The smell of sweet pork and fried rice invaded my senses as we burst into the restaurant and went to the back meeting room.
The first thing I noticed was that the lights were dimmed, dimmer than I remembered. The second was that the bartender’s hand was shaking. He smiled and nodded in our direction, but his damn hand was having trouble pouring drinks.
I nodded back and showed him one of my guns—reassurance and all that.
The back room was usually reserved for out-of-town guests. But when I say “guests” I really mean out-of-town family who need a place to interrogate.
It was completely soundproof and had at least twenty cameras set at different angles up on the walls, just in case we needed to watch tape to see exactly who did what first.
I nodded to Tex. He shut the door behind us. I walked toward the table and had a seat, placing my gun in front of me for all to see.
“Nixon… it has been… a while. Tell me, how is your family?”
“The same,” I said dryly. “Wealthy, powerful, pissed…”
Luca Nicolosi grinned. His glaring white teeth were like a bright light against his tanned skin. At forty-seven, he’d been taking care of the Nicolosi family since his father’s passing ten years ago. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been a cocky piece of work. Now, well now he just pissed me off. Everything about him screamed indulgence, from his pressed silk suit to his combed hair. Hate did not even begin to describe what I felt toward him and his family.
I detested them—more than anything in the world.
At eleven years old, I had trusted them. I had run into their arms that night…
“Help! Help me!” My father had left the box unlocked this time. I hadn’t realized it until I started kicking against the door. He was punishing me again. I knew it was my fault he was angry. He’d told me to spy on Ma again and I’d told him to go to hell.
So he’d put me in the time-out box.
It was really small and black. One time I’d been in there for the entire day.
Lately it seemed like just looking at him wrong earned me time in the box.
“Help!” I ran directly into the living room, where a few men were seated. Father wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“Help? What do you need help with?” Luca stood in the corner, hands in pockets. His thick accent reminded me of my grandfather. He’d been kind to me, my grandfather.
“My father, he locked me in a box and I don’t know where my ma went and—”
“Aww.” Luca clapped his hands. “Family drama. It never ceases to amaze me how easily the families fall apart when we leave them to their own devices.”
What was he talking about?
“Listen.” Luca knelt down in front of me. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I could only hear my breathing.
“Exactly.” Luca patted my shoulder. “Nobody cares that you were locked in a box, not even God. So run along and crawl back in before I give you a true reason to scream for help.”
Frozen in place, I could only stare at him.
“Run along…” He sounded bored as I ran from the room. I was terrified for the rest of the night, terrified that he would make good on his promise and come get me. I even crawled back into the box.
My dad finally found me in that same position a day later, dehydrated and traumatized. It was the first time he beat me. He said I was an embarrassment to the other families.
It was also the first time I shot a gun and put his name on the target. He would die by my hands one day; he would die just like Luca.
“Why exactly are you here?” I asked, feigning boredom as I drummed my fingers against the table. “You have nothing to gain by your presence.”
Luca laughed. “And that is where you are wrong. We keep the peace between the families. We’ve heard of some unrest. You know the rules, Nixon. You live by them. One cannot simply shoot someone because they have a grudge. Hand over Mr. Alfero and this will all simply be a memory. We’ll leave on the first plane.”
“I can’t do that.”
“And why not?” He leaned forward. “What do you have to gain by protecting him?”
“Nothing,” I lied, “except a guilt-free conscience. How will his death wipe the slate clean?”
“A life for a life.” Luca shrugged. “After all, doesn’t he have a grandson or granddaughter next in line?”
So that’s what they wanted.
Trace.
Over my cold lifeless body.
“How would I know?”
“Bring him.” Luca motioned to someone behind him. The door opened and then closed again.
I tried to appear unfazed as I watched Faust bring Phoenix into the room. But damn if I didn’t want to jump across the table and end his life.
Chase tensed next to me.
So it had come to this? We let him live and he tells all?
Phoenix took a seat, a shit-eating grin on his face. Holy mother of God I was itching to end his life.
“This man seems to think differently. All I ask”—Luca cleared his throat—“is that you turn over Mr. Alfero, turn over the man responsible for De Lange’s death. A life for a life. If not, I’ll hurt those you love the most. After all, Phoenix is the leader of the De Langes now. Justice needs to be served.”
“Noted,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Do you doubt me?” Luca tilted his head to the side and placed his hands on the table as he pushed himself to a standing position. “Clearly, you do, otherwise you would be handing over the head of the Alfero family on a silver platter.”