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I don’t know if Nero actually has a gun on him, but the two men lay obediently face down, and Rollie starts counting. We leave them there, jogging back toward our cars.
“Didn’t know you could fight, rich boy,” Nero says, looking at me in mild surprise.
“That wasn’t much of a challenge,” I say. The mechanic has to be at least fifty and a good six inches shorter than me.
Shows how terrified he must be of Zajac. He preferred to face the three of us rather than have to explain himself to the Butcher.
“Still,” Dante says, “that was pretty fast.”
“Shaking hands and slapping backs is new for me,” I shrug. “I still remember how to get my hands dirty.”
“Fergus knows how to fight,” Dante says. “They used to call him the Bone Doctor, didn’t they?”
He’s referring to my father’s stint as a debt collector and enforcer, before he took control of what remained of the Griffin family.
“That’s right,” I say.
My father could put a spiral fracture down a man’s arm with a twist of his wrist, if that’s what was required to enforce the payment plan.
He definitely taught me a few things. The number one thing he taught me is never to fight when you can negotiate instead. Because the outcome of a fight is never certain.
The problem is, I don’t think Zajac wants to negotiate. Not without spilling a little blood on the floor, first.
Aida arrives home only a little after I do. She comes up to the library, and I fill her in on what we’ve been doing.
I can tell she’s annoyed at being left out of the morning’s activities, but I will keep my promise and bring her along tonight, if that’s what she really wants.
When she heads into our bedroom to drop off her books, Jack pokes his head into the library.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, boss?” he says.
Jack and I have been friends a long time. He got himself in trouble back in our college days. He was dealing Molly at parties to pay for the trust-fund lifestyle, without actually having the trust fund. When the cops raided his dorm, he had to flush about $28K of product. I paid off his supplier, then had Jack come work for me instead.
He’s been a good employee and a good friend, if a little overzealous at times. Like with Aida’s brother on the pier. And sometimes with Aida herself. Aida may drive me up the fucking wall, but she’s still my wife. If Jack didn’t learn his lesson down in the kitchen, I’ll be quick to educate him again.
“I picked the girls up at school,” he says.
“Good.”
“Aida was talking to someone.”
I give him a sharp look in case he’s trying to start shit again.
“She’s allowed to do that,” I say.
“It was Oliver Castle.”
My stomach clenches up in a knot. If he had said any other name, I would have ignored it. But I can’t help feeling jealous of that shit-for-brains wannabe playboy. As far as I know, he’s the only actual boyfriend Aida ever had, and for some reason that eats me alive. The thought of them swimming on some tropical beach together, laughing and talking, Aida in a bikini with her skin more tanned than ever . . .
It makes me want to rip Castle’s face off his skull.
Plus, I know damn well he doesn’t go to Loyola. So he was on campus for one reason only.
“What did he say?” I demand.
“I don’t know,” Jack says. “I couldn’t get close enough to hear. But they were talking a while.”
I can feel my eye twitch. Aida didn’t mention anything about Oliver. Didn’t mention seeing him.
