Frank laughed. "All right. I've got dinner with my family. You have a few hours to think about whether or not you're going to tell me who sent you. If you don't, the fish will eat well tonight." Frank turned to me. "Go with Marcus and take this fucker to the docks. I'll meet you there in a few hours."
I blinked. I didn't want to be involved in this shit. We needed to call the police. Except, that wasn't what Frank Russo wanted to do, and we had to do what Frank wanted, or we would be swimming with the fishes too. "What about manning the club's door with Art?"
Frank grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. "You just got promoted."
Ivan handed the guy over to Marcus, who pulled zip ties out of his pocket and tied the shooter's hands behind his back. Frank slid into his limo, and a few seconds later, Ivandrove off.
"We're not calling the cops?" I asked. I knew we weren't, but I was trying to get more info from him and see if he would go against Frank at all.
He balked. "Call the cops?"
"He just shot at me and Frank."
"Are you serious right now?" He yanked the guy inside.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"We do what Frank wants us to do. End of story."
"Even if it's illegal?" I questioned.
"Everything is illegal, man. You should know that by now."
I followed Marcus down the hall to a pipe right before the staircase. He took another zip tie and started to tie the guy to the pipe. "What does that mean?"
"You're going to learn soon enough. Stay here with this asshole while I get my car."
* * *
An hour and a half later, Marcus and I were waiting at the docks. I'd contemplated not going before we left, but if I didn't go, I knew Frank would be pissed, and I didn't want to be on his bad side. I wasn't privy to what he was capable of, even though anyone could guess, but I had a feeling I was going to find out at the docks. I knew, deep down, I was a part of Frank'sworldnow, and it had happened the second the shooter had fired his gun.
While I knew right from wrong, I also valued my life. I didn't go to war to come home and die by a bullet to the head if it was something I could prevent. I was a war hero. I had a Purple Heart. And now I was working for the mob.
Everything had turned to shit, and I knew I was fucked.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do?" Marcus asked the shooter. I was sitting next to him in the backseat of Marcus's two-door Jeep Wrangler.
The guy didn't say anything.
Marcus snorted. "It doesn't matter either way. You're a dead man."
The guy still didn't utter a word.
The moment he'd missed Frank, his fate had been sealed—and so had mine.No, the moment he’d decided to do someone else's bidding, our paths had been chosen, and that terrified me. I knew in that instant that I couldn't get out. I had to do whatever Frank wanted me to do, and probably for the rest of my life. Now that I had been promoted, I didn't know what he would have me do.
He knew I could handle a gun.
He knew I could kill.
He knew Ihadkilled.
I asked Marcus, "Do you do this often for Frank?"
"No, not often." His gaze met mine through the rearview mirror.
"But you've done this before?" It was clear he had. Frank had ordered us to bring the shooter to the docks. There were no other instructions, and Marcus knew what to do. We didn't come to the docks for a family reunion. The shooter was a dead man.
"I have."
