* * *
Ninety minutes later, Uncle Marco pulled his '99 Lincoln Town Car into an alley and parked. "Let me do the talkin', yeah?"
"Sure." I shrugged. The one time I'd had a job interview, I was asked question after question by the manager of the shoe store. I assumed I would be asked numerous questions by Frank because I suspected he didn't hire just anyone, but I wasn't going to argue with Uncle Marco.
We got out of the car, and I grabbed my navy blue, button-down shirt from where it hung in the back seat and put it on. Momma had ironed it for me before we left, and I didn't want it to wrinkle during the drive. After tucking the shirt into my black slacks, I followed Uncle Marco to a door. He knocked twice before a hatch in the door slid open.
"Yeah?" some guy on the other side of the door said.
"Frank's expecting us."
The eyes in the hatch met mine, and then the metal door opened. We walked into a darkened hallway and up a flight of stairs at the end. The music and bass became louder with each step. Once we were at the top, I followed Uncle Marco down another hallway and through a set of doors that put us in a nightclub. Lights and people danced all around the space, and the music and bass thumped in my ears. I took a deep breath and continued to follow my uncle. Another guy—security, I assumed—nodded at us before we walked up another flight of stairs. Uncle Marco knocked twice on the door and then entered.
"Frank!" Uncle Marco boomed in greeting. "Thank you for meeting with us."
The man snuffed out his cigar in an ashtray on his thick oak desk and stood, smoothing down his red silk tie. Frank looked to be in his mid-forties and had black hair graying on the sides, dark eyes, and olive skin. Behind him was a glass wall that overlooked the club below. "Marco, you know my door is always open for you."
They shook hands, and I instantly saw a change in my uncle. He was no longer cocky or acting like an ass. He was polite and appeared to be nervous by the tight smile and tilt of his head he gave me, indicating I needed to shake Frank's hand, but I was already going to. "This is my nephew, Ricardo."
"Sir," I greeted as I moved forward, sticking out my hand.
"Marco tells me you want to work for me." He dropped my hand and went back to his chair. I followed my uncle's lead anddidn'tsit.
"Yes, sir," I replied. It wasn't that I wanted to work for Frank, but a job was a job.
"Ric was a SEAL in the Navy. Total badass, if I do say so myself." Uncle Marco clapped me on the shoulder and squeezed.
"Thank you for your service," Frank replied and then re-lit his cigar. He motioned for us to sit, so we did. "You know, I knew your father." He blew out a puff of smoke.
My head tilted slightly at the statement. My father had been shot and killed when I was five, so I only had a few faded memories of him. I wasn't sure how to respond.
"Ric was a child when Rafe was shot," Uncle Marco advised. "Didn't get a chance to know his dad."
"Oh, I see. I was young then too. Late teens if I recall." Frank took another drag of his cigar. "But, you seem to have turned out fine without a father. I hope my boy would be so lucky if anything should ever happen to me."
"How is Frankie?" Uncle Marco asked.
"Kid is good. He's eight, and I can't wait for him to start working for the business. Bring in more money."
"That's why I thought Ric could work for you. Kid has a good head on his shoulders and has training."
Training? Training to be a bouncer?
Frank turned his attention to me. "Why aren't you in the Navy anymore?"
I swallowed and took a breath. "I was shot on a mission. Took me a few months to walk again, and then the docs wouldn't clear me for duty, sir. I was medically discharged."
"And you're fine now?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
"All right. Be here tomorrow night at eight."
Chapter Two
Erin
Five Months Later…
