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“And we’ll kick Sal’s ass along the way,” Artie added.
For a second, I balked, rage and humiliation surging through me, along with a sense that they were humoring me, pitying me, and that they had no right to say shit to their boss—
You are not your father,said a soft yet fierce voice.You make your own choices.
“This ain’t because you’re the boss, Danny,” Pasquale said.
“Not at all, you’re our family—and you… We get it. This shit is exactly why you tried to keep Sara away,” Artie said. “Not that any of us thought Sal would get out. When Slinky called and told me that, I couldn’t believe it.”
My entire body froze, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Slinky is the rat?I’d known from the moment I realized my father was out, we had to have a rat. But I thought it would’vebeen one of the older guys, disgruntled, and wishing things could go back to the “good old days,” or some shit.
But Slink—Johnny Dawes after all the fuckin’ shit I’d done for him? After the shit my father had done to him, killing most of his family…
Unless Slinky was in on it.My chest seized.Holy shit, I never even questioned that, but why would Sal ever leave an enemy alive? He wouldn’t. He barely showed mercy to friends.
Slinky was in on it, probably was supposed to help my dad out, but then Sal got thrown in jail.
Sara was right.
I’d been too arrogant, too fuckin’ in my own power trip and ego to ever think the likes of Johnny Dawes could pull one over on me. And yet he had. For two and a half years, he had.
And he knew all about Sara.
He was even there the night I got jumped. He orchestrated that shit, to gain my trust.
And deep down, what was worse, was that if I had ever gone to Sara, if I’d explained any of this shit to her, talked to her about that night—told her about getting jumped… My gut twisted. She would’ve immediately figured that shit out. She would’ve seen right through it.
What have I done?
“Kid, you breathin’?” Artie asked.
Letting out a long breath, I turned and nodded. The looks on the three faces behind me showed nothing but rage and concern. For a moment, I couldn’t believe that I’d ever thought otherwise. They were willing to go and face the Reaper for me. That kind of loyalty and brotherhood suddenly staggered me. I’d never really let myself accept it or see it before. But they’d always been there, as much as Ty had.
Crushing down that rotten instinct to push them away, to pretend I could do this alone, hoping I wasn’t losing my mind but trusting Sara’s voice in my head, I forced myself to say, “I appreciate that. But Sal will ensure that he gets me alone.” I dragged a hand over my face. “He’ll probably call in about an hour with a location.”
“You’re not going alone,” Artie snarled.
“I have to,” I said in a quiet voice. “He’ll kill her otherwise. My only shot is trying to play his game, making him think he’s won before I even get there. We gotta use that.”
My guys looked at each other and back at me, baffled.
A black SUV screeched up and Slinky, a.k.a. Johnny Dawes was in the passenger seat, and he gave us a wave.
Everything went cold, precise, as a deep, bone-crackling rage took hold of me. I’d thought I’d experienced the gamut of rage, betrayal, and pain in my life, before I’d even turned 10 years old.
But this shit?
I tilted my head toward the car and offered my guys a smile that made them all go pale. “Get in and I’ll explain it to ya.”
As a Michaelson, I’d done a lot of crazy shit in my time.
But walking into a showdown with my father, Sal “the Reaper” Michaelson, prison escapee, and currently holding the woman I loved hostage with his lackey, Slinky, who’d sold me out, who’d betrayed me for two years as my backup?
This took the cake and then some.
Get Sara. Get her out.I said to myself repeatedly as I got out of the car and glanced around me, unable to keep from shaking my head. Of all the batshit meeting places, Sal had of course outdone himself. We were standing in the crumbling parking lot of an industrial complex or some kind of old fishery on the North Shore, the low buildings around us all condemned, padlocked, and the windows boarded up, with marshes stretching all around us. I knew that this was property that the Michaelsons had once owned, but after Ty’s father’s death, we’d let the state take it over. Not that they’d done anything with it, this uglystretch next to a polluted marsh and river, the buildings filled with equipment that probably cost a fortune to get rid of. Never mind that, although it gave the appearance of being remote, we could hear the roar of cars from the highway behind us. We were not sheltered enough from it for my taste, although the pines were an unbroken barrier.
