A lump formed in Ardan’s throat and he swallowed around it. Anger blazed again but this time it wasn’t at Mancini, but Leo Folliero. Ardan liked a fight just as much as any other assassin or hitman, but he never fought those who couldn’t give it back.
Mancini stared at him, eyes darkening with fury. “So no, I won’t apologize for betraying thatbastardo. He deserved what he got.”
Ardan nodded. “And you didn’t kill those customs agents.”
“I have better things to do than sign my own death certificate. Everyone knows that Killough isn’t someone to piss off. I met Toscani once and I hated him. He’s a spoiled brat who wanted more than what he deserved. I don’t work for those kinds of men.” Mancini raised his glass and a few seconds later the bartender took it from him, replacing it with another bourbon. “You might hate me and believe I’m the scum of the earth, but I have standards. Trust me, working for that bastard isn’t in my plans.”
“Was. Sloan cut off his head and gave it to his father.” Ardan smirked.
“So I heard.” Mancini raised his glass. “To Killough, for being quick about it. He did us all a favor.”
Ardan nodded and the irritation he usually felt for Mancini dwindled into something else. Heat curled in his stomach and a warm sensation filled him, making his fingers tingle. Fuck, had the bartender put something in the Coke? No, that was impossible. He’d opened it in front of Ardan. This was something else and Ardan didn’t like it.
“Are you going to tell me why you don’t drink alcohol?” Mancini gestured to the Coke with a tilt of his head. “You hate that shit.”
Ardan’s mouth twisted in a half smile. “Yeah, I do.”
“So?”
“Is this a bonding moment or something?” Ardan crossed his arms and glanced at the man across from them again. He and the woman were rising from their seats and it was obvious where they were heading. He winked at Ardan on the way past. Cocky bastard, but if Kirby was right, he had a reason to be.
“This is a ‘there’s no reason for you to kill me now’ moment where we catch up.” Mancini grinned. “How about we go back to the Ardan and Gabe before it all went to hell?”
Ardan hated that idea, probably as much as he liked the sound of it. Maybe he didn’t have a reason to kill Mancini now, and that annoyed him because he would have to figure out a way to explain all of this to Sloan. Ardan wasted six months chasing Mancini. Then again, this could also be a ruse on Mancini’s part. Though, it made sense. Sloan always suspected Leo preferred the other gender, but they never had the proof.
Ardan stared at his Coke and how the red can gleamed under the lights. The ice in his glass was already melting from sitting there too long, even though the tumbler was still half filled. “I’m an alcoholic.”
Mancini frowned. “When did that happen?”
“After you betrayed Leo.” Ardan shrugged. “I got stuck into work and started to drink a lot while chasing targets. It started off as one drink, then two. Some days I couldn’t remember what I did the night before. Sloan mentioned it, but I told him I had it under control.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. One day, I fucked up. Killed the wrong person. Sloan… he was going to kill me. Had me tied up on a chair with a gun to my head. IknewI’d fucked up. But he gave me something he never gave anyone. A second chance. I went to rehab for six months and cleaned myself up. I haven’t touched a drink since.”
Ardan grinned at the memory. He hadn’t been scared to die that day and Sloan saw that. He’d told Ardan that he couldn’t afford to lose him, the company needed him, but Ardanknew. He knew it was Sloan’s way of sayingheneeded him. When Ardan’s parents died, Sloan took him in and treated him like a big brother would. While George had trained Ardan as the assassin he was today, Sloan taught him to be the man he was. Strong. Unbeatable. The kind who never gave up.
While Mancini—Gabe—saved Kirby, Sloan had saved Ardan more than once.
Mancini stared at the glass in his hand and rose from his seat. Ardan watched him head to the bar and settle his glass there before he returned and retook his chair. “I respect you for that. It’s not easy to give up the drink. My papa suffered through the same thing.”
Ardan nodded in thanks. “Who are you, Mancini? You’re not Gabriel Mancini. He’s another one of your fake IDs.”
Mancini grinned. “Yeah, he is, but he’s as real as I get. I’ve been Gabe for a very long time. The other person… he’s dead now.”
“To who?”
“Everyone who matters, and anyone searching for him.” Mancini shrugged. “I like having this heart-to-heart with you.”
Ardan grunted. “Don’t get used to it.”
“You can’t blame the alcohol,” Mancini teased. “This reminds me of old times.”
Ardan smiled. “You mean when you tackled Tate and threw him off the building?”
He laughed and the sound was lyrical andgenuine, and Ardan wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “That was a good day.”
“Yeah, it was.” Ardan shook his head. They’d chased Tate up ten floors of an apartment building. Sloan and the Italians wanted him dead because he’d tried to pit the mafias against each other by killing members from each company. He made it look like the other had done it, until Sloan figured out what he was doing. Catching Tate on the roof wasn’t hard, and when he’d attempted to jump between buildings, Mancini tackled him and dragged him to the edge, throwing him off. It hadn’t been clean, not like they usually did, but he’d pissed them both off and he deserved the death. They hightailed it out of there quickly enough that no one noticed them.
