“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He clenches his jaw. “You’ve always been an upbeat kinda guy. But these past few weeks… You seem angry all the time. In your head, you’re still fighting this, aren’t you?”
I shove my hand inside the pocket of my jeans and feel around for my cufflinks. The steel is cool against my palm.
Iamfucking angry. I was never supposed to end up like this. I miss the thrill of my old life. I miss the danger and the exhilaration and the power.
It’s been four months since we left New York, and you’d think I’d get used to the new normal by now, but it only gets harder with each week that passes.
“I know this has been an adjustment,” Sandro says. “But you’re a resilient motherfucker. Iknowyou are. Ever since you and Rafe took me under your wing, I’ve looked up to you guys.”
His words dig right into me. I look at him and remember how he agreed to come here with me without a second thought.
I owe it to him to keep trying to accept this new life. And at the very least, I owe it to him not to do anything that could jeopardize our business.
I nod. “Okay.”
“If you ever want to talk—“
“I heard you about the women. Let's move on.”
He stares at me for a long moment, obviously worried, and I hate that he feels the need to worry about me.
I’ll figure it out. I have to.
Sandro gestures at the six-pack he brought. “Want a beer?”
Usually, I’d say yes, but I’m not in the mood tonight. “I’m good. Long day. Can you drop off the trash I’ve got outside at the garbage dump?”
“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once he’s gone, I take the cufflinks out and toss them in my palm.
They’ve gotten scuffed in the past few months from sharing the same pocket as my change.
My old initials are engraved on the back of each.
NDL.
Besides my gun, they’re the only artifacts I have left from my old life, and I can’t bring myself to get rid of them.
My stepdad gave them to me when I became made at seventeen. He was so proud of me. It was one of the best moments of my life.
And if he could see me now, he’d be turning in his grave.
CHAPTER 5
NERO
Seven oh five a.m., Sunday morning.
I’m supposed to be asleep. Instead, I’m squinting at my phone and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. It sounds like someone kidnapped me in the middle of the night and dropped me off at a heavy metal concert.
The fuck? Who’s blasting that shit this early?
Then I remember my conversation last night with Blake.
