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“But?” Roman prompted.
Max sighed. “The city is falling apart. Mat said two of the men on collections were ambushed, sent to the hospital. One of them was shot. And that club on 11th Street was set on fire. It’s not just the police we have to worry about now. The Feds are asking questions.”
Roman didn’t bother asking who was to blame for either instance. Igor, the Russians, it hardly mattered.
New York was slipping from his grasp, sliding into the kind of turf war that caused law enforcement crackdowns, that prompted determined statements from mayors vowing to crush crime waves, that made investigators accelerate their plans to bring indictments.
Violence made everyone look bad.
“We’ll be home soon,” Roman said.
“And then what?” Max asked, studying him.
For the first time, Roman noticed that Max looked tired. His fair hair was disheveled, his blue eyes red from lack of sleep. While Roman had been focused on the big picture of their coup — and on taking care of Ruby and finding Olivia — Max had taken point on the everyday business decisions, moving men from one post to another, addressing their fears and complaints.
“Then we get back to business,” Roman said. “Although I sense a larger question hiding behind the one you asked.”
Max took a drink of his tequila. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page.”
“And what page would that be?” Roman asked.
“Taking New York,” Max said. “Removing your father, sending those assholes from Russia back where they belong.”
“Why wouldn’t we be on the same page?” Roman asked.
Max considered his words. “I like Ruby. I think she’s been good for you in a lot of ways. As your friend, I like that you have someone in your life who cares about you. But I can’t help wondering how this is all going to work. How you’re going to protect Ruby and launch an assault against the most deadly people in our business. And soon, Olivia will be with you too.”
Max was being diplomatic, as was Max’s way, but Roman heard the unspoken fear: that domestic bliss would distract Roman from the business at hand, that it already had.
“It will be safest for Ruby and Olivia to stay at the loft while we finish our business,” Roman said. “After that, they’ll go back to their lives and we’ll go back to ours.”
It hurt him to say it, but it hurt worse to know it was true.
There was no future for him with Ruby. He couldn’t offer her the kind of security she needed, the kind she wanted.
Max’s skepticism was written all over his face.
Roman sighed. “Go ahead. Consider this blanket approval to say whatever the fuck is on your mind during this conversation.”
“I’m getting the feeling it’s not going to be that simple.”
“It will be,” Roman said.It has to be. “Ours isn’t a life for Ruby and Olivia.”
They deserved more. The white picket fence. Afternoons at the park without a bodyguard on their heels. A man who could take them to a movie or restaurant without casing the exits.
Just in case.
Max nodded, but Roman could see he didn’t believe it.
“This is an unexpected detour,” Roman said crisply, standing and walking to the bar. “Like you said, it’s our responsibility. Ruby and Olivia wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for me. I’ll see them through it and then it will be business as usual.”
He reached for the tequila bottle, hating the way the bottom dropped out of his stomach at the thought of Ruby and Olivia living out their lives in the same city, Roman a distant memory.
Maybe they would run into each other one day on the street. Ruby would look up at him, confusion passing over her beautiful face in the moment before she remembered him. She would be married by then, to a good man with a good job. She would have another child, maybe two.
They would have her freckles, her sweet smile.
He would run the city knowing she was out there, safe and happy.
