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***
I know my collar could probably pass for jewelry, but I’m still wearing a turtleneck to cover it. When I get to security, I’m anxious that it’s going to set off the metal detector. It doesn’t, to my relief. I guess Alessandro would have thought of that.
My ticket is to Boise, Idaho. Not what I would’ve picked, but I guess that’s what happens when you leave the decision to someone else. I couldn’t bring myself to name a location. It would have felt like endorsing this whole idea.
Not that I have any intention of staying in Boise.
I buy myself an overpriced blueberry muffin and a vanilla latte in the airport with Alessandro’s credit card, which he gave me before sending me away. The muffin is good, at least. The best part of my morning.
Travelers pulling suitcases breeze past me as I take the moving sidewalk to my gate. For a moment, I think about trying to refund my ticket. I could probably do it, and catch a different flight instead. Alessandro wouldn’t be able to stop me.
The idea is certainly tempting.
But no. Not yet.
Not while I’m still wearing the tracker.
Chapter Fifty
Alessandro
My phone rings, and I pick up quickly. I’m in a shitty fucking mood, so whatever this is will be a welcome distraction.
I didn’t like having the penthouse to myself this morning. It felt wrong. It felt… empty.
Sal’s voice greets me. “Maroney wants to meet tonight. Are we in?”
“Where?”
“He suggested the carnival. Seems okay to me.”
I think it through. The Bover City Carnival is a year-round amusement park with rides, games, and other activities of that sort. Neutral territory. It’s always filled with people, and there’s a security station at the entrance. As far as meeting spots go, it checks the right boxes.
“Tell him I’ll be there. 8 o’clock.”
“You got it, boss.”
I put down the phone and pick up my throwing knife. Meeting with Colin Maroney isn’t something I look forward to, but it has to be done. I have two goals: to confirm that he’s the one who arranged the car bomb, and to make a decision on whether my family needs to go to war.
Thunk!
My knife misses the target again.
Fuck it. Let the wall have holes.
***
I’ve never met Colin Maroney before, but his reputation is that he’s mean. Similar vibes as Gio the Butcher. I show up to the amusement park with Dominic and a small coterie of bodyguards, expecting Maroney to do the same. He’s waiting there at the entrance, surrounded by his own muscle.
“So there’s the young buck,” he greets me, smiling coolly. His goons chuckle appreciatively. Suck ups.
Colin Maroney is at least 10 years older, with flaming red hair and an equally vibrant beard. He wears a black tracksuit, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the tattoos climbing down each of his arms.
I shake his hand. “Why don’t we leave our people behind and go play some carnival games.”
“Yes, why don’t we. Can I call you Alessandro?”
We go through security and into the park, almost like we’re friends. I’m more dressed up than he is, in dark jeans and a black button-up. I’m overdressed for the situation, truthfully, but I don’t feel right in a T-shirt. Not when I’m acting as the boss. I sure as shit never sawNonnoin a T-shirt.
