conclusion is correct but incomplete. “Definitely,” I say with a nod, “but there’s more to it than that.” “What else?” “Look at this.” I pull the laptop to the center of the desk, and Rinaldo sits down to check it out. “Justin Taylor’s brother, Joshua. Look familiar?” Rinaldo studies the picture for a moment. When he doesn’t see it right away, I bring up the picture from the surveillance video. “Same guy?” he asks. “It is.” “Avenging his brother’s death?”

“That’s what I would have thought, but look at this picture.” Clicking around at the screen, I find the picture of Landon Stark from the tournament files. “He and Landon Stark go way back. In fact, Justin trained with Stark for tournaments before he relocated here. Sebastian Stark replaced him.” “I knew that,” Rinaldo says. He rubs his chin with his fingers. “I’d forgotten, honestly, but I knew Stark was his original trainer. Do you think he’s involved now?” “I haven’t found anything concrete, but it might make sense. Assuming he’s connected to the rest of the crime world at all, he’s heard I’m not dead. He may confront Sebastian. I have the feeling Sebastian would tell him about the deal we struck.” “To get rid of Joseph Franks.” “Exactly.” “So it could be about revenge.” “Possibly.” “Sebastian could be involved as well.” I’d only spent a few hours talking to Sebastian Stark when we were trapped in an avalanche, but I still feel I know him pretty well. We aren’t so different, my half-brother and I, but I am positive his motives were focused on his family. “I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “He wanted out, and Franks was the only person keeping him in. He moved out to the burbs and has a kid to raise now. I don’t think he’d put himself in the middle of this.” “So Joshua is definitely involved,” Rinaldo says, summarizing, “but has to have someone on the inside working with him if he’s receiving money from my businesses. Landon Stark could be involved as well.” “I think so.” “Find out for sure.” “Yes, sir.” I start to gather up my stuff, then pause. There’s something else I really should tell Rinaldo, so I turn back to him. “Sir?” “Yes?” “I should probably mention something else I came across about Sebastian Stark.” “What is that?” “Well, he’s from the Chicago area. Landon found him street fighting before he trained him for tournaments. Before that, he was in the system after being abandoned by Alexander Janez—the same man who put me up for adoption.” “What are you saying?” “Sebastian Stark and I are brothers.”

Rinaldo looks at me for a long time. “Is that how you talked him into letting you live?” “No, sir. I never told him.” “You should call him,” Rinaldo says without hesitation. “Why?” “If you didn’t have me to call family, wouldn’t you want to know?” I hadn’t thought about it that way. If our positions were reversed, would I want to know? What benefit could he possibly receive, knowing he’s related to the crazy hit man who tried to kill him? If I were to contact him, what would happen next? Christmas gatherings with his family? Birthday celebrations? As stupid as it sounds, the idea isn’t abhorrent to me. Was some family, no matter how fucked up they were, better than none? Rinaldo groans as he stands up, rubbing at his back and bringing me out of my thoughts. “Are you all right, sir?” “I suppose so,” Rinaldo says with a grimace. “My back has been killing me the past few weeks. I’ve been to the chiropractor Franklyn suggested, but it hasn’t helped. Just getting to be an old man, I suppose.” “You’ve got a few years left, I imagine.” I grin at him. “I’m going to get with Jonathan and start digging some more.” “You do that.” I grab my jacket from the wall hook and open the door. “Evan?” Rinaldo calls as I start to leave. “Have you seen Felisa around?” I pause a moment, pretending to think. “I guess the last time I saw her was yesterday. She was looking for you.” “Where?” “Here in your office.” “Did she say what she wanted?” “No,” I tell him. I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Actually, she was hitting me up for information on myself. Apparently, someone told her I needed to get my feelings out or something.” “Guilty!” Rinaldo laughs and holds his hands up in the air. “She’s good to talk to. I hope you take her up on it.” “We talked a bit,” I say with a shrug, then let out a long sigh. “I appreciate it, sir. Really I do, but I’m fine.”

“You’ve never been fine, son.” His words send a tingle down my back. For a moment, I try to determine when I have been really, truly fine. There have been a handful of good memories over the years, but I can’t come up with an extended period of time when I was really all right. As a child, I wondered who my parents were. As a teen, it was all about how to get Mother Superior out of her habit and into bed so I could blackmail her into letting me leave. From there, I went straight into the Marines. Maybe then—that first year—I was good. I recalled going through basic training and feeling like I actually belonged somewhere for the first time in my life. There was the initial moment when someone put a rifle with a scope in my hands, and I hit the target on the second shot. I knew right then what I was meant to do, and the sense of pride in myself was something that has only ever been matched by hearing Rinaldo refer to me as his son. He’d just done that again. In addition, I’d taken care of something that was a threat to him and his family whether he recognized it or not. In that sense, I did feel pretty good. “I’m as fine as I have ever been,” I say with a half-smile. He gives me a hard look, but I remain ever stoic. I’m pleased the conversation was so easily diverted to me instead of Felisa, but I don’t want it going much further. “Well, I hope you’ll talk to her again,” Rinaldo finally says. “Let me know if you see her. She’s not answering her phone.” “Will do, sir.” ***** Scratch, scratch, scrape! “Stupid little bitch.” The sound of metal on metal makes me cringe. No matter what I do, the damn Soccer Mom bumper sticker won’t come off the Camaro. I don’t know what kind of adhesive it has on it, but I’m convinced the stuff could withstand acid. All I’ve managed to do is make it look worse. I throw the screwdriver and bottle of Goo Gone across the parking garage and curse. It’s nearly ten pm. I’m getting a headache, and I’m going to need a whole new bumper because this damn sticker won’t come off my car. I’ve also hit nothing but dead ends on my investigation of Landon Stark and Joshua Taylor. I can’t find any trace of either of them in town, and I’m actually considering hitting up gang members for more information. “Fuck this.” I shove away from the vehicle and head back up to my apartment for a shower. It doesn’t help my mood any. I try to sleep, but I just stare at the ceiling. After an hour of this, I shove out of bed and get dressed. Looking for Alina feels like giving in. I’m not sure exactly what I’m surrendering to, but the feeling is definitely there. Felisa’s last conversation keeps running through my mind. I’ve spent my life as a loner in one way or another. I’d had Odin, my dog, and he’d always been enough company for me. It seems out of character to admit that I don’t want to be alone, at least not at night, as if I were a six-year-

old insisting on a nightlight before the door is closed. I briefly consider the acquisition of another dog but ultimately dismiss the idea. I’d become attached, and attached means vulnerable. Alina’s not on her corner. Again. I’m not sure why I’m so pissed off, but I am. Cruising around, I see the redhead who blew me a few nights ago but don’t approach her. I watch Loretta getting into a silver Camry but still see no sign of Alina. Maybe I should consider watching a porno on pay-per-view. I turn the Camaro around and get back on I94, floor the accelerator with the intent of going back home, but then turn around and head back again. Porn isn’t going to help me sleep, and I need sleep more than an orgasm. This time, I see Alina’s long hair flowing around her shoulders as she gets out of a car up the street. I stare at the back of the dark-colored sedan, memorizing the license plate and wondering how long it would take to find the john’s address. Did she blow him? Fuck him? How many times? Alina looks up as I pull the Camaro to the curb and stop. She tilts her head, nods, and holds up a finger as she rushes over to a guy near the alley and hands him some cash. I try to get a look at him, but it’s dark and I can’t see his features. I haven’t bothered to ask her who her pimp is, but now I’m curious. She speaks with him for a minute before coming over to me. “Hey.” She smiles as she leans over and peers through the car window. “You ready?” I realize I sound like I’m picking her up for a date. “I mean, do you want to… or rather, are you free…?” Shit, why do I sound like a fucking teenager looking for a prom date? Alina snickers and licks her lips. “Just get in,” I finally say with a sigh. She checks the contents of her purse before she opens the door and settles into the passenger seat. “How are you, Evan?” she asks. I find the question odd. I’m tempted to give a bland, standard response, but the look on her face tells me she really wants to know. “I feel like shit.” “Worse than usual?” “Not really.” I pull onto the highway but stay around the speed limit. The last thing I need is to be

pulled over with a hooker in the car. “I’m probably ten percent better than usual.” “Well, that’s something.” Alina reaches over and places her hand on my leg. She doesn’t squeeze it or move up toward my dick, she just lays her hand there and lightly rubs my thigh with her thumb. We don’t exchange any more words, but when I pull off the highway and have to stop for a red light, I place my hand over hers until I have to move it back to the gearshift. The leather is cold compared to her fingers, and I slow down a bit to make sure I end up stopping at the next light so I can lay my hand on hers again. If Alina notices, she doesn’t say anything. Unlike the previous times I’ve brought Alina to my apartment, sleep is not the only thing on my mind. As soon as we are through the door, I pull her up against me. With my hand cupping her chin, I press my mouth to hers. Guiding her backside to the wall in the entryway, I lean against her, meshing our bodies together. She reaches up and rubs the hair at the back of my neck. Slipping my arm around her back, I bring our hips closer together. There’s no doubt she can feel how hard I am, but I don’t grind into her. I just keep kissing her—tasting her lips and tongue until I start to feel light-headed. I move my lips to her neck, lick her just below her ear, and inhale. Pausing, I notice a difference in the way she smells. Tensing slightly, I understand why. She was with that guy in the sedan. I know my thoughts are ridiculous, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me. Of course she was with another guy—probably several. She was with other guys the last time I picked her up as well. She could have been with dozens of guys a night when I hadn’t been able to find her. She’s a hooker. They’re all hookers. That’s the way I like them. Tilting my head down and keeping my eyes closed, I try not to breathe for a moment. “Evan?” “What?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Are you all right?” “No.” The odor burns into my head, filling me with thoughts of her on her back with some random dude rutting into her. I don’t know if it’s really the scent of the last john on her skin or not, but I don’t like it at all. I push away and grab both her hands to lead her into the bathroom. I turn on the water and remove her clothes quickly. Alina stands still and silent as I tear the shirt over my head and unbuckle my belt. I drop my jeans and boxers to the floor as the water from the shower fills the room with steam. She’s staring at me but doesn’t say a word. There’s something about the look in her eye that makes me believe she knows exactly what I’m doing and why. Hell, it probably isn’t the first time a guy’s washed the smell of another man off of her.

The thought is unsettling. Directing her into the shower, I fill my hands with my own body wash and lather her skin from shoulders to thighs. The familiar scent of my own soap removes the traces of whatever man or men were left on her skin, and I start to relax. Alina leans back against the marble shower wall and closes her eyes as I stroke her sides. I wash her around her breasts then up to her neck and back down again. Kneeling a little, I run my hands over her legs, stand again, and reach between them. She moans and grabs onto my shoulders as I finger her. When I think she’s near the edge, I take my fingers away and turn her around. She grunts softly as the contact breaks and grips my arms when I circle her waist with them. The lather flows into the drain as she tilts her head back into the spray. Alina takes the bottle of shower gel and looks up at me with questioning eyes. I nod once, and she fills her hands with the soap. First she runs her hands over my chest, then down my arms and across my stomach. She reaches around to run her hands over my ass before kneeling in front of me and washing my legs. Again, she looks up at me with the same questioning expression, and again I nod once. She takes me in her mouth, and my knees buckle. She stares up at me even though the water has to be stinging her eyes. My cock is engulfed in her mouth as she applies suction and draws me into her throat. “Oh, fuck…” I have to place my hand on the wall of the shower to keep from falling over. Maybe the lack of sleep is catching up to me, but it’s more likely the glorious feeling of her warm mouth over my length. I wrap my fingers through her drenched hair to try to keep my balance. It isn’t working, and I’m about to lose control. Slowly stepping back, I watch her eyes as my cock slips from her mouth. Her hair seems even longer now that it’s wet. It’s almost touching the floor of the shower. Her makeup is smeared into dark circles around her bright blue eyes, and her skin is pink from the heat of the water. She’s beautiful. I reach down and help her back to her feet before turning the water off and grabbing a couple of towels. She dries herself a little before wrapping the towel around her body and under her arms. She touches the side of my face for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the stubble on my cheek. “You need to lie down,” she says quietly. I agree and take her hand. I’m still a little out of breath as we enter the bedroom and climb onto the bed. We lie on our sides and face each other, and Alina shivers a bit as she pulls the sheet up over us. I slowly stroke her skin, caressing her from her shoulders to her hips as I kiss her mouth, then her chin, then her neck. I find her breast with one hand and hold it to me as I suck her nipple into my mouth. She arches her back as her fingers dig into my scalp. As tired as I am, I want inside of her. I want my mark on her. I want her to go to sleep in my bed,

feeling the after-effects of my cock, not someone else’s, inside of her. Alina moves to her back beneath me as I reach over to the nightstand, grab a condom from the drawer, and roll it over my dick. She runs her hands over my chest and shoulders as I position myself between her thighs and push forward. I hold myself there briefly as she reaches around and grasps my ass with both hands. Like the previous encounter, I move in her slowly. Each thrust is deep, and I pull nearly all the way out before penetrating her again. My skin tingles where she touches me. I lean forward and place my hand at the back of her neck to pull her mouth to mine. Kissing her with the same rhythm as my strokes, I both feel and hear her groan into my mouth. I kiss her lips before moving my mouth back to her tits. Alina tightens her thighs around my ass and moans louder. I smile at the sound and want to hear more. Reaching between us, I run two fingers around her clit. Up and down, around in a circle, then up and down again, I time my strokes perfectly with the motion. I run my nose up between her breasts and taste the sweat on her neck. With my lips, I can feel her rapid heartbeat through the skin of her neck. It matches my own. Her breath is coming in gasps, and I can feel the heat of it on my cheek. I continue the slow pace, stroking in and out of her as she begins to writhe beneath me. I could go on like this forever. I’m not even sure I want to come. Alina runs her hands down my back, gripping my ass, and pulling me into her deeper. “Evan…please…” I don’t know what she’s asking for. I can feel her clenching around my cock, and a shooting, tingling feeling rushes over my shaft. I arch my back, driving into her deeply as she moans with every thrust. She moves her hands up and digs her fingers into my back as I rotate my hips, pull back, and then slide into her again. Wrapping her arms up under mine and around my shoulders, Alina pushes up off the mattress and cries out as she tightens around me. Any ideas of lasting forever leave me as I quicken my pace. My head swims, and I let go. With my eyes squeezed shut, I cry out as the waves wash over me. I collapse on top of her for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I push away as soon as I’m able, securing the edge of the condom with my fingers as I pull out of her. I toss the rolled up condom into the nearby trashcan as Alina excuses herself to the bathroom. She returns a minute later, smelling like lavender, and slips back into bed beside me. I scoot over to get closer to her, wrap one arm around her waist, and tuck my head against her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Evan?” “I’m fine.” I’m not, but it doesn’t really matter. “You aren’t falling asleep,” she says. “You usually fall right to sleep.”

I sigh and glance up at her. Her expression is soft. “Just work shit,” I say dismissively. Alina nods but doesn’t ask for any details. It’s strange being with a woman who doesn’t ask questions—strange and relieving. I move forward, and our lips meet. It’s a soft, gentle kiss. She rubs her fingers at the spot right behind my ear, and I turn toward her touch. “That feels good,” I tell her. “I’m glad you like it.” She smiles slightly and strokes my cheek with her free hand. “Get some rest,” she says. “You look tired.” I start to respond, but I close my eyes instead. Her shoulder is more comfortable than the pillow, and her scent lulls me into a dreamless sleep. ***** For the first time, I wake before Alina. Surprisingly, I don’t wake with thoughts of some horrific dream in the forefront of my mind. I’m not covered in sweat or breathing hard, and I actually feel rested. I take several deep breaths and open my eyes. Alina is coiled around me, or me around her—it’s hard to tell the difference. Our legs are intertwined, and my arm is wrapped around her waist and hers around my neck. We’re sharing a single pillow though there are four on the king-sized bed, and the blankets are pulled up around us both. I have to take a piss, but I’m too warm and comfortable to seriously consider stepping out onto the hardwood floors. Instead, I look at Alina. Her face is relaxed in sleep, and her chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. Her thick, dark eyelashes are long enough to be resting against her cheek. Softly, I run my fingers over the arch of her eyebrow, then down her cheek. Her skin is soft, and there’s still a hint of lavender on it. It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know where she’s from or why she happened to end up in such a profession. I know she shares an apartment somewhere with Loretta, but I don’t know where she actually lives. I remember Bridgett’s apartment. It was in a dump of a building in one of the worst sections of town. Considering what I pay for a night, I would think most whores live in better conditions than that, but I don’t really know. How much of a cut does the pimp take anyway? Rinaldo has his hands in multiple prostitution rings, but it isn’t an area of the business where my services are needed. When there’s an issue, the pimps typically deal with it on their own. I’ve never paid any attention to it. Maybe I’d check into her pimp. Considering what area I find her in, her pimp is probably one of Rinaldo’s. It’s also possible he’s independent. A lot of Greco’s people went that route when he was run

out of town. Rinaldo didn’t have a problem with it. There are enough johns to go around, so territory isn’t commonly in dispute. My bladder feels like it’s going to burst, so I give up and touch my feet to the cold floor. Wishing I had gotten around to buying some area rugs, I creep off to the bathroom. When I return, Alina’s eyes are open, and she’s arching her back and stretching her arms above her head, giving me a pretty nice view of her tits and stomach. “Good morning,” she says with a smile. “How did you sleep?” “Pretty well, thanks. You?” “Very well.” She sits up and adjusts the sheets over her legs. “Your bed is great, very comfortable. I love the pillows, too. They’re so soft!” “Yeah, it’s one of the few things I actually pay attention to,” I tell her. “Military bedding sucks ass. I go all out with the stuff now.” “Oh! You were in the military? What branch?” Her tone isn’t right. It’s a little high for what should be a casual question, and the inflection at the end falls instead of rises. I have no doubt that she already knows the answer to her question, but I can’t think of why she would pretend not to know. Regardless, I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it’s too late now. Answering her will lead to more questions, and I’m feeling too good to delve into all that shit. However, if I refuse to answer, she’s going to wonder why I’m avoiding the topic and ask again at another time. Deflection is my best ally. “Marines,” I say bluntly. “What sounds good for breakfast?” “I’m famished,” Alina says. “I’d be up for anything.” “Waffles?” “That sounds wonderful!” I exit quickly and dig the waffle iron out of the back of a cabinet. It came with the apartment, and I hadn’t used it before, but I remembered using a waffle iron a lot when I was a kid living in a convent with a bunch of other unadoptable orphans. I mix up some batter and begin pouring it onto the heated iron. Though I don’t have a lot of fond memories of my early years, I feel a little nostalgic. It’s probably just the good night’s sleep preceded by good sex, but I’ll take it. Alina sits at the table and watches me. “Can I ask you something, Evan?” “You can ask,” I reply. I’m guarded, to say the least. If she wants a bunch of information regarding my military career, I’m just not prepared to go there. If she decides to ask about my current career, that would be even worse. “It’s an observation more than a question, I suppose.” Her words don’t make me any less wary,

but I nod at her to continue anyway. “You seem like you want a girlfriend.” I laugh loudly. Opening the waffle iron, I dislodge the first waffle and set it on an empty plate. “Hardly. I’ve been there and done that. Way too much trouble.” “Trouble, as in you would have to make breakfast for her in the morning?” “This”—I point a spatula at the waffle iron—“is not trouble. This is what I want for breakfast. Making two of them isn’t any harder than making one, and I don’t have to cut the recipe in half.” “So what kind of trouble are you avoiding?” I glance at her sideways. I’m tempted not to answer at all and let my silence speak for itself, but I have the feeling that won’t work. It’s better to let her know exactly how I feel about it. “The kind where the chick asks a lot of questions,” I finally reply. I pour the remaining batter and close the lid. The only sound in the kitchen is the sizzling noise from the waffle iron as some of the batter leaks out the side. When the waffle is done, I place it on a second plate and bring both to the table. “Syrup okay?” I ask. “I have strawberries if you like.” “Syrup is perfect.” Alina is quiet again. Admittedly, I’m glad. I probably shouldn’t be, but I am. It’s yet another reason an actual girlfriend is problematic—she’ll get all pissed when you tell her to shut up. Alina seems pretty good at taking a hint, and she doesn’t ask any more questions. Once breakfast is done, I take her back to her corner and drop her off. No “goodbyes,” no “see ya laters,” not even a “thanks for the fuck.” I just drive away. The temperature is a little warmer than usual, and I decide to drive over to the lake and walk along the shore. Before Odin died, I would take him here to run around in the sand and chase seagulls. I again wonder if I should consider getting another dog but quickly dismiss the idea. I don’t need the added responsibility, and having anything around that I care about has always proven itself to be a risk. Best not to have any ties. I light a cigarette and draw the smoke into my lungs as I walk along the grassy bank near the sand. It’s a little colder here with the wind coming off the lake. It clears my head and brings me back to Alina and her observations. Yeah, girlfriends are nice to have around as far as getting a decent night’s sleep and not having to go pick them up on a corner while wondering how many other guys they’ve fucked in the last twenty-four hours, but they want to know things about you. They would want to know about your childhood, why you were discharged from the Marines, and why you have nightmares. They’d want to ask about your family, and then they would give you that pitiful look when you’d tell them your only living family is a brother you nearly killed, and he doesn’t even know you’re related.

They would want to know what you do for a living and why you always pay for everything in cash. They would want to know where you were last night. They would want to know why you have blood all over your clothes when you come home. Ultimately, they would want to know why you’re so fucked up. In the end, that knowledge would get them killed. Bridgett had wanted to know all of that, and I told her a lot of it. She paid the ultimate price for getting too wrapped up in my life. Lia wanted to know as well, and I’d told her more than I had ever told anyone else. I still didn’t tell her all of it, but she knew enough to get the fuck out while she still could. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I know she returned to Arizona to be with her mother, but has she moved on from there? Has she gone back to her ex-boyfriend, assuming an alcoholic is still better than me? Maybe I should have Jonathan check it out. I toss the cigarette butt into the sand and light up another. The last thing I want to do is to think about Lia. Looking into her current whereabouts is opening a door I plan to keep very tightly locked. No more thinking about her. I stare out at the water as the sun reaches its peak. It’s still not that warm, but it’s quiet and peaceful. The waves wash up on the shore in a rhythmic, lulling cadence. For the first time in my life, I try using one of those guided meditations the doctors were always encouraging me to use when I had flashbacks of being in a pit, surrounded by enemies, sand, and pain. I collect my memories of Lia, place them in an imaginary hot air balloon, and send them off over the water. Turning away from the lake, I feel empty inside. I think I prefer it that way.

Chapter 10—Compromised Position I don’t like this plan—any of it. We’re in the exact same pickup spot where we were two weeks ago. Somehow, Rinaldo has it in his head that it’s a safe enough place for a drop even though I’ve used all the viable locations for sniping in the past. Beni and Paulie keep reassuring Rinaldo the location is sound, but I’m beginning to think Beni is scheming, and Paulie is just stupid. We’re on the far west side of town, out in the burbs. There isn’t much of anything in the area except for a couple of trade schools, a small hospital, and an old cemetery. The expressway isn’t too far, which does make the location ideal. Yet there’s something in the back of my head telling me everything about this is wrong. I had the same feeling in this morning’s meeting, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. “This spot is compromised,” I say for the thousandth time. “We’ve been over this,” Rinaldo says, as if I need the reminder. “This is still a valid pickup point,” Beni pipes in. “No security cameras on the buildings around us, cops don’t patrol this area, and there’s room for both trucks.” “The only ones who know about this spot are Marcello’s people,” Paulie says. “I don’t think there’s much chance of them showing up.” Apparently, Paulie thinks his own remark is hilarious. I glare at him, and for a brief second contemplate pulling out my gun to see how funny he thinks that is. Rinaldo is irritable today, to say the least. I don’t wonder why but watch him closely. He barks out a few more orders and then sends everyone to their positions, asking me to stay behind. Beni and Paulie walk away, seeking out Becca and her lists. Rinaldo and I stay behind, and he places his hand on my shoulder. “Since you haven’t mentioned it, I assume you still haven’t seen Felisa?” “No, sir.” I look down at my gun, pretending to check the chamber. “I’m worried, Evan.” “What about, sir?” “She still hasn’t answered her phone. I thought it was just my phone acting up, but she’s not at her apartment either. The doorman said he hadn’t seen her since the day before yesterday. I think…I think something has happened to her.” “Who would go after Felisa?” I tilt my head and look at him quizzically. “I mean, who would have it in for the mob shrink? That doesn’t make much sense.” “As soon as we’re done here, I want you looking for her. If this shipment wasn’t so crucial, I

would have sent you off this morning.” “Of course, sir.” “Get with Jonathan. He’s got the app you need, or whatever you call it.” “App?” “To track her.” This time, my quizzical look is a genuine one. Rinaldo uses one hand to rub at the center of his back, grimacing slightly. He twists around a little to stretch it. “I have her chipped. I have all my family chipped. Don’t you dare tell Lele, or she’d have my balls.” “A GPS chip?” I can’t contain my surprise. “In her neck, yes.” Our conversation is cut short as Beni comes up and starts laying out the details of the shipment we’re about to receive. He points up to one of the buildings that I’m supposed to scout. “Bad spot,” I say. “I can’t see the whole area from there. I’ll be over on the east building.” Beni glares at me and tries to argue. “Coverage is better from there,” Paulie says. “I’m with Evan.” I look over at him, and he grins. If he’s trying to make friends, it’s not working. I don’t need his help; I have no intention of being on the building Beni indicated. The fact that he is trying to dictate my movements is suspicious enough. “I’m directing this show,” Beni says. “If you don’t like it—” “I’ll be where I fucking want to be!” I stand up straighter and stare Beni in the eyes. “If you had any fucking sense, we wouldn’t be here at all!” “Relax!” Rinaldo places his hand on my shoulder again. “We don’t have time for this.” I shrug him off and continue to stare at a seething Beni. Rinaldo shoos Beni and Paulie away and then turns back to me. “You’re being paranoid, son,” Rinaldo says under his breath, but I’m not convinced. “Did you get any sleep last night?” “I’m fine.” “You didn’t answer my question.” Rinaldo is losing patience with me. “I slept fine, sir,” I tell him. Then I look at him with a wry smile. “Even got laid, if you’re interested.” Rinaldo laughs and slaps me on the back. “We’re about ready,” Beni says as he walks back over to us, ignoring me completely. “Everyone,

get into position.” I head up the side of the building to the east, glancing at Beni to see if he’s going to argue, but he doesn’t. With my duffel over my shoulder, I get into position. It doesn’t take long to set up. The wind is unusually calm, which reassures me. Where I am now has more cover than the other sniping spots around the parking lot, which is why I decided to set up here, but I still don’t like the whole idea. Through the Barrett’s scope, I survey the area. We’re still a half hour away from the truck’s arrival time, and there’s nothing of note in my sights. I focus on the group for a moment and see Rinaldo talking with Becca. She’s got her spreadsheets on a clipboard, and she’s pointing out some details. I’m still annoyed. More often than not, Rinaldo listens to what I have to say and takes my advice. Maybe it’s because of my long absence, but he seems to trust the opinions of others over mine these days. I’m obviously not Italian, but sometimes Rinaldo listens to family too much. They don’t always know what they’re talking about. At all. I look around again, trying to determine the weakest entry point to the area. The main drive is easy to see, and no one will try to sneak in that way. There are a lot of trees surrounding the east side, which could be an issue, but there’s no road or even a dirt path in that direction. On the opposite side, there’s a drive coming around the back of the building. “Watch the back drive,” I say through the radio. “Will do.” That’s what Paulie says, but he still has his eyes on the main road. “Fucking moron,” I mumble before activating the radio. “The back drive is behind you, asshole.” Paulie glances up in my direction with a glare. He probably thinks I can’t see him when he flips his fingers under his chin. I flex my finger around the Barrett’s trigger but don’t actually pull back on it. As I watch, he walks over to the edge of the building where he would have a clear view. His eyes are still on the main drive, though. The rumble of a diesel engine pulls my thoughts from the useless so-called security specialist. I turn the scope to watch the truck roll up the drive and around the main building to the back next to the empty truck. From the passenger side, a tall, dark-haired man drops out of the truck and approaches Rinaldo. I can’t hear their words, but their posture is friendly enough. They speak for a few minutes until Becca brings over her tablet and starts going over the details of the shipment. Everyone’s nodding, so the shipment must be in order. So far, so good. I check the perimeter again and then out along the line of trees near the preserve. A slight breeze has picked up, and the dense, rustling leaves make it difficult to spot any human movement. I adjust the scope, watch carefully, but see nothing. I swivel the rifle around and look out toward the cemetery. It’s just across a small river from our location, and I see a couple of recreational boats out on the water. I have to wonder who in their right

mind is out on a boat this time of year and narrow my scope in on the people. They’re all just sitting there, looking around. Not drinking a beer, not fishing, and not talking as far as I can tell. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Paulie, send a couple guys east to the tree line and the river. There’s something going on over there.” “Got it.” The radio clicks off, and I watch Paulie direct some of the crew in the direction I indicated. They move at a good pace, guns drawn. I watch them approach the river just as one of the boats hits land. I’m not at all surprised when shots ring out. I focus and aim. There are four of them in the first boat and five in the second, which has yet to reach the shore. My first shot is at the guy in the back of the second boat—the one with his hand on the outboard motor’s tiller. He falls backwards into the water as the others duck below the boat’s side. Everyone else is hidden by the trees, and I’m having trouble getting a lock on any of them. One of Rinaldo’s people goes down, and I try to aim at the one who took him out. It takes two shots, but he drops as well. There’s yelling coming from behind me, where Rinaldo and the trucks are, but I don’t have time to turn and look. Another shot, another body. They’re getting closer, and Rinaldo’s last man on that side drops to the ground, screaming. I can’t get another shot off until after someone comes up close and pops him in the head. They’re now racing through the trees, and I can’t aim properly with them moving so fast. I take a couple of shots, but they don’t find their marks. I’ve only managed to take out four of the nine so far, and there is currently no one else between them and Rinaldo. “Get your asses over there!” I yell into the radio. Automatic rifle fire erupts behind me. I look away from the scope long enough to see everyone scrambling behind the trucks. From the back side of the building, three SUVs have pulled around. I quickly change my angle and start shooting at the vehicles. I take out the driver of one car, and it skids before sliding into a parked truck. The other two keep coming. “Rinaldo’s hit!” I have no idea whose voice comes through the radio. As soon as I hear the words, I desert both my post and my Barrett. I only climb half way down the ladder before dropping to the ground, handgun out and heading toward the trucks. A group of men jump out of the SUV closest to me. I raise my gun and fire four times. Four bodies drop to the ground. The driver tries to turn the vehicle around, but I get him through the window, and the SUV rolls until it hits one of the guys on the ground. Paulie and Beni are firing rapidly as one of Rinaldo’s other guards drops to the ground, blood

seeping from his chest. From the side of the lot nearest the river, shots are still being fired as well. I ignore them all and race to Rinaldo’s side. The asphalt digs into my knees when I drop down next to him. There’s blood on the ground nearby, but I can’t tell for sure where it’s coming from. Rinaldo’s face is pale, and his eyes are blank, but I can see his chest rising and falling. “Rinaldo!” He blinks and looks at me. “I…I think I’m all right.” I grasp his arm and roll him slightly. Blood is pooling near his hip, and I can see a gash in his pants where the bullet tore through, but as I tear more of the fabric away, I can see the wound is serious. It’s near the artery, and he’s losing blood fast. “Your leg’s hit,” I inform him, trying to keep my voice calm as I tear off my belt and wrap it around the top of his leg as a tourniquet. “Any pain anywhere else?” “My gut.” With the bleeding in his leg slowing, I unzip his coat and look him over carefully. Two bullets are buried in the material of his Kevlar vest, but there’s no blood around his torso. A few more shots ring in my ears. Paulie is beside me a moment later. “That’s the lot of them.” “Don’t guess,” I say without looking up. “Sweep around the outside of the area. Don’t go alone. Everyone in at least pairs. Becca!” “I’m here!” “Get whoever isn’t hit to load that truck. Get it out of here, and make sure you aren’t followed. Take a long route, and stick to the speed limit.” “Got it!” “Where’s Jonathan?” “He got called away,” Beni informs me. “You hit?” I ask. “No.” “Help me move him. We need to get him to that hospital.” “We don’t have anyone on the payroll there.” “It doesn’t fucking matter!” My hands are starting to shake from the adrenaline rush, and I’m having trouble controlling my voice. “He’s losing blood, and there’s no time. Paulie! Call Franklyn and have him meet us there.”

Paulie pulls out his phone, and Beni helps me move Rinaldo into the back of his car. “How are you doing, boss?” I ask as I settle his head on my balled-up jacket. “I’m fine!” He’s breathing too heavily to be convincing, but I let it go. “What about the guns?” “Becca’s getting the truck out of here now,” I tell him. “You just hang in there, you got it? We’re heading to the hospital.” “No hospital.” “Not arguing about this one, sir.” “No hospital!” He starts to cough, and I lift his head to keep him from choking. “Beni, get moving!” I yell up to the driver’s seat. “Where am I going?” He looks back nervously. “The hospital.” “But-” “Get to the fucking hospital!” I’m covered in blood, and it’s still flowing freely. I tighten the tourniquet as much as I think is safe and tell Beni to move again. Rinaldo’s glaring at me, but he can’t seem to get any words out. “Sorry, sir. No choice.” He closes his eyes and nods once before passing out. “Fucking hurry!” I yell to Beni. My heart is hammering as I check Rinaldo’s pulse. It’s there but it’s weak, and his breathing is shallow. I swallow hard as I think about the first time we met. Jonathan had brought me to Chicago for a business venture, as he called it. We met at a shooting range, and Rinaldo had been so impressed with my accuracy, he talked about it for a full hour over dinner at the nicest restaurant I’d ever seen. He’d taken me back to his office that night and offered me the job. He knew my background. He seemed to know everything about me. I didn’t know at the time Jonathan had done the research for Rinaldo, but he knew more than I expected him to know. He didn’t just know about it. He understood. It was as if he crawled inside my head and knew everything I needed to hear. He set me up in an apartment, checked up on me, and invited me to his house for dinner. He introduced me to his wife and daughter and treated me as if I were one of his own. I didn’t even care how much he was going to pay me for the job; I just wanted to do well for him. I wanted to make him proud of me. As I look to his pale face, I’m reminded of Odin and how I held him as he died from a gunshot wound he had suffered trying to protect Lia. The same tightness fills my chest and gut now, and a wave of nausea blackens my vision.

If Rinaldo dies, I’m going to lose my mind. I really can’t let that happen.

Chapter 11—Unsettling Complications Beni is talking to the police, who were called as soon as Rinaldo’s injury was determined to be a gunshot wound. I can hear him going over the details of the “accident” at a nearby shooting range, and I try to commit as much to memory as possible in case I’m questioned. I recognize one of the police officers as someone on Rinaldo’s payroll, but I can’t recall his name. Hopefully, he’ll get any investigation shut down quickly. I don’t need anything else on my mind—Rinaldo’s condition is enough. He’d lost a lot of blood. A good amount of it was soaked through my jeans. Jonathan shows up with a plastic bag from Old Navy in his hand. There are a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt inside. “I wasn’t sure about your size, brotha,” he says, “so I guessed. Figured it’s better than what ya got. I got your rifle in the back of my truck.” “Thanks.” I change in the restroom. By the time I get back to the waiting area, Gabriella Moretti is there along with Nick and Lucia. Lele is wringing her hands and wiping at her eyes as she hears what the doctor has to say. He pats her arm before walking back behind the closed doors. “Lele,” I say quietly as I take her hand. She leans close and kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t close enough to him. I didn’t see the—” “Hush, Evan.” She places her hand on my cheek. “I don’t blame you.” “The doc said he’s stable now,” Jonathan tells me. “You got him here just in time. If he’d lost any more blood…” He lets his voice trail off, but it’s enough for Lele’s face to go pale. Lucia hugs her tight as Nick stands off to the side and shuffles his feet. His brow is furrowed as he stares at the floor. It must be odd for him to be around Rinaldo’s wife, knowing his own mother was nothing more than Rinaldo’s weekend hookup. Lele never talked about Nick—never acknowledged him as family—but who could blame her for that? Lucia approaches me, takes my hand, and leads me away from the group. “What happened?” Her eyes are bloodshot, and she grasps my hand tightly. “Someone knew exactly where we were going to be and when,” I tell her. “No doubt about it.” “Someone inside?” “Has to be.” “Who?” “I don’t know yet.” I take her chin in my hand and tilt her head up to look at me. “I will find out.” Lucia nods before reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck. The warmth of her body against mine is unfamiliar, and as she presses against me, I feel my body begin to react to her closeness. I reach

up and bring her hands back to her sides. “I’m going to take care of it.” She acknowledges my promise with another nod. The emergency room doors open, and additional members of Rinaldo’s crew walk in. Becca is with them, so I presume the shipment has been delivered to our warehouse up north. I make eye contact with Paulie, who gives me a big smile as he approaches. Without a thought, I pull back and punch him in the face. The guy is as close to a solid brick as he can be, and I might have actually cracked a knuckle, but I don’t care. He flies back, but gains his balance before falling. I grab hold of his shoulders and throw him against the wall, pinning him there with all my weight and fury. “You ever flip me off again, and I’ll put your severed head on Rinaldo’s desk.” I punch his gut, just to emphasize my point. “You need to figure out just who the fuck you’re dealing with, capisce? You do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it. You don’t like what I have to say, you keep your fucking mouth shut and do it anyway.” I let him go, and he slumps down to the floor, stunned. Beni moves to help him up when I walk away. Lucia is staring at me, and Lele is pretending she didn’t see anything happen. “What was that all about?” Jonathan uses an unlit cigarette to point to Paulie. “Disrespect,” I reply dryly as Jonathan and I find some seats in the waiting room, away from the group. “Where the hell did you go, anyway?” “Wild goose chase, apparently. One of the alarms went off at the northeast warehouse, but there wasn’t any sign of anyone around. Everything that should be there is there. Probably just the cold or something. I got one of the electricians checkin’ it out. Timing sucked. With the new system, I shoulda been able to detect the approach of the vans sooner.” I don’t believe in coincidences, and this is no exception. An alarm doesn’t decide to randomly go off while we’re all engaged in a big shipment of guns. Someone triggered the alarm in order to pull Jonathan away and leave Rinaldo vulnerable, but who? “Who sent you away?” “Rinaldo told me to check it out. Not sure who told him, but he was talking to Beni and going over Becca’s lists right before then.” I should have trusted my instincts. I knew something wasn’t right, and I’d let Rinaldo ignore my warnings. I should have been more forceful about my position. Despite what Lele says, this is my fault. He relied on me to protect him, and I’d failed. The doctor comes back out and gives Lucia and Lele another update. I watch their expressions of relief and don’t need to hear the actual words of reassurance. He is out of the woods, as doctors always say. Now it will be a matter of recovery. What if he doesn’t walk again?

I’d seen plenty of leg wounds in the war. I’d also seen plenty of guys lose their limbs. Rinaldo must not be in danger of amputation, or Lele wouldn’t look so pleased with the doctor’s words, but he could still have some permanent damage. Lucia walks over to the main group, and most of them file out the door. Nick stays behind for a moment, but after he and Lucia exchange words, he storms out in a huff. I watch Lele glance at him as he leaves, then turn back to her daughter. Jonathan heads out for a smoke, and Lele comes over to where I’m sitting. “There’s no reason for you to stick around, Evan dear,” Lele says. “They say Naldo will be out of it for a while. You should go home and get some rest.” I barely keep myself from laughing. I won’t be getting any sleep tonight—that is for sure. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving until I’ve seen Rinaldo for myself. “I’m staying.” She must hear the resolve in my voice because she doesn’t press me any further. Even after I hear Lucia explain that the bullet had gone clear through, and Rinaldo was expected to make a full recovery, I refuse to budge. Sometime around two in the morning, the doctor comes out and says the family can go into Rinaldo’s room. Without batting an eye, Lele informs the doctor that I am their son, and I’m allowed back in the room along with Lele and Lucia. Though Nick had returned after his snit, he remains off to the side, staring at the ground. No one asks him to join us. Rinaldo’s hooked up to all the usual equipment, and there’s a soft beeping sound that makes me tense. His eyes are open, but they have that glazed look only morphine can give. I stand back, and Lele and Lucia fret over him. A sheet is pulled up to Rinaldo’s chest, so I can’t actually see his leg, but I can tell it’s in a normal, straight position. All the vital signs displayed on the monitor look normal, too. After Lele finally releases Rinaldo’s hand and wipes her eyes, she balks when he tells her and Lucia that he needs to speak with me. He gives her a disapproving look, and Lele sighs audibly but doesn’t protest any further. She holds Lucia’s hand as they walk out of the room. I don’t ask him how he’s feeling. “Who did this, Evan? Stark? Taylor?” “I don’t know, sir,” I say, “but I’m going to find out.” “I should have listened to you. You were saying from the beginning that the location wasn’t safe. I thought that bloodbath you orchestrated in Auburn Grisham was enough to keep anyone away.” “Could it be someone else from Seattle?” I ask. “Not from what I hear.” Rinaldo shakes his head slowly. “They’re still arguing with each other over who’s in charge now. It’s chaos.” “Maybe someone trying to prove they can lead?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Possibly.” “I’ll check on it.” “Check everything. Check everyone. The doctors want me to take it easy for a couple of days. Franklyn’s going to get me transferred to a hospital where he has more privileges.” I nod. The move to a hospital of our choice will keep him closer to business, and we have people there who can watch out for him. Franklyn has been on Rinaldo’s payroll since before I started, and he is as trustworthy as anyone right now, but I still don’t want to take any chances. “Someone needs to stay at your side.” “After I’m transferred, that shouldn’t be a problem.” “I’ll make sure Paulie sticks around here until you are. I’ll swap out with him after twelve hours if they haven’t moved you yet.” “Evan...” Rinaldo reaches out and grabs my forearm. “Yes, sir?” “You have to find Felisa for me,” Rinaldo says. “With all of this, I’m really worried now.” “Shouldn’t I focus on what happened today?” “They may be connected.” The look in his eye corresponds to a pang in my chest. I don’t regret my actions, but I don’t like seeing him like this, especially not in a hospital bed. I nod slowly. “I’ll talk to Jonathan and start right away.” “The chip coordinates are on my laptop. Start there.” “Yes, sir.” “Find Felisa and find out who is responsible for this.” “I will, sir.” “And Evan?” “Yes, sir?” “Watch Lele for me, too. She’s worried sick, and I don’t need her freaking out on me. Her usual security will be around her, but I want your eyes, too. Just check up on her until I get home. Reassure her. Protect her, too. If someone went after Felisa to get to me, Lele could be next.” “I’ll do that.” I close the door softly before turning on my heel and marching down the hall. “We have a job to do,” I say to Jonathan as soon as I walk up. “Felisa is missing, and Rinaldo

thinks whoever set us up might be involved. He said you had a tracking app or something?” “The GPS chips? Yeah.” “He said the coordinates or whatever are on his laptop.” “They’re on my phone, too.” “Of course they are.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s get going.” “Evan?” Nick walks over and licks his lips as he addresses me. “How is he doing?” “He’ll be all right. He’s worried about Felisa.” “Why?” “She’s missing,” I tell him. “Jonathan and I are going to go look for her.” “Got her chip info?” Nick asks. “Does everyone know about these chips but me?” I stare at Jonathan, but he just shrugs. I shake my head and rub at my neck. I wish Alina were here to rub it for me. Something about her touch calms me down. I wonder if she realizes that. “Let’s go,” I say to Jonathan. “Can I come with you?” Nick asks. “No one really wants me around here anyway, ya know? I’d feel like I was doing something at least, right?” I resist rolling my eyes at Nick’s way of emphasizing certain words for no apparent reason. Sometimes it amuses me, but I’m on edge now after seeing Rinaldo and contemplating the task he’s given me. “Okay by me.” Jonathan watches my eyes to see if I object, but I can’t think of any reason, so the three of us head to Jonathan’s truck. “You drive,” he says to me. “I’ll navigate.” Nick climbs into the back behind Jonathan and sits in the middle of the bench seat so he can see up front, and we are on our way. “The signal’s comin’ in pretty strong,” Jonathan says. “Maybe she’s heard about Rinaldo, and she’s on her way here.” “Could be,” I say. The tricky part about all of this is remaining collected and not doing anything suspicious. I left enough evidence with Felisa’s body to point away from me, but I can’t rely on that completely. Saying the wrong thing could tip either one of them off. Jonathan’s a smart guy and really good at putting things together. Nick may be a stoner, but he’s no idiot either. I take a couple of intentional wrong turns, but eventually, Jonathan’s tracking app takes us to the side of the road where I know we’ll eventually find Felisa’s body. Jonathan is out of the truck first, and

Nick follows quickly. I hang back a moment to light a cigarette before following them into the trees. “There’s freshly dug dirt here.” Jonathan shoves the toe of his boot into the soft ground. “That’s not good,” I reply. “Is that where the signal leads?” “Yeah,” Jonathan says, his voice grave. “Definitely not lookin’ good.” “Felisa’s in there?” Nick steps back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot and shuffling at the wet leaves. “Like, she’s definitely there?” “Won’t know until we dig.” “Fuck,” Nick mutters. “There’s a shovel in the back of the truck,” Jonathan tells him. “Go get it.” “Okay.” As Nick leaves, Jonathan turns to me. “There’s no doubt in my mind,” he says, and I nod. “Someone took her out.” “Why her?” “To get to Rinaldo,” I say simply. “He’s close to her. Was close to her.” My initial use of the present tense is intentional. “You gonna call him?” “Not yet.” I rub at my chin for a moment. “I have to see her—know for sure.” “I gotcha.” Nick comes back with the shovel, and all three of us take turns digging. I even get down on my hands and knees at one point when we’re close. The grave isn’t very deep, as far as graves go, and it doesn’t take too long before we find her. “Shit,” Nick says as the body is revealed. “Rinaldo’s going to go ballistic.” “You think he was that close to her?” I ask. “Dude, don’t you pay any attention?” Nick eyes me up and down. “He was all over her all the time.” “No shit, Evan.” Jonathan leans against the shovel and lights a smoke. “I thought you saw everything.” “Guess not.” I shrug, realizing I shouldn’t have said a word about it. Hopefully the one slip up won’t cost me too much. “Shall we get her out?” “Probably.” Jonathan tosses the shovel down, hot-boxes the cigarette, and throws it in the dirt before jumping into the hole.

He pushes some of the dirt around to get under her shoulders, and I lower myself into the hole to reach her feet. As we get her out of the loose ground, the gun falls from her body to the bottom of the hole. “Hey! Give me that.” I point at it, and Jonathan lowers the body long enough to reach for it and hand it to me. “It’s a Ruger.” “Like the missing ones?” Nick asks. “Yeah,” I say as I turn it around in my hands and rub some of the dirt away, “same type and everything.” “Damn, brotha.” Jonathan shakes his head and reaches to the dirt again. He pulls out a filthy, orange shirt. “Check this out.” “There’s blood on it,” I say. “How could Junko be so stupid?” Jonathan asks. “He’d made peace with Rinaldo, and now this?” “I don’t want to jump to conclusions.” I toss the gun out of the hole and grab for Felisa’s legs again. “Let’s get her out and see if we find anything else.” We get back to work, and soon the body, the gun, and the shirt are all stacked in the dry leaves near the hole. I sit at the edge of the makeshift grave and smoke a cigarette while Jonathan heads back to the truck with the shovel. “You got an extra?” I toss Nick the pack and the lighter. “Damn,” Nick says as he lights up. “I can’t believe it.” “It’s right in front of you,” I reply. “I know, but fuck. I still can’t believe it. Felisa was so sweet. Why would anyone do this to her? I mean, there are a lot of potential targets…” “It’s all about what kind of message you are trying to send.” “What message is this?” “Vulnerability.” “Does that mean someone else is next?” Nick’s voice is low, as if someone were around to hear it. “Not necessarily.” I stand up and brush the dirt from my jeans. “This is also sloppy work— shallow grave, leaving evidence behind—which usually means someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” He nods like he knows what I’m talking about. Really, I’m just trying to get him to think in a different direction. One thing I am not is an amateur. Jonathan returns with duct tape and a box of big trash bags, and we create a makeshift body bag.

With everything gathered up, we head back into the city with Jonathan driving. Nick keeps looking in the back of the truck and then at all the other cars around us. No one suspects there’s a body in the truck’s bed, but they will if he keeps doing that. “Will you cut that out?” I turn around and glare at Nick. “What?” “Looking so fucking suspicious. Smoke some weed or something. Relax.” “I don’t have any with me,” he says. “It’s all back at my place.” “Just drop him off,” I tell Jonathan, “before we get pulled over for his paranoia.” “Will do.” With Nick delivered to his apartment, Jonathan and I head out to the warehouse to deal with the body and evidence. I honestly don’t know what Rinaldo will want me to do with it all, and I figure it’s time to let him know what we found. I’m not going to do that over the phone though. I call Cody to have him meet us at the warehouse. When we approach the building, I’m surprised to see a gate blocking the entrance to the back lot. When I ask Jonathan about it, he tells me it’s all part of the new security system. “I can control pretty much everything from the phone,” he says. “There are still a few bugs to work out, but it’s mostly operational.” “Whose idea was this?” “Beni’s maybe? Could’ve been Becca’s. Since we store so much here, it made sense.” Jonathan taps at his phone, and the gate opens for us. “Nifty, huh?” “Nifty?” “Hey, you get nebbish; I get nifty.” “You can just have that.” We pull around, and I see all kinds of cameras and keyed entry pads that hadn’t been there before. Jonathan’s talking about how “custom” the system is, but I’m not really listening. Why would Beni want security around the warehouse? Yes, it’s used to store merchandise temporarily, but it’s back out of the way, and no one ever comes out this far unless they’re lost. Why invest in all of this hi-tech stuff? It seems like a waste of money to me, but then again, Rinaldo isn’t lacking money. Cody pulls up behind Jonathan’s truck. We explain the situation to him, and he helps us unload everything. “We can’t leave her here long,” Jonathan says. “She’s already kinda ripe, and there isn’t any refrigerated storage around here.”

“Yeah, let’s get back to the hospital and find out what Rinaldo wants us to do about it.” “Maybe call Beni and let him know?” “Fuck Beni,” I grumble. “He can find out through the grapevine.” “What do you got against him?” I sigh and lean against the passenger door of the pickup. I rub my fingers into my eyes, trying to decide just how much I want to tell Jonathan when I myself don’t know everything just yet. “There’s a rat,” I finally say. “That’s the only explanation for everything that’s going on. It’s the only way we could have been ambushed like that, and only someone on the inside would know about Felisa and Rinaldo’s connection.” “You’re on the inside,” Jonathan says with a laugh that sends a little chill through me, “and you didn’t figure it out.” “I’m a little slow on the relationship thing,” I reply. “Besides, he’s got Lele. What else could he really want?” “Felisa had great tits.” Jonathan looks off into the distance, apparently imagining them. “They’re a little muddy right now.” “True dat.” “We need to dig into our own people, Jonathan,” I say. “Someone’s not who we think they are. There might even be a connection to Landon Stark and Seattle. That footage you got from the camera on Marcello? I found one of the guys on it, and he worked for Stark.” “Oh yeah? Damn!” “His name is Joshua Taylor, and his brother Justin used to do Rinaldo’s books.” “Didn’t you off him?” “Yeah.” “Did you know then?” “No,” I say, “he was just being an asshole. Still, we have to dig deep.” “I can’t argue with ya there, brotha,” Jonathan says. “I’m gonna start looking into a couple of people who haven’t been around long.” “Look at them all.” I point my finger up to Jonathan’s face. He probably has four inches on me, but he takes a slight step back anyway. “Every single person who knew what was going down today. All of them are potentials.” “You really want me checkin’ into Beni and Lucia?” “Everyone!” “Nick?”

“I said everyone!” “Dude, they’re family.” “Families fuck each other over.” ***** “You’re sure it’s her?” Rinaldo’s already pale face goes whiter as I give him the news. “Yes, sir.” I look down at the ground and clasp my hands in front of me. “We followed the chip’s signal.” He turns his face away from me and stares at the railing of the hospital bed. I shove my hands in my pockets because I can’t seem to control the shaking. I’ve never stood in front of this man and deceived him in such a way before, and his reaction is confusing me. I expect anger—fury even. I’ve seen that plenty of times. I know what it looks like, and I know how to react to it, but that’s not what I’m getting. Rinaldo is quiet. Far too quiet. He covers his eyes with his hand, and I barely recognize his voice when he speaks. “One of our missing Rugers was with her?” “It’s a Ruger,” I tell him. “I can’t say for sure if it’s one of the missing ones. Serial number’s been filed off.” “Did you find anything else?” “There was an orange T-shirt there as well, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.” Rinaldo nods with his hand still covering his eyes. Again, his reaction isn’t what I expect. I’m waiting for him to give the order to start taking out the gangs, but he doesn’t. He just sits there. “Sir?” “It’s all my fault, Evan. I never should have let Lele bring her here. I never should have gotten so close. Someone figured it out, and I didn’t think about what kind of danger I was putting her in. I didn’t protect her. It’s all my fault.” I swallow past my tightening throat. I have no idea what I should say. I knew he would be upset when he found out, but I hadn’t expected this. “She should have had her own security,” he says. “Jesus, Evan, I fucked up. I fucked up, and now she’s…she’s…” He can’t continue, and I still have no words. I did it to protect him, not to hurt him. I didn’t realize he’d be hurt. Maybe I fucked up. “I need you to do something for me, Evan.” “Of course, sir. Anything.” I let out the breath I had been holding. All right. Back on track now. Send me to take revenge.

“Get the bank account information that’s in her name. Withdraw all of it. There’s a safe-deposit box as well—get the contents. Once you have it all, bring it back to me.” “All right,” I say. “Can I ask why?” “Felisa has a daughter,” he says quietly. “I need to make sure it all goes to her.” A daughter? Who is the father? Rinaldo? I don’t ask. I don’t think I want to know. While Jonathan begins his research on the close members of the group, I drive up to Rinaldo’s office to do a bit of my own. All the little, niggling feelings that had been in the back of my head during official meetings were in the forefront of my mind now. I should have trusted my instincts before. If I had, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Ralph has decided to go along for the ride. He follows me up the stairs to Rinaldo’s office and watches as I start looking through his desk. I’m not completely sure what I’m trying to find, but I feel there has to be something to give me some insight. “How did they get Capone?” I glance up, recognizing the voice but not being able to place it right away. There is no one there but Ralph, and I realize that the voice is technically my own. I just don’t really remember saying the words. “Tax fraud. The bookkeeper.” Ralph nods slowly as his mouth turns up in a half-smile. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?” Ralph just shrugs. I don’t have Jonathan’s laptop to access all the files, so I head over to the main filing cabinet to see what I can find there. Everything inside of it is related to the legitimate businesses, which isn’t a surprise. It’s not like you keep detailed records labeled “meth sales” out in the open. I pull out some files on the uniform business, but it’s not very helpful. I do find a passcode to a digital file though and take it over to Rinaldo’s desk and boot up his computer. The file is easy enough to locate, and I wonder if Jonathan knows how unprotected some of the stuff on here is. I make a mental note to have him tighten the security. From the computer file, I can at least figure out that the caviar sales are partially driven through uniforms. That leads me to the rest of the caviar sales and the used car lots. One of the lots catches my eye—it’s the same one where I bought the Camaro. Caviar sales are tied to all the import cars, ironically enough. The domestics seem to be wrapped around meth distribution. On a whim, I check the sale of my own car. I knew what I actually paid the guy and see the discrepancy between what’s been recorded. I expect that—it’s how money is laundered in the first place. I make note of the exact difference before I dig deeper. The ledger containing the meth distribution doesn’t match. It’s only two hundred off, and someone might have excused it as a typo, but it’s enough to make me keep looking.

“Who do you trust?” I glare at Ralph, who is now lounging on the couch against the wall. “No one,” I reply. “They’re family.” Ralph’s mouth moves, but it’s Jonathan’s voice I hear this time. I grab my phone and pull up his contact info. “Hey, brotha,” he replies after the first ring. “You checking for offshore accounts?” “It’s part of the plan, yeah.” “I’m looking for small increments,” I tell him. “A couple of hundred here and there.” “Someone skimming?” “More than one,” I say, thinking of Rinaldo’s little fund for Felisa. “Make sure you look for multiple accounts.” “I’m on it.” I hang up and sit back in the chair. I don’t care who it is. If I find anyone who has cheated Rinaldo, ultimately leading to him being shot, they’re going to die. I feel like I owe it to him now. I lean back and close my eyes as I try to concentrate and put everything together. Beni’s working with Taylor in some capacity; I’m sure of that. Chances are, he’s the one taking a slice of the pie, but what’s his endgame? He’s connected to the family back in Sicily, and though greed always plays a part in such things, it has to be more than that. Power. Rinaldo’s reaching retirement. Lucia is the only logical family heir, but there’s no way Rinaldo will leave it all up to her. Beni’s interest in Lucia is apparent, and I’ve assumed they’ve been sleeping together, but is she involved, too? Does she know what Beni is doing? It’s difficult for me to imagine Lucia as a rat. It’s not just a matter of family ties and loyalty—she loves her father. She wouldn’t be involved in something that would jeopardize his life. Beni could be using her though. He could be planning to marry her and take over from that angle, but if so, he wouldn’t be stealing from what he believes will be his. There’s more to it. Seattle is without organization and leadership. It’s a good time to attempt a takeover. If he had the funds to orchestrate that, and also maintain power in Chicago, he’d end up the most powerful man in the country. With numbers and suspicions going through my head, I drive out onto the highway. Picking up

Alina is more habit than intentional thought. Of course, I can’t find her anywhere. I have to drive around for an hour looking for her, but about the time I’m thinking about giving up, I come around the block and see her. She’s right there on her corner when I pull up. She approaches the car and gets in. “Hello, Evan.” I glance at her and nod. She stares at me from the passenger’s seat with a wary look, her head tilted a little to the right. I realize I need to add one more person to my list of possibilities. I don’t like the idea, but considering how I had been blindsided by the last hooker who had consistently shared my bed, I can’t discount Alina. She hasn’t mentioned me talking in my sleep, but it’s possible. I don’t say anything as I drive off, heading straight for my apartment. When I park in the garage, she’s still looking at me in the same way. “What?” “You’re distracted,” Alina says. “I mean, more so than usual.” “It’s been a long couple of days.” She continues to look at me. Could she be probing me to see how much I realize? If she’s involved, she already knows Rinaldo’s been injured. I look her over, memorizing the position of her hands on her lap, the tilt of her head, and the dilation of her pupils. “My boss is in the hospital,” I tell her. “Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. Is he sick?” Her fingers don’t tense on her thighs, and she slides her head to tilt it in the opposite direction. There’s a slight crinkling around her eyes, and I conclude that her concern is genuine. She has no idea what’s happened to him. I loosen my hands from the steering wheel, realizing I had been gripping it tightly as I observed her. I take a breath and center. I’m relieved she doesn’t know, but I can’t allow myself to consider her completely innocent. That would be unwise. “He was hurt,” I tell her. “I’ve been at the hospital with him for a couple of days.” “Will he be all right?” “Should be.” I step out of the car and come around to her side to help her out. Once we’re in my apartment, I head to the kitchen and grab myself a beer. “Want one?” I ask. “I’m not much of a beer drinker,” Alina says. “Other than beer, I’ve got water and whiskey.” “You are quite the bachelor,” she says with a smile. “Water would be fine. I need to get going on

that grocery list for you.” I smirk at her as I retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge and a pen and paper from the kitchen drawer. “Have at it,” I say as I push the paper toward her. She laughs and picks up the pen as I twist the cap off the water bottle. “Want a glass?” “The bottle works for me.” We take our drinks and sit on the couch. Alina jots down a few grocery items, and I lean over to see what she’s written. Nothing surprises me—it’s all the basics if you happen to cook at home much, which I don’t. The last item she puts on the list is massage oil. “Really?” I ask. “You might enjoy it,” Alina says with a shrug. “I’m pretty good, you know.” “I bet you are.” I’m tempted to turn on the television, but I don’t. The last time it was on, I ended up losing my shit. Instead, we sit close together, and Alina curls up beside me with one arm around my stomach. I put my arm around her shoulders and lean back against the cushions. “You must be sleeping better.” I consider her remark and wonder how she came to that conclusion. “Not really.” “You don’t seem ready to fall right into bed,” Alina says. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” “Your boss must be very important to you.” She slides her hand up to my shoulder and around my neck, and I feel light pressure on the tendons back there. She rotates her fingertips slightly, and I stretch my neck against the motion. “You’re worried.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. Answering feels like admitting something I’m not prepared to discuss when I’m really considering how much I trust the woman sitting beside me. I’m not even sure why I picked her up. I’m not in the mood for sex, and my mind is racing through too many possibilities to be able to sleep whether she’s here or not. Who is she, anyway? What led her to turn tricks for a living? “I don’t really know much about you,” I say. “You’ve never asked much.” “I suppose that’s true,” I admit, “though you’ve never asked me anything about myself either.” “It’s not usually something I’d do,” Alina says. “Most clients want to keep things rather impersonal, protect their true identities and such.” “Can’t let you know about their real lives, hmm?”

“Something like that.” Alina runs her hand down my arm, pressing slightly against the inside of my elbow before moving to my wrist and rubbing against the inside of it. “Some people who use our services are pretty recognizable—politicians or celebrities. Those kinds of people don’t want to admit that the hookers know who they are, so we don’t say anything.” “Yeah, that’s me,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m a senator in real life, you know.” Alina cracks a smile and shakes her head a little. She reaches up and runs her finger down the bridge of my nose. “I know exactly who you are, Evan Arden.” I really don’t like the sound of that.

Chapter 12—Troubling Knowledge A chill runs through me. It’s like finding out about Bridgett giving information to my nemesis all over again. Turning toward her, I take her chin in my hand and bring her face closer to mine. “What precisely do you think you know about me?” My voice is strained, and I’m quite aware of how easily I could snap her neck as she sits beside me. Alina looks at me, her face going pale. She knows how easily I can kill her; it’s reflected in her eyes. She wets her lips with her tongue as I wait impatiently for an answer. “You’re…you’re Evan Arden, Rinaldo Moretti’s right-hand man.” “And?” “You’re his cleaner.” I narrow my eyes at her. “His…his hit man,” she whispers. I’m not surprised that she knows this much, but I’m a little shocked she came right out and said it. Knowing about it is one thing. I rely on my reputation to keep Rinaldo’s enemies at bay. Admitting you know—actually coming out and saying it—isn’t something people usually do. I tighten my fingers on her jaw. “Is that what you think?” She’s starting to shake, and there are tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I slide my thumb a little ways down, up against her throat. I can feel her swallow. “It’s just what…what I heard.” “People ask you about me? You tell them shit?” She swallows again and grips my forearm with her fingers. The panic in her eyes is reflected in her voice. “I haven’t talked to anyone, Evan—I swear I haven’t. Not even to Loretta, and she’s my best friend and always asking about you.” “What does she ask?” “I don’t say anything.” “That wasn’t my question.” “She asks why I put up with you. She doesn’t think I should keep coming here.” This is not news to me. Loretta has made it pretty clear how she feels about me, and I don’t really care. What kind of response is given—that I care about. I take a deep breath. “What do you say to her?”

“Mostly to mind her own business. She should worry about her own clients, not mine.” I stare at her intently, and I see no lie reflected in her face or posture. Despite how little I know about Loretta, I still find it easy to imagine such an exchange. I loosen my grip on Alina’s face, run my thumb across her lips, and lean in to kiss her lightly. “You don’t talk about me to anyone. You don’t talk about my business to anyone. Are we completely clear on that point?” Alina nods quickly and reaches around to rub my neck. I can feel the pads of her fingers pressing against the tendons. “I never have, Evan, and I never will. You can trust me.” The comment brings a slight smile to my face. Trust her? No, probably not. It’s a nice idea, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever add anyone to my list of trustworthy people. I’ll just get burned. I run my thumb over the top of her cheek, finding a single tear there. “I’m not trying to scare you.” I’m not sure where the words come from. I stare up at her face, barely able to focus as exhaustion catches up with me. “But you have to understand there are lines that can’t be crossed.” “I understand, Evan. Really, I do.” I watch her eyes carefully, and I believe her. Alina leans in and presses her lips to mine. With the conversation over, I pull her against me and kiss her back, running my tongue along hers and listening to her hum against my mouth. Leaning backward on the couch, I pull her on top of me. “Ride me.” Alina places one knee on either side of my hips and looks into my eyes as she pulls her blouse over her head. She lays it on the back of the couch, gathers her hair up in her hands, and then stretches her arms over her head, allowing her hair to fall around her shoulders. I reach up and slip my finger into one strap at her shoulder and then slide it down, revealing the top of her breast. I run my finger along the top of the swell, then between her tits, and then back up the other side. I push the other strap out of the way, and Alina reaches behind her back to undo the clasp. I slide my hands down her sides, licking my lips as her breasts fall free. She raises herself up on her knees and pulls my shirt over my head. Running my hands up her thighs, I push her skirt up to her waist and slip my finger inside her panties. Alina places her hands on my bare chest and rocks against my fingers as I slide them inside of her and press my thumb on her clit. “How long are you going to tease me like that?” Alina lowers her head and looks at me with hooded eyes. “You like getting finger-fucked.”

“Mmm…and how do you know that?” “Watching your face when my fingers are in you and listening for that little sound you make.” “Then make me come.” She moans as she grinds herself into my hand. I chuckle slightly, withdraw my fingers, and reach around to grip her firm ass. “You like getting finger-fucked, but I like feeling you come on my cock.” Alina sits back and turns toward her purse next to the couch. She grabs a condom out of it and then reaches for my belt. She releases the buckle and the buttons of my jeans, and quickly reaches down to retrieve my dick as I pull her panties off of her. Without wasting any time, she rolls the condom over me and positions the head of my cock at her opening. She drops down, and I arch my neck as I’m buried inside of her. “Oh, yeah…” I let her set the pace as I grip her backside with one hand and reach up to stroke her tits with the other. She starts off slow, but it doesn’t take long for her to pick up speed. I reach up and grab the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to mine. Her body grips my cock as my tongue explores her mouth. Still gripping her ass with one hand, I pull her hard against me, burying myself deeply inside of her. She cries out against my lips and pulls back, her eyes still closed. Alina drops one hand to the couch to hold herself up, and grips my shoulder with the other. She moves quickly, and I can barely keep up as she grinds herself against me, her hot breath coating my neck. She presses her forehead to my chest and cries out incoherently. I arch my back, shoving my cock deep inside her. I can’t hold back anymore. “Ah…fuck!” I call out as I release. My hips drop back to the couch, and Alina lies against my chest, panting. “Jesus, Evan.” “What?” “That was…that was really good.” “Just good?” I laugh. “More than good. I just can’t think of any adjectives right now!” We both laugh, and Alina stands up and gets rid of the condom, then returns to the couch and straddles me again. “That kind of makes me want to wait for you to be ready for another round,” she tells me, “but I think you need some sleep first.” I can’t argue with her though round two sounds pretty good to me as well. Alina climbs off of me and reaches for my hand. I allow her to lead me to the bedroom where we both recline against the pillows. I wait for her to get comfortable and then wrap my arms around her

waist, pulling her against my chest. The stress from the day and the orgasm have made me sleepy, but I can’t seem to doze off even with the scent of lavender around me. I keep seeing Rinaldo’s face when I told him about Felisa. Every time I think of his reaction, my chest feels tight. Alina’s fingers stroke my hair, and I turn to look at her. “You ever make a mistake?” I ask. “Yes.” Alina laughs quietly. “Plenty of them. Doesn’t everyone?” The question is rhetorical, and I don’t bother to answer her. Yes, everyone makes mistakes, but the implications are vastly different depending on the circumstances. Pulling out of a parking spot and bumping into another car is a mistake. Speeding the wrong way down a one-way street and killing a kid on a tricycle is a different kind of mishap. “Evan? Did you make a mistake?” I close my eyes and lick my lips. I’m not sure I have an answer even if I cared to give her one. Was killing Felisa a mistake? I don’t regret it. I also don’t like seeing Rinaldo in such a state. “What mistakes have you made?” I’m deflecting, and she knows it. I don’t really care about a hooker’s past. “Dropping out of school,” Alina says. “I wish I hadn’t done that.” “Why did you?” “Young and stupid.” She shrugs one shoulder and raises her hand to rub the back of my head. “At the time, it seemed the only option.” “Did you have to work? Family to support?” “Not exactly,” she says. “I mean, I had to support myself but no one else. I ran away from home.” “How old were you?” “Fourteen.” I watch her closely as I process the information. Fourteen is young—very young. No one gets a normal job at fourteen, and no one leaves home at fourteen without a damn good reason. “Is that when you started turning tricks? Just trying to get by on the street?” She looks away from me again, and her throat bobs as she swallows. Her eyes tighten in the corners and glisten a little as I feel her muscles tense. She was a hooker before she left home. It happens. I know it happens because I’ve seen it plenty of times. It’s usually some asshole junkie who will do anything for a fix and a doubly asshole pimp who likes fresh, young pussy. They’ll find some teen girl and coax her onto the street with all kinds of promises, and they next thing she knows, she’s turning tricks and handing over all the money.

“Who?” She’s still incredibly tense, but my curiosity has been piqued and I have to ask. “Does it matter?” Her answer and the lack of information it provides tells me more than I probably want to know. There is a specific person who pulled her into this life—someone significant. “Maybe.” She glances at me but doesn’t answer. After a minute, she looks away again. I run my hand gently up her arm and to her shoulder. When she still doesn’t look at me, I take her chin with my fingers and turn her to face me. “Who?” I ask again. “My father.” I flinch slightly. The information shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. I’ve never been a parent—I’ve never even had a real parental bond as a child—and I don’t know what the relationship is like. I’ve seen it though. Even Rinaldo wouldn’t compromise his bastard son in such a way. “Why?” I ask through clenched teeth. I can make guesses, but that’s all they would be. “He was a compulsive gambler and owed someone a lot of money. He figured out he could use me to get it.” “Where was your mom?” “She left when I was seven,” Alina says. “She was drunk or strung out most of the time. She and my dad would yell and scream a lot. One day, she just wasn’t around anymore. I don’t really remember much about her.” “You never saw her again?” Alina shakes her head. I consider this information. She had a junkie mother and a father with major gambling issues. I have a pretty good idea that mom didn’t just leave of her own free will. She’s definitely dead, either of an overdose or possibly by Alina’s father’s hands. Without a protective, caring mother around, there’s no telling what would have come next. My imagination takes over, and I picture her as a young girl in such a situation. What did the guy do? Put her in the middle of the table along with the cash? Bet her pussy on a pair of kings? Fuck her himself? I swallow hard and notice that my hands are starting to shake a little. I ball them into fists to stop the quivering, but my jaw is still tight, and my skin feels hot. I’m going to kill that fucker. I’ll kill him slowly. I’ll make sure he gets a taste of what he’d dished out first. I know a lot of guys who would be happy to take turns on some rapist father’s asshole while I cut off his fingers knuckle by knuckle. He is going to hurt. A lot. “What’s his name?” I can barely get the words out.

She stares at me with wide eyes as she tightens her fingers around my hand. “No,” she says, shaking her head, “I’m not telling you.” “Why not?” “Because…” She doesn’t continue and refuses to look at me again. “Tell me.” I open my fingers and wrap them around her wrist. “Give me his name.” “I know what you’re thinking.” Alina shakes her head. “No, Evan, please.” I breathe heavily as I stare at her. Of course she knows what I want to do; it’s quite clear. The asshole needs to die. He deserves it more than most of the people I kill, and I’m not about to just let it drop. I’m about to demand that she answer me when I realize I don’t need her to tell me; I have Jonathan to find out everything I need to know. I nod at her and look down, hiding my resolve to take care of this guy without her knowledge. “Evan, please,” she says again. Apparently, she’s not convinced that I will let this drop, and she’s right. “It’s all behind me now, and I want it left that way.” “Is it?” I look her up and down and release her wrist. “You seem to still be fucking for someone else’s money.” “I’ve got a good pimp now. He takes care of us.” “I bet he does.” I can’t contain the sarcasm. I’ve known too many pimps too well. “He really does.” She slides her fingers up my arm, pressing her thumb into the crook of my elbow for a moment. “He doesn’t keep us strung out, gives us a fair percentage, and watches over us.” “If he watched over you, you wouldn’t be here with me.” “Yes, I would,” she says quietly. “Really? Why?” “Because someone has to be.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “It’s not like we don’t know who you are,” she says quietly. “We?” “All the hookers. I know. I’m not supposed to talk about it, but there isn’t a single person on the street who doesn’t know your name. I understand why it has to be that way for you—at least, I do now— but you have to realize we know who you are. We know your history.” “What history?” I’m genuinely confused. She obviously isn’t talking about my work for Rinaldo. She licks her lips nervously. There is more to her nervousness than just bringing up my occupation. This is something closer, something more personal. Oh, shit. Of course. She knows what happened to my last regular hooker.

“Go ahead. Say it.” “We know about that girl—the hooker you used to bring home with you.” “What exactly do you think you know?” “I know she never came back. I know you went on a shooting spree and ended up in jail right after she disappeared. I know you aren’t with her now.” My heart is pounding though I’m not sure why. Memories flash through my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut as if it will help remove the images: Bridgett in front of me, screaming and crying; me yelling at her; the sense of betrayal deep inside of me that couldn’t be controlled. I breathe deeply, in and out, several times before I open my eyes again. “My advice to you,” I say slowly, “is to never betray me.” “I wouldn’t, Evan.” Alina places her palm against my chest. “You don’t even have to ask.” As I look at her, her eyes are clear and bright. There’s still a hint of a tear at the corner, but I can’t begrudge her that. She knows what I’ve done before, and she knows I’d do it again. Still, there’s no fear in her eyes, and I believe her. “Why wouldn’t you?” I ask. “Why haven’t you talked to Loretta about me?” She runs her hand up to my shoulder, squeezes it lightly and then runs it to my neck. She doesn’t meet my eyes, but I can tell she’s trying to find her words. “I probably know more than you realize,” she finally says. “What do you know?” “You said you were a Marine, but there’s more to it than that. Something happened to you over there.” “Did I say something while I was asleep?” “A few times, yes.” “What did I say?” “You say the name ‘Lia’ a lot,” Alina says softly. As she speaks, she curls her fingers around the back of my neck. “Sometimes, it sounds like you’re begging someone not to put you back. You say the words ‘sand’ and ‘hole’ all the time. Once, you just kept repeating your name and a number over and over again. Sometimes you just scream.” It all makes sense. I knew the nightmares sometimes made me scream because I’d wake up hoarse. I’d been told by both Bridgett and Lia that I talked in my sleep. I didn’t remember them saying I gave so much detail though. “Evan, were you captured?” “Yeah.” I barely utter the single word. Alina rubs my neck again and then runs her hand up and down my arm.

“I’m not going to ask you about it,” she says. “You aren’t?” “No.” She shakes her head and gives me a half-smile. “I have the feeling you’ve been asked about it enough. If you had wanted to talk about it, you would have.” Tightening my hold on her, I bury my face against her lavender-scented skin. This is why I wanted her here and not some other hooker. She doesn’t push. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Her hand returns to the back of my head, and I feel her lips press against my hair. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and I don’t need to know more about it. I just want to help you forget it for a while.” Forgetting. Forgetting is good. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s good. Unfortunately, trying to forget never really works. Even as I hold on to her, flashes in my mind bring it all back. There’s pain. There’s loneliness. There’s blood. The thought of blood brings my thoughts to the recent past—the killings at Marcello’s hangout and Felisa’s body as it falls into the hole. A hole. I put her in a hole. I never do that—not to anyone. But I had. ***** It’s cold and dark. There should be a fire burning in the fireplace, but there isn’t. Did I forget to stoke it before we went to bed? There’s a hand on my cheek, but it slides away. The bed beside me grows cold. “Lia?” I can barely see her outline at the door. She has a bag in her hand. “I can’t do it anymore, Evan. I just can’t.” “I was going to be better.” I make the promise to her, but she walks out the door. I follow, but she’s already on the front porch. Running, I trip in the doorway and fall into a hole. I shake my head to clear it and try to wipe dirt off my face, but my hands are bound. “Is someone there? Anyone?” I’m panting, sweating. My stomach aches from being bent over for so long, and my eyes burn when I try to open them. How long has it been? How many days? I can’t count them anymore. “Someone? Please, someone answer me!” “Please…please…. I don’t want to be alone anymore! Please, don’t leave me alone! “I’m right here.” The voice is soft and soothing, but it’s not enough. I grip at the body beside me, pulling it closer until I can smell the scent of her skin.

“Don’t leave me!” “I’m not leaving, Evan. I promise. I’m right here.” “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” I can’t control the tears. When I try to speak, I can only choke out words. “Don’t want to be alone…please…don’t leave me alone.” “Shh…I’ve got you, Evan.” “Stay with me!” “I will.” I tighten my hold on her, bury my face against her chest, and fall into the blackness. ***** I’m not at all rested when I wake. It’s still dark though probably early morning. My head is pounding. I can’t remember the nightmare, but I know I woke more than once. Alina is there beside me with one arm wrapped around my shoulder and the other across my chest. I push away from her and sit up on the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees. She sits up beside me but doesn’t speak. She just sits there and waits to see what I’m going to do. I have no idea. Everything that has happened in the past week comes crashing down around me: finding out about Rinaldo and Felisa; Lele’s face when she asked me where he was; taking Felisa to the woods and putting a bullet in her head; dragging Felisa’s corpse back out while trying to look like I’m surprised; Rinaldo in the hospital—it’s too much. It’s all too much. Bridgett betrayed me. Odin’s dead. Lia left me. Rinaldo’s all I have left, and I betrayed him. He’s the one I care about the most, and I killed a woman he loved. I’d put her in a fucking hole. I wanted to protect him, but I’d hurt him instead. No wonder Lia deserted me. Maybe if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have fucked up so badly. “I was going to fix it,” I whisper through my hands. “I swear, I was going to fix it all.” “Fix what, Evan?” “It wasn’t going to be like that anymore. I was going to stop. I was going to stay with her. It’s what I wanted, but I just…I just can’t stop it.” Alina wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me to her. I don’t resist. I want the closeness—I need it. “Isn’t that how you got to this point in the first place?” It’s not Alina’s voice this time. If I open my eyes, I’ll see Ralph, so I keep them closed. However, his point is too accurate to ignore. Yes, I wanted to fix it at the time. I’d also made those promises to her before—time and time again. I always

broke them. I’d betrayed Lia, too. But she was supposed to be there for me. She was supposed to be the one who would keep me sane. I needed her, and she left me. She wrote a fucking note and left me. For all she knows, I’m dead. “Why’d she do it? Why?” I link my fingers in Alina’s hair around the back of her head and hold her tightly. “Don’t ever betray me. Please, please don’t betray me.” “I won’t, Evan.” “If you did…I don’t know what I’d do.” “I know.” Her voice is a whisper against my ear. “I’m here, Evan. I’m here for you.” Alina’s here for me. Alina can keep me sane. There’s a brief moment when I relax, but it doesn’t last. Yes, Alina is here for me now. Where was she last night? The night before? Who was she comforting then? “You’re not.” I want to push her away, but my arms don’t seem to be cooperating with my commands. Instead, I grip her tighter. “You’re here for whoever wants a piece of your ass. I’m just another john on your list.” “You aren’t just another john, Evan. You’re a…a very special john.” “That sounds so much better.” My words are biting, and I don’t care. She cups my cheek with her hand and turns my head to look at her. “I know you need me,” she says bluntly. “I’m here for you.” I really don’t know if I can believe her or not.

Chapter 13—Broken Security “Would you stop messing with me, woman!” “I’m not messing!” Lele places her hand on Rinaldo’s back and pushes him forward to fluff up his pillow. He flings his arms around ineffectively, and Lele swats at his hand. “Now you listen to me, Rinaldo Leonardo Moretti! If you want to go home tomorrow to finish recovering, you are going to have to listen to me! Now drink your juice!” She shoves a little plastic cup with a straw at his face until he relents and takes a sip. “I’m not a child!” he whines. “Stop treating me like one!” I stand in the doorway with a smirk on my face, observing. It’s rare to see Lele all up in Rinaldo’s face and even rarer to watch him take it. I’m not about to announce my presence and have it end too soon. “You don’t want to be treated like a child, but you expect me to put up with your nonsense when you’re acting like one!” Lele tsks as she shakes her head. Her voice softens. “It’s this hospital food. It makes you Mr. Grumpy.” “I’m addicted to your cooking,” Rinaldo says as he smiles up at her. “Anything else makes me grumpy.” Lele leans down and kisses his lips lightly. When she breaks away, they touch foreheads and look into each other’s eyes for a full minute, then kiss again. Feeling suddenly voyeuristic, I clear my throat, and they part quickly. “Evan!” Lele calls out as she walks over to hug me and kiss my cheeks. “Maybe you can do something to get him to eat his lunch.” I take a closer look at the food on the tray, mostly untouched, and glance at Rinaldo with a raised brow. There’s nothing on the tray I find appealing, and he obviously agrees. “Gabrielle, my love,” Rinaldo says, “I do need to speak with Evan.” “Not until you at least eat this.” She holds up a little plastic cup of applesauce, and he grimaces. “Later, I promise. Now out with you.” “Let the men talk business,” Lele mutters. “Don’t think I won’t check the trash when I come back!” He chuckles as she leaves, and I can’t help but smile as well. It’s good to see him smiling. Maybe I didn’t screw up as badly as I thought. As soon as Lele is gone, I realize how wrong I am. “I didn’t tell her,” Rinaldo says immediately. “I don’t know what to say.” I’m confused. I don’t understand his hesitation. “Why?” I ask.

“We had this all figured out,” Rinaldo says as he rubs his eyes. “Now I don’t know what to do.” “We?” “Lele and I.” Nothing he says is making sense to me, and I tell him this. Rinaldo shakes his head and tries to straighten up in bed, but it’s difficult for him. I help him get the pillow arranged so he can get comfortable. “You can’t repeat this, Evan.” “Of course not, sir.” I’m more confused now than ever. “Felisa was Lele’s niece,” he says with a long sigh. “They weren’t so far apart in age and were very close when they were growing up. More like sisters.” Shit. I knew I had killed a relative of Lele’s, but someone she considered a sister? “I didn’t realize.” Lele had given me some information on Felisa, but Rinaldo obviously didn’t realize that. “No one did.” “But why keep that a secret?” I ask. “Who cares how they’re related?” “It’s not their relation that’s the concern.” “What is?” “I told you that Felisa had a daughter.” Rinaldo takes his hand away from his face and stares at me. I nod, and he continues. “The girl was legally adopted by Felisa, but her biological mother is…is Lele.” I pause and think, trying to put everything together, but I’m missing something. Lele had a second child? When? “How old is she?” “Seven. Lele had her the year before you came on board. I sent her to Italy so no one would notice her condition.” I feel all the organs inside my body drop, and I freeze, staring at Rinaldo. “She cheated on me,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t deserve it or anything, but she screwed up and got pregnant. I’d been away at the time of conception. I knew after the first doctor’s visit that it wasn’t mine. We talked about raising it together, but I just couldn’t, Evan. I couldn’t raise a kid that belonged to a man who happened to fuck my wife while I was away on business. It’s no different than Nick, really. Lele can’t even stand to have Nick in our house. If nothing else, I’d lose respect.” He’s correct there. As sexist as it is, Rinaldo having an illegitimate child is one thing, but his wife? That is a whole other matter.

“Lele wanted Felisa to raise the girl,” Rinaldo says. “That’s why I have been sending money to her off-shore accounts. It’s for Margot, Lele’s daughter. Now I have no idea what to tell Lele.” “Where’s the girl now?” “In New York with Felisa’s parents, Lele’s brother and sister-in-law.” “Will they raise her?” “No. They made it very clear the arrangement was to be temporary. Felisa goes there on the weekends, but she’s been working on getting Margot enrolled in school here. Lele can’t stand her brother, and I don’t think she’d let him raise the girl anyway. Felisa was the only option.” Something still doesn’t make sense. “But sir, you were with Felisa.” “I was.” He nods and looks down. “I didn’t plan for that to happen. Having her show up here in Chicago reminded me of Lele’s affair. I think it started as a revenge fuck, but it turned into something else. I got a little carried away, and she paid for it.” Rinaldo looks at me, and I feel my insides seize up again when I notice the tears at the corners of his eyes. I keep waiting for his anger, but it doesn’t come. “Did you take care of everything else?” he asks quietly. “Yes.” I run my hand through my hair. I can’t quite look him in the eye. “Franklyn got her taken over to that funeral home we used for Mario. They’re all set up for the day after tomorrow. No questions. All the money that was transferred is now in the name Margot Bianchi.” “And the things you found with her?” “Nothing conclusive, but it certainly points south. No one has taken credit or contacted us about it. I don’t have anything concrete, and I want to be sure before moving forward. Jonathan is looking into a couple of things regarding the books and focusing on who ambushed us.” “Identities on any of the bodies?” “A group of merc hit men from out of state,” I tell him. “Anyone could have hired them.” “They should have hired better ones.” “They still managed to hit you, sir. If you hadn’t been wearing a vest, I’m not sure you would have made it. You were losing so much blood from your leg. Another wound would have done you in.” He nods and reaches down to rub his thigh. “Pain?” I ask. “Itchy. They still have me pumped up on meds for the pain. Franklyn has a whole pharmacy to send home with me.” “You’ll feel better once you are out of here.” “Lele’s driving me crazy enough during visiting hours,” he says with a laugh. “How will I get any

sleep at home?” “The food will be better.” I point over to the plastic cup of applesauce, which still remains untouched. “That is a good enough reason to go. My stomach can’t deal with this shit.” Rinaldo reaches over to the tray and grabs the cup of applesauce and a spoon. “I probably ought to make an effort, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” He takes a couple of bites and mumbles something about baby food. “Sir, may I ask you something?” “Of course.” “That GPS chip you told me about—who else has one?” He doesn’t look at me or answer for a while. I have a pretty good suspicion as to why. “Everyone I consider family,” Rinaldo finally says. “Lele, Lucia, Nick—even I have one.” I stare at him pointedly. “Yes, Evan, you have one, too. That’s how I knew you were still alive.” “How? It seems like I would have noticed something like that.” “Jonathan arranged it.” “Of course.” I’m not sure if I’m pleased I’m considered part of the family or ticked off over the violation of privacy. Mostly, I don’t like the idea that it was done without my knowledge. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I’m annoyed that Jonathan had access to my body while holding a needle. “When?” “While you were in the prison hospital,” he says. “After your public shooting rampage, I thought it was best to keep track of you.” “Is that supposed to make me all right with it?” “You want it gone, Evan?” Rinaldo gives me a hard look. “Do you really? Do you really want to be in a position where I have no way of finding you?” I know exactly what he is saying. As much as I don’t like the idea of someone being able to track my movements, I like the idea of being captured without anyone able to find me even less. I slowly shake my head, and the whole subject is dropped. As I’m leaving, I run into Lucia. “How is he really?” she asks. She bites at her lip, and her expression is strained. “He keeps saying he’s okay, but he looks just terrible lying there. I can’t stand it.” “He’s going to be fine, Lucia.” I reach out and touch her arm. “Just a little recovery time needed.”

She places her hand over mine and nods but doesn’t look convinced. “He will be fine,” I say with more emphasis. “I promise. He’ll be so much better when he gets home into his own bed with some real food in him. The hospital fare makes him pissy.” “I’m sure Mom will be all over that when he goes home tomorrow.” She smiles slightly. “He’s going to drive her crazy.” “I think it will be a race to see who drives who nuts first.” Lucia laughs and grips my hand a little harder. She runs her fingers over the ink on my arm and looks up at me as she smiles. “I really am glad you’re back, Evan.” She takes a small step closer to me. “He needs you, you know.” I don’t know how to react. It’s not the first time Lucia had made rather intimate contact with me. She’s never done that until recently, and I don’t know what to make of it. The way she and Beni were acting around each other a couple of weeks ago, I had been convinced they were an item, but maybe I was wrong. Is it possible she and Beni are working together? Would she try to undermine her own father for the sake of taking over the business when he’s gone? She has to know he’s never going to seriously consider her to run his empire, but Beni is on the short list. If she thinks he will come out on top, she could be using his affections to get what she wants. They could be using each other to gain control of the family business. Could she think I’m on the list as well and is hedging her bets? She had never come on to me in all the years I’d been around her family. Not that I hadn’t been tempted myself—Lucia is a beautiful girl—but I’d never make such a move without Rinaldo’s explicit permission. I place my hand over hers, smile at her, and then take a step back. “I’ve got a lot to get done today,” I tell her. “Go spend some time with him. Maybe you can get him to eat something.” “I’ll do my best!” Lucia beams at me, leans close, and kisses my cheek. I watch her walk through the door to the private room and can’t help but stare at her ass as she goes. My imagination takes over for a moment, and I see her in my bed, up on her hands and knees, calling out my name. Dismissing the thought, I turn and nearly run right into Nick as I walk out of the hospital. “Hey,” he says as he tosses a cigarette into the gutter. “What’s up, Nick?” “I was just dropping Lucia off. I don’t know how long she’ll be, though. I guess Lele ran home to get the room ready for Rinaldo’s return.”

“Nice of you to give her a ride.” Nick and Lucia have always gotten along well though they are very different. I think Lucia liked the idea of having a sibling from the beginning even though they never acknowledge their relationship. “I have to get moving. Work to do, you know.” “Mind if I go with ya?” Nick asks. “I don’t really need the help,” I tell him. “It’s just research anyway. Nothing too exciting.” “I gotta do something,” Nick says with a shrug. “I haven’t even seen my father since he was shot, you know that? And now that he’s headed back home, I won’t see him until he’s recovered. I don’t get any actual assignments, and I’m tired of just waiting for other people to tell me what’s going on.” “Fine,” I say. I really do feel bad for the guy. He’s in a shitty position, and there’s nothing he can do about it. “Let’s go.” We head out to the parking lot, and I open the door of the Camaro. “Nice ride,” Nick says with a whistle. “When did you pick this up?” “Not too long ago.” We both get in and start toward the warehouse. Nick runs his fingers over the controls on the dash, admiring everything about the car. I didn’t realize he was such a fan of old classics, but he has a lot to say about it. It makes the drive quick, and I almost forget I’m running on empty. “I need gas and smokes,” I say as I pull into a service station. “You want anything?” “I’m good.” Nick leans back in the leather seat. “Back in a minute.” I fill up the tank and then head inside. I need to take a piss, so I get the key to the bathroom from the lady at the counter and head around the side of the building. When I come out of the bathroom, I recognize the homeless guy rummaging through the dumpster nearby. “Hey, dude!” I call out. He looks up and narrows his eyes at me, immediately defensive. “You need some food?” I ask him. I don’t like the idea of him going through the fucking garbage, and there aren’t any hotels in the near vicinity. He’s thin, and he still doesn’t have any decent clothes for the weather. I get him to agree to wait for me, and I run back inside for a sandwich and coffee to bring to him. When I get back out, he’s made a bit of a nest out of all his plastic shopping bags, and he’s sitting in the middle of it. “There’s shrapnel in my leg,” he says as I approach. His eyes are dim and confused. “They couldn’t get it all out. There was a nurse there though. She was a looker, too.” He’s babbling, but I still get it all. I start to smile, but I can’t. It’s all too familiar. “I bet you were all over her.” I hand him the sandwich, and he tears into it immediately. “What hospital?”

“Some place in Virginia,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t remember the name.” “That’s where they took me. The nurses there were hot.” “You were in ‘Nam?” “No, sir,” I say, shaking my head. “Iraq and Afghanistan.” “You Army?” “Marine.” “Fuck the Marines,” he says, but he’s smiling when he says it. “You fuckers never showed up until us infantry already made it through.” I’m not about to argue with him. I knew enough Army guys back in the day to have heard it all before. All the branches poked fun at the others, but in the end, we were in it together. “How long were you MIA?” He blinks a couple of times, and his eyes glaze over a bit. I reach out and touch his arm, but he flinches away. “I was gone eighteen months,” I say. “Spent most of the time in a hole, wishing they’d taken me out along with the rest of my unit.” He focuses on me for a minute and then grabs my hand. “Two years,” he says quietly. “They had me for two years. The only guy left in my unit got cancer from that Agent Orange shit. He’s been gone a while now. They had to leave the shrapnel in my leg. Too much tissue had grown around it, they said.” “What’s your name?” I ask. “Sergeant Donald Hansen,” he says. “Lieutenant Evan Arden.” I squeeze his fingers in some semblance of a handshake. “Marine officer!” Donald says with a snort. “You took me to that hotel.” “Yes, I did.” “That was a nice place. They had really good food.” “I’m glad you liked it. Where are you staying now?” “The shelter on North Sangamon. I got a few days left.” “I’m gonna give you my phone number,” I tell him. “If they kick you out, you call me, okay?” “Okay.” He produces a pen and paper from one of his plastic bags, and I scribble my number down for him. I have no idea if he’ll use it, but I want him to have the option. “You need anything else before I go?”

“Key to the john?” He points to the one I got from the woman inside. I hadn’t returned it when I bought the sandwich. “They won’t let me have it.” “Sure.” I hand it over to him and then make my way back to the Camaro. “I thought you got lost,” Nick says as I get in. “Had to take a shit.” I don’t know why I’m reluctant to mention Donald, but I don’t tell Nick about him. Nick glances at me out of the corner of his eye. He must not believe me, because there’s something off about his look, and he’s got his hand balled up on his thigh. He’s holding it tight enough for his knuckles to go white. I don’t know what he thinks I was doing, but I decide it doesn’t matter. Let him wonder. We meet Jonathan at the warehouse and go over some of what he has found. Everything he’s telling me is superficial, and I can tell he’s holding back. Assuming it must be Nick’s presence, I give him the keys to the Camaro and send him out for pizza. He can’t resist the combination. Once Nick is out of the way, Jonathan opens up. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Nick.” “I figured as much. What did you find?” “Quite a bit.” Jonathan turns his laptop toward me and places his phone beside it. The phone is running his new security system. “I’m actually pretty pissed off. I should have noticed this before.” “What is it?” “Someone created a backdoor into the app,” he says. “That wasn’t a false alarm or some electrical trouble the other day. Someone activated the system to get me out of the way.” “It was a little too coincidental. Who could have created it?” “There are only a handful of people who ever had enough access to do something like this. Beni is one of them.” “That doesn’t surprise me. Who else?” “Nick is another. I’m not sure he knows enough about computers to do this, though.” “But Beni does?” “Just enough.” “Anyone else?” “Becca was on the system early on,” Jonathan tells me. “She had some accounting thing she wanted added to it, but it didn’t work properly and got put on the back burner. Paulie had access as well, but that dude can’t even figure out Candy Crush.” “Paulie is dumb, but he’s not a rat.” I smirk and shake my head.

“You punched him out.” “He deserved it. If he was part of some conspiracy, he wouldn’t have risked flipping me off in the first place.” “Good point.” “Beni’s at the top of the list. We need eyes on him.” “Agreed.” Jonathan nods. “Who should watch him?” “I don’t know who to trust yet,” I say. “Something is going on with him and Lucia, but if I can’t be sure about her, I can’t use her to dig into it.” “You think Lucia would betray her dad?” “Honestly, no. She’s got her ambitions though. She might be using Beni to get herself ahead. I can’t trust her not to say something to him about our investigation, so I can’t risk telling her.” “Makes sense. Paulie then?” “No. I want him staying close to Rinaldo at all times.” “Who’s left?” “Of people I trust?” I shake my head. “No one. I’ll do it myself so you can keep digging. You’re better at that shit than I am anyway.” “Anything else about Felisa?” I debate telling him what Rinaldo revealed to me, but I don’t. If Rinaldo wanted Jonathan to know, he would tell him personally. If Jonathan went digging, he’d probably figure it out on his own, assuming he hasn’t already. “Only what we already know. I’ll focus on that and Beni. You see if you can locate Joshua Taylor. He may very well lead us to Stark.” “Got it.” I tap my fingers against my leg for a minute, considering. “Can you check out one more person for me?” I ask. “Sure. Who is it?” “Her name’s Alina. She’s a hooker.” “This the whore of the week for you?” “Something like that.” I take a deep breath. “I really want you to find her father. I’m pretty sure he’s in the city somewhere. I want to know where I can find him.” Jonathan eyes me. “Don’t ask.”

“Right.” He taps on the laptop keyboard for a few seconds. “You got a last name?” “Nope.” “Lotsa help you are.” “Good thing you are so good at what you do.” “Who’s her pimp?” he asks as he continues to type away. “Don’t know.” “Well, what do you know that might actually help me out here?” I point out where I pick her up and give him Loretta’s name as her roommate. I really don’t know much of anything else about her, but he seems to think it’s enough to go on. Nick returns with a pizza, smelling of weed. “You better not have smoked that shit in my car,” I tell him, “or I’ll kill you right where you stand.” “Nah, just outside the door.” He refuses to make eye contact, and I wonder if he’s lying to me. “What did you guys figure out?” “A couple of leads but nothing concrete. Jonathan and I can take it from here.” I expect him to be disappointed that I don’t actually have anything for him to do or research, but he seems relieved instead. I find it odd because he was so gung-ho to join me earlier, but now he’s dancing back and forth like he does when he’s nervous. I’m not sure why. I wonder if he thinks we suspect him, but he really isn’t in my list of top candidates. He seeks his father’s approval far too much to do anything outright against the family. It would go against his character, and that’s a very rare thing indeed. Nick quickly scarfs down a couple of slices and says he’s getting a ride home with Cody. He glances at me once more as he leaves the warehouse. There’s something about the look he gives me that should have made me realize something was off. It should have, but it didn’t. I leave Jonathan to his research and head off to find Alina. I really hope I don’t have to search too long.

Chapter 14—Devastating News The glow from my laptop bathes my hands as I type quickly. I feel like I’m on the verge of figuring something out, but there’s still something missing—something that shouldn’t have escaped me. I click through a few more documents and then zoom in on one of them. It’s a little past four in the morning, and Alina is sleeping in the other room. My mind is too cranked up for sleep, so I waited until she dozed off to get back to work. I’ve spent two days digging into anything and everything that is Beni Segreti, and I don’t care for what I’ve found. There is no doubt in my mind that he’s tied to Seattle. I just can’t figure out exactly how. I’ve got pictures of him with Justin Taylor going back five years, long before Beni was supposed to be in this country at all, but nothing of him with Landon Stark, Joseph Franks, or the southern gangs. I have to be missing something. Beni’s too smart for an obvious liaison with another outfit. Joshua Taylor has to be the gobetween, but he’s an elusive one. Other than the two pictures Jonathan has of Joshua, there have been no signs of him anywhere in Chicago since he first arrived. Someone has to be hiding him. I go back to the shot Jonathan found of Joshua and Beni. The place where they met isn’t in the south, but right off the Magnificent Mile. He could be staying somewhere close by. I make a mental note to have Jonathan check out all the security cameras in the area to see if we can spot him. I hear a little creak behind me and turn to see Alina in the hallway. She walks up to me, and I quickly close the laptop. “Everything all right?” she asks. “Just some work I need to catch up on,” I respond. “Have you slept at all?” She reaches out and runs her hand over my head. “You look tired.” “Not really, but I’m all right. Too much going on in my head to sleep.” I open my arms, and Alina straddles my lap. She kisses me softly as she runs her fingers over the back of my neck. I tilt my head back toward the pressure. “Every time you do that, I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week.” “I know.” Alina chuckles softly. “Doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” “Acupressure. It helps you relax.” I think about all the times she has pressed her fingertips against my skin. It did usually calm me down; I can’t deny that. I hadn’t realized she was doing it intentionally. “Manipulating me, are you?” I reach down and cup her ass with my hands.

“It’s like the lavender,” she explains, “just something to help you get what you want anyway. If I were going to try to manipulate you, I’d grab your cock.” “That works, too.” She kisses me again but doesn’t deepen it. Instead, she leans back and looks at me for a long moment while her hand continues to massage my neck. “Where did you learn all that stuff?” “The acupressure I learned from a friend who took classes in it,” she tells me. “The aromatherapy I got out of Cosmo.” “Ha! Why doesn’t that surprise me? That magazine is like a manual for hookers.” “There’s a lot of good information in there.” Alina shrugs. “You don’t seem to have any complaints. I hum in response as I reach up and run my hands through her hair. It’s soft from the shower we shared before going to bed, and I can still smell my shampoo in it. I gather her hair in one hand and hold it out of the way as I lean forward and press my lips to the side of her neck. I make my way up to her ear, kissing and sucking at her skin. Releasing her hair, I wrap my arms around her back and pull her closer. “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Alina says. I pause, kissing her twice more before pulling back. I should continue my investigation—I feel like I’m close—but my dick disagrees. “Your work is more fun.” I pull her down against my anxious cock and run one hand up to cup her breast. “Maybe we should just go back to bed.” “If that’s what you want.” She tilts her head and smiles at me, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “What is it?” I ask as I run my hand up to her cheek. “You want to just go to sleep?” “It’s nothing.” She shakes her head dismissively, but she isn’t convincing. “Tell me.” “I was just remembering something,” she says. “That’s all.” “What were you remembering?” “A friend from a long time ago.” She looks away for a moment. I raise an eyebrow. “You remind me of him,” she says softly. She licks her lips and then trails her fingers down from my temple to my jawline. She scratches at the stubble on my face, which is far more than I usually have. I’ve been busy and bad about keeping up with shaving. “He always needed a shave?”

Alina chuckles and shakes her head. She tilts her head the other direction before leaning in and kissing me, deeper this time. I lean back, letting her take the lead as her tongue slides between my lips. She reaches down and slips her hands under my shirt, running them up my sides and making my skin tingle. Without breaking the kiss, I stand, carrying her with me. She wraps her arms and legs around my body and holds on as I take her back into the bedroom and lay her down in the center of the bed. Work can wait. I want her now. ***** “This is exactly what we’ve been looking for.” I drop a thumb drive next to Jonathan’s laptop and fold my arms across my chest as he inserts it and starts checking over the contents. Despite the lack of sleep, my mind is alert and active. Maybe the multiple rounds of sex with Alina last night contributed to how good I feel right now, but it mostly has to do with finally making a breakthrough. “These are the accounts we were checking out,” Jonathan says as he browses, “the ones that had all the discrepancies.” “Correct.” “We found these accounts before. We were trying to tie them back to Landon Stark.” “Right, but we couldn’t figure out where the money was landing in the end and couldn’t find a trace of Stark anywhere on them. Keep looking.” I tap my foot in nervous anticipation. I can see his eyes light up when he sees what I found. “Movement,” Jonathan mutters. “Over to the Caymans, then to China, UK, then wired back to the Caymans.” He taps on the keyboard for a minute. “Wow, that’s a lot of dough. What’s Greyter Sailor Incorporated?” “Agriculture and fishing company,” I tell him. “Lots of land owned in Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and Vancouver.” “What the hell do you grow out there?” “Nothing. They do have an actual fleet of shrimp boats, but they haven’t left dock in sixteen months.” “Does Stark own it?” “Nope.” “Who then?” Jonathan leans back and looks at me. “It’s an anagram.” “No shit! Of what?” “I took the letters of a couple of names and rearranged them into something else.” I lean over the

laptop and point to the company logo. “Greyter Sailor can be repositioned to spell Taylor and Segreti.” “Ho-lee shit. That’s custom.” “Exactly.” “Beni Segreti and Joshua Taylor have a company together?” “I looked into it. Beni and Justin actually got it started. I think when Justin was eliminated, Beni pulled Joshua on board. They also have an office building in Seattle.” “He needed someone on the outside to cover his tracks.” “And Joshua is glad to help eliminate the man who killed his brother.” “But Rinaldo didn’t order Justin’s hit. That was all you.” “He doesn’t know that,” I say. “But Beni does.” “Beni wants to be on top. He needs funds to get himself there as well. Joshua is the ideal answer. He’s got motive to get back at the family and is the perfect liaison between Beni and the southern gangs. He has no other Chicago affiliations and would also work as the perfect scapegoat if it comes to that. More importantly, Beni needs Rinaldo out of the way, and Joshua is happy to help out.” “Joshua is the one working with the gangs; we know that.” “We need to figure out where he’s hiding,” I say, “and how he’s getting information to the gangs.” “Do you think they’re still in it?” “They at least started that way. Even after Marcello was eliminated, they still held some of our guns.” “Like the one used to kill Felisa.” “Just like that one.” I nod slowly as I stare at the screen, not meeting his eyes. “We should bring this all to Rinaldo.” “Not yet.” I shake my head. “We have to tread lightly. If Rinaldo thinks Beni has something to do with Felisa’s death, he’ll act immediately. We need to flush out anyone else involved.” “You don’t think he could hold off?” “Not with the funeral still ahead of us.” “Point taken.” “I do need to give Rinaldo something though.” I step back and take a deep breath. “I’ll tell him about the connection with Joshua. As long as we don’t know where he is, there isn’t a whole lot of action Rinaldo can take.” “Makes sense.”

“I’ll take care of that.” “I’ll keep going through the security cameras until I find a sign of Joshua. Now that we have more account information, I can also try to track him through access.” “It’s a plan.” I start to gather up my stuff to leave when Jonathan speaks again. “I got something else for ya.” Jonathan taps at the keyboard and spins the laptop around so I can see the screen. “James Marino.” “Who’s that?” “Your whore’s father.” The picture on the screen is a mugshot from several years ago. James Marino was picked up for running a prostitution ring of teen girls, but someone screwed up legal procedure, and he ended up walking. Turns out he did a year for narcotics possession, but the other charges were dropped. “Where is he now?” I ask as I try to keep my hands from shaking. “Oak Park.” “Is he still fucking little girls?” Jonathan glances at me, and I’m certain he knows exactly what’s going on in my head. “You getting attached to this hooker?” he asks. “It doesn’t matter.” I look at him and await his answer. “He hasn’t had any other convictions,” Jonathan said. “Looks like he got put out of business when people caught on to what was happening.” “You have an address?” Jonathan hands me a piece of paper with an address on it. The place actually sounds familiar, and I realize it’s only a couple of blocks from the apartment Lia was living in while I was serving time. I stare at the paper for a while as a plan begins to form in my head. I might need a little assistance to get it all together. “Where’s Paulie?” “He’s at the hospital.” “What’s he doing there?” “Still watching over Rinaldo. I think Lele’s there, too.” “Rinaldo was supposed to be discharged yesterday.” “They’re running more tests on him,” Jonathan says. “He’s going to be there a few more days.” “What tests? How long?” I hadn’t heard any of this. “That’s all I know.”

I don’t like the sound of it. Forgetting James Marino for a moment, I immediately head for the hospital. Rinaldo isn’t in the same room, and I have to harass someone at the nurses’ station to figure out where he’s been moved. Once I find him, Paulie is standing outside the door. “What’s going on? “ I ask. “He was supposed to be home by now.” “Beats me,” Paulie says with a shrug. “I just know they moved him here yesterday. Something about some tests.” I open the door slowly and peek inside. Lele’s sitting on a chair near Rinaldo’s bed, and he’s sitting up and shoveling manicotti in his mouth. “Come in, Evan.” Rinaldo raises his fork in the air and uses it to motion me forward. I enter, closing the door behind me. “Lele, a moment please.” His voice is deadpan, and Lele just nods and walks out. Her eyes are red, and I assume he’s told her about Felisa. I stand at the foot of his bed with my hands clasped behind my back. He takes a couple more mouthfuls of the meal Lele must have smuggled in for him and then finishes with a long drink of water. “Lucia is going to handle the rest of the funeral arrangements for Felisa. Lele’s going to help her out.” I nod and bow my head. “How is your investigation going?” “Found some ties between the accounts that have missing money and Joshua Taylor,” I tell him. “We definitely have him linked with Marcello’s gang but can’t locate Taylor anywhere. I’ve got a few leads I still need to follow up on. Now that we have account numbers, Jonathan’s trying to trace him through those.” Rinaldo nods. He presses his lips together as he pushes the tray table out of his way and sits up a bit more. “Evan, I need to show you something. Reach over there and grab those papers.” He points at a plain manila folder on the table off to his side, and I retrieve it for him. He opens the folder and takes a deep breath as he thumbs through the papers. Once he’s found the one he’s looking for, he hands it to me. It’s a hospital report with a bunch of test results. I know enough about medicine to recognize those regarding bone reabsorption and endocrine system functioning, but the results mean nothing to me. “What is this?” “The doctor found something during surgery,” he tells me. “Found what?” “Bone fragments.” I narrow my eyes.

“They operated on your leg. Of course they found bone fragments. That’s where you were hit.” “Bone tissue would be more accurate,” Rinaldo says. “More precisely, bone tissue in my blood.” I glare down at the test paper again, trying to make some sense of it. Rinaldo is obviously trying to tell me something without actually saying the words, but I can’t seem to figure out what it is. I scan the paper more carefully, reach for the rest of the folder, and read over some of the other tests as Rinaldo watches me closely. Bone in blood—I can see the results from other tissue samples, but they are normal. It isn’t actually bone but something similar, something warped. On the bottom of the last page, I see the term osteosarcoma, and my body goes cold. “Bone cancer,” I say quietly. “Exposure to oxygen when they operated has accelerated its growth.” Rinaldo’s voice is calm and factual. “It’s in my blood, endocrine, and lymph systems. Apparently, all that money I spent at the chiropractor trying to fix my back was pointless. I should ask for a refund.” He laughs, but I can’t bring myself to find any humor in his remark. All I can do is stare at the page as my organs feel as if they are sinking into my feet. Now that I know what I’m looking for, I can see all the indicators on the test page. “Maybe they’re wrong.” I tap my finger against the paper. “You need to have more testing done. It could be a mistake—mixed up records. Hospitals fuck up all the time.” I meet his eyes, and my chest tightens. “They saw it during surgery, Evan. That’s why they did the tests.” My vision blurs as I stare at the words on the pages. “Does Lele know?” “Yes.” “How long?” I barely whisper the words. “Six to eight weeks. Maybe three months with extensive chemo and radiation, but I’m not doing that.” “Fuck.” I close my eyes, fighting the pressure building in my head. I manage to swallow past the dry lump in my throat, but it takes a lot of effort. When I look at him, his face is stern. “There’s a lot to be done in the next couple of months,” he says simply. “There are some things I need to tell you—places you need to go to retrieve things for Lele, Lucia, and Nick.” “Things?” I’m not comprehending what he means. My mind is spinning in circles, and a wave of nausea hits me. Rinaldo’s going to die. Six to eight weeks.

I can’t grasp the idea. Of all the people I have ever known in the world, I trust Rinaldo the most. He’s always known what I need, always understood without needing an explanation. He’s the only one who has ever seen past what I’ve become and understood that there was once someone else inside of me —someone who was lost forever while I was overseas, restrained in a pit. He understood and accepted there was no changing it. If he’s gone, what do I have left? “Stay with me, son.” “I’m right here, sir.” “No, you aren’t. Focus, Evan.” I look at him, and he’s pointing to his eyes with his fingers. “Get your shit together. I need you to be strong for Gabriella and Lucia.” I’m not together. I’m nowhere near together. “I need to start thinking about the future,” Rinaldo says. “The future of my family, my businesses. Have a seat and I’ll explain.” I refuse to sit down. I can’t even say why it’s important, but if I’m going to be forced to listen to this shit, I’m not going to sit down to do it. “You know what I’m going to say.” Rinaldo sits up a little more in the hospital bed and reaches over to a glass to take a sip of water through a straw. “Lucia can’t handle the pressure—you’ve said that yourself. What did you think I would do? Turn all this over to Nick?” I glare down at him, refusing to answer. I don’t want to have to tell him about Beni right now— not yet—but I may have to. I can’t let him start giving everything away to Beni without knowing what’s going on between him and Taylor. “It’s you, son,” Rinaldo says. His voice is softer now. “It was always you.” I flinch, actually taking a step back from the bed. “What?” “There isn’t another choice. Beni’s not really family, and I want my business to stay in my family.” “I’m not family,” I remind him. “Yes, you are.” “I don’t want it.” “That’s why you’re perfect for the job.” No, no, no, no, no! “I’m just a hit man,” I whisper. “I can’t do all this.” “You know you can,” Rinaldo says. “There’s very little you haven’t already done in some capacity or another. You have the strength and the will. You have the respect. No one will cross you and

live to tell about it, and everyone knows that. You’re a big part of the reason I’ve been as successful as I have. You are the best man for the job, and I don’t have time to look for another candidate.” “Rinaldo…” I don’t know what to say. I never wanted this. I don’t want this. Rinaldo is dying. “Who else can I trust, Evan? Who else will make sure my family is always taken care of? They’re giving me weeks, maybe not even that long.” All I can do is stare at the floor. I can’t seem to make any of my muscles respond to the commands from my brain. I hear the creak of the bed as he stands, but it doesn’t quite register until he’s next to me. He takes my hand. “Say it, Evan. Tell me you’ll take over my business and run it right.” My throat is dry. I lick at my lips, but it doesn’t seem to provide any moisture. “Please, Evan. You’re the only option I have.” “I’ll do it,” I reply as my stomach seems to fall to my feet. I really don’t know what else I can do.

Chapter 15—Impulsive Arrangement My head is still spinning. I don’t go to Felisa’s funeral. I can’t bring myself to attend, knowing Rinaldo and Lele would be there. Instead, I spend the day driving around the city in the spring rain. There are so many things going through my head, it’s hard to keep track of them all. Between Beni’s obvious betrayal, the elusive Joshua Taylor, and my apparent takeover of a giant crime family, my brain just can’t cope. Jonathan keeps calling, but I haven’t answered the phone. I’m sure he’s found something, and probably something important, but my head is full. I can’t handle any more information right now. Besides, my perspective is totally different. Everything I do has always been about Rinaldo—protecting him, protecting his business, eliminating any threats—and now I have to think about it in completely different terms. I’ve agreed to it. I’ve agreed to honor a dying man’s wish. I’m going to take over the businesses completely, and now those threats are against me. The problem is, I don’t really care what happens to me. I don’t care about amassing money. There’s more money in my offshore accounts and various safe-deposit boxes around the country than I’ll ever manage to spend. I don’t care if the car shops and the clubs are doing well enough to launder all the money from the illegal businesses. I don’t care if the books are balanced. I’ve only cared about one thing—Rinaldo. What do I do in six to eight weeks when he’s gone? The only purpose I’ve had since leaving the Marines is going to vanish. I’ll be in a world that will no longer include the only person I really, truly care about. The one person I’d lay down my life for without question. I’m going to lose the one person who has ever called me son. I end up pulling over and walking around Grant Park. My hands are shaky, and driving doesn’t seem like a great idea right now. I wander around in a stupor amongst the flower gardens instead. There isn’t much growing yet, just a few bulbs with green shoots sticking out of the ground, and there’s hardly anyone around. The rain has tapered off, but everything is a muddy mess. A couple of guys shoveling mulch from a pickup are my only company. My eyes burn, but my face is wet only from the mist. I can’t bring myself to cry. If I did, I wouldn’t even know who I was crying for—Rinaldo or myself. Even with everything else going on, my thoughts keep turning to Alina. I wonder if she’s got some magic touch that will help me deal with all of this, but I doubt it. She helps though. She helps a lot, maybe more than I should let her. Jonathan was right—I have become a little attached. Initially it was about the sleep, and then it was about the sex, but the last time we were together, it felt different. I’m not sure exactly in what way, but definitely different.

And the whole thing about her father… When I think about it, I see red. Maybe that’s what I need to do—go take care of him. I know it isn’t what she wants, but I’m going to do it anyway. If nothing else, it’s going to make me feel better. I get back in the car and drive over to Oak Park. I still have his mug shot on my phone, and the address is easy enough to find. The apartment is a shithole next to a shabby strip mall in a high-crime area, which is perfect. I park across the street and just watch the place for a while. Shortly after four in the afternoon, he emerges. I watch him walk next door to a liquor store and come out with a bottle in a brown sack. He heads back into the apartment. I could just go in there and do it now, be done with it. I’m still on edge though. If I do it now, without a formal plan in place, I’m likely to mess something up. His apartment has a window, but it’s small and there’s no place around here to get into sniping position. This will have to be more personal. A plan forms as I drive away. I need a few tools and a decent night’s sleep first. I drive over to Alina’s corner, but she’s nowhere in sight. In fact, I can’t seem to find any of the girls she usually hangs out with either. I drive around for a full two hours, making my usual stop for gas and cigarettes. She still isn’t around. I’m getting hungry, and though I had thought to take her out for dinner, I decide to waste time feeding myself instead. I eat, but the fast food sits in my stomach like a wad of uncooked dough. I drive around, and I get more and more frustrated when she doesn’t appear. I listen to the radio to try to distract myself, but as the time ticks by, the song lyrics start to piss me off. I slam my fist into the power button and silence the singer. Finally, I see her. It’s after midnight, and the rest of the girls are there with her, too. I pull to the curb, and she comes over to me, smiling as she opens the car door. I don’t say a word as she gets in. I’m actually a little afraid to open my mouth. Instead, I grip the wheel with one hand and throw the Camaro into gear with the other and speed off with my teeth clenched. Alina grips the handle of the door as I take a corner much too quickly. We still haven’t spoken as I pull into the parking garage and head to the elevator. Alina trails behind me, silent and timid. As soon as we’re inside, I grab her and push her against the wall in the hallway. Gripping her chin with my hand, I crash my mouth to hers and invade her with my lips and tongue. Alina brings her hands up to my shoulders and clasps the back of my neck with her fingers. I feel the pressure from her fingertips. Knowing what she’s trying to do only annoys me this time and does nothing to relax me. I expect to find the scent of some man on her, but I don’t. She smells fresh and clean, like she’s just come from a long, hot shower. Her mouth is minty. There’s no clue as to where she’s been or what she’s been doing.

“Get down on your knees.” She complies instantly as I release my belt. I stare down at her as I undo the buttons on my jeans. A few second later, she has my cock in her mouth. She looks up at me, trying to maintain that devoted cocksucker expression, but I can see the confusion in her eyes. Even as her tongue circles the head of my dick and her lips wrap around my shaft, I can tell she knows something is wrong. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s because she knows I’ve been out there looking for her for hours. Maybe she even planned it that way. She might even consider it some fucked-up version of foreplay while I sit around in my car, waiting my turn. Who else have you been sucking off tonight? My heart pounds as sweat forms on my brow. How many other men have seen that same look from those same, beautiful eyes? How many others does she comfort every night by letting them come all over her? How many times tonight? Where was she? I lean one hand on the wall and use the other to wind her hair around my wrist. I glare down at her as I pull at her hair, driving my cock into the back of her throat. I feel her gag on me, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment as her hands dig into my thighs. She shoves me with all her strength. Suddenly realizing exactly what I am doing, I step back, and my cock pops out of her mouth along with a string of saliva. She coughs and grasps her throat with her hand. “Evan! What the hell is wrong with you?” Alina shifts to one side, but she’s only pinned herself between me and the front door. She reaches up and wipes the back of her hand over her mouth. I want to kick her. I want to pull out a gun and empty the clip into her face. I can see myself doing it—vividly. My heart is still beating rapidly, and my stomach starts to churn at the thought. My throat constricts, and I can’t take in air. I shove my dick back into my pants and turn away from the sight of her beneath me on the floor. “Fuck!” I run my hand over my face as I leave her there in the hallway. I go to the kitchen and lean over the sink, trying to decide if I’m going to heave or not. “Evan?” “Just get the fuck out!” I grab blindly for something to throw, but all I manage to find is a container of liquid dish soap. I still toss it behind me, but it just ricochets off the island and onto the floor. “Evan, what is it? What’s wrong?” “Leave!” I squeeze my eyes shut. I need her to get out of here. I don’t even know what’s happening to me; I only know I can’t control it. If she stays, I could hurt her. “I’m not leaving while you’re like this.” I whirl around to face her, my head still dizzy. “Don’t you fucking get it?” I scream. “You don’t want to be anywhere near me! What do you

think you’re doing, helping? You can’t help me! There’s nothing you can fucking do!” I take a step away from the sink and point my finger at her. “Can you massage away cancer? Can you? Can you fix that shit? No, you can’t. You can’t do anything but suck whatever cock is put in front of you!” Alina’s eyes widen, and she takes a small step back as her mouth drops open. For a long moment, we just stare at each other. I’m honestly not even sure what I just said to her. My heart is thumping in my ears and my temples. Her eyes suddenly narrow, and she takes a step forward as she places her hands on her hips. “I’m going to pretend for a minute you didn’t say that,” she says slowly. Alina’s eyes are fixed on me, and her jaw is tight. “Back up a second. What did you say before that?” I’m caught off guard, which is happening way too frequently for my liking. I blink a couple of times as the woman in front of me waits for my answer. All I can do is shake my head. “There’s nothing you can do,” I finally utter. “Evan…” Alina stops and takes a deep breath. “Evan, do you have cancer?” “Me? What? No! Not me!” “Who has cancer, Evan?” My chest starts to heave visibly as my diaphragm starts doing flip-flops in my stomach. I can’t inhale all the way, and my breath comes out in choppy pants. “Rin…Rin…Rinaldo.” “Oh, no.” Alina steps forward and reaches for my hands. I just stare at them as her fingers wrap around mine. “Evan, I’m so sorry. Is it bad?” Bad. Such a simple word, but it carries so much weight. Is it bad? Yeah, it’s bad. It’s really fucking bad. I stare at her, and it feels as if everything around me is crumbling. If I were to look down and find my skin peeling away from the rest of my body, I wouldn’t be surprised. My shoulders slump, and my knees start to buckle. “He’s going to die, Alina. They say he’s going to die!” I drop down in a crumpled heap on the hardwood floors. I jar my knee as I fall, but I don’t care about the pain shooting up my leg. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Alina is there on the floor with me, wrapping her arms around my head and holding me to her chest. The last thing I deserve at this point is to have her comforting me. I want to push her away, but I don’t. I grab onto her as if my life depends on it. Maybe it does.

Rinaldo had been threatened many times before. I’d always been there; I’d always put myself between him and whatever adversary was out to get him. I’d eliminated them all, but how do you put a 50-caliber slug into a killer like cancer? “He’s going to die.” I can barely hear my own voice muffled in her hair. I tighten my grip around her, crushing her against me, and I press my forehead against her body. Her hair falls from her shoulders, surrounding me. I drag oxygen into my lungs, and it spurts out again, sounding like a truck running over those hiccups on the side of the highway. “I can’t stop it. There’s nothing I can do to stop it!” I hold her tighter, as if I could transfer the tightness in my chest and gut into her body to somehow alleviate it. I can’t breathe. “I can’t…I can’t do anything!” “It's okay, Evan. Just let go.” My whole body is shaking, and it takes a second to even realize I’m sobbing into her chest. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t manage to feel anything but loss. He’s not even gone yet. What am I going to do when he’s gone? Tightening my hold, I squeeze my eyes shut to try to block out everything that’s running through my mind, but the images come anyway. I see myself at his hospital bedside, watching him grow weaker and weaker, hearing him beg for more morphine to stop the pain, and then finally giving up completely. I see a casket with Lele dressed in black, standing beside it and holding a tissue to her face. I see Lucia beside her, trying to offer her some comfort, but unable to say anything that makes any difference. I see Nick off to the side, unable to mourn with the rest of his family. And then there’s me, stoically carrying the coffin along with the other pallbearers—out of place and knowing there is nothing I can do to fix it all. They put him in the ground, and he’s gone. Completely gone. I don’t know how long we’re there on the floor of my kitchen, me sobbing and Alina holding me. Eventually, she coaxes me off the floor and leads me to the bedroom. She undresses me and sits me down on the bed. I stare dumbly at the floor as she goes across the hall to the bathroom, returning a minute later. She looks at me a moment, then takes my arms and lays me down. She climbs in beside me and then pulls the blanket around us both. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Alina wraps her arms around me and holds my head to her shoulder. At this point, I should be accustomed to the lavender scent on Alina’s skin, but it hits me every time she joins me in bed. I can’t help but close my eyes, inhale deeply, and coil myself around her. It smells right. It feels right. Turning my head to look at her, I watch her face carefully. Her look is still a bit guarded, but she stares into my eyes as her fingers stroke the hair at the back of my neck. “Where were you earlier tonight?” I ask. Alina rubs a little deeper into my neck and licks her lips before she answers. “Working,” she replies quietly.

“Who were you with?” “Evan”—she tilts her head away and closes her eyes—“I don’t usually talk about other clients. It’s kind of a business taboo.” Of course that makes sense, but I don’t care. “I want to know.” I tighten my grip on her hip, pulling her a little closer. “I’m not going to discuss that.” My chest tightens along with my hold on her. I’m not used to people refusing to give me the information I want, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Even when I told her to get out, she hadn’t listened. That is also a first. It should anger me, but it doesn’t. In fact, I think I rather like her standing up to me. Paulie backs down when I tell him to, and he’s probably six-foot-four and weighs well over two hundred pounds. Alina’s maybe five-foot-five and can’t be much more than a hundred and thirty. I consider all the wasted time I spent looking for her tonight. If she were already here, I wouldn’t have to go looking for her. I could just come home, and there she would be. Can you put a hooker on retainer? What would that look like? The last time I’d had a regular hooker, it was Bridgett. I don’t want to think about her because I always end up remembering the last time I saw her—the last time anyone saw her. She’d betrayed me to Rinaldo’s enemies and suffered the ultimate price. I do not handle betrayal well, and she found that out minutes before she was dead. I focus on the time before that day, when she had been around the apartment a lot. She wanted to be around me though I never understood why. I knew she had feelings for me despite how many times I tried to deter them. Toward the end, Bridgett had lived in my apartment. I’d killed her pimp, and she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Even before then, I never had trouble finding her on the street. Alina must be a very popular whore. I grit my teeth and look at her. “Who were you fucking tonight?” “It doesn’t matter,” Alina replies. I don’t like the way she dodges the question, and I’m certainly not going to let her get away with that shit. She looks away from me, silent. I reach over and grip her chin in my fingers before turning her to face me. “I asked you a question.” “I don’t know any names,” she finally answers. Her face flushes slightly, and she won’t meet my eyes. I know she’s lying. “Who’s your pimp?”

“Teto.” I recognize the name. A while back, he worked for Greco. Teto went independent for a while but had recently joined Rinaldo’s payroll for the added protection. This is both simple and complicated because he works for Rinaldo. If he weren’t one of ours, I might have opted to just get rid of him, but now I can’t because it would interfere with Rinaldo’s business. “Call him.” “Call him?” “Pick up your phone and call him now.” “Why?” “Just do it.” She nods slightly, and I loosen my grip on her so she can roll over and reach for her purse. She retrieves an iPhone with a bright green case and pulls up Teto’s number. She hits the button and holds the phone to her ear. “What am I supposed to tell him?” she asks as it rings. “Tell him I want to talk to him.” She looks at me nervously but doesn’t have time to ask any more questions. “Teto, it’s Alina.” I can hear his voice on the phone but can’t make out his words. “I have someone who wants to speak with you,” she tells him. There’s a pause. “It’s…um…it’s a john.” I reach out and take the phone from her hand. “Teto, this is Evan Arden.” There’s another pause, and I hear Teto clear his throat. “Mr. Arden, I didn’t realize Alina was with you.” I ignore what he says and get straight to the point. “Do you have your girls tested?” “Of course I do!” “When was the last time Alina was tested?” Alina narrows her eyes at me. “Mr. Arden, if you think you got something from one of my—” I cut him off.

“I’m just checking up on her, not myself.” “They’re all tested monthly.” “And her last test?” “About a week ago.” I pull the phone away a bit and look at Alina’s eyes. “When was the last time you were tested?” “It was a week ago yesterday,” she says. She bites hard on her lip and her eyes fill with panic. “I’m clean, Evan—I swear I am.” She has obviously gotten the wrong impression. I give her half a smile and a wink to reassure her. She seems to understand, and sits back a little against the pillow, listening to one side on the conversation. “And she’s clean?” “Completely, Mr. Arden. I can even provide you with a copy of the tests if you like.” “Not necessary.” I hear him sigh into the phone, and I decide to get to the point. “How much do you want for her?” Teto pauses again and then rattles off the hourly rate I’m already paying for her. “I’m interested in a purchase,” I say to clarify, “not a rental.” “What?” Alina touches my arm, but I shake her off. “Evan, what are you doing?” I shrug her off and listen to Teto’s breathing on the other end of the line. There’s a long pause before he responds. “My girls aren’t for sale.” His answer doesn’t surprise me, and I’m ready for it. “This one is.” “Alina is a good whore,” Teto continues, “and she’s worth a lot to me. I couldn’t just let her go.” “Let’s be clear on this,” I say, sighing. “I’m not making a request. I’m just extending you the courtesy of setting the price. Now let’s try again. How much do you want for her?” “Does Rinaldo know about this?” Teto asks. I can almost hear the hint of a threat in his voice, and my fingers tighten reflexively on the phone. I take in a breath through my nose and try to let it out slowly. “I realize you haven’t been with us long,” I say, “and for that reason alone, I’m not on my way to see you personally right now.” I pause and let him think about exactly what I mean. “I do not confirm my actions with Rinaldo when it comes to topics he cares nothing about. He trusts my judgment on all things. I wouldn’t dream of wasting a busy man’s time with a personal matter. I suggest you don’t, either. Capisce?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I get it.” He’s quiet for a moment and then quotes me an outrageous number. “Try again,” I suggest. He must finally understand who he’s dealing with and gives me a much more reasonable price. “I’ll have it delivered to your residence.” I actually have no idea where the man lives, but I’m sure Jonathan can figure it out in a couple of minutes. I hang up the phone and hand it back to Alina. “Did you just…did you just buy me?” “I did.” “Evan! What the hell are you thinking?” She sits up and moves a little away from me. “I’m thinking I’m tired of waiting on you to be done with some other asshole before you get around to me.” “So what am I supposed to do? Hang out in my apartment and wait for you to call me? Evan, that’s not going to happen!” “Of course not,” I say. “You can move in here.” “Move in with you?” “Right. Keeps it all simple. It doesn’t change anything.” “Well, yes it does, actually.” Her tone is biting, but I really don’t know why. “You’re still a whore, and I’m still your john,” I say simply. “The only thing that changes is that I don’t have to go looking for you now. You’ll already be here. You’ll still sleep with me, and I’ll still fuck you when I feel like it.” I give her a smile, but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she rolls her eyes. “Evan, you can’t just buy me!” “Seriously?” I laugh. “I’ve been paying for you for weeks. This just makes it easier. I’m telling you, nothing changes except I’m your only client now. Oh, and you don’t have to give that asshole a cut.” Alina wraps her arms around herself and stares at the blanket over her legs. Her mouth is open slightly, and she’s breathing hard. I reach out and touch her arm. “It’s all good,” I tell her. She’s obviously getting the wrong impression again, but I don’t know exactly what she’s assuming. “It’s not like I’m going to keep you chained up or anything. You are free to come and go as you like. Just be here in the evenings and at night when I need to sleep.” I watch as Alina gulps audibly. She takes in a long breath. “Evan, I’m not sure what’s going through your head, but this isn’t going to work. You’re upset right now, and you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“Yes, I am.” It’s really all quite simple and makes perfect sense to me. She huffs through her nose, tilts her head to one side, and looks at me hard. “All right,” she says, “let’s play this out. What do you think I’m going to do during the day?” “Whatever you want.” I reach up and run a finger over her cheek. “I’m gone a lot of nights, too. When I’m not here, I don’t care what you do as long as you aren’t turning other tricks.” She continues to stare at me with a look of incredulity. I have no idea what the problem is. It’s a perfect situation. Maybe she’s worried about money. “You can go shopping. See a show or whatever. I’ll even get you a credit card.” She doesn’t look convinced. “I can still pay you cash as well. You’ll just get room and board as a bonus.” “This isn’t what you want, Evan.” “Of course it is.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it back. “Hell, what man wouldn’t? You’d be here whenever I want you. It’s perfect.” “It isn’t.” Alina shakes her head. “Yes, you want the sex on a physical level, but it’s really having someone to sleep with that you pay for.” I stiffen slightly. “And?” “And I’m not your girlfriend, Evan. You said it yourself—that’s not what you are looking for—but that’s the situation you’re trying to set up. I’m not here for you to be my sugar daddy.” “Well, why the hell not? You’re here a lot anyway, and I’m still paying the bills and getting you the groceries you ask for! What the hell do you care if I throw in a little extra? Besides, the deal’s done. Teto agreed.” “No, Evan!” Alina pushes herself off the bed and stands beside it, pointing a finger at me. “You do not get to buy me! I’m a person, a person with a job, not a sex slave!” I rub my fingers into my eyes. This isn’t going well, and I don’t understand why. It’s all very clear to me, so why can’t she see it? “Your job is to fuck guys! What the hell is the difference?” “Because I choose it!” she yells back at me. “I decide who I fuck and when! Not Teto, not the guys who pull up to my corner, and not you!” I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to me in such a way. Maybe in basic training when I was still only seventeen, but it certainly hasn’t happened in my adult life. She glares at me, all red-faced and as pissed off as she could possibly be. The look is making my heart pound, but I have no idea if I’m angry or turned on. As I try to figure all this out, Alina is pulling her clothes back on and picking up her purse.

She’s leaving me. I just stare as she gathers everything together, not even bothering to sit down to strap up her heels. I wrap my arms around my stomach as my body tenses up on itself. I’m reminded of the note from Lia I found in the cabin, and my stomach cramps again. Alina tosses her purse over her shoulder and doesn’t even glance back at me when she heads for the bedroom door. “Don’t leave.” I can barely get the words out, but somehow she hears me. Alina stops in her tracks and turns to looks at me. The fire in her eyes lessens, and she lets out a big sigh. With her lips mashed together, she stares down at the floor and grips the strap of her purse. Glancing up at me, she runs her hand through her long hair. “You can’t buy me, Evan.” In the back of my head, I know how horribly wrong she is. If I want to buy her, I can. Her consent is irrelevant. I have the means and the connections to do exactly that. I can keep her against her will as long as I want. It has nothing to do with Teto, either. The phone call to him was nothing more than a business courtesy. Pimps keep a hold on their hookers through fear—whether it’s fear of being on the streets without protection or fear of the pimps themselves—and I’m far more dangerous than any pimp. But Alina doesn’t appear to be afraid. “I want you to stay.” I move over to the edge of the bed and place my feet on the floor. I lean over my knees, trying to come up with the right words. “I don’t care what we call it; I just want you to stay.” “Why, Evan?” “I need you.” “You need another body in your bed so you can sleep. What does it matter if it’s me or not?” “Not all of them work.” “Why?” she asks again. “Do you even know the answer? What difference does it make who it is? I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who want a guy to take care of them.” “I want it to be you.” I huff out a breath and run my hand over my head. “I’ve tried lots of other girls. I’ve done hookers and women I meet in bars. None of them ever work out. Either they get scared off because I’m fucked up, or they just…just drive me nuts. You’re different.” “In what way?” “You’re…you’re quiet.” I don’t know if I’m making any sense or not. “You don’t ask me a lot of questions. You don’t pry into my business or my past. You know who I am, but you keep coming back with me. You know…you know some of the things I’ve done in the past, but you aren’t afraid of me. You know what I need when I need it.” She sets her purse down on the dresser and walks back to the bed. She sits beside me and places her hand on my thigh. “Tell me what you really need, Evan.” Her voice is soft—kind, even.

“I don’t want to be alone. With everything going on right now, I can’t trust myself to be alone. Trying to find you when I need you just puts me on edge.” She runs her hand down my thigh and tightens her grip around my knee. She wets her lips and then turns to face me. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” Alina says quietly. “I want to help you, Evan. Honestly, I do. I’m not sure this is the answer.” “Will you try it?” I look up, hopeful. “I mean, maybe just for a few days or something?” “A trial, live-in hooker?” “Yes.” “Evan, this is crazy.” “I’m a little crazy.” I shrug. Some things just can’t be denied. “You already know that.” “You’ve been hurt, Evan. You’re suffering. That’s not the same thing.” “Tell that to all the shrinks who have diagnosed me.” I try to crack a smile, but I can’t quite pull it off. I speak slowly as I look at her. “You know enough about me to know I’m a mess.” “You are a mess,” Alina says with a nod. “It’s an understandable mess though. You’ve been through a lot and you’re going through a lot right now. Your job has to be incredibly stressful even when things are going well. I think being a mess under those circumstances is normal rather than crazy.” I’ve never thought about it that way. I suppose my job can get a little complicated, but I’ve never considered it stressful. In fact, it’s the job that keeps me cool. All the other stuff that happens in life is what gets to me. However, I don’t want to argue with her about it. I just want her to agree to stay. “You’ll stay, then?” I ask. She stares at her hand where it still grips my knee. She turns to me slowly, studying me for a long minute as she contemplates. “All right,” she finally says. “We’ll do this for one week. After that, I go back home, and we both think about it.” “I can live with that.” Actually, the idea of her leaving after only a week makes my stomach flutter, but I’ll cope with it. That’s a decent amount of time to get her to change her mind. “But you’ll stay the whole week, right? No backing out.” “No backing out,” she agrees. I really want this to work.

Chapter 16—Startling Discovery The liquor store is simply gross. My shoes are sticking to the floor and making that horrible squeaky-scratch sound when I lift my feet. I can see little grey footprints all over the place from everyone else who has been in here, and I wonder how much of it is from vomit. It’s disgusting. I consider abandoning the whole plan, but I’m not going to do that. I want to get a good look at this guy. If he’s done what I think he’s done, I want to get a good look at him before I kill him. Just after four o’clock, I hear the little bell on the door ring, and James Marino walks in. “Good mornin’, Jimmy,” the store owner says with a laugh. “Fuck you, Mac.” “Just tryin’ to be neighborly!” I feign examining some cheap bottles of blended scotch and watch Jimmy through my dark sunglasses. Despite the thin, greying hair and hollow cheeks, I can still see a hint of Alina in him. His eyes, though sunken, are the same color as hers, and there’s something about the way he stands that seems familiar. He steps immediately up to the shelf full of whiskeys near where I stand and grabs for a bottle of Jim Beam. He doesn’t take any notice of me as he mumbles something about the shopkeeper jacking up the price and takes his purchase to the counter. “It’s a buck more than yesterday.” His complaint is ignored, and he slams a few bills on the counter. “Sign up for the lottery,” Mac says. “Gonna pick a winner every day.” “Whatever the fuck,” Jimmy grumbles. “Is this supposed to make up for you fucking around with the prices?” “I only work here, Jimmy. You know that.” Jimmy leans over the scrap of paper Mac has handed him and scribbles on it before shoving it into a cardboard box near the cash register. He exits without another word. I reach for the nearest bottle and take it up to the counter. “Will this be all for ya?” Mac asks. “Yep.” I push my sunglasses up on my nose. “Hair of the dog, huh?” Mac chuckles. “Something like that,” I say with a smile. Mostly I don’t want to make my looks too easily recognizable. I also don’t want to look like I’m trying to disguise myself, which makes people look at you longer.

“Wanna sign up for our lottery?” “What’s the prize?” “Twenty-five dollar gift card.” “Sure.” I scrawl out a completely illegible entry and shove it in the cardboard box. “Have a good one!” Mac calls as I head out. “You, too,” I reply, and the door closes behind me with a bang. Jimmy is no longer in sight, but I assume he’s headed back to his apartment. He’s collecting disability for a supposed back injury and doesn’t appear to go out much. I toss my bottle of cheap liquor into the passenger seat of the Volvo and drive off. I don’t go far. There’s a park just a couple of blocks away, and it’s as good a place as any to kill some time. I don’t want to be out terribly late even though Alina said she needed a couple of days to get herself in order before she moved in. I’ve delivered Teto’s money. I have no idea what she’s going to tell him, if anything at all, but at least my business with him is done. I talked to the landlord about moving into a two bedroom unit as well. I figured Alina might like to have her own space, and I want to do anything and everything to make this work out. At some point, she’s going to hear about her father. I don’t know how she’ll react, and I’m not sure I can play dumb well enough for her to think I had nothing to do with it. No matter how good an actor I might be, she’s going to have her suspicions. That doesn’t matter. Assholes like James Marino need to be handled. Shortly after nine o’clock, I drive to the post office around the corner and hoof it from there. Most of the streetlights are out of commission, and there’s little light to show my passage. The apartment building where Jimmy lives isn’t secured at all, and I just walk right in and find his unit. I pull on a pair of leather gloves and knock on the door. “What the fuck do you want?” Jimmy’s words are slightly slurred. “I’m from the liquor store,” I say through the door. “Mac sent me. He says you won today’s lottery, but ya gotta come pick it up before ten. He tried callin’ ya.” I hear the chain lock slide to one side, and I brace myself. As soon as the door is open a couple of inches, I throw my body weight at it, and Jimmy goes flying. I shut the door behind me and follow him inside. A second later, I’m straddling him, and my gun is in his face. “You scream; you die.” He stares up at me with bloodshot eyes, nodding rapidly. “I ain’t got no cash.” “Isn’t that a shame?” I lean back and haul him up by his collar before roughly throwing him into a threadbare recliner. I point the gun at him again. “Take off your shoes and socks.”

“Why the fuck?” “This is the part where you do exactly what the guy with the gun tells you to do.” He eyes me blearily, but he seems to be sobering up pretty quickly as he removes his shoes and socks. When he’s done, he sits back in the chair. “Put these on.” I hand him a fresh pair of socks and some wool gloves. He eyes me, confused, but does as I instruct. I pull out some zip ties from my pocket to secure his hands and feet, making sure the ties are on the outside of the cloth and don’t leave a mark. I look at him for a long moment. I can see an artery hammering in his neck, and there’s sweat on his forehead. He’s nervous and rightfully so. “Feeling a little helpless?” I raise my eyebrows and give him a cold smile as I pick up one of his socks and ball it up in my hand. It’s slightly damp and leaves a mark on the gloves. I’ll have to pitch them when I’m through. Taking a step closer to the chair, I shove one of the dirty socks in Jimmy mouth. His hands are bound in front of him, but when he reaches up to try to get it out, I stop him with the gun in his face. “Now, now, leave that alone. We’re going to have a little conversation. Or rather, you’re going to listen to me because I don’t really give a fuck what you have to say.” I grab a folding chair and turn it around before I sit in front of him and lean over the back, gun dangling. I look at him with my head tilted to the side and just stare as I count to sixty. He’s really sweating now, and it’s difficult for him to swallow with the sock-gag. “So, what is it about young girls, anyway?” I ask. “Grown up pussy isn’t tight enough for your measly dick?” His eyes widen and he starts to shake his head. I point the gun at his face and tell him to be still. He obeys immediately. “If I ask you a yes or no question, you can nod or shake your head. So far, everything I have to say is pretty much rhetorical.” I roll my shoulders one at a time and then stretch my neck. I let him wait and wonder for another minute before I speak again. “It’s too bad you aren’t locked up. Instead, you got off on some bullshit technicality,” I say. “I mean, if you were in prison right now, I would have a little more difficulty getting to you. Not that it wouldn’t have been done, but it might have cost me a little money or at least a pack of smokes.” I pull out a cigarette and light it, letting the smoke trickle out of my nose. “Here’s the thing,” I say slowly as I stare back into his eyes. “I know your daughter.” I give him props for remaining perfectly still as he hears this, but his eyes still crease a little more at the corners. He’s breathing a little faster now as well. “I actually kinda like her, ya know?” I shake my head and smile. “I can’t say I was expecting that. I mean, she’s a hooker and all. Who gets attached to a hooker?” I laugh.

“Can’t lie. It’s not the first time.” I take a long drag off the smoke. “It gets a little lonely in this business, and it’s good to have someone to rely on. I hope I can rely on her, anyway. I think I can. We’ve talked about it, and I think she’s going to be all right with it.” I point my cigarette at him. “We’ve talked, you know—she and I. Not a lot. She hasn’t given me much in the way of details but just enough to get me thinking. There’s always a reason people end up on the street, and it doesn’t usually start off as their fault. I don’t ordinarily expect to hear someone’s own father got her started as a whore before she was even in high school.” “That’s pretty sick, ya know.” I glare at him. “I know I’m crazy, but that shit is sick—really sick. I couldn’t let that slide.” Taking another puff, I stand up and crouch down in front of him. I balance carefully just in case he does decide to kick out at me. He can’t really hurt me with his bare feet in the restraints, but I still don’t want to be surprised. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized you probably weren’t just whoring her out. You were using her, too, weren’t you? You were fucking your own daughter and then selling her to anyone else who was interested.” He shakes his head rapidly. “Lying sack of shit.” I move the lit end of the cigarette close to his foot, and he moans through the gag. I don’t touch it to his skin –I don’t want that kind of evidence left on his body—but I let him wonder for a moment. “I had a lot of thoughts about how to deal with you. Considered bringing over a few buddies to use your ass until you bled to death from it. Funny thing is, Alina doesn’t want me to do anything. She just wants to leave it all in the past, but I have problems letting go of that kind of shit. I don’t forgive—that’s God’s job.” I walk around the back of the chair, and he follows me with his eyes. Standing behind him, I take hold of what little hair he has and pull his head back. “I don’t think God forgives fuckers that rape their own daughters, though. I’m pretty sure they got a special place all ready for you.” I shove the gun into the back of my jeans and pull out a knife instead. I hold it up to his eyes so he can see it. “I’ll give you one guess what this is for,” I tell him. “Oh, and here’s a hint—it’s not to cut you out of those ties.” He tries to talk through the gag, which is pointless. I smack him in the back of the head to shut him up, but he keeps trying until I place the knife at his throat. He stills. “Good boy,” I say. “You just be nice and quiet. Well, as much as you can. Frankly, I’m going to hurt you, so I don’t begrudge you the odd scream. That’s what the gag is for. You try to take it out, and I’m going to slice off your dick, though.” He nods ever so slightly, likely afraid the blade will cut him if he moves too much. I’m not going

to slice his throat though—that would be far too quick. “I’m not usually into the torture thing,” I tell him. “I’m more of a distance shooter, you know? Been tortured though. I’ve been tortured a lot. Never told them anything.” A shiver runs through me, and my skin goes cold in the aftershock. Bile comes up to the back of my throat, and I swallow to get the taste out of my mouth. “I was close though,” I say quietly. “I never told anyone about that. No one. Ever. There was one day when I nearly cracked. They’d already tried to beat it out of me. Beat me, burned me, left me alone without food or water—none of that would have ever opened my mouth. There was that one day when they thought they’d try something else.” A wave of nausea threatens, and I have to swallow again. My vision goes a little dark, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I never think about this—not even in my dreams. I barely remember it at all. I shake my head and pinch my forearm hard to bring myself out of it before I pass out. Crouching in front of Jimmy, I raise the knife up to his eye. “I know what it’s like to be raped. I know what that does to someone. I nearly cracked as a grown man, and she was just a little girl when you did that to her.” I lower the knife and cut into his stomach through his shirt. It’s not a mortal wound, by any means, and the knife is sharp. He probably barely feels it. As I shove my fingers in the hole I’ve made and twist upward, he closes his eyes, screaming into the gag. He twists his legs, trying to free himself to kick at me. I pull my hand from his gut and punch him on top of the wound. He doubles over, and I stand in front of him, wiping the blood on the back of his shirt. “Now that I think about it, I’m surprised Alina doesn’t seem to be as fucked up as she probably could have been from all of that. She’s really pretty put together. Maybe that’s just comparing her to me, though—I’m not a great baseline for that, ya know? Still, she fucks guys for a living and has you to thank for that.” I walk away from him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s getting off easy, but I want to give the impression of a burglary gone bad, not an execution. I would have preferred to cut him to death. Alina would know it was me for sure if I did that. “She’s smart, you know. She figures things out really quickly and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. I don’t think she got that from you. Makes me wonder who pulled her out of the gutter and taught her to stand up for herself. Maybe no one did. Maybe that’s all her.” I start pulling things out of drawers and dumping them out. I find his wallet and remove the few bills that are inside, not bothering to count the measly take before I toss the wallet on the floor. It’s a small apartment, and it’s pretty evident that there’s nothing worth stealing. “Gone all destitute without a little girl to whore out?” He doesn’t respond. At this point, he’s just watching me and trying to stay still. Maybe he thinks I’ll forget that he’s there. Maybe he’s going into shock from seeing his own blood soak his shirt. “Part of me wants to know the details,” I say as I sit back in the chair and light up another cigarette. “I don’t think she’ll ever tell me, but I get that. There’s plenty of shit I’ll never tell her either.

Sometimes it has to stay buried. The shrinks tell us we need to talk about all that shit to get it out, but some things are best left untouched.” “It’s funny that she and I are in each other’s lives, really.” I’m babbling and I know it. I’m not even sure why I’m saying all of this except that I know he’ll never have the chance to repeat it. It’s my own verbal journal, maybe. I’ve had a couple of counselors who wanted me to write shit down in a journal, but I never did it. I don’t need a book of memoirs. “Considering what you did to her, she should be even more screwed up than I am. At least I was at war with the people who fucked me over. You were supposed to be the one protecting her. It’s a wonder she can function at all.” I get back in his face and tap the edge of the knife against his nose. “Did you get off on that? Betraying the girl you should have loved and protected the most? Did you get off on making her do all that shit?” He’s completely still, which is a wise decision. “Are you even sorry about it?” Again, he is motionless. “The worst part was in between deployments.” I sit back in the chair. “Telling family members that the guys you were supposed to protect weren’t coming home. Trying to explain that there was nothing you could do to stop what happened. Then again, maybe you’re more like that woman whose husband was executed right beside me. She was glad he was gone. She was happy to get his death benefits and move on with her life.” I shake my head. “That’s more fucked up than I’ll ever be.” I sit back and smoke the rest of the cigarette as Jimmy watches me. There are tears in his eyes, and I’m glad. I’m sure he’s only feeling sorry for himself and not the girl he hurt, but at least he’s scared. “I bet she was scared, too.” It’s time to end this. It’s not like the city is going to spend a lot of time or money sending a forensics expert out for a shitbag like James Marino, but I still want to keep things looking like a burglary gone wrong. It’s the little slip ups that get people thinking something is up, and that can lead to a more thorough investigation. “Hold your hands up near your face.” He follows my instructions slowly, but as I approach him with the knife, he starts to panic and grabs for the gag. I slam the toe of my boot into his shin and tell him to do as he’s told. Tears flow down his face as he cooperates. I slash his arms up near his wrists, just below the gloves. I make nice, defensive-appearing wounds. He’s trying to scream through the gag now, but it’s pointless. I kick him again and tell him to shut up. “You do understand that you are going to die for what you did to her, right?” I get in his face and stare into his eyes. “You’re going to die for that. You deserve a lot worse, but I have to stick with my original plan.” I haul back and hit him as hard as I can. I hear his jaw crack with the blow, and my knuckles

sting. I shake my hand out and hit him again. I doubt he’ll be screaming too much now even without the gag. I stab him twice in the stomach and let him bleed for a minute. The wound won’t be fatal unless he lies here a long time, but it’s enough to weaken him. I’ll have to do a little more damage before I go. I shove him to the floor and let him lie there. In the meantime, I turn a few things over and shove anything that seems remotely valuable into my duffel. I’ll ditch it all when I get back into the city. There isn’t much to take, so I don’t spend a lot of time at it. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Jimmy rolls to his stomach and tries to crawl toward the door. I walk over unhurriedly and kick him in the belly a couple of times as he howls through the gag. He doesn’t even try to take it out again. Rolling him over with my foot, I shove the knife between two ribs and the blood really starts to flow. It’s still way too good for him. I watch as he struggles, too weak to roll back over, and his eyes start to glaze over as the dingy area rug soaks up blood. I sit back in the chair and watch him die. It’s unfulfilling. The kitchen sink is full of dishes, but I clean up there anyway, removing all traces of blood from my skin. Before leaving, I head to the bedroom in the back of the apartment to check for anything else worth stealing. Any burglar would have gone through the dresser drawers, and I want the cops to just glance over everything, write up their report, and file it under unsolved. I go through the dresser drawers and find a small handgun. There aren’t any bullets in it, so it’s not like it would have protected him from much. Maybe it is just for show. I pocket it and look over to the nightstand. There’s a photograph of a woman and a young girl on top of it. My stomach quivers a little at the sight. I can’t help it. I walk over and pick up the photograph. It’s definitely Alina. She’s young—maybe six or seven years old—and she’s standing next to a woman with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. In the background is the Navy Pier Ferris wheel. The woman next to her is undoubtedly her mother—a very thin and gaunt woman. Alina is right about her mother being a junkie. It’s obvious even in the faded photograph. My curiosity piqued, I open up a couple of drawers just to see if I can find anything else. When I don’t find much of interest, I check the closets. On the top shelf of a small bedroom, I find a box without a label on the outside. I pull it down and open it up. There’s a doll on the top of it. One of those Raggedy Ann dolls with button eyes and stringy hair made from red yarn. It’s pretty filthy but not in an unkempt way. It’s a well-loved kind of worn. Beneath the doll are a couple of children’s picture books and a Connect Four game. There are also a bunch of those plastic figures you find in kids’ meals at fast food places. At the very bottom, there are more photographs. “Bingo.” I glance up and see Ralph sitting on the bed. I’m a little surprised because I haven’t had

an appearance from him in several days. He also hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, but he must feel this is important. “Just a little voyeuristic glimpse into the past,” I mumble as I pull out the pictures. They must have gotten wet at some point because a lot of them are stuck together and tear when I try to pry them apart. There are only a couple of Alina as a young teenager. One is obviously a school picture, and her hair is nearly as long as it is now. I’m surprised to see her in a pair of glasses that don’t quite fit right. I wonder if she wears contacts now. I’ve never noticed. As I start to put everything back in the box, I see a small envelope stuck to the bottom, below where I had found the other pictures. I take it out, noticing the thickness of the contents, and realize there are more pictures inside. There are only three, and they are upside down as I remove them. As I turn them over, I’m fairly sure my eyes nearly bug right out of my head, and I drop down on my ass and stare down at my hands. I really didn’t expect to find a picture of myself.

Chapter 17—Beyond Duty I stare in utter disbelief. The photograph is from when I was stationed in Saudi Arabia, shortly before heading into Afghanistan. It’s a picture of me and Zach Marshall, my spotter during Desert Shield. We’re dressed in our combat fatigues, and I’ve got my arm swung over Zach’s shoulder. There’s a big smile on my face. I remember the day it was taken. We were leaving in the morning, and Zach said he needed a good picture to send back to his family. It was early March, and someone in our unit had just received a big box of Girl Scout cookies in the mail. I’d just eaten two entire sleeves of the peanut butter ones by myself. In the picture, Zack’s got a plastic bag of Thin Mints gripped in his hand. How the hell did this picture end up here? The other two pictures are solo shots—one of me target shooting while we were still stateside and another of Zach reclining on his bunk. There’s nothing written on the back of them or on the envelope, and there’s no indication as to how they might have ended up in a box in Alina’s father’s closet. I have no idea what to think. Taking the pictures, I shove the box back up in the closet. There isn’t anything anyone would want in the bedroom, so I don’t bother looking through the rest of it. I step over Jimmy’s body as I check around to make sure I haven’t left anything important behind like my cigarette butts or gloves. I’ve collected the zip ties and the knife and removed the gag from his mouth. There’s no reason to leave it there. I toss it into a heap of dirty clothes in the bedroom. I have everything else. Ralph crouches near the body, apparently checking out my knife work. He looks up at me as I open the door to the apartment and shakes his head slowly. “Fuck you,” I mutter as I leave. “I don’t need your opinion.” With my duffel swung over my shoulder, I maneuver around in the shadows until I get back to the Volvo. It’s been a handy thing to keep around, but it’s probably time to get rid of it. It’s already been involved in two major crimes. I drive it to the airport and take the ‘L’ back into the city. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. Every few minutes, I sit up and look at the pictures again. I can’t seem to help the flood of Zach-related memories that flow through my brain. We’d hit it off instantly. He was probably the first real friend I ever had. We spent eight months shoulder to shoulder before he was killed right beside me. As much as I want to keep what I’ve done from Alina, I can’t let this go. I need to know why her father would have a picture of me and my dead spotter. As far as I knew, he only sent those pictures to his family, and he definitely wasn’t related to any Marinos. I knew his entire life story. He was from the Chicago area, but the only people back home were his parents and his older brother. I sleep very little. As soon as I doze off, I dream of Zach. When I wake, my chest is tight and my eyes burn. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t appeared, but I get up and shower anyway.

As I make coffee and breakfast for myself, all my thoughts are on those pictures. Alina isn’t supposed to move in until tomorrow, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to wait. She gave me her phone number, but I’m hesitant to call. I don’t want to push her or give her any reason to back out on me. It would be best to wait until she is actually here with all her things. That makes it harder to just get up and leave. As I debate, my phone rings. I grab it quickly, hoping it’s her, but it’s not—it’s Jonathan. “Hey brotha,” he says. “I’m heading to the hospital. Want to go?” “Yeah.” It will be a good distraction from thinking about Alina, but it isn’t going to help with everything else. I can’t avoid it though. Jonathan picks me up, and we sit in rush hour traffic with the music from his radio blaring Led Zeppelin. By the time we get to Rinaldo’s room, visiting hours have already begun. Lucia and Becca are there, apparently going over some numbers. “Evan! I’m glad you’re here.” Rinaldo sits up a little. It has been less than a week since his diagnosis, but he still looks weaker to me. He struggles to get himself upright. “You should hear all this.” Becca looks at me coldly. I have the feeling she doesn’t like sharing information, but she might as well get used to it. Like it or not, I am going to be the boss after all. “Go ahead, Becca.” Rinaldo waves his hand at her to continue. “As I was saying,”—she glances at me briefly as she sticks a pen behind her ear—“the accounts you pointed out do represent most of the missing funds. Do you have any idea who has access to them?” Rinaldo looks at me and Jonathan, and we glance at each other. “Nothing concrete,” I say. “The money is being funneled through several countries. It will take a while to track it down.” “Well, get on it!” “Yes, sir.” Jonathan lets out a breath and starts fiddling with the unlit cigarette in his hand. Rinaldo looks between the two of us, and I would have kicked Jonathan for being so obvious, but that would make it worse. “You two going to share?” Rinaldo asks. I glare at Jonathan, and he shrugs. “Not yet, sir.” Rinaldo huffs and lets Becca get back to her numbers. “It’s a significant amount,” she says, “and it definitely goes back a couple of years.” “Justin was clearly involved,” I tell her. “He’s got a brother in the area. We think he may be

involved with the gangs down south.” “Justin was with us a long time,” Lucia says. “Why would he have been skimming?” “Because he liked money,” I say simply. “He was also an asshole.” Lucia puts her hand on her hip and eyes me. “Enough, Evan.” Rinaldo sounds tired. “Justin would make sense.” Becca nods and gathers up her papers. “I’m going back to the office to see if everything balanced out prior to his involvement. I’ll report back what I find.” “Thank you, Becca.” Rinaldo lies back in the bed and rubs his eyes as Becca leaves. “How’s the security system at the warehouse?” “It’s got some issues,” Jonathan says as he looks over at me. “I’m gettin’ close to figurin’ them out.” I nod. We’ll discuss it later. “It would be nice to know that’s all done,” Rinaldo says with a sigh. He glances over to a tray of untouched hospital food and rubs his eyes. “I’m tired, boys. Let’s continue this conversation tomorrow.” “Yes, sir.” “Evan—one more thing.” Rinaldo lifts his hand slightly in my direction. It seems to take a lot of effort. I gesture to Jonathan with my head, and he waits outside the door as I go to Rinaldo’s side. “What is it, sir?” “Lucia.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You need to take care of her.” I blink, trying to understand just what he means. That sentence could imply a lot of things. “In what way?” “She isn’t going to be happy when this is all over,” he says. “When I’m gone, she’s going to find out it’s all going to you.” “Put it in her name,” I tell him. “It doesn’t matter to me.” “No, you have to have all the control.” He turns his head to face me a little better. “Lucia has to feel like she’s getting her share, and there’s only one way to do that.” My skin crawls a little as I realize what he means. “No…Rinaldo, I can’t possibly—” “You can,” he interrupts. “It’s the best way.” “You always said I wasn’t right for her.” I sit in the rolling chair by the bed and put my face in my hands. “You can’t believe I’ve changed that much.” “Maybe not,” he says, “but it will placate her.”

“Placate her by marrying her? I thought she and Beni—” I stop the sentence, wishing I hadn’t started it. “Not him.” Rinaldo furrows his brow. “You don’t trust him.” “No, I don’t.” “Then why would I let him near my daughter? You’ll take care of her.” “Did you talk to her about this?” “Not exactly, but I think she knows it’s what I want.” My head is spinning. Marry Lucia? I have a hooker about to move into my apartment. I just killed her father and found pictures of myself in his possession. I do not need further complications. “Does she want it?” “Ah, Evan.” Rinaldo smiles and shakes his head at me. “Don’t you know all the women want you?” I pull back a little. “What, sir?” “Look in the mirror sometime.” He chuckles softly and keeps shaking his head. “Go now. I need some sleep.” “Yes, sir.” I meet Jonathan in the hall, and we both leave quietly. I glance at him as we get in the truck, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. “He’s fading fast,” I say as I buckle up. “Yeah.” Jonathan lights a smoke before handing me the pack. “Not sure how all this is going to play out.” “He’s leaving it all to me.” “Are you shitting me?” Jonathan shoves the truck back into park and turns sideways. “He’s giving it all to you? Not Beni or Lucia?” “Lucia can’t handle it.” I light a cigarette and roll down the window a crack to blow the smoke out. “Family or not, I don’t think he really trusts Beni to run it right. He says I’m the only choice. He wants me to marry Lucia.” “I don’t know if I should say congrats or condolences.” “Me either. I don’t want to run it all, but I can’t exactly refuse his request. I have no idea what Lucia is going to think.” “Damn, brotha.” He whistles long and loud. “That’s major shit.” “I’m gonna need you.” I look at him seriously. “I don’t trust anyone else but you, not even Lucia.”

“Always, brotha.” Jonathan nods. “You found something about the security software, didn’t you?” “Definitely Beni,” Jonathan replies as he shifts back into gear. “I had to go through the journaling to find his profile’s footprint, but it’s definitely there.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I trust he understands it. “So we know Beni mislead you to get you out of the way before the ambush,” I say. “We also know he’s definitely in business with Joshua and skimming from Rinaldo’s profits. Joshua was in with Marcello’s gang and probably took our guns.” “I think there’s another link on the inside,” Jonathan says. “Who?” “Don’t know for sure, but there has to be someone.” “Why do you think?” “Because Beni’s login was just part of it.” “What else did you find?” “There’s not just a backdoor into my app. There’s also a whole other app collecting information from my data.” “Where’s it going?” “A server in the Ukraine.” “What the fuck?” “That’s where they keep a lot of hackers these days.” “What data?” “All of it, as far as I could tell. I shut that part down, but I don’t know how much was sent.” “Stay on that.” “Will do, boss.” Jonathan smirks at me. “Stop that shit.” “Might as well get used to it.” Jonathan drops me off, and I immediately grab a beer and chug it. There is far too much going on in my head, and I need to shut down for a little while before I can start sorting through it. Mundane tasks work well for that, so I start getting ready for Alina’s arrival. The landlord came through with my request for a bigger place, and it takes me all of about two hours to move my stuff from one apartment to another. All I really have are my clothes, guns, and cash. There’s just enough in the kitchen to make a lame yard sale.

Maybe I should get new dishes. The new place is definitely roomier. There are two bedrooms, and they come completely furnished. I have no idea if Alina will want to move in furniture, but I figured this was best for now. We can always get a different place if this one doesn’t work out. “You think she’ll really put up with you long-term?” Ralph asks as I shove some clothes into a drawer. I don’t respond because I don’t have an answer. I hope she can put up with me. I plan to behave the best I can, but that isn’t always good enough. Hell, I’m not even sure what it means. After all, why would anyone put up with my shit for an extended period of time? I’ve been hit on by enough girls to know I’m a decent-looking guy, even without Rinaldo’s comment, and I’ve always kept myself fit, but that only works for a couple of nights. All a woman has to do is sleep in the same bed with me to know how screwy I am. Alina has. She’s seen that side of me. Seeing it occasionally and seeing it every night are two totally different things, though. After a week, will she still be all right with me crying in my sleep? A month? “Fucking doomed,” I mutter. Ralph seems to agree. There is definitely something different about Alina. I can’t deny that. She seemed to get me from the first night we spent together. When other hookers refused to have anything to do with me after a single night, Alina kept coming back. “Because she already knew who you were.” Did she? Yes, I found that picture in a box of things that were obviously left from her childhood, but did she know the men in the picture, or did her father happen across the photos and just throw them in there with the other junk? I toss some utensils from a box into a drawer, and I’m reminded of yard sales again. Mother Superior used to haul the kids to them in pairs during the summer, looking for toys and games for us without spending much. She’d be dressed in her full habit, and half the time, people would give her the shit for free. I think she did it on purpose. I finish transitioning my stuff and give the key to the old place back to the building super. Sitting in the new place feels strange, and I find myself just staring out the window. I’m on a higher floor now, and the view of the city is really beautiful as the sun sets, and the Magnificent Mile is awash in brightly colored lights. It reminds me of the view I had in the old place down the block, and I almost turn around to look for Odin. Alina will be here tomorrow, and I need to get some actual food into the apartment, so I do a little shopping. I stock the pantry and the refrigerator with anything and everything I think she might want. I even buy fucking tampons and some bubble bath to put in the bathroom. This place comes with a tub; the other only has a shower stall.

With everything as set in place as it can be, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare into space. Ralph sits on the floor near the doorway, unmoving in the silence. He must be waiting for her, too. I don’t know what to do with myself. I thought the move would take longer than it did, and though I probably ought to be digging into Beni and his relationship with Joshua Taylor, I’m far too preoccupied with the whole photograph thing. There’s nothing I can do but wonder until Alina is here to ask, so I try to push it to the back of my mind. Unfortunately, that only brings thoughts of Rinaldo to the forefront, which is even worse. I opt for television because I know sleep isn’t going to happen, but after twenty minutes of channel surfing, I turn it off. With nothing else to occupy me, I start going over my mental list of Rinaldo’s tasks. The accounts he wants set up are all but complete. I just need to get access to the right people, and they’ll be done. Jonathan can handle that. He still thinks I’m looking into Felisa’s death, but there isn’t anything for me to actually investigate there. I may just turn that over to Paulie as a security issue and let him go kill off whoever he wants to nail with the deed. It’s not like he would ever figure it out anyway. What else did Rinaldo want me to do? “You should call him.” Ralph swings his legs at he sits on the kitchen island. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out just what he meant. Then I realize he isn’t making a suggestion—he’s reminding me of what Rinaldo said. I pull up my laptop and do some minimal research. Jonathan has me connected to all kinds of skip-tracing databanks, and finding a phone number for Sebastian Stark isn’t difficult. Typing it into my phone and hitting send prove to be a little more challenging. What do I say to him? Do I ask him how he’s doing first or just come right out and tell him we share a father? He doesn’t even know who his parents are. He may not even believe me. The last time we were together, we were ready to kill each other. I sit on the couch with my finger hovering over the button for a good five minutes while I try to figure out what to say. Nothing good comes to mind, so I just hit the button and hold my breath. “Yeah?” I recognize his voice when he answers. With my eyes closed, I respond. “Hello, Bastian,” I say. “This is Evan Arden.” “Fuck me,” he mutters. “Give me a sec.” I can hear movement and muffled words on the other end of the line, then silence. A moment later, he speaks again. “Why are you calling me?” He’s angry, and I’m not quite prepared for that. “Just checking up on you,” I say. I shake my head at my own stupid words. I open a window, grab a smoke out of my duffel bag, and light it. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he says. “You can’t be calling me. Someone will figure it all out.” “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say. “Seattle is in shambles. No one gives a shit about Franks

anymore.” “Someone might. We aren’t supposed to be taking any risks.” “I…I have some information for you,” I tell him. I need to get him off his current line of thinking before he hangs up on me. “Something I thought you’d want to know.” There’s a long pause before he tells me to go on. “I have a guy who’s really good at research,” I say. “He did some checking into you, into your background.” “Yeah? And?” “And he found something I thought I should share. It has to do with your father.” “My father? I don’t even know who the guy is.” “I know who he is. Well, who he was.” “Go on.” “His name was Alexander Janez.” “But he’s dead, is that what you’re telling me?” “Yeah, he’s dead now. Buried in Ohio.” “What exactly am I supposed to do with this information?” “There’s a little more to it,” I say. I take a deep breath. “You see, Janez was my father, too.” The silence on the other end lasts far too long. For a moment, I think he’s hung up on me, but my phone says we’re still connected. “Bastian?” “Are you fucking serious?” “Yeah, I am.” “When did you find this out?” I consider telling him the truth but decide against it. It might be easier for him to accept it if I don’t reveal that I had known about our relationship the whole time we were fighting for our lives. “Just recently.” The phrase is innocuous enough. “I didn’t know what you’d think. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you at all, but Rinaldo thought it was a good idea.” “Holy fuck. You’re sure?” “Positive.” “It kinda makes sense,” Bastian says. “The timing is about right. You were born in Chicago, too?”

“I was.” “Did…did he raise you?” “No,” I say. “I don’t think he was interested in parenting. Hell, we could have a dozen siblings out there.” “Fuck. You really think so?” “I don’t have any idea.” “What about…what about my mother?” “I have her name,” I tell him, “but that’s it. I can give you the information, but I don’t know anything else about her. Your mother is not the same as mine.” “Half brothers,” Bastian says quietly. “I don’t know what the fuck to think.” The man does like his f-bombs. “Are you good with this?” I ask. “Yeah,” Bastian replies. “Yeah, I’m good with it. It’s going to take a little time to get used to the idea.” “I just wanted you to know.” “Yeah, I’m glad you told me. I don’t know what this means, but it’s good to know.” “I’ve never had someone I could call family,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s kinda weird.” “Yeah.” Bastian laughs, too. “It is weird. We probably have the market cornered on sibling rivalry.” “Hey, I didn’t kill ya.” “You mean I didn’t kill you.” “Maybe next time.” We both laugh. “Look,” Bastian says, “I’m out with Raine and some friends of hers from work. She’s gonna start looking for me if I don’t get back in there.” “That’s okay,” I say. “We can talk some more another time.” “Yeah. I think that would be good.” “Later, then.” “Later.” I disconnect the call, feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Bastian knows all about it now, and I’ve managed to kill some time. I toss the phone onto the counter and head off to take a shower. Afterwards, I rearrange shit in the kitchen and refold all my clothes. It’s two in the morning, the bars are closed, and I have nothing to do. With my head full of Zach and Bastian, I go back to staring at the ceiling until the sun brightens the windows.

***** “I still can’t believe you actually changed apartments.” I just shrug like it’s no big deal. It wasn’t, but I can tell from Alina’s expression that she’s pleased, and that definitely counts for something. “I didn’t know what all you’d be bringing,” I say, “so I figured it would be best to make sure there was room.” “You went to a lot of trouble.” Alina steps up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.” “My pleasure.” I watch her backside as she carries a small suitcase into her room. “I doubt this bed will get much use!” she yells. “Hope not!” I yell back. “Hey, I bought actual food, too!” “Fabulous!” Alina gets settled in while I start making one of Lele’s pasta sauce recipes. If I’m going to make an impression, it’s going to be a good one. The smell of basil and oregano has filled the kitchen by the time Alina finishes unpacking. “That smells incredible.” “Old family secret,” I say with a wink. “Hmm…will you have to kill me if I figure it out?” I glance over to her, surprised she’d make such a joke, but she’s smiling, so I smile back. “Something like that.” “I’ll set the table.” We eat. We chat about nothing in particular. We do the dishes, and we go to bed. I consider bringing up the picture about a hundred times during the course of the evening, but I don’t. I want to make sure the timing is right. I don’t want to push my luck. I hold her and slowly fuck her, taking my time and making sure she’s well satisfied before I enjoy my own release. When we’re done, I hold on to her and inhale the sweet scent of lavender. The next day is Sunday, and we sleep in. It’s not like I keep any kind of regular work hours—quite the contrary—but there must be some Catholic boy thing left inside of me that’s always reserved Sundays for relaxing and doing nothing. Alina seems to be of a similar mindset and isn’t bothered by my lack of motivation. We discuss the possibility of going out later in the week but spend the morning and afternoon just watching romantic comedies on Netflix and eating leftover pasta. She’s been here a full twenty-four hours, and I can’t wait any longer. Excusing myself for a moment, I go into the bedroom and get the pictures. I stare at them for a moment before returning to the couch. I place the picture of Zach and me together on the coffee table in

front of her and sit back as she picks it up and looks at it. She presses her lips together, and there’s a tear in the corner of her eye. There is no surprise in her expression. This isn’t the first time she’s seen the picture. “Where did you find this?” she asks quietly. “The question is, where did you find it?” Tracing the edge of the picture with the tip of her finger, she takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “Zach was my neighbor.” I blink a couple of times as Alina looks off into the distance. Zach was from Harwood Heights, not Oak Park. Of course, her father could have moved during that time. “He was a few years older than me,” she says, “but he was always really nice to me. He talked to me about school and how important getting an education was. He planned to go to college for engineering so he could take care of his parents and never have to worry about money again. I think he was the only boy I knew who wasn’t paying my father…” Her voice trails off and she clears her throat. “I guess I had a crush on him.” She chuckles softly. “I don’t know if he realized that or not, but I did. I think he was seventeen when I was eleven. He left for the Marines right out of high school, and I was really upset that he was going. When he left, he promised to write to me all the time, and he did.” “You knew me,” I say, suddenly putting it together. “That very first time I picked you up, you already knew who I was and not because of my reputation on the street.” “I did.” She nods. “Zach told me everything.” “Why didn’t you tell me before?” “I didn’t see any reason to,” she says as she leans back on the cushions. “I understand why you don’t want to talk about what happened over there, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was pushing you to give me information. I already knew enough.” “What did you know?” “Zach told me about a lot of the guys in his unit but mostly about you,” Alina says. “He told me you were the best marksman he’d ever seen in his life and how proud he was to be your spotter. He talked about how protective you were of your unit and how often you were there helping out the other guys when they needed it. He said everyone looked up to you, even the officers, and you were just a corporal.” I swallow hard. She’s talking about times I just barely remember. As often as I think about all the horrible things I’ve done and seen, I rarely consider some of the other times. “I remember one of his letters where a new guy had just been sent over there to join you. He was a radio operator or something like that. He was only eighteen and really scared to be deployed in the middle of everything. He’d only enlisted to pay for college and never thought he’d be sent overseas. Zach said you found him in the middle of the night, crying, and you stayed up with him and talked him

through it. You gave him the confidence and courage to keep going and that you always protected him.” She’s talking about Eddie-boy, and I close my eyes as I remember that night. The temperature had gone from about a hundred and ten that afternoon to fifty at nightfall, and all those insanely huge spiders had looked for heat inside our barracks. Eddie-boy had stepped on one coming out of the shower and had completely freaked out. We talked for hours about his childhood and why he joined the Marines. His family went camping a lot, and he’d come across critters in his tent before but never something that looked quite like those spiders. We had a big discussion about size ratio and how he was a lot bigger than a fucking spider. Then we’d gone searching for more of them, learning how to trap them and kill them. Eddie-boy became the unit’s exterminator after that. “What else did Zach say?” I ask quietly. “That you were incredibly brave, even when you had to do something you didn’t want to do. He said you always did what was necessary and that sometimes he didn’t know how you managed it. When things got bad, he said you were always there for everyone, saying and doing things to make life over there a bit more bearable. He kept saying they needed to promote you—make you an officer—since all of the officers listened to you anyway. Zach said he couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if you hadn’t been at his side.” “He was hit right beside me,” I tell her. “He died in my arms. We were under heavy fire, and I tried to stop the bleeding, but by the time the medic got there, it was too late.” “His mom told me,” Alina says as she squeezes my hand. “I didn’t know how. I just knew he was killed in the line of duty. It was right after his funeral that I left home.” I do the math in my head. Zach and I were the same age, and he died when he was twenty-one. If she was fourteen when she left home, it means Alina is now twenty-three years old—the same age I was when they pulled me out of that pit. “Before then, I was actually considering enlisting,” Alina says. “Zach knew my home life sucked, and he was always encouraging me to do it. Probably the Army, not Marines, or maybe even the Navy. I thought it would be a good way to get money for college, just like Zach was doing. Once he was gone… well, I guess the motivation wasn’t there anymore.” “And then you were living on the streets.” “For a while, yes. I didn’t have any other family and didn’t think it all through when I left. I had maybe five hundred dollars at the time. I thought that was a lot of money.” “That won’t get you far.” “Lasted about two weeks.” “Then what did you do?” “Made a living the only way I knew how.” Her voice is low, almost monotone. As she speaks the words, her tone becomes more and more detached. “What else was I going to do? I turned tricks and made enough to get a shitty apartment. Got beat up and raped a lot, but that’s how it goes.”

I bristle at the words and the casual way she says them. “Eventually, I hooked up with a pimp who wasn’t too bad. He took most of the money but got me into a better apartment with a couple of roommates who worked for him, too. He disappeared off the streets one weekend, and we assumed he was dead somewhere. That’s when Teto came and took us in. He worked for Greco then.” She looks at me, waiting for my reaction, but this isn’t new information. I nod for her to go on. “I never met the guy, just like I’ve never met your boss. I just followed Teto after that, and I’ve been with him for over two years.” “Did you ever see Zach’s family again?” “No,” Alina says. “I heard they moved out of state not too long after he died. I never saw them again.” I close my eyes for a minute, realizing how far my mistakes have reached. “If Zach had come home, you might not have had to live like that.” “There’s no way of knowing that.” Alina turns toward me and grabs one of my hands. “You aren’t responsible for Zach. He knew what he was signing up for, and he accepted that. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” “Well, I do.” I try to pull my hand back, but she holds on tight, and I relent. “If we had been two feet to the left, he wouldn’t have been hit.” “You had no way of knowing that.” “The cover wasn’t good enough. I should have set up somewhere else.” “You couldn’t have stopped it, Evan.” “I fucked it up, and he paid for it.” “You listen to me, Evan Arden.” Alina sits up a little more and takes my face in her hands. “You are not responsible for that. From what Zach told me, you are the only reason any of you survived as long as you did.” I can’t agree. “You were his hero, Evan.” “Me, a hero? Hardly.” I pull back from her and stand up. I start to pace a little as my stomach gets tied up in knots. “And what about now, huh? How would he feel about me now? Zach was a good guy. He even fucking prayed every night. Why the hell did he get hit and I come back just to kill some more?” Alina stands and approaches me, grabbing both of my hands this time. She pulls me back to the couch and straddles my lap. She places her hands on my shoulders and moves close enough that our noses are almost touching. “That man,” she says and then pauses and collects her thoughts before continuing, “that man Zach

told me about—that brave, heroic man that he admired so much—that’s you, Evan. It’s you. You were and you are that same man.” “Everything I’ve done since then…” I close my eyes and shake my head. “None of that takes away from what you did before. It doesn’t stop you from being that same person. You are still him. You still did all those admirable things that made Zach so proud to be your spotter. He loved you like you were his own brother.” Brothers in arms. I glance down at the bullet and letters tattooed on my wrist. I remember the day Zach and I went to the tattoo shop and got the same tat—mine with his initials, his with mine. Alina must notice where I’m looking because she reaches down and rubs at the letters—ZTM. Zachary Thomas Marshall. She wraps her fingers around my wrist and brings it up to her lips. She kisses each letter in turn. “I still miss his smile,” she says softly, “and that goofy laugh.” “He did have a goofy laugh.” “And he was so loud!” Alina smiles. “He would laugh at the dumbest jokes, too.” “He couldn’t tell one, either.” I smiled as well, remembering all the stupid one-liners Zach would come up with, claiming they were puns. They never made any sense. “He had the worst sense of humor, but you had to laugh whenever he did.” “Exactly! Then you would wonder what the hell you were laughing at.” Vivid memories flood my head, memories filled with beer and stupid jokes. “Is that why you’re here now?” I ask. “Because of some debt you think you owe Zach for being nice to you?” Alina stares at me for a long time, reaching up to stroke the side of my face. “At first,” she says quietly. “It’s different now.” “How so?” “Because before, I only had Zach’s letters to go by. I only knew your character through him. Now I know you for real.” “And you haven’t run away, screaming?” “You don’t scare me, Evan.” “Maybe I should.” “You’re sad,” she whispers. “Sad and lonely. You blame yourself for things you couldn’t control. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” I laugh out loud.

“There are a thousand other things that make me a bad person.” “That’s not you,” Alina says. “That may be what you do now, but that’s still not you.” “There are a lot of dead people who would disagree.” “You need a place to belong, Evan. You need someone to belong to. The fact that you happened to find that in a man who asks you to do such things is just circumstance. It’s the same reason I ended up a street whore.” “I don’t see how you can compare the two. You give people something they want and need. I take away their lives.” Alina doesn’t answer. She just looks over her shoulder at the picture where it sits on the coffee table. I wonder if I should show her the other two I grabbed. I’m still debating that when she speaks up. “Evan—where did you get that picture?” Ah, shit! With all the discussion of Zach and what happened to us both, I had just about forgotten how I came across the picture in the first place. She’d told me to stay out of it, and I’d gone behind her back and had taken care of things my way. “Your father’s apartment.” There’s no reason to lie at this point. She’s going to figure it out soon enough. She closes her eyes and looks away as she tightens her fingers around my shoulders. I don’t move, just watch her as she tries to control her breath and bites into her lip. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” I don’t answer. When she turns to meet my eyes again, I’m sure she can see the answer, but I won’t say the words. “You did it for me, didn’t you?” Again, I don’t respond. My silence will have to be enough for her. Alina leans back on my thighs and places her hands on her knees. She looks toward the door as she balances herself there, and I tense. This could be it. She could decide enough is enough, get up, and pack her things. The new apartment and dinner aren’t enough to counter this. I can’t regret what I’ve done. Not this time. Alina shifts, and I prepare myself for her to depart, but she doesn’t. Instead, she leans into my chest and places her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her back. I can feel the tears soaking into my shirt, but her cries are silent. I hold her for several minutes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When she does finally wipe at her eyes and speak, her words surprise me. “He’s really gone?”

“He’s gone.” She reaches her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tightly. “Thank you, Evan.” I hold her against me and close my eyes. Maybe for once, I did do something right. Alina wipes her eyes again and stands. She takes me by the hand and pulls me into the bathroom and starts the shower. She lathers me everywhere, her fingers pressing into the muscles in my back, chest, and arms. We take turns toweling each other off, and I help her apply a generous amount of lavender lotion to her skin before we climb into bed. She wraps her arms around me, and I wrap mine around her. In silence, we hold each other. I wonder if she is thinking of her father or if she has memories of Zach running through her head like I do. I feel her grip on me lessen, and she tilts her head into the space between my neck and shoulder. She sighs deeply, and I kiss the top of her head as I relax against the pillow. “They did promote me,” I whisper into the darkness. “In the field, when our lieutenant was killed. I took command of the unit, and then they all got killed.” Alina tightens her arms around me. “It was my fault,” I tell her. “They never should have promoted me.” Alina strokes the back of my head for a few moments before she responds. “Tell me something, Evan.” “Okay.” “With only the knowledge you had at the time, tell me what order you could have given that would have saved them.” I lick my lips and think about it. I’d never really approached it in such a way. All my “what ifs” included knowledge that they were about to attack. “We were ambushed. They’d captured someone from the unit, and he’d given up our position.” “Did you have any way of knowing that?” “I didn’t figure that out for a long time. I knew he had been captured—I’d seen him. He was in the video when they executed the journalist.” Alina nods. It’s obvious she knows exactly what I am talking about. The whole world saw that footage. “So, I’ll ask again—what order could you have given that would have saved them?” I don’t have an answer. “I got to know you through the eyes of someone in your unit,” Alina says as she strokes the side of

my face. “I felt like I was right there beside you when I read his letters. You were a model soldier, Evan. You were smart, you were dedicated to your unit, and you did everything you could to keep them safe. Even now, after years of thinking about it, you know there is nothing you could have done to change the outcome.” I want to argue with her. I had been in command, and they all died while I was off taking a piss. Their lives were my responsibility, and I had failed them. There are so many things I could have done differently if I had known. If I had known. That’s the key though, isn’t it? I didn’t know. I didn’t know that our location had been given up. I had no idea they were going to show up right at that moment. We were surprised and outnumbered. We had no warning, and there was no defense. There’s nothing I could have done. For the first time since it happened, I believe it.

Chapter 18—Uncovered Betrayal This can’t be happening. “They said six to eight weeks! That was ten days ago!” The doctor’s words flow in and out of my head. Blood clots near Rinaldo’s heart. Surgery is risky. They’ve never seen such rapid growth. A few days at best… Lele is in tears, and Lucia is arguing with the diagnosis and whether or not heart surgery will buy Rinaldo more time, and Nick is on the other side of the wall, listening but not included. The doctor’s expression says it all—there’s nothing they can do. Rinaldo will be gone by the weekend. I can’t listen anymore. I stand and walk away from the small conference area without a word. Lele and Lucia will just have to deal without me. I’m not family any more than Nick is, and I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for him to be gone. It isn’t supposed to happen this fast. With my hands balled into fists, I glance down at Nick, sitting in a chair and staring at his hands clasped between his knees. He looks even worse than I feel, so I step up to talk to him. “You all right?” Nick startles when I speak and then glares up at me. “What do you think?” he snaps. “My father’s got a few days left to live, and I’m not even allowed to go back and see him. Lele won’t make eye contact, and Lucia is always with her. They let Jonathan and Becca back there but not me.” I nod. He’s got every right to be pissed off. “I’ll talk to Lucia.” I sit down next to him, and he flinches from me. “I’m sure she’ll add you to the visitor’s list. You know we were just trying to protect him.” “From who? Me? What exactly are we going to save him from at this point, huh? Afraid someone’s going to put him out of his misery before the cancer can take him?” “There are still people out there who would betray him.” I think of Beni and wonder where he’s been during all of this. I haven’t seen a sign of him in days. “People are going to wonder what happens next, and there are those who would try to move too soon.” “It’s bullshit.” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “What is?” “All your talk about betrayal…” Nick snorts through his nose. “It’s bullshit.” “Nick, what are you talking about? You know situations like this can be turmoil. We have to be on the lookout to protect Rinaldo and his business.” Nick turns and narrows his eyes at me, and I’m taken aback by the look he gives me. Nick is always so docile; it’s strange to see him this angry.

“You know what? Fuck it.” He points a finger at me. “I don’t care if you do kill me.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I’m getting pissed off at his cryptic talk. “I’m not after you!” Nick looks around to see if anyone’s listening before leaning in close to me. He lowers his voice as he speaks. “It means I know what you did. I found Felisa’s bracelet in your car. I know what you did to her. You set it up to look like it was the gangs, but I know it was you.” My body goes a little cold as we look at each other, and I remember the remnants of the broken bracelet that must have been left in my car. I thought I had gotten them all out. I also remember Nick going quiet after I came back from the gas station. I noticed that he might have had something in his hand but didn’t think much of it. It must have been the bracelet. At least now I know what has him so tense. He’s right—I might kill him now. I can’t count the number of times someone has accused me of murder. Like now, they were usually spot-on. I’ve always approached it calmly and with threatening silence. However, I’m nowhere near calm now. I grab Nick by the sleeve of his shirt and pull him outside the hospital door. I glance around quickly, looking for some kind of cover. There’s not much out there besides a row of hedges, so I haul him behind them. I shove him against the brick wall behind the shrubs, draw my gum, and point it at his face. “You have some fucking balls, don’t you?” I can feel him shaking in my grip, but he still glares at me. “At least I haven’t killed anyone in the family,” he says with a sneer. “At least I am family. What are you? The adopted fucking puppy?” I clench my teeth, and I am seconds away from pulling the trigger. There would be witnesses, and there’s no way I’d just walk away from it. I can see people going in and out of the doors in my peripheral vision. If I’m going to kill him, I’ll have to take him out somewhere else, and he’s not going to go quietly. I stare at him. I stare at him and think of Rinaldo lying in his bed. This is the last thing he needs. Maybe I am the rescued dog because I’m going to continue to protect him. “I don’t know what you think you know,” I say quietly as I lower the gun and shove it back in my shoulder holster, “but if you think saying something to Rinaldo or Lucia is a good idea—” “I’m not saying anything.” Nick’s jaw stays tense as he speaks, but his tone is softer. “Just don’t think that I’m only a stupid stoner. I see shit, and I can put shit together.” “Nick…” His name is a warning on my tongue. “I think I know why you did it,” he says, “but don’t go spouting loyalty shit to me right now, okay? I’m not buying it.”

My hands twitch, and Nick’s lucky I’ve got just enough control not to pull the gun back out again. “Anything and everything I do is for Rinaldo and his family.” My voice is a snarl through my teeth. “Don’t you ever forget that, bastard.” I shove his chest, pushing myself away from the wall and the hedges before stomping out into the hospital parking lot. Anything else would have meant blood, and I needed to get out of there. I don’t doubt that Nick will keep his mouth shut. Even if he doesn’t care about his own life, I believe that he doesn’t plan on telling anyone. That said, he’s still a risk to me now. How could I have been so careless? I should have made sure every last piece of that bracelet was removed. I’d been sloppy. If Nick figured it out, someone else could as well. He needs to go, but I’m not about to kill Rinaldo’s son at this point, bastard or not. I’d done enough to hurt Rinaldo already. A thought comes to me, and I pull out my phone and call Bastian. “Is this going to become a frequent thing?” he asks as he answers my call. “Well, hopefully not for the same reasons.” I chuckle. “I’m just wondering what you know.” “About what?” Bastian asks. “Are you still connected to the business at all?” “Not really,” he says. “John Paul used to provide me with info, but I haven’t talked to him in months. He’s still living in Miami with some stripper.” “There are a lot of changes going on here now,” I say. “Major changes. It’s possible I might need your help.” “Is that what this is all about? I’m not fighting again.” “No, not that. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” “What, then?” “Rinaldo has a son,” I tell him. “A son that is going to need to get out of the city. He’s not a target right now, and I want to keep him that way.” I also want to keep myself from killing him. “What does that have to do with me?” “I might send him your way.” “So I can do what with him?” “You don’t need to do anything with him,” I tell him. “Just maybe help him find a place to stay for a while until he can get himself settled. Someplace close to you in case he has problems. I don’t expect him to, but it would be nice to know there’s someone near.”

“I can find him a place,” Bastian says. “It might be temporary, but it would buy him enough time to find something else.” “Thank you. I appreciate it.” “You in trouble?” he asks quietly. “Depends on what you consider trouble,” I reply. “I’ll have to tell you later though.” “I’ll see what I can find out through John Paul.” “Yeah, do,” I say. “I’d like to know what’s going through the grapevine about Chicago business.” “I’ll find out.” “Thanks.” “Hey, Evan?” “Yeah?” “I thought about everything you told me,” Bastian says. “I’ve never had a family, you know, and… well, I guess I’m just glad you let me know. If you are in trouble, I’ll be there.” I tighten my grip on the phone a little. “I understand how difficult that would be for you with Raine and Alex. You need to stick with them, so I’ll try to never need your personal help.” “Yeah, I’d appreciate that, too!” Bastian laughs. “Bastian?” “Yeah?” “It’s mutual.” I take in a long breath. “You ever need anything, I got your back.” “I’ll remember that. Take care, Evan.” “You, too.” I hang up and walk back into the hospital, slightly calmer. Nick is nowhere to be seen, which is probably best for him. Lucia and Lele are still talking to the nurse by the front desk, so I head straight to Rinaldo’s room and sit beside him. He’s pale, weak, and hooked up to oxygen. He doesn’t even open his eyes when I sit down though I can see the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. I rest my chin on my hand and try to understand how so much can be falling apart all at once. “Evan?” Rinaldo’s eyes are glassy, likely from morphine added to the drip in his arm. He coughs twice, grimacing as he does. “Can I get you something, sir?”

“No, son.” I clasp my hands together and rub at my palm with one thumb, trying to come up with the right words. There’s so little time, and I have no idea what to say to him. “Everything is set up on my end,” he tells me. “You may have to play a little interference with Lucia, but she’ll ultimately abide by the will. She’s going to be pissed at me, but there isn’t time to try and explain it all to her. She’ll listen to you eventually.” I’d considered Beni’s reaction to me taking over, and I know exactly what I will do about that, but I hadn’t really thought much about Lucia’s understanding of this whole arranged marriage thing. If she believes she is going to maintain a level of control through me, she might be placated. “Did you tell her?” I ask. “There hasn’t been an opportunity.” Rinaldo closes his eyes and swallows hard but ends up coughing again. “She’ll come around.” “I don’t know if I can do this, sir.” “It’s all set, Evan. You’ve got this. You can handle anything.” “You have too much faith in me.” I shake my head and look to Rinaldo’s pale face. “There isn’t a lot of time. Lucia and I haven’t even dated, much less talked about anything else.” “I’ll tell her it’s what I want. She’ll listen.” “It might not be enough.” “It will be enough for her.” I don’t share Rinaldo’s confidence. Sometimes his ideas are a little too old school, and Lucia is a modern woman. If she sees herself becoming her mother—sidelined and raising my children while I do the dirty work—she might not consider it enough in the least. “I have my doubts,” I tell him. “It will take her time to get used to the idea,” he says, “but she’ll get there. She’s always liked you, and I don’t think the arrangement itself will be a point of contention.” I take a deep breath and hope he’s right. “What’s the status of everyone else?” he asks. “All the accounts are set up. Lele and Margot will be on their way to Italy as soon as”—I can’t bring myself to say the word funeral, so I don’t—“as soon as possible. It’s all arranged.” “Keep the wedding quick and simple. Lele won’t be up for a lot of planning.” I nod. “There’s one last thing.” His words are expected. “Nick and Milena,” I say.

“Yes.” Rinaldo shifts in the bed, trying to get comfortable. I lean forward and help him with the pillow. “They will both need to leave Chicago,” I say. “I’m not leaving him anything,” Rinaldo says, “at least not officially. That’s where you come in.” “I’ll get an account set up. I’d like him somewhere within reach just in case I ever need him but definitely out of the state.” “Where are you thinking?” “Seattle, LA, and New York are out of the question. He may not be an obvious target, but those cities are too risky. I’m thinking of sending him off to Georgia.” “Georgia?” “Outside the Savannah area.” “Why there?” “Because Sebastian Stark is there. Nick would have some protection if he needed it, and the area is pretty secluded.” “You’ve talked to Stark?” “I have.” “What did you tell him?” “Enough.” I lean back, and Rinaldo stares at me pointedly. “I told him we’re brothers. I told him I might need a favor. I’m not completely sure where that leaves us, but I’ll go out there and make sure everything’s okay before I send Nick.” “I think that’s a good choice.” Rinaldo nods slowly. “He needs to leave the area and the business behind.” Rinaldo hasn’t mentioned Beni, and I’m reluctant to drop that bombshell on him. He doesn’t look like he can possibly handle anything else right now. I opt for good news instead. “Jonathan has the security stuff worked out,” I say. “It should be staged today or tomorrow with all the bugs worked out within the next week or two.” “Good.” He lets out a long breath. “I’m tired, Evan. I assume Lele and Lucia are close behind you.” “Still talking to the doctor. They’ll probably want to come see you soon. Do you want me to tell them to wait?” “It wouldn’t make any difference. They might just have to watch me sleep.” “Do you want me to send a nurse in?” “No, I’ll manage.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” He reaches his hand out. It’s so thin I can see the bones under his skin. “Thank you,” he says in a whisper. “Thank you, son.” My throat clenches. “My pleasure, sir.” ***** As much as I need to talk to Nick, I’m not ready to tell him what his future holds just yet. I need to keep my distance until the inclination to kill him diminishes. I have no doubt that he’ll accept the suggestion. Even with Lucia staying in the area, Nick wouldn’t have any real ties to Chicago without Rinaldo, and he’ll want Milena where she’s safe. With Rinaldo’s deteriorating health weighing on me, I head home. I enter my apartment, still shaken. Alina isn’t there, but when I check my phone, there’s a text saying she’s gone out to do some shopping. It’s been six days since she moved in with me. Tomorrow is the end of our trial period, and Alina will be heading back to her own apartment. The idea of her leaving now, when Rinaldo is in such bad shape, makes my stomach clench. I doubt I’m going to get much sleep even with her here. I’m going to have to do something to make her stay longer. The usually fairly silent but very desperate part of me conjures up images of keeping her here whether she likes it or not. It wouldn’t be difficult. I did buy her after all. If she went back to her pimp, I could make sure he sent her right back to me. He wouldn’t question it. She couldn’t leave me then. I lick my lips as ideas flow through my head, unfiltered. I would start by asking nicely, of course, but if she refused, I could make it very clear that she doesn’t have an option. I took care of her father. She knows what I’m capable of doing. Is that really what I want? I drop down on the couch and sigh to myself. There’s a reason I have usually opted for paid pussy. It’s just easier. Maybe I need to remember what kind of person I am and go back to basics. Alina’s just a hooker, and it’s just about sex and getting a decent night’s sleep. There isn’t anything more. I stare at the copy of Cosmo on the coffee table and try to convince myself that I don’t feel anything for Alina, but it’s not working. Having her here with me has been fantastic. She doesn’t ask questions about my business or try to get me to talk about shit from the past. She’s a fantastic cook but appreciates what I make, too. At night, when I wake up from nightmares, she’s always there with me. She calms me down and helps me get back to sleep. I don’t have to explain anything to her—she already understands. All of it. Over the past few days, we’ve talked about Zach a lot. His letters were apparently very detailed and gave her quite a clear picture of how things were over there. I’d told him so much about my early

life, and he’d relayed a lot of that to Alina. It feels as if she knows me almost as well as he did. As she told me about his letters, I realized Zach had talked about her as well. I didn’t think much of it at the time. He just said there was a girl back home in a bad family situation and that he hated not being there for her. She knows me, and I don’t have to tell her anything. She understands as well as anyone who hasn’t been deployed possibly can. Even better, she is quite adept at handling my moody, fucked-up self. The door opens, startling me from my thoughts. Alina has several of those plastic grocery bags wrapped around her wrists, and I jump up to help her. “Thank you,” she says as I take some of the bags from her. “You are very welcome.” I check inside the bags, which are full of fresh vegetables and fruit. “Looks like you’ve been busy.” “I was reading an article about antioxidants and getting vitamins from fresh foods instead of a pill. I know you always take a multivitamin, but I thought this might be better. The recipes look good anyway.” “You have enough here for a platoon.” “I thought I’d make extra. It should freeze well, and you can eat it later this week.” Bam! I physically flinch from her words. You, not we. Alina’s head is in the fridge, and she doesn’t see my reaction. I drop the rest of the bags on the kitchen island and lean against it as images of her kissing my cheek as she says goodbye run through my mind. I rub at the center of my chest, trying to make the sudden tightness go away. I can’t let her go. “You should just stay.” I try to make the statement simple and keep my voice calm. “Only until tomorrow,” Alina says. “I need to get back to my apartment.” “You don’t even need that place,” I tell her, hoping I sound convincing instead of desperate. “There’s plenty of room here. If it’s not enough, we can switch to a three-bedroom or a whole new place if you prefer.” “I still need my place.” She shuffles some of the refrigerator’s contents around, trying to make room for a plastic container of blueberries. Her response is so nonchalant, as if it means nothing to her. “Just a few more days.” So much for not sounding desperate. She steps back from the fridge, pressing her lips together and not looking at me. “I can’t do that, Evan. I need some time.” “Time for what?” As my body tightens, I start to lose my control. “Everything is working out

fine!” She stands and looks at me. Her expression seems patronizing, and it pisses me off more. “We agreed to this, Evan. One week. That week is up tomorrow, and I need a little space to think about all of this.” “What is there to think about?” I raise my voice a little. “You stay here with me. I fuck you, and then we sleep. It’s pretty simple!” “There’s more to it than that.” “No, there’s isn’t.” “Evan…” She steps forward and reaches out to me, but I pull back. “I bought you. You aren’t a rental anymore.” “And I told you, no one owns me. I’m not here to be bought or sold.” “Yeah, you are. You’re a hooker, so yeah, you are here to be bought.” “On my own terms.” Alina puts one hand on her hip and runs the other through her hair. I still want to braid it. If she leaves, I may never get the chance. “The terms involve money and pussy. I already put up the money. What do you want, a raise?” Alina scowls at me and places her other hand on her hip. She narrows her eyes and takes a deep breath. “If all you wanted was pussy, you could get that anywhere.” “If I wanted to have to search for it, I would! That’s why you’re here! It saves me gas money.” “Are you trying to say you have money concerns? How much did you pay to buy me?” “And why do you think I did that?” “Because you want a girlfriend but can’t be bothered to do it the right way!” Because they fucking leave me! “I want someone who doesn’t give me shit. That’s what I pay for.” Alina glares for a moment and then tries to collect herself. “You think I’m not sympathetic, Evan? I’m the one who holds you at night when you’re crying in your sleep. I’m the one who hears you talk about things you’d never voice in the daytime. I know how much pain you are in.” “I don’t want your fucking sympathy!” I yell. “Well, you have it anyway!” she screams right back at me. “Great! Sympathy from a street whore—just what I need!”

I watch her take in a long breath before she speaks again. “You do need me,” Alina says, her voice soft now. “Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but you do. You can’t even sleep without me here.” “And you don’t need me?” I counter. “I’ve never needed anyone.” Alina crosses her arms over her chest. The self-assured gesture pisses me off. After everything I’ve done for her—everything I’ve given to her—she’s trying to say she never needed it. “I took you off the streets!” I yell at her. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be out there fucking whatever loser stopped by your corner! I fucking rescued you from that!” “Who told you I needed rescuing? I was perfectly fine where I was! I had a pimp who looked after me and only took a reasonable cut! I had a roommate I liked and got to hang out with on occasion! I had my own money to do what I wanted, and I wasn’t at anyone’s beck and call unless I wanted to be!” She might as well have slapped me. I would have preferred it. My hands are shaking, and my fingers involuntarily drift toward my side, attempting to reach for my gun. I can barely stop myself from pulling it out and aiming at her face. Flashes of Bridgett, begging me on her knees before I pulled the trigger, race through my head. I clench my hands into fists to keep them from moving. This can’t happen. I can’t let this happen. I feel like a tightly closed bottle of warm soda that’s been shaken up. The pressure in my head blocks all reasonable thoughts, and my skin tingles as if there were a thousand spiders crawling all over me. “You don’t want what I can give you? Fine! Just fucking leave when your time is over! I don’t need this bullshit!” “That is the plan!” As if I need the reminder. My hands ache to grab her and shake her. I can see myself doing it, but I don’t want to hurt her. Guilt from killing Felisa still haunts me. I can’t handle another screw up. Get out! Those two words are the only rational thing in my brain. I grab my keys off the counter and my jacket off the hook near the door. I hear her calling after me, but I don’t respond. Slamming the door behind me, I race to the Camaro and out of her presence. I have no destination in mind. I just know I have to get away from her. Staying near her would be incredibly dangerous. I have enough regrets. Squealing the tires as I exit the parking garage, I nearly slam into a pedestrian as I speed through an intersection. Maybe the light was red—I wasn’t paying attention, and I really don’t care. I just need to be away.

I also have nowhere to go. Everything around me is blurry and tinged with red. I’m driving like a maniac, and I realize I am going to get pulled over if I keep it up. The last thing I need is a dead cop on my hands. I slow down and start cruising side streets one block at a time, stop sign after stop sign. The monotony brings me down a bit, and eventually I head to the highway. I keep the speeding to a minimum as I circle the city. It takes hours, but eventually I calm. I’m exhausted and pull the car over to a deserted street and yank at the parking brake. Reaching for the lever at the side, I lean the driver’s seat back as far as it will go and close my eyes. Rinaldo is going to die, and I’ve just alienated the only woman who understands. Ralph is strangely absent, and it occurs to me that I haven’t seen him for quite some time. I try to remember when he last appeared but can’t come up with it. I rather wish he would suddenly show up. I could use whatever words he might have to offer, even if it’s just to tell me how stupid I am. I don’t return to the apartment. I really don’t trust myself.

Chapter 19—Resolved Agreement I sit in the Camaro all night, dozing occasionally. The nightmares are more horrific than they have been for a long time, and they don’t allow me to sleep for long. In the morning, I drive home slowly and sit in the parking garage, afraid to go up to my own abode. I don’t know which would be worse—finding her there or finding her gone. As I approach the door, I don’t know what I’ll see when I go inside. I’m not sure I even want to open it. If she isn’t there, I’m going to go ballistic. I don’t want to imagine what that might entail. I’m a little shocked to see Alina at the kitchen table with a cup of tea held in her laced fingers. She doesn’t look at me when I come in. She’s actually so still, I think she might be holding her breath. I’ve acted like a total dick, and I know it. Any man in his right mind would probably apologize, but I’m not, and I won’t. It doesn’t matter anyway because nothing has changed. I still need her here. I stand near the door for quite a while until Alina finally looks over to me. Her eyes are dim and swollen, and I wonder if she got any more sleep than I did. I have no idea what to do or say, so I continue to stand there until I think of something. It’s really the only thing I have to say. “I want you to stay.” “I know you do.” She nods and looks back at her cup. “I need you,” I tell her. “I do admit that, but don’t act like I haven’t done anything for you.” “I didn’t ask you to.” “I still did.” “Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” “You’re supposed to be grateful that I haven’t put a bullet in your head.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Alina slowly turns her head to me and blinks slowly. “Is that what you’re going to do?” “No.” I huff out a breath and run my hand over my head. “That’s why I left.” “I’m not afraid of you, Evan.” “So you keep saying. You should be though.” I close my eyes for a moment and try to keep myself in check. “I want you to stay,” I tell her again.

“You said that.” “There’s more to it. I mean, there’s more now.” I bite down on my lip as my throat seizes up. My eyes burn, and I nearly fall just trying to come up with the words. Alina is suddenly at my side, taking my hand and leading me to the couch to sit down. “Have you been up all night?” “Pretty much. Nightmares.” She nods. “Tell me what else is going on,” Alina says. “Something set you off last night, and I don’t think it was just me leaving.” “It wasn’t.” “What then? I don’t want to pry, but this time, I think I need to know.” “It’s Rinaldo,” I say quietly. I don’t want to admit it out loud, but she won’t stay if she doesn’t understand. “He’s worse. They’re giving him a few days at best.” “Oh, Evan. I’m so sorry.” She lifts her arms around my neck, and I lean against her. “I’m not ready for all of this. I don’t want to take over the business. There was supposed to be more time.” I feel her lips press against the top of my head, and I start to break down. “But…but if you leave, and he…he… If I can’t find you…” “You have my number now,” she says rationally. “You’ll be able to find me.” “It’s not the same.” “I know, but it’s all I can offer right now.” “Don’t leave tomorrow.” I’m begging her, turning toward her and holding her against my chest. “Just stay a while longer. We can always reevaluate later.” “I know you’re upset now, but we did have an agreement.” She leans back and looks into my eyes as she places her hand on my cheek. “We need to step back and figure out if this is going to work. Both of us need to do that.” “It’s working for me.” “I have other obligations, Evan. Those aren’t all conducive to living with you.” “What? Your other johns?” I move a few inches away from her, pushing her hand from my face. “That’s not what I meant.” “Well, what did you mean?” “Loretta has been taking care of my apartment and everything while I’ve been gone,” Alina says.

“I can’t ask her to do that forever. It’s not fair to her.” “I can take care of that.” I rationalize it all in my head. “I’ll pay the bills. Whatever works.” “I don’t think she’d want you doing that.” “I don’t care! I need to know you’ll be here. I know we said a week, but by then, Rinaldo will be…” She reaches for me again, and I let her. “All right, Evan. We’ll give it some more time, but I have a condition.” “I’ll pay the apartment bills. I’ll get Loretta a fucking maid if she wants one.” “It’s not the bills I’m worried about.” Alina takes a deep breath. “I told you I have other obligations as well.” She said it isn’t about clients, and I try to figure out what she might be talking about. Suddenly, it hits me. “You have a child.” “Not exactly.” Alina laughs and shakes her head. “No, I don’t have a kid.” “What, then?” “I have a dog, Evan.” Alina sighs loudly and looks down at her lap. “I know some people don’t see it this way, but she means the world to me. I miss her, and Loretta hates taking care of her. She doesn’t even take her out for walks or to the dog park.” “That’s it?” “What do you mean?” “A dog? That’s what’s bothering you? That’s what’s keeping you from staying?” “Well, yes.” All the times I unthinkingly looked for Odin in the apartment come back to me. I’d thought about getting another dog but couldn’t bring myself to actually look for a replacement. Freyja had been Odin’s puppy, and she was easy to love because I saw him in her. “Bring her with you.” “Does this place even allow pets?” “I have no idea, and I don’t care. If that’s all you’re really concerned about, just bring her here. I don’t mind.” “Really?” “Not at all.” I imagine another dog like Odin running around and playing fetch with me through the living room. “Are you just saying that to get me to stay?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s still all right.” “I can bring her here?” “Sure.” “She could stay here in the apartment with us?” “Of course.” “Oh my God.” Alina cries out as she wraps her arms around me and hugs me. “Thank you, Evan! You have no idea how much that means to me. I hate being away from her.” “Seriously?” I can’t help but laugh. “Was this really all you were worried about?” “Not everything, but a lot of it, yes. I still think we need to figure out just how this is going to work. I can’t just be here as your personal whore.” “I don’t know.” I shrug. “It kinda has a nice ring to it.” “No, it does not!” She slaps at my arm playfully. I look at her closely, enjoying the return of her smile. Running my hand up her arm, I lean in to kiss her softly. “You’ll stay?” I need to hear the words. “Yes, Evan. I’ll stay. I need to call Loretta and let her know I’ll be a day late. She isn’t going to like it, but it will be okay.” “All right.” I pull her against me and press my lips to her hair as she calls her roommate. I am beyond relieved. It never occurred to me to even ask her if she had children or pets or anything like that. The idea of a dog running around the apartment is fantastic. I’m tempted to tell her to go ahead and get the dog now, but I don’t want to let go of her yet. She’s going to stay. “How do you manage to put up with me?” I ask when she hangs up the phone. “I know you,” Alina says simply. Grabbing her chin, I tilt her face to mine. I watch her eyes as I move in, gently brushing my lips with hers before going for a deeper kiss. Alina lifts her hand to the back of my head, deepening the contact as her tongue runs along mine. With her other hand, she starts to unfasten the buttons of my shirt. With her hands against my bare chest, I watch as she pushes my shirt from my shoulders. I kiss her quickly before I grab at the hem of her shirt and quickly bring it up over her head. Sliding my hand into the top of her bra, I kiss her again. I find her nipple and pinch it gently as she arches her back. Without breaking the kiss, I release her breast and reach down to run my fingers slowly up the side of her leg, around her knee, and up her thigh. She’s wearing tight jeans, and when I seek the place between her legs with my thumb, I can feel her heat through the denim. “Jesus, Evan.” Alina grabs my belt and nearly rips the buckle off. Her breath comes quickly as

the rest of our clothes rapidly make a pile on the floor. I grab her and push her on her back against the couch cushions, and she reaches out to pull me down with her. Our mouths and tongues mesh, and her skin is warm to the touch. I reach between her legs again, and she bites down on my lower lip, pulling it between her teeth. I slide a finger into her, curling it up as if it could meet my thumb on the other side. Alina breaks the kiss and moans as I press down, rubbing her clit with my thumb and grabbing the inside of her thigh with my other hand. Before she can tilt her head back, I drag her up, placing my lips against her neck. I kiss up to the line of her jaw and then over to her ear. “I can’t let you go.” My throat is dry, and it’s hard to get the words out. “You know I couldn’t even function if you weren’t here.” “I know. It’s all right. I’m here. Just please, Evan, fuck me.” No additional encouragement needed. I grab her leg and bring it up over my hip. I sink into her slowly, but that’s the end of all things gentle. I pull back and slam into her. “You want to be fucked, do you?” “Yes.” Her voice is just a whisper. “You want my cock that bad?” “Yes!” “Then I’m going to give it to you.” My pace is furious. All that has plagued me—the worry over Rinaldo and being alone—I pour into her body. Sweat covers my skin as I take her hard and fast. Alina grips my forearms and hangs on as I lean over, pounding into her. She cries out with each thrust, and it sounds like drum beats. I feel my stomach tighten, but I’m not ready to come yet. Slowing down, I stroke a couple more times before pulling out of her. Alina squirms and protests as I lean over and trace the skin of her neck with my tongue. I breathe hot air onto her wet flesh and move my lips up her throat. “I want your ass,” I whisper in her ear, and she moans. “Do you want that?” “Yes.” “Really?” “Yes…please, Evan!” My balls tighten at her words. I’ve never taken Alina in the ass. It’s usually the first thing I want from a hooker, but I haven’t even brought it up with her before. I stand, pulling her up to her feet, then quickly dip down and lift her into my arms. I kiss her hard as I take her back to the bedroom. Placing her on the bed, I reach into the nightstand drawer for lube. “On your knees,” I say as I stare into her eyes.

Alina licks her lips and keeps her eyes on mine as she rolls over and rises up on her knees. She looks back at me over her shoulder. “Spread those legs. Ass over the edge of the bed.” She complies, her flesh flushing with excitement. She’s not just okay with this; she really wants it. My cock throbs in anticipation, and I move to stand behind her. She’s so fucking beautiful like this—on my bed, on her knees, waiting for me. All I can do is stare for a moment as I slowly stroke my cock with the lube. I lick my lips, trying not to think about the last time I took a hooker in the ass, but it’s difficult. The anticipation of the tight, rough channel is almost enough to make me come in my hand. Releasing myself, I push her ass down a bit to get the angle right. “That’s better,” I murmur. I run both hands over her ass in reverence. Reaching between her cheeks, I find what I want and slowly push my thumb against her flesh. She tightens slightly and then relaxes. I move my thumb in and out slowly, preparing her. “Don’t tease me.” Alina’s words are a plea. She lowers her ass a little more, making it easier for me to get to her, and I’m happy to oblige. Lining my cock up, I slowly begin to enter her body. Alina pushes back against me, and I can feel the muscles in her legs constrict slightly before she relaxes them. She knows what she’s doing, and she relaxes herself as much as possible as the head of my cock disappears. My own ass clenches, begging me to drive into her, but I don’t. Just another inch, ever so slowly, then back out again. She moans in protest, and I smack her backside. “Hush,” I tell her. “Be patient.” I watch as she bites her lip and grips the sheets. I push into her again, farther this time. I pull out slightly, then slide back inside. Her ass is amazingly tight, and it grips my cock deliciously. I do this a few more times as Alina squirms. Finally, I’m completely inside of her. I rest against her back, not moving my hips. I let her body get used to me as I reach around and stroke her breasts and stomach. Moving one hand down, I find her clit and circle it slowly as I start to thrust with the same rhythm as my fingers. “Oh, God!” Alina tightens her hold on the sheets and moans loudly as I slide my middle finger into her pussy. I keep my thumb on her clit, rotating and pressing as she starts to move with me. I add another finger, stroking slowly, and close my eyes to the feeling. I feel a trickle of sweat run down my back. Moving so slowly should be painful, but I revel in it. It’s the ultimate control over passion. Her ass is tight around my cock, and moving quickly will diminish her pleasure. I want to feel her ass around me when she comes. “I want to hear you screaming my name when you come,” I tell her. “I want the whole building to hear you.” Her head bobs as she tries to nod against the mattress. I slap her ass again.

“You hear me?” “Yes!” she cries out. “Yes, I will! Oh, fuck…” I smile at her cursing, pull out until only the head of my cock is still in her, and then bury myself again. Pressure fills my body, but I force it back down. I feel Alina’s hips move as she presses against my hand, and I match her speed. Her body is slick with her sweat combined with mine. She turns her head into the sheets and then back again. I can see her arms shaking as I keep up the slow, steady rhythm. As her eyes squeeze shut, she yells. “Evan! Oh, God! Evan!” Fingers in her pussy. Thumb on her clit. Dick in her ass. I feel her clench from head to toe, and I can’t control myself any longer. My legs shake, my heart pounds, and the sound I make is nothing short of a scream. Alina is right there with me, crying out as her fingers dig into the sheets. I fill her as I call out again, and her body tightens around my cock. I’m trembling as I hold myself inside of her. My legs are trying to give out on me, but I force them to stay where they are for a few more seconds of ecstasy. Alina’s breaths are quick and loud as she presses her cheek to the mattress. When my cock stops throbbing, I pull out of her slowly. I wrap my arms around her and pull her back to my chest before I drop down to the cold, hardwood floor beside the bed. Panting against the skin on the back of her neck, I imagine I can still smell the hint of her lavender lotion on her skin. Holding her as tightly as I dare, I press my forehead between her shoulders as she reaches down and runs her hands against the top of my thighs. I hang on to her as I try to catch my breath. There’s pressure behind my eyes that I don’t understand, but I hold it back. “That was…that was amazing.” Alina continues to pant. “Seriously, Evan, how the hell did you get to be so good at that?” “Practice.” “Jesus. Really, that was incredible. Why haven’t we done that before?” I blink a couple of times, wondering if Alina could possibly be any more perfect. Untangling myself, I give her a push to help her up and then drag myself off the floor. I pick her up again despite the protest from my legs, and lay her down in the middle of the bed before stretching out beside her. It’s not even noon yet. Wrapping my arms around her again, I drag her close to me “All that shit from last night. I didn’t mean it.” “You were scared.”

I want to deny it, no matter how true it is. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.” “You didn’t.” “I could have.” Alina turns and takes my face in her hands. “You aren’t some kind of monstrous beast, Evan. You’re just a man—a man who’s been hurt and is hurting now. You were worried about Rinaldo and didn’t want me to leave you alone. I understand.” “I still shouldn’t have said what I said.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that.” “Thank you, Evan.” Alina smiles. “That means a lot to me.” “You mean a lot to me,” I say. “I don’t want…” I take a deep breath, and Alina keeps stroking my cheek. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to want to stay.” Her expression changes, and she looks concerned. She runs her teeth over her lip before speaking. “Are you really okay with me bringing my dog here?” Alina asks. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that to keep me from leaving, but you really hate the idea?” “I like dogs,” I tell her. “I had one before.” “Really?” She raises herself on one elbow and looks at me as I nod. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Loretta hates animals. She almost threw us both out when I brought Maisy to the apartment. Teto had to talk her down.” “Maisy?” For some reason, I picture a German shepherd when I hear the name. “That’s her name.” “Silly name for a dog.” I wink at her. “Are you going to pick on my baby?” she asks with narrowed eyes. “Why would I pick on her? You named her.” “Hmm. Fair enough.” Alina settles against my shoulder and goes back to stroking my chest. “I’m looking forward to it,” I tell her. “I’ve missed having a dog around.” “I always wanted one as a kid,” she says. “My father wouldn’t let me have one. When I found Maisy, we just clicked.” “I know the feeling.” She looks at me for a long moment but doesn’t ask any questions. I’m glad of it.

I really hope she’ll stay.

Chapter 20—Unplanned Encounter I stand dumbly in the rain. Black suit, white shirt, black tie. I have to keep adjusting my grip on the wet, wooden handle of the casket, trying to keep my knees from giving out on me. It’s not the physical weight but the emotional magnitude. It’s not a dream this time. There’s a big turnout for the funeral despite the weather. Well-liked or not, Rinaldo was a big name in Chicago, and it looks like the “who’s who” of the city’s underworld at the cemetery. Several people have even flown in from Italy to be here. Lele and Lucia hold hands as they make their way to the canopy-covered grass and sit in the front row. Jonathan, Paulie, and Nick help me position the casket on its stand above the large, covered hole in the ground. Lele reaches out for me, and I take the seat beside her. I stare in a daze at the immense flower arrangement on top of the casket. I don’t hear the priest’s words, just Lele’s muted crying. Lucia is speaking in calming tones to her mother, but I don’t know what she says. Everything is bleak, dreary, and vague. He’s gone. I can’t fathom it. As many men as I have watched die, I can’t wrap my head around this one man being gone from the world. No more hospital visits. No more inspirational talks after meetings in his office. No more son. As the ceremony ends, I feel as if I’m being shoved into the hole along with him. A proper Italian feast has been prepared back at the church. The crowd is smaller, but the whole place still feels claustrophobic. There’s a decent-sized group looking at two giant posters filled with pictures of Rinaldo and his family, and people line up to offer their condolences to Lele and Lucia as they try to eat. I don’t speak to anyone, and no one approaches me. Even Jonathan keeps his distance. Alina had offered to attend, but I told her not to. I didn’t want a bunch of people asking who she is, or worse, knowing who she is. Now I wish she were here. Despite the crowd, I feel as alone as I ever have. The only person who keeps his eyes on me is Paulie. Rinaldo made it clear he is now my security. I find the idea laughable, but he’s the only person other than Jonathan who knows I am now in charge. Just call me capo famiglia. I hear a few people speaking hushed words about who might be in control of the business, but I don’t offer them any answers. They’ll all figure it out soon enough, and this isn’t the time or place for business. A few of them glance at me, but I doubt I appear particularly approachable at the moment. If

any of them did care to ask me outright, I would be happy to take them outside and it explain in detail. With a gun. A lady from the church stops by and offers me a cup of coffee. I take it without wanting it, and as soon as she leaves, I try to find a place to discard it. The door near the kitchen is open, and I wander in to toss the cup in the sink. Instead of leaving, I hang out in the doorway. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lele crying and Lucia trying to comfort her. Part of me wants to go over and help, but I can’t quite look Lele in the face just yet. She’s been through enough, and I keep thinking about her other daughter, Margot, and how much more complicated everything is after what I have done. If Lele knew I killed Felisa, it would devastate her. I need to get her out of Chicago and back to Italy as soon as possible. Lucia hugs her mother, says something quietly into her ear, and then heads away from the room toward a door behind the kitchen. She walks right past me but must not notice me standing here. I get a brief glance at her, wiping tears from her cheek as she rushes past me. I’m pretty sure the direction she’s headed leads to the area behind the sanctuary where the altar boys hang out with their candlesnuffers. I follow. There’s a long corridor behind the door but no sign of Lucia. I head down the hall, fairly certain it runs parallel to the chapel. There are a few doors to the right and left, but I don’t see her inside any of the rooms. I reach the back of the hall where it splits off to the left and right. “Lucia?” I call out. “Go away!” I follow her voice to an alcove containing a small desk and a stack of Bibles. She’s leaning against the desk with her back to me, her arms wrapped around herself as she shakes. “Lucia,” I say again, softly. I move up behind her and pull her back to my chest. She turns in my arms and presses her forehead against me as her fingers grip at my jacket lapels. She mumbles against my shirt, but I can’t understand her. I take a half step back and take her face in my hands. I wipe the tears from her face with my thumb, and she leans into my hand. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispers. “I keep looking up at all those people, trying to figure out why they’re here. Then it hits me all over again.” “Yeah, me too.” “He was there—just lying there in the bed—and then all those monitors went off. He…he was trying to breathe, but it sounded like he was choking. Then the nurses were pushing me away, but they couldn’t help…” I pull her back against me and wrap my arms around her, closing my eyes and trying to keep myself from crying in front of her. I hadn’t been there when it happened. I didn’t find out until Paulie called from the hospital and told me it was over. I should have been there.

As I try to keep myself composed, Lucia suddenly places her hands on my chest and shoves me away. “You said he was going to be fine!” I feel like her eyes are digging into mine, and I have to look away. “He was only supposed to have a damn bullet taken out of him! Not this! If you had been there with him…” She gasps, a choking sound caught in her throat as her hands cover her face, and she throws herself back against me. “Oh God, Evan!” Lucia’s arms tighten around me. “What am I going to do? I can’t handle all of this—I know I can’t!” “Shh…” I don’t have any words that will make a difference, so I don’t offer any. I hold onto her tightly as she cries against my jacket. Everything that happens next is later a blur to me. Lucia turns her face to mine. Her cheeks are red and blotchy, and her eyes are bloodshot. I stroke her cheek and look into her soft brown eyes as her hand reaches up around my neck. A moment later, I feel her mouth on mine, and my body responds. There is nothing gentle about the way I kiss her. It’s frantic and nearly violent as I grab the back of her head and pull her mouth hard against mine. She slides her hands inside my jacket, and I let go of her long enough to let her shove it off my shoulders, but I never release her mouth. The jacket falls to the ground in a heap as Lucia attacks the buttons of my shirt with her fingers. Reaching for her ass, I pick her up and drop her on the top of the desk. Grabbing frantically, I push her dress up around her waist and pull at her hose and panties as she works to loosen my belt. She releases my cock, stroking it with her hand as she leans back on the desk with her shoulders against the wall, her ass hanging right at the edge. With a single step forward, I’m in position. I thrust up hard, impaling her as I immerse myself in her flesh. I pull back, thrust again, and her hands grip the back of my head. She tucks her face against my shoulder to muffle her cries and wraps her legs around me. Sweat from my forehead trickles down into my eyes. I clench my teeth, trying not to scream. I don’t even know what words would come out of my mouth if I did. My mind has no idea what my body is doing. I only comprehend the pressure behind my eyes and the heat around my cock. Lucia moves her hands down my back and grips my ass, encouraging me to move faster. Her quiet cries are sharp, matching my thrusts as her heels dig into the back of my thighs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I keep pounding into her. My body is on automatic as my brain tries to cope with everything inside of it. I want all my thoughts to just disappear, one thrust at a time. He’s gone. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone… Lucia cries out again, slightly louder than before, and her body tenses around me. She drops her head to my shoulder, and I quicken my movements. My legs start to shake, and I place one hand on the top of the desk to keep myself upright. I wrap

my other arm around Lucia’s waist to keep her in position as she reaches around my back and grabs my shoulders. I feel the quivering buildup in my balls, and a tingling sensation makes its way from my stomach to the base of my cock and explodes outward. Grunting, I shove into her once more, emptying myself into her body as she tightens her legs around my waist. We pant against each other, and her tears wet my shoulder as they leak through my shirt. I pull out slowly, tucking my dick back into my pants as I help Lucia to her feet. She makes eye contact for half a second before she wipes at her cheeks and reaches down to fix the straps on her heels. Silently, I button my shirt and stare at the top of the desk. I’m as dazed as I had been, holding Rinaldo’s casket. “We should get back before someone notices,” Lucia says softly. “Yeah.” I nod. “Do you want to go first, or should I?” “I will.” She uses her hands to fix her hair a little and then straightens her skirt. “Do I look okay?” She looks freshly fucked. That’s how she looks, but I don’t say that. “You’re good.” She nods, stands still for a moment, and then reaches up to kiss my cheek before she departs. A few minutes later, I walk out, still in a fog. What the hell did I just do? ***** I’ve been driving around in circles. All the official services have been over for hours. A few of the guys went to Sweetwater to toast Rinaldo, but I declined. My head is still buzzing with the events of the day, and the last thing I want is a drink. Jonathan gave me a lot of shit for not joining him. He didn’t think I should be alone, but I didn’t want company. I also didn’t want to look at Lucia. I have no idea what happened in that little room. One moment, I was trying to comfort her, and the next I was shoving my cock into her. There was no thought behind it—just her body and mine together and the slight thumping sound of the desk as it connected with the wall behind it. I barely even remember coming. I’m supposed to marry Lucia. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that there will be no wedding. I can only hope that Rinaldo didn’t mention the idea to Lucia or Lele. As much as I want to honor his wishes, I can’t marry her. I could never love her, and the whole idea of trying to set up a wife somewhere while I try to keep Rinaldo’s empire from crumbling around me during the transition is ludicrous. I need to focus on setting myself up as the new boss. I can’t do both.

I don’t want to do either. Going home and crawling into bed sounds as good as anything, but for once, I know I won’t be alone. Alina is at my apartment, waiting for me, and I don’t want to face her. What am I supposed to say? I don’t need it tonight? I already got some? I don’t even belong to a gym where I can go shower Lucia’s scent off of me before coming into contact with Alina. Yes, I’m paying her to be there, but I still feel guilty about what I’ve done. Lia was the only other serious relationship I’d ever had, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of being with another woman when I had her. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I even care? It’s a betrayal—that’s why. I betrayed Alina. We have an arrangement, and I went against it. I fucked someone else, and I can’t take it back. Loyalty is what I hold most dear. I won’t stand for any kind of treachery from anyone around me, yet I, myself, had just betrayed someone. Just like I betrayed Rinaldo when I killed Felisa. What am I supposed to do now? Tell her? Keep it a secret? I’m not even sure which would be worse. Maybe if I just forget about it—hide it from her—she would never have to know I’d gone behind her back. Then again, if she was still turning tricks on the street and tried to keep it from me, I’d kill her. What if Alina got caught up in some moment of passion and then told me about it later? Would I be more forgiving, hearing it from her mouth, or would I be just as likely to go ballistic? I honestly don’t know if it would change the outcome, but finding out from someone else would definitely be worse. Some things can’t be taken back. I can’t go back and change positions with Zach. I’d chosen the spot to set up, and he had been the one hit. I can’t spin back the clock and save my unit from being ambushed. I can’t return to that time and place and keep myself from being captured. If Bridgett had told me herself that she’d been talking about me to someone else, would it have saved her life? Or would her death still be a black mark on my soul as yet another mistake? A whole list of things I have done more recently that can’t be reversed flood my head: killing Felisa; promising Rinaldo I’d take over the business and marry his daughter; buying Alina from her pimp…the list goes on. My mind spins in another direction. If I’d never been captured in the first place, I’d probably never have met Jonathan. Without him, I wouldn’t have known Rinaldo at all. I never would have known anyone who called me son. Does that make it all worth it? If Lia hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have returned to Chicago at all, and I wouldn’t have met Alina. Rinaldo would have died, and I might not have even known about it. He might have even bled out on the street while Paulie and Beni debated what hospital they should take him to.

That might have been better. I shake my head, trying to clear it. I’m too tired to be driving anymore, so I pull over and stand beside the Camaro to smoke. It does nothing to relax me, but it does wake me up a little. Ralph remains absent. I try to think back to the last time he’s made an appearance, but I still can’t remember. I look around as if that would make him suddenly materialize, but it doesn’t. I can’t believe I actually miss his presence. Sometimes he seems to know things in my head that I can’t quite verbalize. Maybe he’s abandoned me, too. I finish the cigarette and climb back into the car. With one last look around for Ralph, I pull back into the street. It’s after midnight before I finally bring myself back home. I stand at the door to the apartment for a full minute before opening it. Alina is on the couch with a magazine. I hear her let out a breath and watch her shoulders slump in relief. She’s obviously been wondering where I was. I should have been back hours ago. I lick my lips, imagine I can still taste Lucia’s lipstick on them, and look away. “Hi,” Alina says quietly. “Hi.” I glance at her quickly and then try to look busy putting my wallet and keys on the kitchen counter. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up, and the skin of my back is tingling. I know she’s watching me, but she doesn’t say anything. “I need a shower.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Turning the water up full blast, I sit on the toilet and drop my head in my hands as the room fills with steam. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting there when I hear a knock. “Evan?” “Yeah?” “Are you hungry?” “Not really.” “All right.” There’s a pause. “There’s stuff in the refrigerator you can heat up later if you want to.” “Okay.” I can’t hear well enough over the shower to know if she’s moved away from the door or not, but I think she has. I step into the stream of water and let it cascade over me. Mindlessly, I grab a bottle of body wash and coat myself with it. I get the floor all wet when I step out. I’d forgotten to put a mat down, and I can’t be bothered with cleaning it up now. I didn’t bring any clothes in with me, so I just wrap a towel around my waist and open the door. Alina isn’t to be found, and I half wonder if she’s decided to sleep in her own bedroom tonight. I wouldn’t blame her. I hardly deserve her comfort right now.

I wander into the kitchen and look in the fridge. I open a container to find some kind of Asian vegetable and chicken mixture. It smells good, but I don’t feel like eating. I close the door without making a selection and stare out into the darkened living room. The air around me chills my slightly damp skin, bringing me from my macabre thoughts long enough to make me head to the bedroom. I’m almost surprised to see Alina lying there, waiting for me. She watches me walk over to the dresser and yank on a pair of shorts before climbing into bed beside her. The lavender scent makes me feel worse. Alina wraps her arm around my head and strokes her fingers through my damp hair. After a minute, she moves down to my neck, massaging me. Usually, this puts me right to sleep, but I can’t relax. There’s no way I could fall asleep. All I can think about is what I did with Lucia. “Do you want to talk?” Alina asks quietly. “I know you’ve had a very long and difficult day. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just want you to know I’ll listen if you do.” Her words are perfect, and the guilt hits me in the gut like a harpoon. It’s fitting. I’ve been a royal Moby Dick. I swallow but can’t answer. “I know today has been hard on you,” Alina says. She kisses the top of my head. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.” “It was horrible,” I say softly. “It matched the nightmares I had about it before he was gone.” She reaches over and strokes my arm but doesn’t speak. Her silence encourages me to continue. “After the funeral, everyone went back to the church. There was lots of pasta and wine and all that. Apparently, it’s very important for Italians to finish a funeral by eating more food than the dearly departed ever ate in a lifetime.” “I can see why you aren’t hungry then.” “I saw what you made,” I tell her. “It smelled good.” “It keeps well,” she says. I have no doubt that she made it for that reason, and it makes me feel all the more wretched. She was thinking about me and what I needed while I had my dick in another girl. I squeeze my eyes shut, and words flow unbidden from my mouth. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Alina strokes the back of my head again. She obviously thinks I mean Rinaldo. “She was upset…” My voice trails off. “Who was?” Alina asks. This is it.

“Lucia.” “Who’s Lucia?” It hadn’t really occurred to me that she has never met anyone in my business circle. I’m always with the same people, and I don’t usually have to define the relationships. “Rinaldo’s daughter.” “Oh, yes. I’m sure she was very upset.” “It’s not that,” I whisper. “What is it?” “Lucia…she…I…” I can’t finish. I don’t even know why I started. “What happened?” Alina runs her fingers over my jaw. “Lucia…” “What about her?” Her voice is still soft and concerned. I wonder how long that will last. I take a long breath and push myself into a sitting position, breaking my contact with Alina entirely. I can’t say this while she’s still trying to comfort me. She rises up just enough to rest her head on her hand and wait for me to answer her question. “I don’t know what happened, not exactly. She was upset; I was upset… We just…” I stop speaking again. I have no idea how to do this, and I’m just babbling. I center myself with a breath and try to form a coherent sentence. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” “Evan, what did you do?” I stare at my hands on top of the blanket. I remember pushing up Lucia’s skirt with them. “I slept with her.” I can’t look Alina in the eye as I say it. From my peripheral vision, I can see that she hasn’t jumped out of the bed. In fact, she hasn’t moved at all. Every muscle is tense, waiting for her to understand what I’ve done and tell me she’s had enough of my shit. She doesn’t say anything, so I start blathering again. “I’m sorry. I swear it was a mistake. Rinaldo wanted me to be with her—marry her, even—but I’m not going to. It’s never going to happen again.” Alina touches my leg and then runs her hand up my arm. She pulls at me gently until I’m lying beside her again. I glance at her, and she appears confused. “I had sex with her,” I say, making sure she knows exactly what I mean. She tilts her head slightly, staring at me quizzically. “I don’t have any claim over you, Evan,” she finally says. Her statement is so straightforward, I don’t know how to react. As I stare at her dumbly, she

continues. “I know you don’t want me to see other clients while we have this arrangement,” Alina says, “but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to control what you do. I consider this monogamous from my side, not yours.” “So, what are you saying? You don’t give a shit if I fuck other women?” Alina’s mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t say anything. She looks away from me and presses her lips together. Her body language confuses me. She’s obviously tense but not tense enough to qualify as angry. Anger is what I had expected, and I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting. “Evan, what is this to you?” she asks quietly as she turns to face me. “I don’t know.” I swallow hard, not sure how to answer. “It was just sex and sleep, but now…I just don’t know. It’s different.” “In what way?” “You’re different. You don’t push me to talk when I don’t want to. You put up with my shit, and you really don’t have to. Like you said, you aren’t afraid of me. That’s different.” “Most people are.” “They all are.” “That has to make relationships very hard for you.” I never really thought about it, but she’s probably right. I can’t trust anyone, and no one is safe around me. “What is this to you?” I ask, turning the question around on her. “I told you I had a childhood crush on Zach.” “Yeah.” “Reading his letters and hearing him talk about you—how much he admired you—well, I think that crush kind of transferred. You’re my hero’s hero.” “I’m not a hero.” “You were to him.” I want to deny it, but as I reflect, I wonder if it is true. He did look up to me; I knew that when he was assigned as my spotter. You would have thought he had received the Medal of Honor the way he acted. If Alina thinks I’m some kind of hero, she’s going to end up disappointed. I can’t live up to that. I can hardly deal with the idea of being with someone who isn’t paid to share my bed. There are obligations, and I will end up failing at them because Rinaldo needs something from me, and he will always come first. Not anymore.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about that—not now. If I do, I’ll just become the moody bastard she won’t want to be around. Before this even starts, I’ll fuck it up. “I’m not good at the whole relationship thing,” I say. “You aren’t so bad.” “Ha! Really?” “Well, you apologized. Twice now. Lots of guys never do that.” “It’s not something I usually do.” “But you did. That means a lot. I haven’t had any relationships outside of clients, so I have no idea how I am with them.” “You haven’t?” “When would I have had one?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve spent my whole life on the street. It’s not exactly the kind of place to find boyfriend material.” “You never had anything with a john? I mean, something…something different?” “Never.” I consider the idea that I’m actually more experienced in my love life than a hooker. The whole idea seems ludicrous, but what she is saying makes sense. When would she have found someone to actually date? If she did, how long would he put up with her given profession? “So, I’m your first?” I glance at her. “I guess you are,” she says softly. “Is that what this is, Evan? Is that what you want?” I swallow hard. “Do you?” “Oh no!” She sits up and pushes me off her. “You don’t get to deflect this one.” “But I’m good at that!” I laugh. “You don’t like the idea of a girlfriend. That’s what you said.” “And you kept telling me that’s exactly what I really wanted, and I’m just too lazy to go find one.” “I didn’t say you were lazy.” She lies back down beside me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “I understand how complicated relationships can get, especially with…well, with what you do.” I raise an eyebrow at her. I’m still uncomfortable with her speaking of such things aloud. She nods, understanding the meaning of my look, and then crosses her arms and looks at me pointedly. “You still haven’t answered the question,” she says. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I finally say, “I want that.” “In that case”—Alina sits up a bit, leans on one arm and looks down at me—“I understand that when people are experiencing great loss, they can get very caught up in their emotions. I know how that can happen, and I forgive you.” She takes her finger and places it under my chin, tilting my head toward her. “But don’t you dare let it happen again.” I smile. “It won’t. I promise.” “Good. If it did, we would not be having a pleasant conversation right now.” The look in her eyes is wondrous and intense. I tilt my head in her direction. “Are you laying claim to me?” “Why yes, Evan Arden, I do believe I am.” My heart pounds but no longer from fear. “I think I like that.” For a few minutes, we just lie there. Alina’s hand caresses my chest slowly, and I reflect on what we’ve just declared. Since walking through the door, I’ve gone from not knowing if she would be there at all to suddenly having an official relationship with her. How the fuck did that happen? It’s unexpected, but I welcome it. There is a lot still left unsaid, but it can wait. I feel like I’m in a protective bubble, and I don’t want to bring up anything that might cause it to burst. I really want this to work.

Chapter 21—New Leadership It’s officially done. I own everything. I lean against the Camaro and smoke just outside the attorney’s office where the reading of the will took place. Lele and Lucia are still inside. I have no idea what is being said, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is set in motion. Lele will be moving back to Italy. As far as anyone knows, she’s adopted Felisa’s daughter. Lucia was given the deed to the house on the north side of the city. It was the only thing not moved into my name. “All other properties, businesses, and the contents therein are to be transferred to Evan Nathaniel Arden.” It’s all quite surreal. Lele and Lucia exit the building as I finish my cigarette. I brace myself, not entirely sure what their reactions will be to the news. I know Lele will abide by whatever Rinaldo wanted her to do, but she may not like it. Lucia is a whole other matter. I’m not sure what she thinks about all of this. Lele dabs at her eyes with a tissue and then rushes over to me. “Oh, Evan!” she says as she wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m going to miss you.” I close my eyes in relief. At least Rinaldo’s decisions haven’t left her angry with me. “Don’t be surprised if I come and visit you,” I tell her. “I’ve never been to Italy.” “Then you must come for the holidays, at the very least.” “I’ll try.” The thought is appealing, but I doubt I will actually ever show up. If business calls for it, I may make the trip, but I plan on running this operation from the States. By the end of the day, the family will be out of the picture in one way or another. It’s the only way I can protect them all. Lele kisses both my cheeks, squeezes my hand, and then climbs into the passenger side of Lucia’s car. Lucia tilts her head, smiling as she walks up to me. “Hello, Evan.” “Hi.” “We haven’t had a chance to talk since…since the funeral.” “No, we haven’t.” I lick my lips and glance up at Lele in the car. “We should though. I want to make sure you understand.” “I know what Daddy had in mind,” she tells me. “I’m good with it. We can live in the house in Wilmette. Most of my things are still there anyway.”

I’m a little surprised, but I don’t show it. I find it interesting she seems so amenable to the idea. Still, the muscles in her forearms are tight, and I know she isn’t completely happy about the whole thing. I’m sure she expected some of her father’s estate to end up in her name. At least for now, she thinks she’s going to get it through me. There’s no reason to have her believe otherwise—not yet. “We can discuss it later,” I say as I check my watch. “Right—you called a meeting.” “Everyone better be there.” “They will. Paulie is making sure of it.” “Good. I’ll see you there.” Lucia stands up on her toes to kiss me, and I turn my head slightly at the last second so she only gets my cheek. She gives me an odd look but then heads for her car as I pull out my phone and dial a number I never expected to use again. “LT?” Eddie-boy sounds shocked. “Yeah, it’s me.” “I never thought I’d hear from you again.” “I know, but things have changed a bit.” “You’re not dead anymore?” “Not at all.” “So what are you doing now?” he asks with a chuckle. “Taking over the world?” “Not too far off,” I reply. “Rinaldo Moretti is dead. I’m running the business in Chicago.” “Damn, LT. That’s pretty serious. What can I do for you?” “Eddie-boy,” I say simply, “I want you to come to work for me.” I hold my breath and wait for his response. It doesn’t take long. “LT,” Eddie-boy says, “I thought you’d never ask.” ***** The meeting doesn’t start for another hour, but Nick walks in at the time I told him to meet me in Rinaldo’s office. My office. “You don’t have to explain,” Nick says before I can utter a word. “I already heard about the will, and I don’t really care. I wasn’t expecting anything. I’m the bastard, remember? I never thought he’d actually acknowledge me, not even now. I was surprised to even be included in the funeral.”

I shake my head. “Shut up for a minute and listen to me,” I say. “Rinaldo gave me some instructions, and I intend to see them carried out.” “Instructions?” “Here.” I hand him the key to a safe-deposit box. He takes it, staring at the little object in his hand with confusion. “That opens a safe-deposit box at the Mercantile Bank off Broadway and Thirty-sixth in Quincy. Everything you need is in there. Pack up, get Milena, and get out of Chicago.” “Leave?” “There’s a price on your head,” I inform him. It’s a complete lie, but it’s also only a matter of time. “Don’t wait. Don’t stop off and buy a bag of weed for the road. Just get the fuck out. Got it?” “That’s it? Just leave?” “Today.” “What if she won’t go?” “Convince her.” “Who?” He looks at me and narrows his eyes. “Who wants me dead?” “You’re intimately tied to the Russians through Milena, Nick. Did you really think that wasn’t going to be an issue? You were safe as a member of Rinaldo’s family, but I can’t protect you here in the middle of a power transition. You have to leave. Rinaldo knew it. I know it. You need to accept it, and do what I’m telling you.” “Where are we supposed to go?” “It’s all in there.” I reach down and wrap his fingers around the key. “Don’t contact anyone here again. If I need you, I will know how to reach you.” “This is what it comes down to?” Nick suddenly laughs. “Exile?” “Permanent vacation,” I say, correcting him. “It’s either that or a hole in the ground for both of you. You really think there’s a choice here?” “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says as he narrows his eyes. “No one knows about Felisa, not even Milena. I’m not going to rat you out, Evan. Do you think I’m stupid?” “Stupid, no,” I say, “but you obviously aren’t seeing the big picture. I’m not asking you to leave, and it has nothing to do with what you think you know. If I thought you would dare accuse me of anything, you would already be dead.” “You’re serious,” he says quietly. “You are kicking me out of town.” “Shit’s about to go down, Nicolas. Get your ass out of Chicago. Now.” He stares at me for a moment and nods once. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the office.

I’ll probably never see him again. Jonathan arrives before anyone else. “Are we all set?” I ask. “I am,” Jonathan says. “Got some clean up arranged, anyway.” “Still no sign of Joshua Taylor?” “Nothing.” “Fuck. I would have preferred to bring him in for this.” “Can’t have everything, boss.” “You going to keep calling me that?” “Does it annoy ya, boss?” He grins at me. “Yes, it does.” “Then, yeah, I’ll probably keep it up.” I shake my head. A short time later, people begin to file in and take their seats. Paulie comes in with his four hired hands to make sure things don’t get further out of control than I’ve already planned. They each take a corner of the room and try to look threatening. Paulie has no idea why I really want them here, but he’ll find out soon enough. I think he knows I still don’t trust him, and I’ll have to keep a close eye on him. I’ve spoken privately with every one of the people he hired, and they know what’s about to go down. They all expect to profit from it. I also doubled Paulie’s salary. It’s the best way to keep him off guard. With everyone in attendance, I sit down at the head of the table and start the meeting. “By now you have all heard,” I say, “that Rinaldo has left his businesses to me. We talked about it extensively once we knew how much time he had left. There is no disputing this. Your loyalty now belongs to me.” Beni glares down at his hands on the table. I know he is going to be my biggest concern, and I keep a close watch on him as I continue. “Here’s the thing,” I say as I stand. “I was gone for a short while—you all know that—and when I returned, there were a lot of new faces.” I place my palms on the table right next to Becca and lean forward to look at her face. “Right, Becca?” “There’s always turnover,” she replies. “There is.” I stand up and walk partway around the table to stand behind Paulie. “After Mario’s mishap, there was a need for new security, for instance.” I watch Paulie grip the edge of his chair with

his left hand. His right is on his lap, poised for easy access to the gun under his jacket. I grin and point over at Beni. “New members of the family, fresh from the homeland.” Beni’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing and doesn’t move at all. “There was even a club shrink when I first arrived, but she didn’t last long.” I shake my head slowly as I place my hands on Lucia’s shoulders. I feel her tense under my palms, but she relaxes quickly. “There are also the old standbys. You never really know how long they will last though, even when they are family.” I release her and walk back to the head of the table. She turns her head to watch me walk away, but I don’t look back at her. “And now, there’s new leadership.” I scan the table, taking in the immediate reaction of each person. Beni is just to my left, and he keeps his eyes on the table. I can see the tightening of his jaw as he clenches his teeth. Paulie is on the other side of him. He’s looking right at me and trying to remain passive, but his forearm is tight. He’s preparing to draw his weapon. Becca licks her lips nervously. Jonathan is on my immediate right. He continues to tap his cigarette against the table as he looks at me and nods slightly. I control my slow, steady breaths as I make them all wait. Some of them are beginning to fidget. Only Jonathan, Lucia, and Becca remain in eye contact with me. I pull out my Beretta and aim it at Beni’s head. “Hey, Beni,” I say slowly, “did you know someone’s been skimming? There’s a Cayman account being fed from the meth money being laundered through the car lots. Close to five million.” I stare straight at him, but my peripheral vision holds fast to Paulie, where he sits next to Beni. He looks at me, then at Beni, and his hand moves away from his piece. I change my aim and fire. Paulie plunges backward in his seat as his head explodes and fragments of skull and brain cover Beni and Cody. Cody has no chance to react before I put a bullet in his skull, too. “Jesus Christ.” Beni only whispers the words as I move the gun to Becca. “You’re very detailed.” I use the gun to point down at the ever-present spreadsheets in front of her. “How exactly did you miss that?” Becca shifts her eyes from the barrel pointed at her face to the papers on the table, then looks back at me. “I didn’t,” she says quietly. “I brought it up to Rinaldo several months ago. He said he was going to have someone look into it. That was right about the time you came back.” She isn’t saying anything I don’t already know. There’s sweat forming on her forehead, but she does have a gun pointed at her, so a little nervousness is to be expected. I’m not going to kill her, but I want to make sure I have everyone’s attention. I think I do.

I shift my gaze to Rinaldo’s daughter as I lower the gun. I walk around the table and stop behind Lucia again. Leaning down a bit, I pull her hair back off her neck and place a kiss on her temple. “You never did like Paulie, did you?” Her hands are shaking, and she doesn’t answer. “Did you know that Beni plans on marrying you?” She tilts her head to look at me, then looks across the table at her almost-cousin. “That’s not going to happen though, is it?” “No,” she says softly, “it’s not.” Beni glares. He probably thinks I don’t notice his hand moving under the table. Sometimes I wonder why people make such obviously stupid decisions. They never think tactically. Just because you have a gun does not mean you are safe. In fact, it just paints a giant target on your back. I nod toward one of the hired security guys, and he steps up behind Beni. Beni freezes as he feels the business end of a gun at the back of his neck, widening his eyes as he looks up at me. “You’ve taken a lot of money from Rinaldo’s businesses, Beni,” I say. “My businesses. You’ve been working with Joshua Taylor, trying to undermine this organization for months. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” I lean my elbows on the table, placing myself between Becca and Lucia and directly across from Beni. My Beretta is still in my hands, and I toss it back and forth as I look him in the face. “I’m giving you one chance, and one chance only, to save your own miserable life. You tell me where I can find Joshua Taylor, and I’ll have you shipped back to Italy in a first-class seat instead of a pine box.” He blinks twice before speaking. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Arden. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but I’ve always been loyal to—” Bang! With a flick of my wrist and a squeeze of the trigger, Beni flies backward, taking the chair with him. Lucia’s scream is as loud as the gun, and she shoves away from the table and backs herself into the corner of the room. She covers her face with her hands, screaming again when she realizes there’s blood and bits of brain on her shirt. Jonathan goes to her, grabbing her arm and silencing her as I look around the table at pale, shocked faces. “Anyone else unsure about the definition of one chance?” Pushing my palm against the table, I stand up straight and go back to my seat. “There are going to be some changes.”

***** Meeting adjourned. Jonathan is on the phone, calling the cleaning crew. I’m inclined to have the whole building burned down. I don’t think I like being in Rinaldo’s old office. Too many memories. “Is there anything you need from me for now?” Becca asks quietly. “Not now,” I say. “Get the money moved so there’s no more skimming. Jonathan has all the new account numbers. I want to focus on the uniform business and car sales. Most of it’s going there.” “We’ll have to up the number of imports this quarter to make it balance.” “Do it.” “Of course.” She’s still visibly shaken but in much better shape than Lucia. She’s still in the corner, crying. “You want me to take care of her?” Jonathan asks. He flicks his head, pointing his chin in Lucia’s direction. “I got her.” “Whatever ya like, boss.” I wave him off to finish his phone calls and walk over to Lucia. Jonathan brought a chair over to her after everyone else left, and she’s currently curled up in it with her arms around her knees. I crouch down beside her. “Lucia?” She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me. I’m not surprised—she isn’t used to this side of the business, and killing in front of a group of people isn’t my usual style. I needed to send a message, and I’m pretty sure I succeeded. “I’m sorry you were here to see that.” I’m not the least bit sorry. In fact, it’s exactly how I wanted her to react. “You know this can sometimes get a little…messy.” “Messy?” She turns to look at me. “Is that what that was? Messy?” I sigh and look down at my hands dangling between my knees. I’m actually quite pleased with her reaction, but I try not to show it. “He was family,” she says softly. “It needed to be done.” “Right next to me? You could have told me to stay away!” “I know, and I should have. I didn’t even think about it.” “You didn’t think about it?” She raises her voice. “Really, Evan? You didn’t think about this?” “I didn’t think about you being here. I didn’t think about how…well, you aren’t used to this.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t know how anyone ever could be!” She sits up straighter and looks directly at me. “My God, I’m supposed to marry you? After that? How I could ever consider…” She stops speaking and just shakes her head. I look at her for a long moment, sigh, and then nod. “I’m not going to marry you, Lucia.” She stares at me, mouth open. She’s still shaken by what she’s seen, but she’s starting to come around. She closes her mouth, and I see her throat bob. “It’s what Daddy wanted,” she says quietly. “He told me he did.” “I know.” I reach out and take her hand. “It’s not going to happen. You are going to Italy with your mother. I’ll get the house sold for you and transfer the money.” “Really?” “Will that work for you?” “You don’t think he’d be mad?” “I think he’d understand,” I say. “He always knew who I was. That’s never really changed. I want to honor his wishes, too, but we both know that isn’t going to work out.” I stand and reach for her hand. “Come on,” I say, “let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll have Jonathan get your flight and everything arranged so you can travel with Lele. I’ll make sure your accounts are taken care of, and you don’t have to worry about any of this anymore.” I really can’t believe how well this turned out.

Chapter 22—Final Piece Everything is coming together. All the travel arrangements have been made for Rinaldo’s family. By the end of next week, they’ll all be out of the Chicago area. I may not have done it exactly how Rinaldo envisioned, but I’ve taken care of all of them. They are out of the business, out of the city, and out of harm’s way. Eddie-boy will be arriving soon. It will be good to have someone else around I trust. Jonathan has been fantastic, but he can’t handle it all. Becca’s been spending nights working on the books and getting all the accounts changed around to keep them out of Joshua Taylor’s hands. I need someone else to help me find him, and Eddie-boy is perfect for the job. My phone beeps. It’s a text from Alina, who is downstairs with the last few things from her old place. She’s officially out of her apartment with Loretta and moving in with me. I hit the access button on the wall to let her in the front door and pick up the key I’ve had made for her so I don’t forget to give it to her this time. I text back to ask if she needs help, but she says she’s good and arrives at the door a minute later, carrying a backpack and a large purple handbag. I take the backpack from her shoulder and place it near the door to her room, and she sets the handbag on the floor carefully. “I thought you were bringing the dog with you on this trip,” I say. “I am.” Alina beams at me. “I did bring her.” I narrow my eyes and check the hallway, but there’s nothing there. Alina laughs and opens a zipper at the top of the handbag and points. Confused, I glance down to the bag on the floor. “What the fuck is that?” “That’s Maisy.” I peer into the little bag to see a tiny black and white face staring back at me. “Are you telling me that’s a dog?” “Of course she’s a dog!” Alina opens the bag a little more and lifts out the tiny ball of fluff. “She’s a Japanese Chin.” “That’s an Asian body part,” I say, “not a dog.” “Ha ha.” I step back from the bag and glare down at the little thing. She looks up at me, and her tiny tongue hangs out of the side of her mouth as she pants. She has buggy eyes, a squished up nose, and she can’t weigh more than eight pounds. This is not at all what I had envisioned. I probably should have asked her what kind of dog she had just to keep my shock at bay. I’ve never seen a dog like this before, and with her coloring, she looks more like a fluffy skunk than anything canine.

“Are you sure the breeder didn’t lie to you? I think you got a de-scented skunk.” “She is not a skunk!” “She looks like one!” “She certainly does not! Her father was a show dog, and she looks just like him!” Alina places the thing on the floor, and the fluffball looks around the room for a moment, sniffing the air. I crouch in front of Maisy and hold my hand out to her. She comes over immediately, sniffs me, and licks my fingers. I pet her on her back, and she rubs her head against my leg as she watches me intently. “I think she likes you,” Alina says. “You’re sure she’s not a big rat?” “Stop that! What were you expecting? A German Shepherd?” I don’t reply. Instead, I go over to the bag with a pet store logo on it, sitting on the kitchen counter. I pull out the big rawhide bone I’d bought for the dog. It’s about half Maisy’s size. “What do you think?” Alina covers her mouth with her hand, and her eyes sparkle. “Did you get that for her?” “I got that for a dog. I’m still trying to figure out what she is.” “What kind of dog did you have before?” “A Great Pyrenees. He was about a hundred and thirty pounds.” “Oh, wow! That’s more like a small pony!” I bring the giant bone over to Maisy and put it down beside her. She sniffs and licks at it a bit but doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. I suppose it’s like giving a person half a cow and waiting for them to put some steak sauce on it and chow down. She paws at it a bit, but can’t move it at all. Giving up, she rolls over on her back and noses my foot. I rub her belly, and her tail wags furiously. Pulling back my hand, I stand up, and Maisy stands with me. “It’s all right, Maisy,” Alina says. “You can go check things out.” Maisy looks up at Alina before walking over to the couch to give it a sniff. She checks out the leg of the coffee table briefly and then comes back to sit by my foot. She barely comes halfway up my calf. As Alina puts the contents of her backpack in her room, Maisy follows me everywhere I go—the kitchen, the bedroom, even the bathroom. When I try to shut the door, she whines until I let her in. She comes right up to me while I shave and sits her butt down on the toe of my boot. “You’re a pesky thing, aren’t you?” She lolls her tongue and stares at me with those bug-eyes.

When I’m done, she follows me back to the living room. Alina puts a little dog bed over by the window, but Maisy isn’t interested. She seems to like sitting on my foot. “Does she always sit on people’s feet?” “Honestly, I’ve never seen her do that before.” Alina laughs. “I let her sit in my lap sometimes, but she knows she’s not allowed on furniture, so she won’t fuzz up the couch or anything like that. She usually sits in her bed.” I look down at the pup and shake my head. “Not what you were expecting,” Alina says. “No,” I reply, “not at all.” “Is it still okay?” I look at Alina and see the worry in her eyes. I reach over and cup the back of her neck, pulling her close to brush my lips against hers. “It’s fine. I’ll get used to it. Will she at least play fetch?” “I have no idea,” Alina says. “I’ve never tried. She does tricks though.” She calls to Maisy, and the dog turns around in a little circle. She speaks on command, shakes hands, begs, and rolls over. “Not bad.” I smile and rub Maisy’s head. If she can do all that, she ought to be able to learn to play fetch. I’ll have to come up with something other than the tennis balls I used with Odin. I don’t think they’ll fit in her mouth. “Are you ready for lunch?” Alina asks. “I need to go pick up a friend from the airport,” I tell her. “You and…and the little fuzzball get settled in. I’ll be back in a few hours.” I fight Chicago weekend traffic over to O’Hare and pull up to the arrivals area where Eddie-boy is waiting for me, bags in hand. “Good to see you alive, LT,” he says with a smile. “Haven’t found that bullet with my name on it yet.” I grab one of his bags and load it into the back of the Camaro. “Don’t even joke about it.” He eyes the Camaro’s rear bumper. “Uh…LT?” “Don’t even joke about it.” Eddie-boy laughs at the repetition while he climbs in the passenger side as one of the airport employees yells at me to get out of the taxi lane. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation. Things are a little crazy around here, and I need people I can trust.” “I always got your six, LT.” I bring Eddie-boy up to speed on everything that’s been going on, and he listens intently. He asks

a lot of questions about Jonathan, and he taps into his phone as I tell him everything I know. “Seems like a good guy,” Eddie-boy says. “I’ve known him a long time. I trust him implicitly.” “Always good to have one of those around. You know he’s got a record, right?” “Yeah, from when he was young.” I’m constantly amazed by how much Eddie-boy and Jonathan can find out about someone in such a short period of time. I think they’ll get along great. I give him the names of the guys Paulie hired, and he checks them out as well. “These two have to go,” he says, indicating the names with a tap of the phone’s screen. “Jonathan agrees.” “Good.” “I got you a place in my old apartment building,” I say. “I think you’ll like it.” “Is this all a part of the new employee plan?” “Something like that. It’s only a short walk from my place and will be easy for us to meet there until I find a new office building. I’ve got a complete list of all the higher-up guys in the organization for you there. Jonathan’s gone through them all recently.” “Sounds like the problem people are already out of the picture.” “They are.” “Locating this Taylor guy is proving difficult.” “We’ve searched everywhere.” I say as I pull onto the highway. “He’s good, that’s for sure.” “He was special ops.” “No shit?” “He was army but worked with Landon Stark when he was with the navy. Honorable discharge.” “What did he do there?” “Classified.” “Please.” I don’t hide the sarcasm as I glance over to him with a raised brow. Eddie-boy had access to everything. “You really want to know?” “Yeah.” “He was part of the team that pulled you out of Afghanistan.” “No shit?” “No shit. Working in the background, but he was part of it.”

“Have you met him?” “Not as far as I know. Doesn’t seem familiar, and I couldn’t find any record where we were in the same place at the same time.” “Small world.” “It does mean he shouldn’t be underestimated.” “Hard to make any kind of estimation when I can’t find the guy.” “No argument there, LT.” We meet Jonathan in the back room of Quay, a little restaurant-bar I discovered when I was working with the Russians. It’s very private, and the staff has already figured out not to mess with me. After the introductions, we get down to business. “Any word about Taylor?” I ask Jonathan. “None,” he replies. He lights a cigarette as the bartender wrinkles her nose but doesn’t say anything. He leans forward and speaks softly. “Would’ve thought with Beni’s demise, he might have come out of the woodwork, but there’s nothing.” “You sure Paulie and Cody were in on it?” Eddie-boy asks. “Cody, yes,” I say. “I just didn’t like Paulie.” “Remind me never to forget your birthday, boss.” Jonathan laughs. He turns to Eddie-boy. “I caught Cody fucking around with the server for the security system. He said he was just doing some maintenance, but when I checked it, it was clear he was trying to reactivate some of the shit I’d shut down.” “The stuff Beni was using to divert your movements?” Eddie-boy asks. “Yeah—that shit.” “Cody has a second apartment,” Eddie-boy says as he looks up from his phone. “Not in his name, but the deposit came from a cashier’s check out of his bank account. Did you know that?” “No,” I say. “Where?” “South Forty-third Street. I’m not all that familiar with Chicago though.” “Junko’s and Omarie’s territory.” Jonathan looks at me, and I nod. “We need to check it out.” “Who are they?” Eddie-boy asks. “South Side gangs,” I tell him. “Junko took over after his cousin had a little mishap.” Jonathan snickers. “He’s supposed to be playing nice, but they took part of one of our gun shipments. Some of them were never recovered.”

“They killed one of our people, too,” Jonathan says. “A woman. Trying to piss off Rinaldo.” “Sounds like he’s not playing so nice after all.” “Jonathan—check out that apartment,” I tell him. “Have one of the new security guys stake it out and watch for anyone associated with Junko and Omarie.” “On it, boss.” “Watch for any additional hacks into your security app,” Eddie-boy says. “If we can catch it live, I can trace the signal.” “Good idea.” Jonathan nods, looking impressed. “I’ll set up a monitor.” “I have some equipment I need to get set up,” Eddie-boy says. “Is that the shit you shipped to me?” I ask. “It’s already in your apartment.” “Perfect. Thanks, LT!” “LT?” Jonathan looks between us. “Lieutenant,” I say as I roll my eyes. “He won’t stop.” “I think I like him, boss.” “I’m starting to doubt my decision to bring him here.” I glance back and forth from one man to the other. “It’s like having twins.” “We’re custom.” Jonathan nods seriously but can’t keep a straight face. I roll my eyes again, and they both laugh, and we all go our separate ways. ***** Three days of staking out the apartment in Cody’s name becomes three days of nothing. It’s beyond frustrating. Everything is on hold until I can get things in place with the new security guys, hire an additional bookkeeper to help Becca, and find Joshua Taylor. Becca doesn’t approve of anyone we’ve checked out to help her. She had dismissed each and every applicant with one excuse or another. Some of them were good, too. They checked out but not enough for her tastes. There is some good news though. Alina gave me a bottle of stinky skin softener and swore it would get the Soccer Mom sticker off the Camaro’s bumper. And damn if she wasn’t right! The stuff gets the bumper clean but leaves me smelling like a whorehouse. It takes two showers before the scent leaves my skin. I’m trying to keep myself occupied, but all I really want to do is find a nice, high place on a building and take a few potshots. When Alina is around, she keeps me busy with making a thousand changes to the apartment to make it homier. I told her she could do whatever she wants, but she insists on my opinion about everything. Currently, she’s off running some errands while I play with the dog to keep my mind off everything else.

“What? You need some kind of reward just to bring me something?” Maisy tilts her head at me, and the expression on her face as she cocks her ear makes me chuckle. I hold up the treat, and she sits down, staring at me intently. I’m determined to teach her to fetch, but nothing seems to work. I’m used to dogs who are natural retrievers, and this ball of fluff just isn’t. “Get it!” I toss the little rubber ball again, and it stops just a few inches from her feet. She sniffs at it, and I give her a treat. “Good girl!” I do this a couple more times until she finally picks the ball up. I rub her, give her more treats, and generally fawn over her until she’s ready to try again. It takes several tries, but eventually she’s at least going and getting the ball. She won’t bring it back or give it to me afterward though. Instead, she tries to bark with the ball in her mouth, and I have to laugh at the effort. I hear a text come through on my phone, but it’s out of my reach. Maisy’s got the ball, and as she comes up for her treat, she drops the ball at my feet. I give her a bunch more praise, the phone forgotten, and do it all over again. My phone dings again, but I don’t want to stop the game. She’s finally starting to get the hang of it. She’s dropped the ball twice now for treats. I just need to get her to actually bring it closer to me. By the time the phone goes off for the third time, she’s actually managed to bring the ball back to me twice. “All right,” I tell her. “Break time.” She stays right at my feet, ball in her mouth, and stares up at me as I walk over to the kitchen island to retrieve my phone. The texts are from Alina. Need to talk NOW Don’t want this in text—must talk Trying to get where I can call you. Are you there? Scowling at the phone, I type back a quick message. I’m here. What’s going on? I stare at the phone, willing a response. There’s a tickling feeling on the back of my neck, and I don’t like it. Allina hasn’t proven herself to be much of a texting person—she usually just calls—and the tone of the messages has me concerned. When I don’t get a response within a couple of minutes, I call. No answer. I go back to texting. Answer the damn phone now! Still no answer. I call again and again. Nothing. My skin goes cold, and I quickly dial another number. “What’s up LT?” “Trace Alina’s phone now. I need to know where she is.”

“Alina?” I realize I haven’t said anything at all to Eddie-boy about Alina, and he has no idea who I’m talking about. “My girlfriend!” I yell into the phone. I rattle off her number and her carrier and tell him to get on it as I run for the door. I call Jonathan on my way down to the parking garage. “I think Alina’s in trouble,” I say as I jump into the car. I take off down Michigan “That’s your hooker?” “Yeah. She was texting me, but now she isn’t answering.” “Maybe she’s taking a shower or something.” “No. Something is wrong! Eddie’s tracing her phone, but she’s supposed to be at her apartment, turning in her keys and whatever. I’m heading that way now.” “Want me to meet you?” “Yes.” I give him the address. “You got it, boss.” I slow down to turn, curse at a red light, and then get moving again. Alina’s apartment isn’t all that far, but the more I think about her messages, the more panicked I become. I have no idea what’s going on with her, and I fear the worst. A couple of minutes later, the phone rings. It’s Alina. “Where the fuck are you?” I scream into the phone. “I’m just a couple of blocks from your place,” she says quietly. Growling, I immediately turn around and start heading back in the other direction. “Why didn’t you answer?” “I didn’t want them to hear me!” I can tell she’s crying. “Who?” “Teto and some other guy. They were outside the apartment when I was leaving. I heard them, Evan. I heard them talking about you.” “What guy?” “I’ve never seen him before.” “What are you doing up this way if you were at your apartment?” None of this is making sense. “They were taking the bus. I think they are looking for you. I followed them.”

“You followed them?” “I think they’re going to try to kill you, Evan!” “Where are you exactly?” I try to breathe deeply and keep my voice calm. “Just off of Lake, the Walgreens near Atrium Mall.” “Stay there. I’m heading your way.” My phone beeps with another call. “Don’t you move!” “I won’t.” I switch calls, and Eddie-boy is on the other line. “I got her near Lake and LaSalle.” “I just heard from her, and I’m heading that way. Meet me there. Follow her signal.” “Will do, LT.” There is nowhere to park on the street, and I end up pulling up by a fire hydrant on the corner of Lake and Clark, across from the Walgreens. Let them fucking tow the car; I don’t care at this point. I just need to see her and make sure she’s all right. I’ll deal with Teto and the mystery man later. I find her fairly quickly. She’s right where she said she would be, partially hiding behind a display of energy drinks. The relief I feel seeing her unharmed washes over me as she runs to me and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she says, crying against my chest. “It’s all right, baby,” I tell her. “It’ll all be okay. Just tell me what happened.” “I was turning in my key and saying goodbye to Loretta,” Alina says. Her eyes are red and swollen as she looks up at me. She’s obviously terrified. “I’d just picked up the last of my mail when I saw Teto. I was going to say hello to him and let him know what was going on, but he was talking to someone else.” “What did the guy look like?” “Tall and blond,” she says. “He was wearing a suit and dark glasses. I thought it was a little weird because it’s so overcast today.” I nod. It’s very possible the man she described is Joshua Taylor. My heart beats faster. Could he really be right in this area? It’s the first lead I’ve had on his location, even if it is a rather flimsy one. “Go on.” “I got closer, and I heard them say your name.” She rushes her words together as she speaks, and I can barely understand her. She clings to my shirt with a death grip that whitens her knuckles. “I stopped in the doorway and listened. The guy was asking if Teto had seen you, and he said you used to come around, but now you had…well, you had me now, so he hadn’t seen you. The other guy…he said you’d

gone too far, and that you weren’t going to be running things much longer. He wanted Teto’s help getting to you, and he gave him a large envelope.” She stops and takes a big breath. “He’s going to try to kill you, Evan!” “It’s all right,” I say. “I’m here, and I’m fine. Just tell me what happened next.” “I followed them,” she says. “I didn’t want Teto to hear my voice, so I tried to text you, but you didn’t answer. I followed them to the bus stop. They didn’t see me get on with them, but I still couldn’t call you. They got off around the corner.” She takes another deep breath and looks over my shoulder at the door. “Are they still around here?” I ask. “I don’t know,” she says. “I thought Teto might have seen me, which is why I ducked in here.” The bell on the door rings, and Alina jumps. It’s Eddie-boy. “He’s with me,” I say as I wave him over and tell him what Alina just told me. “It has to be Taylor.” Eddie-boy nods in agreement. “You think he’d try something out in the open?” “No idea. I can’t imagine he’d do something here in public though.” I grab my phone out of my pocket and call Jonathan. He’s still twenty minutes away from us. “Take Alina back to your place,” I tell Eddie-boy. “I don’t want her near my apartment until I catch up with these guys.” “No, Evan!” Alina starts to protest, but I cup her face in my hands and silence her. “This is my business,” I tell her. “You don’t question me on this. You just do what I tell you. You’re going with Eddie-boy where you’ll be safe. Jonathan is on his way here, and I need you out of the way. Capisce?” She nods slowly as a tear drips from the corner of her eye. She’s still gripping my shirt, and I have to pry her fingers from the fabric before I can wipe the tears away and hand her over to Eddie-boy. As they walk out of the store, a text from Jonathan arrives. He says he’s stuck behind an accident on Lake Shore Drive. “Fucking awesome.” I go over the story Alina told me as I walk back out to the street and start looking around for obvious meeting spots. The little restaurants and bars in the area don’t seem ideal, so I walk a couple of blocks further down to the bus stop where Alina last saw Teto and the blond guy. That creepy being-watched feeling crawls through my skin. I look all around me, trying to decide

if the feeling is based on instinct or paranoia. If Teto and Taylor are looking for me, they are more likely to be heading for my apartment, but why get off the bus here? There is a much closer stop to my building. They must be meeting someone else, but who? Junko? Omarie? Is Landon Stark going to suddenly appear out of the woodwork after his post-tournament disappearance? I pull out my phone and call Bastian. “What’s up, bro?” he says with a laugh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I tell him. “Do you have any contact with Landon Stark?” He’s quiet for a moment. “Not for some time,” he finally says. “I’ve seen him once since the tournament, and it wasn’t a very pleasant encounter. As far as I know, he moved out of the country. I don’t think he even speaks with anyone in Seattle anymore.” “Any chance he’s here in Chicago?” “None,” Bastian says. “He cut his losses and got out of the business. Why?” “One of his former associates is stalking me.” “Which one?” “Joshua Taylor.” “Oh, yeah? I know him.” “What do you know?” “He used to train with me,” Bastian tells me. “If you ask me, he wasn’t all that great at it or anything, but he tried. Landon kept him around as a backup, but he didn’t like him much. Thought he was too cocky. Josh always wanted a bigger cut, but he just wasn’t worth it, ya know?” “Yeah, I know the type.” “He had a brother, too, but I think he got killed or something.” “I heard that as well.” I grin to myself but don’t say anything more about it. “If you’re thinking Landon is working with Josh Taylor, I’d say no. I didn’t like the guy.” “Thanks a lot for the intel,” I say. “I gotta run.” “So, you only going to call when you need fucking information?” Bastian asks. “You’ve never called me at all.” “Touché,” he says with a laugh. “So, how’s the fam?” “Ha! Nah, you don’t get off that easy. Next time we talk, it better be personal.”

“It’s always personal.” “Later, bro.” “Later.” I hang up and fit his information into what I already know about Taylor. He’s greedy—that much is obvious. Since he was working with Beni, he must have had his eye on more of Rinaldo’s business profits. Beni must have promised him a stake in the business, based on the assumption that Beni would marry Lucia and end up in control. When that didn’t happen, and Beni died for his betrayal, Taylor must have resorted to another plan. But what is the plan? Just kill me? Does he think it will be that easy to take over? I feel like I’m missing something. A critical element that changes the entire physical structure of the whole operation hasn’t surfaced in my mind. Jonathan said someone else from inside had to have been working with Beni, and he was right—Cody. But was there someone else? Who’s left at this point? Not very many, that’s for sure. A text from Eddie tells me that he and Alina have arrived at his place and that he’s going to come back my way now that she’s safe. Another from Jonathan says he’s close to my location. I decide to just hang and wait for them at this point. I’m going to need a little strategic help and surveillance from Jonathan and Eddie-boy if I have any hope of finding Taylor. I move up next to the entrance of an alley and pull out a smoke. As I glance down the alley, I recognize the worn coat on the figure with his arm over his head and some newspapers under him, lying near a dumpster. I shake my head and smile slightly as I walk up to him. I’m near the hotel where I got the retired vet a room before. The spring rain isn’t nearly as bad as the winter cold, but I have a few minutes, and I might as well set him up again. “Hey, Don!” I call out as I approach, but he doesn’t move. An overturned bottle of cheap booze is near him, and I can smell the distinct odor of alcohol in the alley over the ripe smell from the dumpster. “Wake up, dude. Let’s get you something to eat.” He doesn’t respond. “Don?” I crouch and shake his shoulder as the stench of urine hits me square in the face. His head flops to one side, and his eyes stare blankly. His skin is cold to the touch. “Ah, fuck!” I close my eyes as my throat seizes up on me. I shake my head a moment to clear it, and then turn Don’s body over on his back. There’s blood all over him from a gunshot wound to the chest. “And Josh thought you were too smart for all of this.” I startle at the sound of a female voice from the far side of the alley. Becca steps out of the shadows with a Glock pointed in my face. I turn quickly and start to grab for my gun.

“Don’t do it.” Her warning stops me. “You may be good, but this isn’t the Old West, and I’ve already drawn my weapon.” “What the fuck, Becca?” “Everything was all set with Beni taking the reins, and you had to fuck that up by not letting Rinaldo bleed out there on the street. Then there was all that hospital nonsense. I figured those new accounts meant you were being given the business, but I wasn’t expecting you to act so quickly. And killing Paulie, too? You are a psychopath. It’s time to put you down.” From behind Becca, Joshua Taylor appears. He’s grinning like a cat with a defenseless bird in its mouth. “Always use a girl as bait,” he says. “Works every time.” Motherfucker. With the barrel of a gun pointed directly at me, I feel my body calm all over. Combat instinct sets in, and the dead vet at my feet is forgotten. There is nothing but me and the bullet inside the chamber of Becca’s gun. My own piece is holstered at my side, but Becca and Joshua know that. Trying to reach for it isn’t going to work. I’m at a serious disadvantage, and I am going to have to come up with something clever and unexpected if I am to have any chance at all. “Biting the hand that feeds you, Rebecca?” She glares at me. “I’ve been much better fed since teaming up with Josh. I worked for years in that fucking club for shit even though I was the one pulling all the hours. That whole ‘step up’ Rinaldo promised me when I took over his books was a load of shit. But I fixed that myself, didn’t I?” “You didn’t learn anything when I took care of Justin, did you?” I watch Joshua carefully as I say the words. His eyes narrow, and his mouth opens just enough to show his teeth. I still don’t have a plan, but I want him riled up. He’s more likely to make a mistake if he’s not thinking clearly. A mistake is my only chance. Joshua folds his arms over his chest and glares at me. “Payback is a bitch, Arden,” he says. “Once you’re out of the picture, I’ll be handling all that money of yours. While I’m at it, I’ll be shoving my cock in that little piece of ass you followed here.” I let the words flow over me, refusing to envision the meaning behind them. If I’m to have a chance at this game of willpower, I can’t let anything he says get to me. “Justin screamed like a little girl, you know,” I tell him. “Begged like a whore. ‘Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me, Mr. Arden!’” I laugh and shake my head but never move my eyes from the gun in Becca’s hand. “We’re done with this asshole,” Joshua says. “Just fucking shoot him already.”

Apparently, he’s not interested in this game. I tense, watching Becca’s shoulder, arm, and hand for movement. I have nowhere to go except down to the ground, and being in a prone position isn’t going to help my chances. It will just make me an easier target. “Evan!” I hear Jonathan’s voice near the entrance to the alley, but I don’t turn to look at him. I keep my eyes on Becca and wait for that critical second when she’s distracted by the voice. She glares in Jonathan’s direction, and I make my move. Crouching, I race for her, wrap my arms around her midsection, and take her to the ground. The gun goes off twice, and bits of brick from the side of the building rain down on us. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jonathan scuffling with Taylor. Becca is a lot stronger than she looks. I try to get the gun from her hand, but she’s holding onto it tightly as she brings her knee up into my stomach over and over again. I keep my hold on her wrist as I punch her face, but she still doesn’t release the weapon. She grabs my face with the hand not holding the gun and digs her finger into my eye as she screams and curses at me. I turn my head to the right to get her finger away and feel cold metal on the side of my face. My arm is bent at an awkward angle, and I can’t move her wrist. There is no time to try another tactic. Oh, fuck. “LT!” I never saw Eddie-boy enter the alley, but he is suddenly at my side. I feel him shove my shoulder with all his strength. The gun goes off. I hear the sound of my head hitting the brick wall behind me right before I slump to the ground. I drop into a pool of Don’s blood, and the smear on my forearm looks oddly like the stripes of an American flag. I feel compelled to turn my arm to get a better look at the pattern is strong, but I can’t move. I’ve been shot. The whole idea is puzzling. All that time I spent in combat zones, and I was never shot. All those people who have found themselves at the wrong end of my gun, and I’ve never been shot. I can’t even count the number of times someone has held up a gun and pointed it in my direction, but never once has a bullet entered my body. I’m not even sure where I’ve been hit. I hear Eddie-boy yelling. I hear Becca screaming. I feel nothing. I really think I might need some rest now.

Chapter 23—Miraculous Awakening Hums and beeps. My ass hurts and so do my shoulders, but the throbbing in my head mutes most of the other pain. The very idea of opening my eyes makes the pounding ten times worse. The bed I’m on is uncomfortable as if the pillow is rolled up behind my neck in a lumpy ball. There are voices, but they are muffled as if the speaker is trying to talk into a pillow. My head continues to throb terribly, and I let myself slip back toward blackness. Time is pretty irrelevant. There’s just the dichotomy between bright pain and dark numbness. I choose the dark. Disorientation when I wake is a fairly normal feeling. This still feels different. There’s always whatever dream I’ve been having right at the very surface of my thoughts. There is a moment when I’m not sure if I’m awake, and reality is cloudy. For a while, the dream continues in my head even as my surroundings change. I’m stiff and sore. I had been dreaming about the hole, during the time when the special ops troops came in and pulled me out. I couldn’t walk on my own because I had been curled up in the same position for so long, and my leg muscles had atrophied. I crack one eye open. I’m in a hospital room, hooked up to various monitors, and there’s an IV tube running into my hand. My nose itches, and I realize there’s one of those oxygen tubes taped to it. I open my eyes a little wider. The room is fairly dark. The only light comes from a dim table lamp near the door. What the fuck am I doing here? The monitor beside me starts blinking red, matching my heart rate as it starts to beat faster. There’s no one in the room, and when I try to sit up, my aching muscles protest. The light brightens suddenly, and I squint against the glare. A woman in lime green scrubs enters and moves quickly to my side. She leans over, and I feel her hand brush my arm. “Mr. Arden?” The sound is muffled, and I think there might be something covering my ear. “I’m Kim, the night nurse. Can you speak?” I find her question ridiculous until I realize that I can’t utter a word. My mouth is parched, and the corners of my lips are dry and cracked. It hurts just to open my mouth. “Let me get you some water,” she says. A moment later, there’s a straw at my lips. I suck just a bit of water into my mouth before I start coughing. She places her hand on the back of my neck, and I manage to get some down. “Try again,” she says. “What…why…?” I can only croak. “Hang in there for a minute,” Kim says. She reaches over and taps a button beside the bed. “I’ll

get the doctor for you.” A small, dark-haired woman in a white doctor’s coat arrives within seconds. She grabs a clipboard from the end of my bed and sits down on a rolling stool next to me. “Mr. Arden, my name is Doctor Reiss. I’ve been taking care of you while you have been here. I’m going to have Kim take your vitals, and then we’ll see if you can answer a few questions for me, okay?” “Yeah.” The air from my lungs hurts my throat. “Can you tell me the last thing you remember?” It takes a few tries before I can form coherent words. After a few more sips of water, I can speak. “I just woke up. What am I doing here?” “What do you remember from before you woke up?” I get another drink to wet my throat and try to remember. “They had me in a hole.” I close my eyes. It hurts to have them open. I know my answer isn’t right—it’s not what she’s looking to hear, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. “A hole?” Dr. Reiss reaches over and adjusts a tube at my arm. “Can you tell me more about that?” “Sand…um…” I try to focus. I know I’m not saying the right words, but everything in my head is jumbled up. The hole—that’s not real. It was just something in my head. I finally find the right word. “It was a dream.” “You were dreaming about a hole?” “Yeah.” “Can you think back to what you remember before you were dreaming?” Memories come and go, and not all in an order that makes sense. I remember standing in the rain, watching the priest pray over Rinaldo’s casket. Another hole comes to mind, and I watch a woman’s body as I shove it into the pit with the toe of my boot. I remember waking up in a submarine, and I’m unable to get warm. I remember Alina and the scent of lavender on her skin. Alina. She went to give her key back to her landlord. I was in my apartment… “I was playing with the dog. Um…teaching her to fetch.” “What was the date?” “April…um…” I try to think as my memory focuses a little better. Rinaldo died on the fourth, and the funeral was on the seventh. Four days later Alina was collecting the last of her things. “April eleventh? Twelfth?” “Mr. Arden,” Dr. Reiss says as she places her clipboard on the bedside table and leans closer to me, “I’m going to tell you some things that are going to be distressful. I need you to try to stay calm for

me. Do you think you can do that?” “Yeah.” I lick my lips. My mouth and throat are still dry. Talking and breathing seems to make it worse. I glance up at the water on the table, and the doctor holds a straw up to my lips again before she continues. “Today’s date is May twenty-eighth. Mr. Arden, you’ve been in a coma for nearly seven weeks.” I hear the words, but they don’t quite register. They don’t even make any sense. No one sleeps for seven weeks. I can barely sleep for seven hours. “How did I get here?” “Mr. Arden,” she says softly as she leans back on the stool and holds the clipboard to her chest, “you were picked up in an alley. You had a very serious gunshot wound.” She reaches over and touches the side of my face, right below my jaw. “The bullet entered your head here.” She lifts her hand and places it on the left side of my head, just above my temple. “It exited here. Odds against surviving such a wound are astronomical, Mr. Arden. Quite frankly, I’m surprised to see you conscious, let alone talking to me coherently.” Dr. Reiss goes on to explain that I have had multiple surgeries and even had to be resuscitated at one point. The bullet entered with high velocity and miraculously exited without exploding. I had been conscious and talking the entire time I was riding in the ambulance and even joked with the paramedics. I don’t remember any of it. “It’s fairly common when you’ve suffered such a massive head trauma,” she tells me. “The events just prior to that time never make it to long-term memory.” I can only stare at her. I hear what she’s saying, but I can’t quite make sense of it. Maybe I’m still dreaming. It doesn’t feel like a dream though. It all seems quite real. “Where’s Alina?” “Would that be Miss Marino?” I nod. “She’s been here very often, actually. She’s made quite a name for herself.” The doctor chuckles softly. “It’s against hospital policy to allow non-family members into this unit, but when your only listed emergency contact turned out to be deceased, we had to make some accommodations. The administrator wasn’t at all happy when your brother showed up, and we discovered you really did have a next of kin.” “My brother was here?” “Twice now,” Dr. Reiss says. “I believe he lives out of state.” “He does.” I don’t know what to think. How did Bastian even know I was here? Who would have contacted him?

Jonathan. Who else? “You obviously have a lot of people who care about you,” Dr. Reiss says. “They had to have some adoption records unsealed just to verify the relationship, especially after Mr. Ferris also claimed to be your brother.” It hurts to smile, but I can just see Jonathan trying to pose as my kin. I’m actually surprised he didn’t have an app for it. He probably does now. “Can I see Alina?” I ask. “It’s two in the morning, Mr. Arden,” she tells me. “However, I think this might just warrant a late-night call.” I start to say something, but I’m abruptly tired. I can’t hold my eyes open. “Rest, Mr. Arden. I’m going to want to run some tests on you in the morning.” I nod. At least, I think I do. ***** “Evan?” I try to say something, but my lips won’t move. It hurts to try, and my throat is still too dry to make a sound. “Can you hear me?” It’s Alina’s voice. “I think he’s awake.” “Mr. Arden?” I recognize Dr. Reiss’s voice. I will my eyes open and stare into Alina’s beautiful, tear-streaked face. “Don’t cry,” I say as I try to lift my arm. Alina wraps her hand around mine. “Thank God!” She squeezes my fingers tightly. I want to grip back, but that part of my body isn’t responding well. Alina strokes the side of my face, rubbing underneath the oxygen tube. It’s itchy there around the tape, and her touch is just what I need. “You always know the right thing.” I’m mumbling, and I’m not sure if I’m making sense. My thoughts are disjointed, and I’m not completely sure this isn’t all a dream. It feels like one. “I just about gave up hope, Evan.” Alina bites down on her lower lip, but the tears flow anyway. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.” “I’m awake.” Seeing her so obviously distressed focuses my thoughts. “You know me, I don’t sleep that much anyway.” She smiles and shakes her head. “You’ve made up for it,” she tells me. “I think I prefer it when you wake me up every night.”

“You’re going to have some more sleep coming your way,” Dr. Reiss says. “It will help you recover as much as anything does. You have a long road ahead of you. I have a lengthy list of tests for you. We need to get some kind of idea how much damage you have suffered.” “But he’s awake and speaking,” Alina says as she looks at Dr. Reiss. “That’s definitely good.” “Without a doubt. I’m not too concerned that he doesn’t remember the night he was brought here, but there may be additional memory loss. I’m going to count on you, Alina, to alert me to anything you consider abnormal.” “In what way?” “Specifically, anything you would consider unusual for Evan to do or say. He suffered major trauma to the left frontal lobe of his brain and possibly some to the temporal lobe, too. I’m pleased that he’s speaking. There could have been damage to the speech center of the brain. If either of you notices any problems with speech or comprehension, let me know, but I’m more curious about personality changes. Mark Duncan should be able to help in that area as well.” “Mark?” I look back and forth between the two women. Mark Duncan had been my military psychologist. “He’s been here to see you,” Alina tells me. “I met him, and he seems really nice. He said you worked with him before.” “Yeah, a while ago.” Talking is wearing me out quickly. Dr. Reiss starts talking about tests she wants to run and when I can try eating solid food. I tune it all out and just stare at Alina’s hand wrapped around mine. For seven weeks, she’s been coming here and sitting with me. Seven weeks she’s been waiting. I spend the day being poked, prodded, and questioned. Alina stays in the room with me the whole time except when I am taken to have X-rays and an MRI done. I’m exhausted by the time they’re all finished with me, and then I hear something about physical therapy starting the next day. Fabulous. The nurse leaves us alone after Alina points out the exception to the visiting hours rule. I get settled back into the bed and drink some of the juice that’s been left for me. No solid food yet, but Dr. Reiss said I could try some tomorrow. “Evan, I need to ask you something,” Alina says as she looks toward the door and then leans close to me. “I hate to even bring it up, but I know you have to have some somewhere.” “Some what?” “Money.” Her cheeks tinge with red. “I had enough to cover the apartment bills and everything up until a couple of weeks ago. It’s been tight since then. I was…well…” I grip her hand and take in a breath. “You had to work to keep current?” “Not yet,” she says as she shakes her head. “I was really close last week.”

The relief I feel to know she didn’t have to go that route floods through my body, leaving me feeling a little loose and gooey. I give her the combination to the safe in my closet. “There’s plenty in there,” I tell her. “You shouldn’t have any trouble.” “Thank you.” She leans over and kisses my forehead. “I hated to even say anything, but I didn’t think you wanted me to—” “No,” I say, interrupting, “I don’t.” “I didn’t.” Her reassurance is comforting. She reaches behind my head and starts massaging my neck. “Maisy misses you. She keeps running around the apartment with that little yellow ball in her mouth, looking for you. She won’t give it to me though. As soon as I touch it, she wants it back.” I laugh. “She just barely got the hang of it,” I say. “I think she brought it back to me about three times the entire afternoon.” “She does like carrying the ball around.” “That’s the last thing I remember,” I tell her. “I was trying to get her to fetch.” Dr. Reiss comes in the room to go over some of the test results. Most of the physical stuff came out normal, but the memory tests were a little suspect. Apparently, they aren’t bad enough for the doctor to be concerned. “The counselor will be here tomorrow,” Dr. Reiss informs me. “I want him to do a full psychological profile on you before you are discharged. In the meantime, rest.” “Can I stay with him?” Alina asks as she turns toward the doctor. “Yes, you may. I’ll make a note that it’s approved. Just let him rest though. No more talking. I’ll be back in the morning to check in on you both.” Alina agrees and Dr. Reiss leaves. The next day, I get additional visitors. “There he is! Back from the dead!” Jonathan saunters in and leans over the bed to hug me. “It’s good to see you with open eyes, brotha.” “Thanks.” “Looking good, LT.” Eddie-boy shakes my hand. “They giving you anything decent to eat around here?” “Better than rations,” I tell him, “but not by much.” I take Alina’s hand and tell her to go check on Maisy and the apartment. She narrows her eyes but complies with my request. She knows I just want her out of the way but doesn’t make a fuss about it. Jonathan scans the room for any kind of monitoring devices before the guys sit down to talk business. “Tell me what happened.” I adjust the pillow behind my head and try to sit up a little straighter.

“What do you remember?” Jonathan asks. “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Who shot me?” “Whoa.” Jonathan inhales audibly. “I’ll start when you called me, then.” Jonathan tells me everything he knows about that night. I had been worried about a text from Alina and had contacted Jonathan and Eddie-boy to find her. Eddie-boy fills in a few gaps about meeting me at Walgreens and taking Alina to safety, but I still don’t remember a thing. Jonathan tells me about being stuck in traffic and arriving just as Becca and Joshua Taylor were about to kill me. “This guy right here,” Jonathan says as he points his cigarette at Eddie-boy, “saved your ass. If he hadn’t shoved you right then and there, you would’ve been killed.” “That’s when I was shot?” Jonathan nods. “I thought you were dead for sure,” Eddie-boy says quietly. “I mean, who gets shot in the head and lives? You weren’t moving much, but you were still talking.” “What happened to Becca and Joshua?” “Jonathan stayed with you,” Eddie-boy says. “I went after them. Let’s just say they had an unfortunate car accident on their way out of town.” He turns to Jonathan. “You know, the electrical systems on those new cars are pretty nifty.” “Nifty?” Jonathan laughs. “Where do you military guys get all your lingo?” The casual way they talk about killing two people makes my gut cramp up. Becca had been working with us for a long time—even before she was doing Rinaldo’s books. Now she’s dead, and I can’t even remember exactly why. I don’t understand why she would want to kill me. I’d never done anything to her. I understood Joshua’s motivations—I’d killed his brother. It was no wonder he wanted me dead. Now I was responsible for the death of both brothers. I can’t take that back. “We took care of Donald Hansen,” Eddie-boy says. “He was there in the alley. I looked him up.” “I recognized him,” Jonathan says. “He was the dude you set up in that hotel.” There’s a brief flash of Don’s blank eyes as I roll him over, and then nothing. “I saw his tat,” Eddie-boy tells me. “We made sure he had a proper burial. He had a sister in Indianapolis, and we got her here for it. I’ll take you to where he’s buried when you get out.” “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I appreciate it.” I ask a few questions to try to piece together the rest of the night, and they answer one after another. Nothing sparks any other memories. Listening to people talk about a situation involving me and

not remembering any of it is a little unnerving. “How did Bastian end up here?” I ask. “I called him,” Jonathan says with a shrug. “I knew you’d been talking to him, and well… honestly, brotha, we didn’t think you were gonna make it.” “Did you talk to him?” “Briefly. He had to get back home to his family, but he said to call him if your condition changed. I gave him a shout this morning. I have the feeling he’ll be booking a flight pretty soon.” It occurs to me that the only time I have been in physical contact with Bastian since finding out we were half-brothers was when we were trying to kill each other. We had come to a truce, but my intent was to end him. How could I have considered that? He’s my only known relative. The callousness of the thoughts I had at the time shock me. All my life, I’d wondered who my family might have been. I tried to find substitutes in the Marines, but that ultimately failed. When I discovered I had a true, flesh-and-blood relative, I’d held him in my crosshairs and nearly pulled the trigger. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. It feels so different, so strange. I’d thought only of strategy to keep Rinaldo’s businesses on top of the Chicago mafia chain yet nothing of the potential relationship I could have with a real brother. The only thing that mattered was what Rinaldo wanted. But he’s gone now. His family is long gone at this point—back to Italy where the crime families over there can keep track of them. All the businesses belong to me, and I don’t give a shit what happens to them. I have more money stashed away than I will ever be able to spend. I’d lived to be in his service, and now that he is dead and his family gone, what do I have that matters? Alina. She never gave up on me even when no one else thought I was going to make it. She kept coming here and checking on me. Dr. Reiss said Alina would sit next to me, hold my hand, and talk to me for hours. I remind myself once again how well she understands me. She knew who I used to be, and apparently thought that man still exists inside of me somewhere. Does he? Can I be that person again? I’m not completely sure if that is good enough. I had a rough start, and I don’t think I’ll ever fit anyone’s idea of Prince Charming. I’m on too much medication right now to remember any dreams, but I doubt my nightmares will just disappear when I go home. I still have the occasional panic attack, and I’m ultimately a mess to anyone in my life. Alina’s seen all that in me. What’s more, she saw a different side of me first. It might not have been in person, but she knows what I went through and seems to get it.

I fucked it up with Lia. I am not going to let that happen again. I open my eyes and realize Jonathan and Eddie-boy have been talking the whole time. “Omarie and Junko were definitely working with them.” Eddie-boy brings something up on his phone, but I don’t look at it. “We recovered all the guns from a storage place out in the west side of town.” “I got a plan for them,” Jonathan says. “I got security putting it together now.” “No,” I tell him. I shake my head vigorously, which makes me a little dizzy. The last thing I need is more blood on my hands. I already have a spot in hell right next to Lady Macbeth. “No?” Jonathan narrows his eyes at me. “What do ya mean, brotha? They were in on it. We gotta take care of them.” “No, we don’t. If what you said is right, they were being paid off by Taylor, Beni, and Becca. All three of them are gone now, so there’s no one left to pay them. They aren’t a threat anymore. Let them know they’re getting their one and only pass, and make sure they stay in the south.” “All right,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “If you say so, boss. I’ll call off the dogs.” “I do.” I look between both men and take a deep breath. “I’m tired, guys. I think I need to get some sleep.” “You got it, boss.” I don’t chastise Jonathan for his reference, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. They both stand to leave, and I reach out for Eddie-boy before he can get away. “You saved my life,” I say as I grip his hand. “Thanks, Eddie-boy.” “Aw, shit, LT. You saved my ass plenty of times. You’re going to have to get shot a few more times before we’re even.” “I’d rather not if that’s okay with you.” He laughs. A nurse walks in and places her hands on her hips. “Visiting hours ended twenty minutes ago. Mr. Arden needs his rest now.” “Don’t get your scrubs all in a bunch,” Jonathan says to her. “We were just goin’.” I really don’t know what I’m going to do.

Chapter 24—Different Outlook “Hello, Evan.” I look at Mark Duncan for a long moment. He’s thinner and a little greyer than the last time I saw him. There’s also a ring on his finger that didn’t use to be there. I’m actually pleased to see it—he’d been dwelling on a love long gone. It’s good to move on. “Are you good to talk to me?” he asks. “When I heard you were here, I had to come and check on you. I’m glad to hear that you’re doing so well. I have to admit, I’m also glad to hear the gunshot was not self-inflicted.” “You think I would have shot myself?” “There were times when I thought you were capable of that, yes.” He sits down on the rolling stool by the bed and lays his notebook on his lap. He pulls a pen from his pocket and opens up a blank page. “It’s been a long time since we talked, though. You’re going to have to catch me up.” I look at him for a long moment as I remember all the sessions I’d had with him in the past. We always talked about my experiences while I was deployed because there was nothing in the present I either could talk about or was willing to talk about. He’d occasionally offer me some insight, but I’d never gotten much out of it. “No,” I say as I shake my head. “No?” Mark cocks his head and looks at me quizzically. “You don’t want to talk?” “I don’t want to talk about the past,” I tell him. “I want…I want…” I can’t find the right words. I lick my lips and concentrate, but I don’t know what I want to say. “I have a girl,” I finally tell him. “Alina. I want to make things right with her.” “Are you fighting?” he asks. “No, not at all.” I’m not saying the right things. “The last girl dumped me, and I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to fuck this one up.” “All right, Evan,” Mark says as he holds up his notebook. “I have to get a few things out of the way first so I can complete your assessment. Then let’s focus on the new relationship. Does that sound okay?” “Yeah.” We go over everything I remember and everything I don’t. We talk about how I feel physically and how I feel about being out of it for nearly two months. I tell him that I don’t seem to feel the same now as I did before. “How do you feel different?” “I just…I don’t think of things the same way.”

“Can you give me an example?” “Things that used to get me really upset just…well, they don’t anymore. I don’t care.” “An example would help me understand.” “Like, I’ve got all these businesses, right?” “I understand you had quite an inheritance, yes.” “I don’t even want them. I don’t want anything to do with them. I’m supposed to care. I’m supposed to run them like Rinaldo did. I told him I would. That promise wasn’t made lightly or anything. I mean…I meant it when I told him I would do it. But now…” “Your priorities have changed?” “Yeah.” I nod. “Priorities. That’s the word I wanted. Those things that were important just aren’t on the priority list anymore. It’s not even that they moved down—they aren’t there at all. I keep waiting for Ralph to show up and tell me how screwed up I am, but he hasn’t.” “Who’s Ralph?” I pause, realizing I slipped up. I never should have mentioned him. How is he going to help me if I don’t tell him? “Ralph is kind of hard to explain.” “Try.” “I dunno.” I shrug and look at Mark. “He’s my imaginary friend, I suppose. He’s usually around when I haven’t slept and I’m stressed out or having a panic attack. I know he isn’t real, but I see him anyway.” “Did this start after you woke up here?” Mark asks. He’s doing his best not to look concerned, but it’s not working. His fingers tense around his pen. “No, it’s been a while now. I used to see him all the time, but he hasn’t been around lately.” “So you don’t think it has to do with your injury?” “No. I first started seeing him after I got out of prison. When Lia was around, he stopped appearing. He came back when she left.” “When was the last time you saw him?” Mark’s making furious notes in his little notebook. “I’m not sure,” I say. “Sometime before Rinaldo died, I believe. Things in my head are kinda jumbled. The timelines are messed up, I think.” “That’s not uncommon.” “I think it was around the time Alina moved in with me,” I say. “I think the last time I saw him was just before that.” “Can you describe Ralph to me?”

“He’s…he’s…” I pause and collect myself. “He’s a kid I killed in Iraq. An insurgent kid. He was heading for our base when I shot him.” “I remember you bringing that up before,” Mark says. “You refused to give me any details and never mentioned having hallucinations about him. Why the name Ralph?” “It just fit.” I shrug. I really don’t have a better answer. “Tell me more about this kid in Iraq.” “I used to talk to myself a lot,” I tell him. “That always kind of pissed me off. Like, it was admitting I was crazy. Talking to Ralph is still crazy but different. Does that make any sense?” “I can at least understand the difference,” Mark says. “Can you tell me about the real Ralph?” Mark’s tenacious; I have to grant him that. I go over the story slowly—from the first moment I saw the kid in my crosshairs to exactly seventy-five seconds later, when I pulled the trigger. By the time I finish, I’m sobbing. “Who does that?” I choke out the words. “Who sends their kid out there like that? It was a fucking battle zone. And he knew…I could see it in his eyes. He knew he was going to die. He was either going to be shot or he was going to blow himself up. Someone just sent him out there to die! Why? Why the fuck would anyone do that?” “It was war, Evan,” Mark says quietly. “People do things in a war that they would never do under other circumstances. You did what you needed to do to protect your unit.” “I didn’t protect them,” I remind him. “They all died a couple of months later.” Mark passes me a handful of tissues from a box on the side table, and I take a few minutes to get myself back together. “Shit, I don’t usually do this.” “Maybe you should.” Mark stares at me. “It’s good to see some emotion come out of you, Evan. That’s not a bad thing at all.” “Maybe getting all sensitive will help me keep the girl this time.” “Alina is important to you.” “Yeah. You met her?” “She was here when I came to check on you the first time,” he says. “She seems very sweet. She obviously cares about you a lot.” “I really like her, and she seems to understand me. Even though she knows what I can be like, she’s stuck by me. Still, I’m not sure about it all.” “Why not?” “Because I thought the same thing about Lia.” “That was the woman you left Chicago to be with, correct?”

“Yeah.” “What happened to her?” “She left me.” I feel my chest tighten up as I remember. “I came home—I’d been gone a while, and she didn’t know where I was. I found a note saying she’d left. My dog fucking died for her, and she left me.” “You never told me about that.” “It was right before we left,” I say as I take a breath to calm myself. I don’t want to give Mark a lot of details. “She was…well, there was an intruder in the apartment. Odin tried to protect her and was shot.” “Wow. That’s a loyal dog.” “He was.” “Finding a note is a difficult way to discover a relationship has ended,” Mark says. “You don’t get a chance to talk about it before the decision is made. Have you talked to her since?” “No. I’m not going to, either. I can’t go back to that, and I don’t want to. She made the decision, but I’m respecting it.” “Fair enough.” “I just don’t want to fuck up what I have now like I did the last time. I made a lot of mistakes, and I never really apologized for any of them. I didn’t care. I don’t want to be like that now.” “What do you want, Evan?” “I want to take it all back. I want to take back all the horrible shit I’ve done in my life and make it all disappear. I want to start all over.” “You can’t make it all disappear like it never happened, Evan. You have to figure out how to live with the consequences of your actions. You can learn from them—make sure they don’t happen again— but you can’t take them back. Some actions are simply irrevocable.” Mark leans forward and places his hand on my arm. “However, you can still start over.” Mark finishes up his paperwork and schedules some time with me for tomorrow. As soon as he leaves, there’s a figure in the shadows along the wall. I watch as Ralph approaches the end of my bed. His expression is different. When I’ve seen him before, he’s always looked either sad or angry. This time he looks…proud. “You are different now, you know,” he says. “Am I?” “Can’t you tell?” He sits down on the stool and spins side to side. He looks more childlike than he ever has before.

“Maybe.” I crumple one of the used up tissues in my hand, squeezing it in my fist. “If I leave that part of me behind though…what’s left?” “Someone better.” I stare at him and notice him becoming more and more transparent as we speak. “I think I’m done with you,” Ralph says. He stands up and walks over to the window. “So that’s it?” I ask. “You just disappear?” “You don’t need me anymore.” “Why did I need you in the first place?” He smiles and shakes his head slowly. “You’ve lost what you needed to lose. The question is what have you gained?” ***** The hospital staff is surprised by how quickly I recover. Physical therapy is a bitch, but I’m used to pushing my body to extreme limits. It feels a bit like basic training again and brings back some good memories for a change. The mental stuff, well, that’s a little different. I still don’t recall being shot. The memories of earlier in the day are pretty clear, but from the time I remember playing with Maisy to the time I woke up in the hospital, there is nothing but a brief glimpse of Don, dead in the alley. Mark Duncan keeps referring to it all as a miracle. “So, what?” I ask him. “Maybe I should have been shot years ago?” “No, Evan—definitely not. I don’t want anyone thinking that this kind of damage is somehow beneficial. In fact, this is probably the most unusual and bizarre thing on the books when it comes to head wounds. The fact that you survived has odds of a million to one, probably higher. There may be other issues you haven’t encountered yet. I also don’t want you assuming that because you’re feeling better right now means your journey is over. You may feel calmer at the moment, and that’s good, but it doesn’t mean you are suddenly cured. PTSD doesn’t just disappear.” “But everything feels different,” I tell him. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. I want him to understand, but I can’t divulge what I’ve been doing with my life. “All the…the desire for violence in my head… I can’t say that it’s gone, but I know I want things to be different.” “Evan, you basically had a lobotomy by bullet.” Mark crosses his arms. “Do you realize how few people ever survive such a thing?” “Phineas Gage,” I say. “Not a bad comparison.” Mark nods. “He wasn’t shot though—he had an iron rod blasted through his head. It also made him more violent and unpredictable.”

“But I’m the opposite. I don’t feel violent.” “The brain is a baffling thing. There is still a lot about it we don’t understand. We do know it has a remarkable way of self-repairing. New neural pathways are generated to replace the ones that have been damaged. Even Gage improved drastically over time, and that was with what they knew two hundred years ago.” I nod. Our session is over, and Jonathan is waiting outside the door. “You’re due to be discharged,” Mark tells me. “I can’t force you to see me after you leave here, but I’d like you to consider it. My phone number hasn’t changed. If you ever want to get together, please let me know.” “I’ll do that,” I tell him. “Take care of yourself.” We shake hands, and Mark is on his way. As he leaves, Jonathan comes in with a report on business activity. He tells me all about the new bookkeeper he’s hired and how he now has monitoring software in place to watch for discrepancies. We go over some numbers and shipments, but I’m only half paying attention. When he’s done, I speak up. “Jonathan, we need to talk about something else.” “What’s that, boss?” “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Jon.” I look at his face and watch his confused expression. “It’s not because I was shot—at least, I don’t think it is—but I just can’t. I never wanted it in the first place. I only did it because Rinaldo wanted me to.” “I know, brotha.” “You and Eddie-boy, you got everything under control,” I say. “I think maybe we should just keep it that way.” “Are you going to leave?” he asks. “No, I want to stay in Chicago. I’m not running away. You can even keep the shit in my name if you like, but I don’t want to control it. I don’t think I have it in me anymore.” “You’re serious about this, aren’t ya?” “I am. You know what you’re doing. I kinda hope maybe you’ll decide to take it all in another direction. You’re a smart guy, Jonathan. You could take all this capital and really turn it into something else. It doesn’t have to be the way it’s always been. In any case, I don’t want a hand in it.” “I get ya, Evan. I’ll talk to Eddie-boy and let you know what we’re gonna do.” “Sounds good.” Jonathan stands. He pauses near the door for a long moment to look at me. “You’re different now, aren’t ya?” “Yeah,” I say softly, “I think I am.”

***** “Are you sure you want to look?” Alina asks. She clasps her hands together and gnaws at her lip. “Are you saying I’m not pretty?” I smile at her. “I’m good. Bring it over.” She hands me the mirror, and I take a look at the side of my face. There’s a long, nasty scar from just above my left jaw all the way into my hairline. When I touch the top of it, pushing some strands of hair aside, I can see the rest of it. There’s no hair growing over the scar tissue. It’s not all red and rough—the surgery was over a month ago. It’s actually not as bad as I thought it might be, and it’s bound to fade more with time. “I dunno,” I say, “I think it looks kinda sweet.” Alina rolls her eyes. “What? You don’t think it’s sexy?” “I think you’re sexy,” she says. “The scar doesn’t matter. I just need to get you back home so I can show you exactly how I feel about you.” “Why wait?” “Here?” She looks over at the door. “Anyone could walk in.” “Yeah, so? It’s not like I’m handing you cash right at the moment. They can’t exactly charge us with public indecency—this is a private room.” “Do you really think you’re up for that?” I reach over and take her hand. While I look into her eyes, I press her palm against my stiffening cock. “Definitely.” She wraps her fingers around me through the sheet. As she begins to stroke my shaft, I push the back of my head against the pillow and close my eyes. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely up for this.” Alina giggles, releases my cock, and pulls back the sheet. She glances at the door for a second before pushing aside the hospital gown and grasping my cock again. As she wraps her fingers around me, she looks into my eyes and uses her other hand to palm her breast. “You are so fucking beautiful,” I tell her. “You better get those clothes off before I come all over your hand.” She runs her fingers down to my balls and then back to the tip of my dick. Giving me a sly halfsmile, she starts to undress herself as I watch. I lick my lips as her skin is revealed, and as soon as there is a pile of clothes on the floor, I grab her hand and pull her onto the bed beside me. I have to roll to my side for her to fit on the small bed. Once she’s against me, I press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth to me, moaning as our tongues touch. I caress her bare skin, reveling in the

heat of her body. “Turn around,” I tell her. “Get that ass over here.” Alina rolls so her back it to my chest, and I pull her up against me as I lie on my side. I stroke over her stomach with one hand as I press my lips against her shoulder. I kiss up the side of her throat, and I suck her earlobe into my mouth. “Give me your leg,” I whisper. “Push that ass up against me.” With her leg lifted and knee bent, I grab hold of her thigh to give my cock access to her pussy. The heat against the tip makes my cock throb in anticipation, and I waste no time as I line up and push forward. I slide into her easily and feel her muscles grip my shaft. “Oh, fuck…it’s been a while.” I have to hold my breath to keep myself from moving at all. The warmth around my cock feels too good, and I don’t think I’m going to last long. Alina reaches back and loops her arm around my head. With my face tucked against her shoulder blade, I begin pushing in and out of her slowly, listening to her quiet moans with every penetration. “Jesus, Evan…that feels so good.” “Gotta make up for lost time,” I whisper. “Keep quiet now. You don’t want the nurses thinking you’re lying in here being fucked, do you? “Mmmm…” I find her breast with my fingers, stroke her nipples, and slide my hand down to her stomach. Grunting, I pull back and thrust into her quickly as I locate her clit with my fingers and start to circle the little nub. Alina groans again, and I shush her. She tightens her grip on the back of my head and grasps the edge of the bed with her other hand. “Faster, Evan. Please…I want…” She pants her words and bends her knee a little more to wrap her calf around my thighs. I comply, moving as fast as I can at this angle. My head swims, my balls tighten, and I know I can’t keep this up for long. “Come on baby,” I whisper in her ear. “Let me feel you come on my cock.” I time my thrusts with the movement of her hips, rubbing my fingers in a circle around her clit with the same rhythm. Alina turns her head to the side, muffling her cries with the pillow as I feel her tighten around me when I quicken my pace. “Oh, fuck! Yeah!” I don’t even bother to stifle myself as I release into her. I pull her back against my chest and hold her as my heart begins to slow. “This hospital bed is suddenly a lot more comfortable,” I say. Alina laughs, causing me to slip out of her. She turns over to face me and places her hand against my cheek.

“You are incredible,” she says. “I just want you to be happy,” I tell her. “I want to get out of here, take you home, and do this to you every day.” “I think that sounds like a wonderful plan.” ***** “Look what I have!” Dr. Reiss comes in with a clipboard full of paperwork. “I just need you to read through all this, sign it, and then schedule your first follow-up visit. After that, you can go home.” “Really?” Alina’s smile lights up her face. “Good,” I say. “The food here sucks.” “I’m going to make you one of Lele’s recipes for dinner tonight,” Alina promises as she kisses my cheek. Dr. Reiss shakes my hand and tells me she’ll see me next week. I turn to Alina after the doctor leaves and grab onto her hand. “So, does all this mean you’re going to stay? I mean, you’ll stay in my apartment?” “Yes, I will. If you still want me to, of course.” “I do.” I grip her hand tightly. “I really do.” “Good,” Alina says, “because I’ve kinda gotten used to it, and I’d really like to get used to it again with you there.” “What are you going to do about…um…work?” “I really don’t know,” Alina says. “I figure as long as we’re...well, as long as we’re together, I can’t exactly work the same job. Anyway, Teto apparently left town after that night.” “Why?” “You don’t remember any of it, do you?” “Nothing.” “Teto was leading those people right to you,” she says. “I talked to Jonathan about it, and he said Teto had since left town. He’s on his way to Mexico or something.” I rather doubt Teto just left town. “Forget about him. You don’t need that kind of work, and he’s out of the picture now.” “I really don’t know how to do anything else.” “What would you like to do?” Alina tilts her head and considers for a minute. “Honestly? I’d like to go back to school and at least get my GED. If I had that, maybe some of the

community colleges would consider me. I’d still have to come up with tuition money though.” I hand the nurse all the paperwork, and she gives me a packet of instructions along with some prescriptions to be filled. “You are all set, Mr. Arden!” “Thanks.” Alina takes the hospital wheelchair’s handles and pushes me through the hallways as the orderly trails behind. “Would you work at one of my businesses?” I ask. “I don’t know, Evan.” “I mean one of the totally legit ones,” I add quickly, “like, a receptionist at the car dealership or maybe the uniform place.” “Why?” “You’re strong,” I say quietly so we aren’t overheard. “You like your independence. It was hard for you to even ask me for money to keep my own apartment. I want you to feel like…well, to feel like you can do whatever you want. I don’t think you want a handout from me, so this would be you earning your own money without me paying you for the sex.” “I don’t know,” Alina says softly. “I mean, I appreciate it, and it sounds good, but I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t even have the right kind of clothes for something like that.” “That’s pretty easy to fix.” “Maybe.” She still seems doubtful, but I’ve been thinking about this. “You’d be earning your own money for classes,” I say. “Once you get a degree, you could work wherever you wanted. In the meantime, I have to pay for the apartment and all that for me. Having one more person isn’t a big deal.” Alina stops right by the hospital exit where the wheelchair is returned to the orderly. She turns to me and stares me in the face. She’s wearing a huge smile. “You know what, Evan? I think that just might work.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I pull her close to me. I can smell lavender, but I’m not sure if it’s on her skin or if I just remember it from the night before. It doesn’t matter; it’s still comforting. It reminds me that she’s always there for me, and my mind is at peace. I don’t know what the future holds for us. The crime business is ultimately out of my hands now, and I know it will be different this time. It’s different because I’m different. So I walk out of the hospital. Alina at my side. No longer alone.

I really think I’m ready to move on now.

Epilogue—Otherwise Healed “You shouldn’t live in Chicago without seeing the sights.” “Why exactly does that have to involve taking the bus?” Alina sighs, and I grab her hand to lead her up the stairs to swipe our transport passes. “All part of the experience.” It’s a busy Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, and the bus is full of tourists. There’s going to be a long line at Willis Tower, but I don’t mind. I focus inside of myself so often now that sometimes I don’t even notice all the people around me. It’s a big change from always watching everything, but I don’t mind that either. “You see that?” I point to the sidewalk as we exit the bus. “What?” I hold her hand and maneuver through the other people getting off the bus so Alina can get a better look. Near the edge of the building is a strange arrangement. “What the heck is that?” “Duh,” I say as I gesture to the object on the ground. “It’s a neatly folded dress sock with a pile of French fries in the middle of it.” “I have no words.” Alina stares at the object and slowly shakes her head. “Only in Chicago!” “I can’t even comprehend this,” she says. “Why in the world is this here?” “It’s modern art! It’s obviously a political statement about fashion in the restaurant industry. Don’t you get it? Come on, I’m the one who’s supposed to have the brain damage here.” She looks up at me with one eyebrow raised, and I bend down to quickly kiss her lips. “Speaking of restaurants, I’m taking you to 676 when we’re done here.” “What’s that?” “A restaurant and bar. You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of their raspberry martinis and a peanut butter and jelly waffle.” “That actually sounds really good.” “It’s incredible.” With her hand still in mine, we head over to the entrance. It’s been a little over a year since I was shot. A little over a year since a bullet went through my brain. Jonathan and Eddie-boy have been running the show all this time, and that suits me just fine. In name, it still belongs to me, and I think that still counts as fulfilling my duty to Rinaldo. Lele moved back to Italy while I was still in a coma, taking both of her daughters with her. She came back to visit once and gave Alina all her family recipes.

My reputation as a killer, combined with surviving a shot to the head, seems to keep my enemies at bay. Though I’m no more than a figurehead now, no one is willing to challenge the organization. I’m both surprised and impressed with how well Jonathan and Eddie-boy have done with the businesses. There’s more legitimate money coming in now, and they’ve hired a lot of good people to keep everything running smoothly. Being physically broken seems to have helped me become less mentally damaged. Mark doesn’t think it has anything to do with the injury to my brain but rather the experience itself. Even though I don’t remember it, it seems to have changed my outlook on life and other people. I don’t understand it, but it’s working for me. I can still be impulsive and scatterbrained now, but as long as Alina is around me or Maisy is playing fetch, I’m actually pretty happy. When I’m alone, I still have the occasional panic attack, and the nightmares never completely stopped, but they got better. Sometimes I feel bad for Alina having to put up with it all and wonder if she feels like she’s stuck with me. She keeps telling me she doesn’t think of it that way, and I believe her. I’ve never told her that I love her. I think I do, but I haven’t said it. The line is insanely long, and it twists and turns through roped-off corridors as people take their pictures near the signs on the walls. We sit in the movie theatre and watch a documentary on the building of the tower, and Alina leans her head on my shoulder as the images on the screen flash by. We finally make it to the elevator and the long ride to the top. When the doors open, I hear Alina gasp at the view. We head up near the windows where they have some of those short-range telescopes you can use if you shove a few quarters into them. “Is that our apartment building?” Alina grips the rail as she looks out over the city. “Yes. There’s Millennium Park and Soldier Field over there. See the Ferris wheel over at Navy Pier? And there are all the museums. Maybe we should try one of them out when we’re done here.” Alina checks out all the souvenirs while I step onto the Skydeck. I stand on the huge piece of glass and look down into empty space. It’s unnerving to step onto the clear platform, but once I get out there, it’s not bad. Heights have never been a trigger for me, so I’m good. Everything looks so peaceful from this high up. Even the crowds of people in the street seem orderly. It’s only when you get too close that you can see how ugly it can be. I’m responsible for so much of that ugliness. I feel a hand slip into mine, and Alina steps tentatively onto the platform. “Shit,” she mutters, “this is crazy.” “They parked a semi-truck on these platforms,” I say, reminding her of the video we had seen. “It’s all good.” She tightens her fingers around mine and looks down. “So high…” I chuckle, bring her hand to my lips, and kiss the back of her knuckles. We both go back to looking over the city, pointing out landmarks and places we’ve been. A man and a woman next to us have a

playful argument about whether or not the woman should bring the baby she has in her arms out over the ledge. Eventually she does, but the baby doesn’t seem impressed, and they depart quickly. I watch them go. “Do you want to have a baby?” “What?” Alina turns to me, eyes wide. “Evan, are you serious?” “I think so,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, if you want to. I don’t know anything about kids though.” “I don’t know very much about them either,” Alina admits. “Loretta has a kid, but he was always with his father and almost never at our place. I’ve never been around babies.” “Me either. Bastian has a kid though, and it seems to be working for him. If he can do it, maybe I can, too.” “I’m not sure I’m ready for anything like that.” Alina leans her head against my chest. “Maybe not right away or anything,” I say, “but someday. You know—maybe in a few years. Make sure all my medical stuff comes back okay. Well, as okay as it can be.” Alina reaches up and strokes the long scar from my temple to my jaw. “Someday,” she says quietly. “I don’t think we are quite there yet.” I nod, recognizing the impulsivity of my question. I’m prone to that now, apparently. Alina has to talk me down every once in a while. “Maybe we could breed Maisy,” I say. “Puppies might be entertaining.” “Maybe.” Alina laughs. I pull her close to me and brush my lips against hers. “Want me to take your picture?” A bright-eyed woman behind us smiles and bobs her head up and down. Alina looks at me and gives me a little shrug. We’ve never taken a picture together. “Sure,” I say. I hand the woman my phone, and Alina steps up close to me. I wrap my arm around her and smile at the camera. The flash goes off a couple of times, and the woman hands me my phone so we can see the pictures. They look good, and I thank her. As I stare at the picture, I can’t help but think how beautiful Alina looks with the cityscape behind her. It’s nice to have Alina’s smiling face on my phone where I will be able to look at her when she isn’t home. She doesn’t leave me alone very often, which I appreciate, but sometimes it’s necessary. I wonder if I should have it printed out and put it up in the apartment somewhere. I’ve never done anything like that before, but it seems like the kind of thing people do. Rinaldo and Lele had pictures up in their house. There was a huge one in the living room of them from their wedding.

“Should we get married?” I ask. Alina blinks repeatedly and seems unable to answer. Maybe I’m being impulsive again. “Before we have a baby or something like that,” I say to clarify. “Evan Arden,” Alina says as a smile lights up her face, “are you proposing to me?” It’s my turn to blink. Is that what I’m doing? “Yeah, I guess I am.” Alina narrows her eyes and looks away from me. I know immediately that I haven’t gone about this the right way. I was probably supposed to be down on one knee, but that doesn’t seem right, either. She recognizes my words as something I haven’t really thought about, but that doesn’t mean I’m not serious. I reach over and place my finger under her chin. Tilting her face up to look at me, I stare into her eyes. “I’ve never said it,” I tell her, “and I’ll probably never get into the habit of saying it a lot, but I love you, Alina. I don’t think I could survive without you in my life. You kept me calm when I was at my worst, and that’s not an easy task. You stuck with me, fought for me, and I’d do anything for you. So yes, I’m asking you to marry me.” Tears form in the corner of her eyes, and she bites her lip as she tries to blink them away. Without warning, she flings her arms around me and squeezes all the breath from my lungs. “Evan…oh, Evan! I love you, too! I have for a long time.” “Is that a yes?” I choke on the words as I try to get air back into my body. “It’s a yes.” She smiles up at me and then grabs my face in her hands and kisses me hard. My heart is pounding, and my face actually hurts from smiling. I reach down and grab her ass, pulling her hard against me, and kiss her right back. “Screw the museums,” I say. “Let’s go ring shopping.” Alina laughs and throws her arms around my neck. “Now that sounds like a perfect afternoon!” ~The End~

Author’s Note Back in December of 2012, I released Otherwise Alone – my very first published work. It was a test as much as it was a story. I wanted to see if this publishing thing was something I could do. I wanted to find out if anyone was actually interested in buying the crazy shit I write. In May of 2015, I finished the last book in this series. This is the first time the whole series has been available in one set. Writing full-time has been an incredible ride, and I’m so glad you have joined me for the journey! Evan Arden has been with me for so long, and as much as he has been in my head for the past few years, I’m ready to say goodbye. I know some people will always want more, but it’s time to move on. I will definitely miss being in his head! If you haven’t read Surviving Raine and Bastian’s Storm – check them out! You’ll love Bastian and you’ll also get some more Evan Arden Action! Also available as a boxed set – Surviving the Storm! Kindle Unlimited users read for free!

Other Titles by Shay Savage Unexpected Circumstances Series: Book 1: The Handmaid In a bold political move, Sir Branford claims a handmaid as his bride instead of the expected princess in an attempt to spark a war. Poor Alexandra knows little of how to behave as the wife of a future king and knows nothing of the man who is suddenly her husband. Alexandra knows she is being used as a pawn and must do her best to avoid scheming noblewomen and the scorned princess, accept her position as her husband ascends to the throne, and overcome her fears of the man with whom she now shares a bed. Sir Branford is determined to have it all – the kingdom, a wife of his choosing, and the revenge he seeks for the death of his father. He doesn’t expect the naïve handmaid to become more important than he ever could have foreseen. Book 2: The Seduction As Alexandra tries to conform to her new life, she soon discovers that betrayal lies inside the castle walls. When noblewomen plot against her, Alexandra ends up on the receiving end of Branford’s rage. Earning the trust of her wary husband will be no easy task for the young handmaid. Branford may know his way around their bedchamber, but he’s finding himself ill-prepared to handle the duties of both prince and husband. His missteps bring down the wrath of the queen, and he will have to do everything in his power to atone for his transgressions. Branford must find a way to open his heart to his new wife if either of them has a chance of overcoming the treachery ahead.

Evan Arden Series: Otherwise Alone

Former Marine Lieutenant Evan Arden sits in a shack in the middle of nowhere, waiting for orders that will send him back home—if he ever gets them. Other than his loyal Great Pyrenees, there's no one around to break up the monotony. The heat is unbearable, but he makes do with the little he has. He’s accustomed to harsh conditions and simply exists as best he can. The tedium is excruciating, but it is suddenly interrupted when a young woman stumbles up his path. She’s lost; she’s cute, and he can’t resist the temptation of luring her into his bed. Why not? It’s been ages, and he is Otherwise Alone. Otherwise Occupied

Evan Arden is a hit man for a Chicago mob boss and moves through life with darkness in his soul and a gun in his hand. Those who know him for what he is fear him, and those who find out the hard way never get a chance to tell anyone else. The few people who get a glimpse inside his head wish they never had. A merciless killer, his only loyalty resides with his employer, the man who calls the shots that rain from Evan’s weapon. As a POW of the Gulf War, Evan spent months in captivity, and the memories of his confinement combine with thoughts of the woman he left in Arizona. He lives his life day-to-day with little more than the company of his dog, Odin. As insomnia overtakes him, he seeks comfort from an unlikely source, but will confiding in her be his undoing? He’s struggling to forget his past and to keep himself Otherwise Occupied. Otherwise Unharmed

After Evan Arden was imprisoned by the enemy for a year and a half, he returned from the desert as a military hero. He’d suffered some minor injuries during his captivity, was discharged from the Marines with a touch of shellshock, but was considered otherwise unharmed. Now he wonders how he ended up where he is—incarcerated in Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center for using his sharpshooting expertise to take out the neighborhood park with a high-powered sniper rifle and multiple rounds of ammunition. Lia Antonio, the woman he rescued from the desert heat the previous year, is the only person who can bring him out of his sleep-deprived psychosis and mounting PTSD. When she does, Evan knows he can’t just let her go again. He’s never considered leaving the business before—who retires from the mafia?— but he’s determined to get both Lia and himself out of harm’s way.

Evan faces overwhelming forces from multiple directions as a deal to get him out of jail turns more dangerous than he imagined. With a mob war on the horizon and the feds holding evidence over his head, Evan has no choice but to throw himself into the middle of another warzone. In his efforts to make things right, Evan crosses the wrong man and finds himself on the business end of the crosshairs. With his acute perception and intelligence, he tries to stay a step ahead of his former coworkers, but this time, it isn’t just his own life on the line—he’s got to protect Lia from the man who once called him son. Isolated

Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. The mantra is good enough for the Marines; it’s good enough for me. Improvise . . . Near the top of the world, I fight for my life against my opponent, Sebastian Stark. He has the upper hand in strength, but I have the cunning to turn the tables on him. I battle the elements, my demons, and him until Stark and I manage to strike a deal to ensure freedom for us both—and the women we love. Adapt . . . Being alone comes naturally to me. I’ve spent most of my life alone. Sharing my experiences, opening up to another human being, developing a relationship—all these things are foreign to me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even meant to be. Overcome . . . I’ve been away from Lia for far too long, yet I still have commitments I must keep. When I make my way home, I will tell her I have decided to end the life I have led and move on to become the man she needs. I can overcome my demons; I must. But will Lia be willing to wait? Irrevocable

Have you ever made a mistake? A big one? I’m back in Chicago and back in business with my boss, Rinaldo Moretti. So much for my run at a normal life. There are some new faces in the organization, and someone’s been cooking the books. Personally? I think they’re after more than a just little cash. If I have any hopes of flushing out the traitor, I’m going to need to find a good hooker to help me sleep at night. As the bodies pile up, I find solace in Alina. There’s something about her, something different. She understands me without asking a lot of questions. It’s as if she’s known me for years, yet we’ve only just met. If I weren’t so distracted by business, I’d try to figure out her story. She’s the only one keeping me grounded as my world spins out of control. I’m going to lose the one man who has ever meant anything to me – the only man to ever call me son. I want to deny his request, but there is no avoiding what awaits me. I never wanted any of this, but I’m out of options, and time is running out. Some choices have unforeseen consequences, and some choices are simply irrevocable. Uncockblockable

Nick Wolfe is famous in Chicago—or is that infamous? He’s not only known as the illegitimate son of Mafia boss Rinaldo Moretti, but also as an unstoppable ladies’ man. He always seems to get the girl in

the end, even when everyone around tries to plot against him. He’s a party guy, doesn’t work, and spends all his time picking up women and making notches on his headboard. He's the ultimate ladies’ man...or is that man-whore? However, his days of infamy come to a startling halt when he meets her, and she turns the tables on him.

Surviving the Storm Series: Surviving Raine

As the captain of a schooner catering to the elite on the Caribbean Seas, Sebastian Stark does his best to avoid any human encounters. Interacting with people isn’t his thing, and he prefers the company of a bottle of vodka, a shot glass, and maybe a whore. There’s no doubt he’s hiding from a checkered past, but he does well keeping everything to himself… …until the night his schooner capsizes, and he’s stuck on a life raft with one of the passengers. Raine’s young, she’s cute, and Bastian would probably be into her if he wasn’t suffering from alcohol withdrawal. As the days pass, DTs, starvation, and dehydration become the norm. Even the most closed person starts to open up when he thinks he’s going to die, but when she realizes their traumatic pasts are connected, it’s no longer the elements that have Bastian concerned. He has no idea how he’s going to Survive Raine. Bastian’s Storm

Sebastian Stark just isn’t cut out for normal life with a girlfriend in the hot and humid city of Miami. All in all, he’d rather be back on the island where it was just the two of them, and he could keep everything in balance. The bar down the street tempts him daily, but he’s determined to remain strong. Adjusting to normal life is difficult, but Bastian is doing his best to keep himself together and the nightmares away. Raine’s happy, and that’s what matters to him the most. But not all nightmares can be driven away. When Bastian’s former mentor comes into the picture and presents him with an ultimatum, Bastian slips into old habits. Though he wants to shield Raine from the truth, the shady circumstances of his past form into a hurricane he can’t control. In an effort to protect her, Bastian has no choice but to throw himself back into his old job—death match tournaments—just one last time. Dropped into the arctic wilderness with weapons loaded, Bastian has to compete against representatives from major crime lords all over the states. He’s studied his competition, he knows their weaknesses, and he’s ready to battle for the woman he loves. There’s only one opponent in the mix that causes him any concern. In order to guarantee Raine’s safety, Bastian will be pitted against the key hit man for Chicago’s largest mob family—a guy who’s known as one hell of a shot. A guy named Evan Arden.

Kandace and the Beast Kandace is a special person, and special people deserve special gifts during the holiday season. Kandace has no idea how she came to be on the beach of a deserted tropical island with the book boyfriend of her dreams, Bastian Stark. He’s fierce and passionate. He’s rough yet protective. He’s ready to give her everything she wants and more. She doesn’t know how finds herself under Bastian’s spell, but she knows being with him is going to be an experience she will never forget.

Caged Trilogy Takedown Teague

This is not made for TV. This is the raw, brutal underground of no-holds-barred combat. Inside the cage there is nothing but me and the pain I inflict on those who dare enter. In the cage, I never have to worry about anyone but myself. Yet, when she began standing outside of the cage, everything changed. I was no longer fighting for the money or the glory – I was fighting for her. Trapped

Bizarre rituals on a remote island in Maine. My crazy neighbor lying naked in the produce section of a grocery store. The sting of a knife as it slices through my flesh. Now I know why they say life is never easy. The soft touch of Tria’s hand against my chest is the only thing that keeps me going, but there are consequences. As a fighter, I should be able to deal with anything life throws at me, but there is one circumstance I simply can’t handle. I only have one coping mechanism: a tube around my arm and a needle in my vein. Released

Oblivion is a sweet, sweet place. No pain. No disturbing thoughts of the past. No guilt from my recent actions. Deep down, there is still a part of me that knows how screwed up I am. I don’t see a way out, not now. Tria’s gone, and the possibility of her forgiving me in my current state is exactly zero. I know I have to pull myself together, accept my responsibilities, and try to make amends, but I have no idea where to start. No job. No apartment. I’m living on the streets with the other junkies. As little as I had to offer Tria before, I have nothing to give her now. The only way out is to come clean and tell Tria the truth about my past, but the idea of reliving the memories is so painful, I can’t think about it long enough to figure out a solution. I’ve hit rock bottom, and I don’t even know which way is up any more.

Stand Alone Novels Transcendence

It’s said that women and men are from two different planets when it comes to communication, but how can they overcome the obstacles of prehistoric times when one of them simply doesn’t have the ability to comprehend language? Ehd’s a caveman living on his own in a harsh wilderness. He’s strong and intelligent, but completely alone. When he finds a beautiful young woman in his pit trap, it’s obvious to him that she is meant to be his mate. He doesn’t know where she came from, she’s wearing some pretty odd clothing, and she makes a lot of noises with her mouth that give him a headache. Still, he’s determined to fulfill his purpose in life —provide for her, protect her, and put a baby in her. Elizabeth doesn’t know where she is or exactly how she got there. She’s confused and distressed by her predicament, and there’s a caveman hauling her back to his cavehome. She’s not at all interested in Ehd’s primitive advances, and she just can’t seem to get him to listen. No matter what she tries, getting her point across to this primitive but beautiful man is a constant—and often hilarious—struggle. With only each other for company, they must rely on one another to fight the dangers of the wild and prepare for the winter months. As they struggle to coexist, theirs becomes a love story that transcends language and time. Offside

I have to be the best. I am the best. I’m quick. I’m strong. I’m smart. I’m the star keeper of my high school soccer team, and I’ve got major leagues scouting me. As their captain, my teammates will do anything I say—on or off the field. Girls practically beg to be added to my list of conquests. As long as I manage to go pro for the best team in the world, I won’t have to worry about my father’s wrath. I’m Thomas Malone, and I’ve seen to it that the world revolves around me. There’s a new girl at school, and it’s just a matter of time before she gives in to my charm. This one’s just a little more stubborn than most—she won’t even tell me her name! She’s smart, too. Maybe too smart. I can’t let her in. I can’t let anybody in. I’m not too worried, but even I have to admit she’s interfering with my focus on the goal. Dad’s not going to be happy about that. Did I mention I love Shakespeare? Yeah, I know. I’m a walking contradiction. According to the Bard —“some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Somehow,

I got all three. Now how is anyone supposed to live up to that? Worth

An injured Roman Tribunus finds comfort in the touch of the slave commanded to tend to his wounds. As a slave, her value is measured as a couple of coins, but as Tribunus Faustus learns more about her, he begins to understand her true worth. Still, a man of his station can never acknowledge feelings for a slave, and she is already owned by another man. Alarm

Safe and comfortable. That about sums up Chloe’s life. Meeting a tall, dark stranger covered in tattoos is not in her plans. Bad boys just aren’t her type—even if they are gorgeous and built like a brick wall. Her internal alarms warn her that Aiden Hunter is definitely on the list of men her mother told her to avoid, but she doesn’t listen. Instead, she finds herself drawn to Aiden and the excitement he promises. Near the beach in Miami, he occupies her days with thrills and her nights with passion she’s never experienced before. She knows he’s hiding something from her, but Chloe pushes away her concerns and embraces this new way of living. As Aiden teaches her to live life to the fullest, Chloe battles the internal warnings that tell her to be wary. By the time she realizes her fears may be justified, it’s too late. Aiden’s past is catching up to him, but is he the hunter or the hunted? Commodity A woman hunted by human traffickers. A hot and dangerous bodyguard. Utter destruction. The end of civilization. The beginning of a new form of currency. Women are now the highest COMMODITY. Specimen I awaken in a laboratory.

I don’t know who I am. I’m inexplicably drawn to the doctor who cares for me. She tells me I’ve been altered, that I’m stronger and faster, that I’ll be a key component in a war that has all humanity at stake. She says I volunteered for this. She says I volunteered to be transformed, but I have no way of knowing if what she says is true. Something isn’t right. My memories have been taken, wiped clean, but dreams begin to slip into my conscious mind. I can’t let anyone know when that happens, or they’ll remove my memories again. Somewhere inside of me, I know I need to remember something important. I’m fighting a war I don’t understand, and the one woman I rely on can’t be trusted.

Novella Collection Savaged Four tales never before published by USA Today bestselling author Shay Savage. An executive in need of some temporary release. A Dom looking to cleanse his soul. A twisted college encounter. A PA and a terrorist’s unlikely meeting during an office building takeover. Four alpha males just waiting to fulfill your fantasies in these hot short stories. Are you ready to be Savaged? Includes: Same Time Tomorrow: Executive Julian Reddick is tired of his brand of hand lotion but doesn’t have time to date. What’s the solution? Call in a “nooner” from a high-class company of ill-repute. Valerie Woods is exactly the distraction he needs. Cleansing Bonds: A Dom who had hurt the one he loved and an abused sub looking for release. Both are sure they will never be able to find what they need, but they find healing with each other. Encounter: On a weekend night near campus, a college girl walks home alone from the local bar. Who is watching her from the shadows, waiting to take advantage of the situation? Want No More: Olivia’s new job takes an unexpected turn when terrorists take over her office building. Olivia is taken hostage, but Adam, the sexy head henchman, seems to be exactly what Olivia desires. BONUS STORY What I Want (Want No More from Adam’s POV): Adam Lebourn’s life for the past three years has lead up to this point, but to exact his revenge on the man who ruined his life, he is going to have to rely on a decent amount of luck. He never expected his good luck charm to appear in the form of a beautiful, submissive PA.

Kindle Unlimited – Read for Free! Stand Alone Works: Commodity Specimen Worth Boxed Sets: Surviving the Storm: Surviving Raine and Bastian’s Storm Boxed Set Evan Arden: The Complete Boxed Set Novella Collection: Savaged

About the Author Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her family and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker, and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys science fiction movies, masquerading as a zombie, is a HUGE Star Wars fan, and member of the 501st Legion of Stormtroopers. When the geek fun runs out, she also and loves soccer in any and all forms - especially the Columbus Crew, Arsenal and Bayern Munic. Savage holds a degree in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories. Website - http://www.shaysavage.com/ Webstore - http://www.shaysavage.com/#!merchandise/cw7q Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/ShaySavage7289 Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5160667.Shay_Savage Twitter - @savage7289 Blog - http://shaysavage.blogspot.com/