“The collection tactics. Ed showing up in a park and smiling at my daughter, pushing her on the swings…” I feel an edge in my voice, and I don’t soften it. “Men like Reggie Millstone, who got away with whatever they wanted because the world was designed to let them. That’s what living in a Marco-run neighborhood looks like. That’s what I’ve been living in.”
“Yes,” Dario says simply.
“And he came for us because…?”
“He came for me because all these years I never gave him a reason to doubt me, other than my lineage, and with you and Opal, he had an excuse to take me out. He accused me of getting soft after I went to him and offered to pay your debt.”
“You did?”
He nods. “Made him think I was soft for you. And softness—any kind—was unacceptable. He made that clear. But since then, I think it was eating at him. He thought I had split loyalty, and Marco was never one to tolerate that in his men.” He swallows, thinking. “And if I’m honest, I wonder how long he’d been looking for an excuse to do it. Being who I am, he knew I was a threat. But if he did me, there are dons who would take offense to that, because of my parents. They held a lot of respect in our community. And that extends to their sons to a degree.”
“So Marco knew he couldn’t touch you without cause.”
“He knew he could send Ed and make it look like a personal vendetta, on account of you. He saw the opportunity to take me out by using him. Can’t blame a guy for the actions of another, even if he works for him. Marco would have killed Ed and his guards after they killed us. Nobody would have known that he’s the one who ordered the hit.”
A chill runs through me. “Everything tied up with a nice little bow. If?—”
“If you and Opal weren’t such badasses.”
I chuckle in spite of everything. “So what happens now?”
“Marco is gone. The organization isn’t. Organizations don’t die when the head does—they wait for whoever comes next.” He looks at me steadily. “It’s mine. It was always supposed to be mine. I just took the long way to get it.”
“You killed Marco, didn’t you? That’s why you left after everything.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t bat an eye at the accusation.
He killed the man who ordered our deaths.
Good.
“And you’re going to run it differently from him?”
“Yes.”
“That’s exactly what someone in your position would say to someone in my position right now.”
He holds my gaze. “I know that. I’m saying it anyway, because it’s true, and I’d rather you believe it because you’ve been paying attention than because I’ve been persuasive.”
“I know you’re not him—you’d never order a child to be…” I can’t say the words.
He takes a breath. “No. I fucking never would. I’ve spent years watching what Marco built and what it cost. Women working three jobs whose wages were skimmed by collection operations designed to look legitimate. Neighborhoods that look the way they look because someone decided a long time ago that making people afraid was cheaper than building anything worth living in. I’m not interested in that. I’ve never been interested in that. The reason I’m standing, and Marco isn’t, is that I understand what this can be, and he only ever saw what he could steal from everyday people.”
I look at him for a long moment. “So you’re in charge.”
“Yes.”
“And things will actually be different for normal people, because you won’t let them stay the same.”
“Yes.” Something in his face shifts.
He crosses to me slowly and stops two feet away. Looks at me in the pale yellow light. And then, without ceremony, he goes down on one knee.
I look at him. “What are you doing? This is not a sexy conversation?—”
“You know who I am better than most people ever will.” He pauses, and I can’t breathe, because my head is telling me things that my heart doesn’t trust. “I am not a good man. But I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
