Page 45 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“I still follow orders, Cross.”

“Shame,” he murmured, “it could have been fun.”

“I bet.”

“Also, I’ll be taking some time off from Chicago for the next little while. Three months, maybe a bit more. You won’t get another chance to do a run with me for a bit except this one.”

Tommaso’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Between us?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Cross quickly explained the deal he had made with Andino Marcello, and what had come of it so far. He never worked several large runs at a time because it was too many details and issues spread out between several drops and buyers. It just made for bad situations. He liked clean, carefully planned runs.

Tommaso cleared his throat when Cross finished. “I feel like I have to warn you, man.”

“About what?”

“Theo or Tommas find out you’re running guns for somebody else’s family, and they’ll have your heart on a platter.”

Cross frowned. “Yeah, I know, but it’s not like I had a choice.”

“Actually, you did, years ago. It was you who made it clear you were only running guns for the Outfit. When approached, you turned down offers and pushed the traders to us to make deals with you as a promise on the runs. If you’re going to start branching out after all these years, you’re going to cost the Outfit a lot of money.”

“I’m aware.”

“Money is the only thread that keeps this business and the peace together.”

“It’s only this one run, Tom.”

His brother-in-law still didn’t look pleased. “It better be.”

“Marcellos give the Outfit a lot of competition in illegal arms in this country, huh?”

“Cross, the Marcellos are our only competition.”

Point taken.

“I mean, I’ll have your back,” Tommaso assured, “because I get the situation you’re in. If they do find out you’re running guns for them, you’ll be lucky to make it out alive. If you do make it out alive, you’ll never be welcomed back in Chicago again. Consider that.”

Cross nodded once. “Got it.”

Camilla strolled into the dining room, dishes in hand. “Ready to eat?”

“You know it,” Cross said.

Tommaso passed him a look, silently repeating his warning, even though his words said something else. “Let the queen of the house have her chair, Cross.”

Cross moved with a chuckle.

Every house had a queen, after all.

This house was not his.

Sunlight filtered in through the unshaded bay window of Catherine’s third-floor apartment. She relaxed further at the sensation of the rays washing over her face. The month of September had not brought with it very many sunny days, and instead, gray clouds hanging over the city.

She soaked in that sunlight in her Quarter Lotus pose. With her legs loosely crossed on the stool, and both bare feet resting on the opposite thigh, she let her hands sit palm up on her legs. That way, she felt at least a part of her was open to releasing whatever bad energy was dragging her down.