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“Just coffee. Work commitments preclude me from drinking at the moment.”
A smile. Yes, he understood and appreciated the job I had to do. While Nico headed to the kitchen, I rose to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sea was rough today. A storm was coming. Decker Langdon—also known as Jordan Faraday—was building a fence around the pool, presumably to stop the kid from falling in. Nico appeared to be taking stepfatherhood seriously.
Faraday worked carefully, methodically, the same way as he had in his previous job. I had his file now, although I’d had to jump through hoops to get it. Damn, he was wasted here. He was another Dasha, another top-tier operator who’d chosen morals over orders and paid the ultimate price. Not death, but the loss of a job he’d lived and breathed. He’d run, and now he was burrowed in deep, making tchotchkes and waiting for his past to catch up with him.
I slid the door open. One of Blackwood’s men was sitting in a lawn chair, and I threw him a salute as I crossed the terrace. He returned the gesture.
“How’s the fence going?” I asked Faraday.
“Getting there. Mr. Belinksy wanted something decorative as well as functional, so the work’s taking longer than it usually would.”
“Attention to detail is important.” I offered a hand. “Emmy Black.”
There it was. The briefest flash of recognition at my name, but he recovered quickly.
“Deck Langdon.”
“The sculptures in the gift shop are yours as well?”
“They are.”
“You have talent. I might have some work for you myself, if you’re interested.”
“What kind of work?”
I gave a little shrug and tucked a business card into the pocket of his jeans. “Oh, you know. Call me if you get bored with woodwork, Faraday.”
He didn’t say a word as I headed back to Nico’s villa, and I didn’t look back. I’d shown my hand, and now I’d wait for him to play his, if he wanted to. Softly, softly catchee monkey. Faraday still had what it took. He’d proven that in the forest with Alonzo Cavallaro. Now that he’d had a taste of his old world, would he want another? Dasha hadn’t been able to stay away, and neither had I.
“Double espresso, Mrs. Black,” Nico said, setting a cup on the coffee table in front of me. “Disgustingly strong, just the way you like it.”
“Cheers.” I clinked my tiny cup against his. “Here’s to the five families.”
“Here’s to freedom.”
46
NICO
Nico’s phone pinged twice in quick succession as he prepared Matty’s breakfast. Kaylin was in the shower, recovering from an early morning orgasm. Nico’s dick had never been so happy, and the rest of him was pretty fucking content too. Kaylin had confessed that she didn’t want to leave Baldwin’s Shore, didn’t want to start over on the other side of the world, didn’t want to run again. He’d asked her to hold out for just a few more weeks, but time was ticking. Could this be good news?
Yes.
Yes, it could.
The first message contained another eye-watering invoice from Blackwood Security “for services rendered.” The second message came from Colt.
Colt
Did you see this?
Nico clicked on the link and scanned the news article.
New York is reeling from the deaths of three men connected to one of the city’s most prominent criminal enterprises. Vito Cavallaro, best known as the boss of the sixth family, passed away in his hospital bed after a short illness. In a separate incident, his son Fausto lost his life when he plunged down the elevator shaft in his apartment building. At the time of writing, it is unclear how the incident happened, but witnesses report hearing him scream as he tumbled to the bottom.
One neighbour who did not wish to be named said he wasn’t surprised, that “the maintenance team cuts every damn corner. We paid a million bucks for these apartments, and hot water comes out of the cold faucet.”
Fausto Cavallaro was reputed to be among the most ruthless and cold-hearted members of the Cavallaro crime family, responsible for the deaths of numerous men in battles fought over territory in New York’s underworld. There seems to be little sympathy for a man who was once accused of extorting money from a children’s cancer charity.
