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“That’d be great, boss.” Riker croaked out.
Prosper walked over to the wet bar situated in the corner of the room, opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of hard ciders. Riker raised an eyebrow at the brew.
Prosper shrugged. “I like it. But if you want, I got beer.”
“No, I’m good. My brother Micky buys this shit all the time. I like it too.”
Prosper nodded and then he surprised Riker again by throwing a couple of coasters down.
“My woman is a maniac about shit like this, she talks about water stains in her sleep.” He snorted. “Usually I conduct business in my back office where I don’t give two shits about any kind of stain but blood, but this here conversation is not gonna be exactly about club business…” Prosper’s voice trailed off and then there was that look again.
“It’s not?” Riker raised an eyebrow.
“Regrettably fucking not.” Prosper sighed and after a pause raised his bottle in a toast. “To family.”
Riker wondered why Prosper’s eyes shifted when he said it.
“To family.” Riker clinked his bottle against Prosper’s and took a long pull. Then he watched in growing apprehension while Prosper drained down the whole damn thing.
Prosper coughed a little as he wiped his hand on the back of his mouth. But still he hesitated to speak.
Jesus.
Now Riker was really getting worried.
He had never seen Prosper at a loss for words. The boss was a tough, straight shooter with balls of steel and enough muscle power behind him to make just about anything happen. Or just about anything go away.
“What’s going on, Prez?” Riker reached into his cut and pulled out a fresh pack of smokes. Not wanting to smoke in the house, he hung the unlit cigarette from his mouth.
“The hell with it, light up brother.” Prosper leaned over and grabbed one from the pack himself and struck a match. The two men watched each other carefully over the ring of smoke that hung in the air between them.
“So, uh, you remember the night you let the mafia bitches onto the compound?” Prosper began.
Riker almost coughed up a lung. So, it was about this shit again. He had really hoped that that particular fuck up was all behind him now.
Did he remember?
Hell, yeah, he remembered.
Not only did Riker remember, he had to make a strong and concerted effort not to clutch protectively at his balls at the boss’s mention of it.
“I think my voice rose a couple of octaves with that knee move to my nuts. Not that I didn’t deserve it, boss.” Riker was quick to add. “Got to pay the piper and all that shit. I know what happened that night was my responsibility.”
“Whathappenedthat night?” Prosper repeated with narrowed eyes.
Riker shot Prosper a puzzled look becausereally? He didn’t think the events of the night — the night that almost cost him his patch— needed any further explanation.
“Yeah, you know with Abruzzi’s daughter—that whole PTSD episode. It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t bring those girls in and I realize that.”
“Yeah, well there’s that too.” Prosper mumbled and stared at his empty bottle.
Riker made himself wait through the pause, but this was getting irritating—not to mention kind of creepy with Prosper looking all serious and acting all hesitant.
“You got something you want from me?” Riker blurted out. “’Cause you know that’s all you got to do is ask. Anything, anytime, anywhere for a brother, you know that. Just please stop with the fucking hemming and hawing, it’s creeping me out.”
Prosper sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and took a deep breath.
“Turns out that night had further reaching consequences than any of us anticipated.” Prosper’s tone was serious and his words weirdly formal.
