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I don’t like the roles we’re being forced to play: kidnapped and kidnappers. Captive and captors.
She deserves better than what we’re giving her, but we have orders to follow. Rules. Stupid, fucked up rules that I’ve never doubted until now, just because of some girl from my past.
God, I hated the way she looked at me when I told her she was eating dinner with us tonight—like she was suspicious. Like she thought I was tricking her and walking her right into a trap, like I didn’t care. As wrong as I know it is, I don’t want it to be like that between us.
I want her to trust me, not fear me.
I had feelings for Grace once, and even though I would never admit it, some of those same feelings have been haunting me again, lingering.
Push them aside. Focus.
We pull off of the main roads, veering away from traffic and into the darkness of the back alleys on the west side of the city. We may live like men of class, but our business is fueled right off these dirty streets and the crimes that happen on them. I recognize the area we’re heading into and estimate we have about five more minutes before we need to fully snap into business mode.
Focus.
The car pulls along the river bank; darkness casting a muddy shadow on the water. The Chicago River has never been clean, and it’s the perfect backdrop for the deal that’s about to go over. In this part of the city, no lights reflect off the surface of the water. Only a small, broken streetlamp at the mouth of an alley shows us where to go.
Hale parks the car and we step out, walking right into the roles we’ll have to play. Lucas rolls his neck, checking the gun at his side, and I do the same.
The alley is dead quiet. Not a good sign. Hale, Lucas, Ciro, and I rarely pick up shipments anymore since we’ve moved up the mafia ladder, but I remember a time when we did this nearly every night—Marlo had a system, and if he was here, our shipment would be set up in front of us, ready for us to load.
“Marlo?” Hale’s firm voice carries into the darkness. There’s no answer. “Marlo?”
If Marlo’s a no-show, he’s going to be in big fucking trouble. You don’t just mess with the syndicate’s time without paying for it—a stupid mistake for someone like Marlo Benedetti, who’s been connected to us for years. We’re the reason his business stays afloat, and once you’re in, you can’t get out.
No matter how hard you try.
There’s a shuffle from the end of the alley, and we’re instantly alert, hands going to our weapons.
A short man steps out of the darkness and into the light of the street lamp, giving us a better look at him. I certainly don’t recognize the guy—fine suit, clean cut, maybe in his mid-forties. He has a cocky gait as he slowly makes his way toward us.
“Put your guns down, boys,” he says, grinning. “I am a friend, not a foe.”
None of us budge an inch, keeping our guns trained at his forehead. If this guy makes one wrong move, his body will be riddled with bullets before he has time to even think.
“Where’s Marlo?” Hale says, watching him. He’s the only one of us who hasn’t pulled his piece, but he’s got enough backup that he doesn’t need to.
“He’s not here at the moment.” The man smirks. “He’s gettin’ big, and I’m gettin’ in charge.”
“We made this deal with Marlo just a few days ago.” Hale’s voice is hard. “He can’t have gotten ‘big’ in such a short time. I’m not stupid.”
“Well, he did.”
The man reaches for his pocket, and I instinctively put my finger on the trigger of my gun, but he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Want one?” he offers.
“Where’s the shipment?” Hale demands.
This guy is arrogant and likes to hear himself talk—exactly the type of person we have no patience for. With the attitude he has, he isn’t going to last long.
He shrugs, a flicker of flame illuminating his face as he lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. Then he shoves the pack and
the lighter back in his pocket. “It’ll be here. Don’t get your fuckin’ panties in a bunch.”
“We agreed that the shipment would be waiting for us,” Hale growls. “Marlo’s already delayed it once. What the fuck is going on?”
We’re all getting pissed with the games this fucker is trying to play. This guy might not even be connected to Marlo, but it’s clear something is up, and Marlo isn’t going to live to see another day if he screwed us over.
