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A shell of what had once been a bustling hub of narcotics and illegal fishing, a rusted and broken monument to a mobster’s past.
Fitting that my father chose this.
Slinky was glancing around, clearly confused by this meeting place—none of the buildings looked safe to look at, never mind enter, and there were no other cars, no men to frisk up for weapons.
“He wants us armed,” I said dully, and Slinky jolted out of his skin. I fought hard to keep my lip from curling. Stupid bastard.
With that, I started to walk, hands shoved into my pockets, and Slinky had to jog to keep up. I knew he wanted to ask where we were going, what was happening, but at least now, he wisely kept quiet. Maybe he sensed that I knew exactly where my father would be.
One of those deep, driving roars of rage went through me, making it hard to think and focus on the landscape around me.
If he’d hurt Sara-
But no, the sick son of a bitch wouldn’t. He’d respected Tommasino’s word in spirit, if not always in letter while his brother had been alive, about not hurting women. My mother hadn’t counted apparently, nor the sex workers he’d often hook up with. But strangers—or my uncle’s women he didn’t touch.
And deep down, I knew that he would threaten Sara, but he wouldn’t brutalize her until I was there to witness it.
Get Sara. Get her out.I told myself again as we rounded the curve of the final building, the setting sun bright in our eyes, and looked across the broken parking lot, with random dumpsters tipped over and old equipment here and there, to where my father stood at the edge, on the grass. Sara was there, too, tied to a half-broken office chair, with that weird stalker pervert incel Zakary guarding her, and there was one other guy.
Four guys. One who was muscle, one was the incel, one was the traitor, and one was a demon.
My demon of a father, who gave a sardonic wave as we approached.
We continued to walk, Slinky now visibly twitching at my side, and I cast him a glance.
“Sorry, boss,” he said automatically. He’d balked and argued a little when I’d told him that he was coming with me, but when I’dmake it clear in no uncertain terms that he didn’t have a choice he’d come along.
Fuck, I’d be a twitchy little rat too if my entire existence was predicated on betraying my entire family to the Reaper. How did this dude sleep at night? I eyed Slinky out of the corner of my eye, noting the deep shadows under his eyes, his prematurely lined face, and his hunched shoulders. He’d always seemed fragile to me—and now I knew why.
I just didn’t think cowardice could go that deep—and someone could still be alive.
Not in our world.
The three men were a blot of shadow in the sunshine of the summer day. The thick scent of salt and brine mixed with car exhaust and that tacky humidity of the teeth of a New England summer. I cast a quick glance at Sara, noting that she seemed unharmed, beyond the wild alarm in her tearing eyes, her messy hair, and the cords restraining her. She flinched as Zakary put a possessive hand on her shoulder.
I cannot wait to kill you,I thought as I smiled at him, and he blanched.
My father stepped forward and I fully took him in, the wasted face, the lean body, the ropy muscles as he ended middle age, and I felt a jolt of surprise. He looked—old. Shrunken. But when I met his eyes, that burning, familiar gaze, hatred and amusement and something not quite right, fear ripped into me.
“Where’s my apology, boy?” He sneered.
“Sorry you got caught?” I said coolly, before I could stop myself. “Or sorry to see you?”
The thing with Sal was that you never knew what would set him off. He stared at me for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter, and I sensed Slinky shifting from one foot to another next to me. “Grown some balls, have you?” He nodded at Slinky. “But still bringing sad dogs to a bear fight. You’re so fuckin’ smart but so dumb. Not like your girl here.” I tried not to react as he jerked a thumb at her. “She’s got brains for days. And beauty. Not sure what she sees in you, but good job, kiddo.” He gave me a vacant smile that made me think of his fists raining down on me, my arm breaking with ease under his terrible grip, the screams and pain of childhood, and he had the gall to add, “I always wanted grandchildren.”
“Then give her back and I’ll get started,” I said quietly.
A strange smile played over my father’s face. “Are you wondering why I haven’t killed you yet, Danny?” He tipped his head at Sara. “Or hurt her?”
My stomach knotted with terror, and I kept still with difficulty, fighting the urge to give into the dark roar in my head, to escape this, to not have to see Sara’s panicked glances, her conflicted, open expression, that both begged me to leave her and flee.
“Bartering,” I said, clenching my fists, and fighting hard to stay present. “This is a negotiation.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Daniel
“Smart kid.” My father beamed at me, and the terror rose higher, cold sweat dropping down my neck. “Thisisa negotiation.” He gestured at Sara. “You can have her back in two weeks after Zakary gets it out of his system—and anytime he wants her, he gets her. Otherwise, she’s yours.”
