Page 108 of Thin Lives

Affonso deserved that before he died.

“Here,” Calisto said, handing the letters over. Emma took them without question, and put them in her purse. “I was going to have Wolf leave them for Affonso, but you’re much closer. One at a time, drop them wherever he might find them. Be careful.”

Emma didn’t ask why, or what the letters were. “I will.”

He leaned over the middle console, and kissed his lover until she finally pulled away. Without another word, she got out of the car, and headed toward one of the many entrances for the large, multi-level mall.

It will be fine, he told himself. It has to be.

Calisto found peace in the backstreets of Hell’s Kitchen. Some might have thought it was too open of a place for a man who needed to stay out of sight, but he didn’t think so.

Hell’s Kitchen was a melting pot for all different kinds of cultures, and for people from all different walks of life. With a cap on, a hood pulled up, and regular clothes on, Calisto was just another face in the busy New York crowd as he walked along, needing space and time to think.

Days ago, when he’d allowed Emma to go back to Affonso for his son’s sake, he didn’t realize quite how hard it would be for him not to immediately rush in and take what he knew was rightfully his. It would do him no good to rush Affonso as if Calisto was a bull in a China shop.

Men like Affonso needed to be handled carefully.

Calisto needed to tread wisely.

That still didn’t help the way he felt.

Lonely.

Empty.

So fucking cold.

Pulling out his phone, Calisto kept his head down and turned the device on, weaving in and out of people. He barely noticed them at all, and he suspected they didn’t pay him any mind, either.

Bringing up the email he had pinned to the top, Calisto opened the folder inside, finding rows of pictures. Most were black and white, but a few were of color.

All of them, however, were of the same two people.

Emma.

His son.

He’d had a contact keep watch on Emma during his time away, just to make sure that she and his son were safe. He’d jumped the gun on taking them before everything was settled, and now he would have to handle that.

The pictures helped a bit to settle his frayed nerves.

But never for long.

The buzzing of his phone brought him out of his thoughts as a familiar number lit up the screen. Calisto picked up the call on the second ring, putting it to his head as he said, “What do we have, Connor?”

The Irish boss chuckled deeply on the other end of the line. “You’re not one for pleasantries, huh?”

“Not when we’ve got business to do.”

Connor O’Neil was down for business—as long as that business meant taking Affonso Donati off the map. It’d taken a bit of convincing, but the Irish boss didn’t hesitate to offer help to Calisto after he’d explained what had been happening over the last several months, and his amnesia, not to mention Affonso’s manipulations.

Thankfully, though the street war between the two families had been ongoing for months, Connor’s daughter, and the child she had birthed that belonged to Affonso, were both okay.

Connor was willing to make sure that was permanent.

So was Calisto.

“Yes, business,” Connor said. “I have the package we talked about. It’s waiting for you at the Slaughterhouse.”