Chapter Six
I’ve always preferred getting lost in silence, but people, I’ve found, like to hear their own voices. Blah blah blah, just spewing bullshit; doesn’t matter what it is, since nobody hears it.
You see, people don’t really listen anymore, no... they just sit around waiting for everyone else to shut up, waiting until it’s finally their turn to talk. Back and forth, an endless cycle that gets us nowhere, because nobody really gives a shit about what’s being said.
Silence, though... silence speaks in ways that words just can’t.
We’ve been in my library for well over an hour now, just me and Scarlet, the room cast in light from the glow of the lamp. No sound, unless you count the soft whirling fan from the laptop in Scarlet’s lap, one she borrowed from Melody.
White noise.
The silence speaks volumes.
I warned her. I told her she didn’t want to see, but against my advice, she popped the disc into the drive and looked at the little home movie.
A fucking horror flick, really.
A young Scarlet—maybe sixteen or so—being tormented by the Russians, the men taking turns brutalizing her. A baby cries in the background, screaming bloody murder, but Scarlet doesn’t make a sound.
No, she’s faded out. Gone.
I could barely sit through a minute of it. It turned my fucking stomach, and that’s saying something, because I’ve watched men be slaughtered before without flinching.
What do you say to that? It’ll be okay? Chin up, buttercup, at least you’re alive? Fuck that. Words don’t mean shit, they won’t erase what’s on that DVD, so I just stand here, working on my puzzle, pouring myself into it.
“Boss?”
I look to the doorway. Seven stands there, clutching my phone, waving it toward me.
“The guys are on their way over,” he says. “Just wanted to give you the head’s up.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, looking back away. “Any luck on that address yet?”
“Still working on it,” he says.
I nod, picking up a puzzle piece, trying it a few more places. Silence again takes over the room when Seven walks away.
“Did they watch it?” Scarlet’s words are quiet as she breaks her silence. “The guys... did they see?”
I snap a piece into place before grabbing another. “I didn’t let them watch it. I stopped it when I realized what it was.”
“But they saw.”
“They saw.”
She’s quiet for another moment before asking, “Did you watch it?”
“I didn’t pop some fucking popcorn and make a night of it, if that’s what you’re asking. I saw enough to know that it’s not something I care to ever watch happen to you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I turn, looking at her with disbelief. She sounds genuinely grateful, sure, but there’s something else in her tone, a dejected note. I don’t like it. That’s not the woman I’ve come to know.
“You’re thanking me,” I point out, “for not making a movie night out of your borderline snuff film. You realize that, right? You’re thanking me for not getting off watching you be fucking violated.”
“I’m thanking you for being a decent human being.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Scarlet.”
“I would,” she says. “Think what you want about yourself, Lorenzo, but there’s decency in you.”
I scoff, turning back to my puzzle. “I ought to shoot you for saying that shit.”
“But you won’t.”
“I won’t,” I agree, “because I assured Jameson tonight wouldn’t lead to murder.”
“How decent of you.”
Shaking my head, I try my puzzle piece in a few places, forcing it where it doesn’t belong, nearly ripping half the puzzle apart as I yank it back off. Frustrated, I throw it down, watching as it bounces onto the floor, and run my hands down my face, pulling my glasses off and tossing them onto the table, too. “I like you more when you don’t talk.”
She laughs. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“I do,” I say, turning toward her as I lace my hands together on top of my head, surprised she can be laughing right now, with the night she’s had. “But most of them I don’t even like when they’re quiet. You, I can tolerate.”
“You can tolerate me.”
“Yes.”
“Well, for the record, I can tolerate you, too, Lorenzo,” she says, staring at the laptop screen. “Most guys I know would’ve watched it.”
“I’ve told you before... you surround yourself with the wrong people.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to get better about that,” she says. “I think I might’ve found a few decent ones.”
I glare at her but don’t respond, hearing noise echo through the house as others arrive. I walk out of the library, leaving Scarlet to whatever she’s doing, and meet the guys in the living room. They’re riled up. That’s what I like most about them, why they’ve survived so long in my company... they’re just as fucked up as me. Money, sure, they love it, they want it, but the excitement and adrenaline is priceless. They’d take the chance of a thrill over the promise of a dollar in a heartbeat.
Well, with the exception of Seven, maybe. He’s got a wife and kids, remember? He’s much more cautious than the others.
“Gentlemen,” I say, greeting them as they settle in and secure bottles of rum, noticing right away that somebody is missing. “Where’s Three?”
“Ran off to see some woman,” Five says. “Said he had to take care of something quick.”
“Yeah, his dick,” Four says with a laugh.
Shaking my head, I sit down on the couch and turn on some music before retrieving a joint from the tin in my pocket. I light it, inhaling deeply, holding it in my lungs, before passing it over to Five as he sits down beside me.
“Always letting pussy get the best of him,” I say. “Will he ever learn?”
“Not likely,” Five says, taking a hit of the joint before passing it back. “If getting chained up in a basement wasn’t enough to stop him from fucking around with those women, nothing short of a bullet to the brain is going to teach him that lesson.”
I laugh dryly, taking a deep drag, exhaling slowly as I say, “I could arrange that.”
Five casts me a look. He knows I’m dead serious, but he laughs, regardless. “You could.”
Seven slides into a chair nearby and clears his throat. “Love is blinding.”
“Love is blinding,” I say, repeating his sappy ass proverb shit. “And what, Three loves pussy, so it excuses his behavior?”
“Doesn’t excuse it, just explains it,” Seven says. “Declan’s a sucker for a woman in stilettos. He doesn’t think straight where they’re concerned. We’re all knocked off-kilter eventually, and usually what does it is a woman. That’s how I ended up married so long ago. Love, it makes us forget ourselves sometimes.”
“I’ll fucking drink to that,” Four says, raising up a bottle of rum.
“Goddamn women,” Five says, raising his own bottle. “They’re cyanide to the senses.”
Shaking my head, I look around at these idiots toasting, my gaze stalling at the doorway, seeing Scarlet lurking.
“How about you, Scarlet?” I ask as the guys take sips, clinking their bottles together. “You gonna drink to pussy-blindness, too?”
She pushes away from the doorframe, strolling into the room. “Love is a terrible excuse. It’s dangerous to lose yourself in someone else.”
“Ah, that I’ll drink to,” I say as she slides in front of me, sitting down on the coffee table, her knees touching mine. Five smacks my arm at those words, passing me a bottle of rum, and I take a swig before offering it to Scarlet.
She stares at it for a second before snatching it from my hand, taking a big swallow, enough to make her grimace.
She seems nervous, looking around at the guys... not worried so much as maybe feeling vulnerable. I offer her the joint, which she happily takes, waving her off when she tries to give it back.
“Keep it,” I say, retrieving another one from my tin and lighting it. “I’ve got more.”
I kick my feet up, planting them on each side of her on the coffee table, penning her in between my legs. The guys are laughing, joking around, bullshitting, acting like their usual selves, which helps Scarlet relax a bit.
Seems she thought they’d treat her differently, but they won’t. They’re not like that. I wouldn’t let them in my house, around my brother, if I thought they might be the backstabbing variety. They’d seen no more than thirty seconds of the DVD, and it had gotten every single one of them furious beyond words, tense and on edge and ready to kill someone for it.
It doesn’t take long before smoke fills the room, my eyes bloodshot, burning, as my muscles tingle. I feel like I’m floating, sky fucking high, a sense of euphoria settling into my chest.
I feel no pain.
It’s nice not having a jackhammer going off in my head for once.
Doesn’t last long, though.
Headlights flash as a car pulls into the driveway. Seven gets up to look, glancing out the window, saying, “Looks like Declan... and a woman.”
And a woman.
Eyes turn to me, awaiting my reaction, but I just sit here, not doing a damn thing yet. Three barrels his way on into the house, dragging a skinny little brunette along with him, red high heels clattering along the floor as she drags her feet. She doesn’t look happy to be here. Quite the opposite. He pulls her into the living room, shoving her in front of him. Her terrified gaze skitters around, settling on Scarlet, her dark eyes widening with recognition. Uh-oh.
Scarlet averts her gaze, turning her back to the girl, staring down at her hands as she picks at the chipped red polish on her fingernails.
“Fellas,” Three says casually, greeting everyone, his attention turning my way. “Boss.”
The guys mumble in response.
“Nice of you to join us,” I say, studying the woman. “I see you’ve brought a guest along.”
“Yeah, this is, uh... shit.” Three snaps his fingers, like he’s trying to remember, before giving up and nudging her. “Tell them who you are.”
“Alexis,” the girl says, her voice shaking.
“That’s it! Sexy Lexie...” Three grins, like he’s proud of himself for remembering that nickname. “Lexie works down at Limerence. I ended up in a basement because of her.”
“I’m sorry,” she says right away, looking back at him. “I told you, I—”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Three says, cutting her off. “Yeah, I know, I heard you.”
“I didn’t want to do it,” she says defensively. “I swear I didn’t. I like you, Declan. You’ve always been so nice, but Mr. Aristov—”
“Is your boss,” Three says, again cutting her off before he looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “You hear that? She works for the Russian.”
“I heard,” I say.
“I don’t have a choice,” she whispers, eyes turning to me.
“We know,” Three says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “What Aristov says goes—no ifs, ands, or buts about it, huh? He tells you to fuck someone, you do it, no question. Get on your knees for him? You’ll do that, too, like a good little girl. He tells you to put something in somebody’s drink, to drug them, and you don’t hesitate, huh? You’ll do whatever he says. He makes the rules.”
The more Three talks, the more the woman looks like she wants to collapse... but she’s not the only one. Scarlet tenses, and before the last syllable is even from Three’s lips, her voice cuts in. “That’s enough.”
Everyone looks at her.
“That’s enough,” Scarlet says again. “We get it. Just... leave her alone.”
Gazes shift to me, again awaiting my reaction. You see, around here, I make the rules, and they don’t follow orders unless they come from my mouth.
“Get to the point,” I say, motioning for Three to continue. “I’m sure you mother taught you not to play with your food.”
Three squeezes the woman’s shoulder as he leans closer to her, saying, “Tell them what you told me about your boss, Lexie.”
The woman opens her mouth before closing it again, over and over.
“Just spit it out, Tweety Bird,” I say. “Tell me what the Puddy-Tat did.”
“He has these parties at his house sometimes, him and the guys that work for him... they get together and some of the girls are brought in, but they don’t always come back out. Sometimes... well, sometimes...”
“Sometimes they’re never seen again?”
She nods, taking a moment, not continuing until Three nudges her once more. “A few months ago, I went to one of his parties. I didn’t want to, but none of us really do. He’s been... different. Colder. And we knew... we heard he found Morgan.” Her gaze shifts to Scarlet, her voice dropping lower. “They told us he found you, that he killed you. We all thought you were dead.”
Scarlet’s bottom lip trembles, but otherwise, she doesn’t react, still not looking at the woman.
“Hey, yo, eyes on me,” I say, snapping my finger, getting the woman’s attention again. “As much as I’m thrilled by story hour, I need you to get to the point before my high wears off and I stop listening.”
“There was a girl there,” she blurts out, “a little girl. His daughter. She was there. He’s been keeping her out of sight, so none of us even knew she was around, but she drew him a picture and she wanted to give it to him, so she snuck downstairs.”
“You saw her?”
She nods.
“She was okay?”
She nods again.
I glance at Scarlet, wondering how she’s taking this, but she’s just sitting, listening in silence, still picking at her fingernails.
“Well, I appreciate you chirping for us, Birdie,” I say, looking back at the woman as I sit up, my left hand coming to rest on Scarlet’s knee. “Truly. It’s been enlightening. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers.
“You got anything else you want to share?” I reach into my waistband and pull out my gun, cocking it and aiming it at her. “Any parting words?”
Three jumps back a few steps, moving away, because he knows my aim is shit and if he stands too close, he’s liable to get shot. Besides, I think he’s still traumatized from being splattered with brain matter last time. The woman tenses as terror rushes through her. I can see it, the horror in her eyes, her body trembling. She doesn’t raise her hands, doesn’t move, staring straight at me, but the floodgates open. Tears coat her cheeks, words spewing from her lips.
“Please, don’t do this,” she cries. “Please... I’m begging you... you don’t have to do this!”
“But I do,” I say. “I let you walk out of here, you run back to your boss, and then what? Huh? I’ll tell you what—you’ll spill your guts.”
“I won’t,” she says. “I swear. I’d never. Morgan... please... Morgan, tell him.”
Scarlet squeezes her eyes shut.
“Boss,” Three chimes in as he takes a step back toward the woman. The second he does, I aim the gun at him instead. At least he has the sense to raise his hands. “Maybe you don’t have to do this...”
“You brought her to my house, Three,” I say. “You know better. Maybe I should be shooting you for this.”
“But maybe you don’t have to shoot anyone,” he says. “She’s an in. We can use her somehow.”
“How?”
Three blanks when I ask that.
Might be the gun pointed at him.
Hard to think while that’s happening.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Pressure’s on, motherfucker.
“Next month,” the woman blurts out. “There’s another party. I can go. I’ll volunteer. I can help you, whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it. I swear.”
“See?” Three says. “Problem solved.”
Problem not solved, contrary to what he thinks.
He just made it domino into a whole host of other problems for me. Slowly, though, I lower the gun, taking the bullet out of the chamber, my finger leaving the trigger. “Fine.”
Three lowers his hands.
“This is on you, though,” I warn him. “She fucks me, I fuck you... and I mean that in every sense of that word, Three. I will fuck you while fucking you, so you better keep an eye on her.”
“I will,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
I slip the gun back away, waving him off. “Get her out of my house before I change my mind and kill you both.”
“Yes, boss.”
He grabs her shoulder, pulling her away, dragging her back out of the house just like he dragged her in. Grabbing the bottle of liquor, I take a big swig before slamming it back down on the coffee table beside Scarlet.
“Well, that was something, huh?” Five asks, shoving to his feet. “We ought to go, too, make sure he’s not fucking us all up too much here.”
“Yeah, you go do that,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face with frustration. Pussy-blind. That’s Three, without a doubt. He’s going to get himself killed over a woman. “Keep in touch.”
The guys filter out, although Seven lingers.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Seven says. “This whole thing... it’s a big risk. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“About as sure as I usually am, Seven.”
Which means not sure at all.
I’m just making shit up as I go here.
Nodding, like he’s not surprised, Seven walks out, leaving Scarlet and I alone. My head is starting to pound again, throbbing building up in my skull behind my eye, colored splotches marring my vision. Fuck. Hunching over, elbows on my knees, I lace my hands together at the back of my neck, closing my eyes as I lower my head.
The last thing I need right now is a migraine.
Right away, I feel something, a tingle along my scalp, rugged fingernails scratching as Scarlet’s fingers run through my hair, sending a chill down my spine.
I can’t help it.
I moan.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
Scarlet laughs lightly and keeps on doing what she’s doing, gently stroking my hair, the sensation damn near putting me to sleep. Voodoo, I swear... I’ll never not believe it.
The woman’s touch is witchcraft.
It’s a sin to give in, but seeing as sinning is my specialty, I let her dark magic consume me, because what do I have to lose? My head? I want to chop the fucking thing off most nights, anyway.
I’m jolted eventually, eyes snapping open, head darting up as noise echoes through the house. I look up, blurry eyes going straight to my brother as he appears in the doorway with his girlfriend. I must’ve dozed off, maybe just for a second, because the sudden movement makes me dizzy.
I lower my head again, covering my face with my hands as everything starts to spin.
“Hey, Morgan,” Leo says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
Scarlet’s hand grips my thigh as she turns around. “Yeah, I was a bit indisposed.”
“Good to have you back,” he says. “Is, uh... is he okay?”
“Uh, yeah... sure.”
“I can answer for myself,” I grumble. “I’m right here, you know.”
“I’m well aware,” Leo says. “Rough night?”
“Rough life,” I counter, looking up at him, grateful everything stays still. “I’ll survive.”
“I’m sure you will,” Leo says, frowning, glancing at his little firecracker, who looks extremely nervous right now for some reason.
I sit up straight. “What is it? Spit it out.”
Leo hesitates. “We found an apartment.”
“You found an apartment.”
“Yes, in Manhattan... Midtown. It’s kind of small, just one bedroom, but it’s got a great view. We put in an application. I think we’ve got a good shot.”
He stares at me, like he expects me to have more to say, but seeing as there are more than a million apartments in New York City, this isn’t exactly shocking news that they found one, is it?
Any schmuck with a few bucks could find an apartment if he wanted one.
Sighing, I stand up, snatching up the bottle of rum as I move past Scarlet, strolling out of the living room. I pause near the foyer, looking at my little brother... not so little anymore, frankly. I’ve only got about two inches on him and maybe ten pounds, but maturity wise, he surpassed me long ago, with his pretty blonde girlfriend and his bullshit job and now his inky-dinky apartment that probably overlooks Times Square.
“Congratulations,” I say, heading for the stairs.
“Seriously, bro? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say, Pretty Boy? That I hope you’re not allergic to cockroaches, because God knows with what you make you’re probably splitting the fucking rent with thousands of them.”
“Ah, yes...” Leo throws his hands up. “There it is.”
“Rats, too. And fucking bums. Good thing Firecracker has had practice with people listening to you fuck her every night, so the paper-thin walls and nosey neighbors won’t be a problem, huh?”
I start up the stairs, my footsteps heavy, hearing my brother mutter, “I knew you’d have something shitty to say about it.”
“Of course you did. Of course I would, right? Not like I’m a decent person.” I laugh dryly. “Only spent the past twenty fucking years taking care of you after your piece-of-shit parents tried to put me in the ground.”
He says something in response.
I don’t know. I’m not listening anymore.
I make my way to my bedroom, guzzling rum, and slam the bottle on the dresser before falling into the bed on my back. I stare up at the ceiling fan, watching as it goes round and round, hoping it’ll lull me to sleep, but I’m tense and wound tight.
I want to kill something.
I want to fuck someone.
I want to fuck someone after I kill something.
“He doesn’t deserve that, you know.”
Scarlet’s voice is matter-of-fact. She’s standing in the doorway. I didn’t hear her follow me, but I’m not surprised she did.
“What I’m hearing here,” I say, “is that I do deserve this.”
“That’s not what I said,” she argues, stepping into the room. “You’re only pretending to listen again.”
“I heard you, Scarlet, loud and clear.”
“You only heard what you wanted to hear, Lorenzo. You didn’t hear what I said.”
“I’m reading between the lines.”
“No, you’re twisting shit,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I hate to break this to you, and you might not like it, but the sun doesn’t rise because of you every morning. You’re not this all-powerful entity the world revolves around. Not everything has to do with you. Leo, he’s got hopes and dreams, and he deserves to be able to follow them without you pissing all over things.”
“Look, can we not do this?” I ask, throwing my arm over my face as I close my eyes, because her running her mouth is getting in the way of the ceiling fan doing what it’s supposed to do. “Let’s just skip the part where we argue over bullshit, like we actually give a fuck about each other, because I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”
“You’re an asshole,” she grumbles, lying down beside me, close enough to touch but we’re not touching. She feels miles away right now, coldness settling in that space between us.
“Yeah, well, at least you know...”
“Yeah, and it’s a pity, really, because I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.”
She says nothing else.
I don’t say anything, either.
We lay there in silence.
For once, I don’t prefer it.
I want her to say something else, anything else, just to erase those words now assaulting my mind.
I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.
I don’t like it, not at all, because as she says those words, I come to realize, in the moment, that feeling might be mutual.
* * *
“When’s the last time you slept?”
That question is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s like Jim Carey in Dumb & Dumber. It’s like a boojie little blonde talking about her fucking wardrobe.
It grates on my every nerve.
I twitch at the sound of it.
Seven stands beside me in the old warehouse, eyeing me with caution, awaiting an answer to his question. It’s approaching noon, and we’ve unloaded a few crates, a truck coming in this morning with the guns for one of Jameson’s connections. I couldn’t get ahold of Three, but Five showed up in his place, a fact that also irritates me.
“This morning,” I tell him, leaving out the fact that it wasn’t for more than an hour. I had too much on my mind. “You gonna ask me about my feelings next, doc? Maybe prescribe me a tranquilizer to keep the nightmares at bay?”
“I’m just looking out for you,” he says, not at all ruffled by my attitude.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need my hand held, thanks,” I say, snatching up a crowbar to pop the top off of a crate, figuring I’ll just inventory it all myself.
I left Scarlet at home, in bed, asleep.
She could probably use the extra money, but I need some space to clear my head so I can try to think straight when it comes to all of this. There’s work to be done, things that need handled, and I can’t be worrying about the people around me when I need to be concerned about the ones standing in my way.
My phone rings as I start sorting through the guns. I pull it from my pocket, glancing at the screen. Three. I hand it to Seven, saying, “Deal with this bastard before I kill him.”
Seven nods, taking the phone and answering it, saying everything that needs to be said, minus the threats I’d be spewing if I had to deal with him directly. He lectures the kid like he’s his fucking father, which is kind of funny, you know.
That’s how Seven acts. Like a father figure.
Like he knows what’s best for us.
He usually does.
Seven hangs up eventually, sighing, still clutching my phone. “He said his phone was dead, he forgot to charge it because he was preoccupied dealing with that woman.”
“That sounds a lot like an excuse to me.”
“That it does,” Seven says. “He apologized.”
“He’s got two strikes already,” I say. “If it so much as even rains on me, he’s catching the blame and that’s it for him.”
“Understandable.”
I go back to inventory, popping open the other crates before dismissing Five, paying him for the manual labor. I’m nearly finished with it all when ringing once again shatters the silence.
“If that’s Three again...”
Seven looks at my phone, expression guarded as he holds it up. “Brooklyn number.”
Son of a bitch.
“Put it on speaker,” I order, waiting for Seven to press the buttons, knowing right away it’ll be none other than Aristov. “Gambini.”
“Ah, Mister Scar, I was hoping you would be accepting calls today.”
“For you, Yogi? Anytime. Now tell me what you want so we can both get on with our days.”
“I am curious if you are with Morgan right now,” he says, “if she is there, wherever you may be.”
“You don’t seriously think I’m going to tell you that, do you?”
“I am hoping so.”
“Well, tough shit, because you’re not getting anything from me.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh. “That is a shame. You could have made a little girl very happy, but instead, you choose to break her heart.” The phone shifts, his voice dropping lower as he says, “I am sorry, my kitten, but you cannot talk to your mommy on her birthday.”
This conniving son of a bitch...
“Do you think I’m stupid?” I ask. “Do you think I’m going to fall for this bullshit? That I’ll actually believe you have the kid right there with you?”
The phone shifts again, his voice sharp as he says, “Say hello to the man.”
I shake my head, snatching a lid up and slamming it back onto the last crate, the bang echoing through the warehouse so loud that I almost miss the sound of the soft voice coming through the line. “Hello.”
Time feels like it stops.
I turn, looking in the direction of my phone. Seven still holds it, wide-eyed, staring at me. Guess he didn’t expect to actually hear the kid, either.
“Hello,” I say, having no idea what else to say, if I should even say anything.
“Is Mommy there?” she asks, a hopeful edge to her high-pitched voice that I know I’m about to crush.
“No, she’s not,” I say, “but she misses you.”
“I miss her, too,” she says, and I can hear her voice as it quivers, hope replaced with devastation. “Do you know where Mommy went?”
“Put your father back on the phone,” I say, because I can’t answer those questions for her, but she doesn’t listen to me any more than Scarlet ever does.
“Please!” she says, starting to cry. “I want Mommy! I don’t wanna be here no more! Please don’t—”
She lets out a shriek that is muffled damn near instantly. I can hear a struggle through the line, frantic sobbing, coughing, like the girl can’t catch her breath. My stomach sinks. Seven looks at me with horror, like he expects me to do something, but what the hell am I supposed to do about this?
I’m suddenly grateful Scarlet isn’t here, that she isn’t hearing it.
“Quiet, kitten,” Aristov says, getting back on the phone. “Daddy is talking to Mommy’s new toy.”
The girl grows quiet.
I don’t hear a fucking peep from her.
“Did you just hurt her?” I ask, trying to keep calm, when I want to reach through the line and rip his fucking balls off.
“I shushed her.”
“You choked her.”
“Nonsense,” he says. “They must be taught or else they run wild. It is for her own good.”
For her own good.
“What do you want?” I ask. “I’m starting to lose my patience with you, and you’re really not going to like me when that happens.”
“You know what I want,” he says. “I want my little kitten to have her mommy back.”
“Well, then, we’re on the same page,” I say. “I’ll gladly come pick up the kid and reunite them so they can go on their merry way.”
“Tsk, tsk. You know it will not work like that.” He laughs. “Tell me where to find the suka. I, also, grow tired of this game, and I will not play it much longer. If you do not give me what I want, everyone you know will pay the price. Your friends, their families... even your own brother. Yes, I know about him, Mister Scar. I do not want to hurt them, so do not make me. All I want is my pretty girl back home so we can be a family.”
Before I can respond, the line goes dead.
He hung up on me.
“I’m gonna enjoy watching that man die,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Boss...”
“Not now, Seven,” I say, hearing the worry in his voice. “Save it, whatever it is, until I’ve had more sleep and can handle this shit.”
I walk out of the warehouse, pausing in the alley to pull out a joint and light up as Seven secures everything, locking the doors.
“Call Jameson,” I say when he joins me. “Tell him to meet me at that bar, the hole in the wall...”
“Whistle Binkie,” he says.
“Yeah, that one,” I mutter, heading toward the car. “I need a fucking drink.”
Seven does as I ask, not questioning me anymore, driving into the city, to the Lower Eastside, where the bar is. He pulls up to the curb right out front, finding that rare street parking.
Maybe my luck is turning around.
“Need me to come in?” Seven asks, cutting the car off but leaving the keys dangling in the ignition.
“You can wait out here,” I say. “Catch a nap for me or something.”
He laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The place isn’t that busy so early in the afternoon, a few people sitting along the bar but most of the tables are empty. I slide up onto an empty stool, and the bartender looks at me, doing a double-take. It’s the same guy as every other time I’ve been here. Do they even have other employees?
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says. “Bottle of rum, right?”
“Right.”
He hands it over, no argument, tearing out the pouring spout for me. I drink straight from the bottle, just sitting in silence, tinkering around with a coaster until Jameson appears.
He pulls out the stool beside me to sit down. “Thirsty?”
I take a swig from the bottle, shrugging, before looking his way. The second I see his face, I laugh. His nose is swollen and bruising, tape covering it.
I offer him the bottle. “You look like you can use some of this.”
He waves me off, saying, “I can’t mess with that hard stuff,” before motioning toward the bartender, asking for whatever’s on tap.
He sips his beer when it’s delivered, sighing, hunched over along the bar.
“So, how’d you explain your face?” I ask.
“Told the guys at work my grandson hit me with a ball, but I told my wife the truth,” he says, cutting his eyes at me. “Got head-butted by a perp.”
“A perp, huh? That about sums her up.”
“Tell me about it,” he says. “Got the judge to rescind the warrant this morning, got it wiped out of the system. Heard the Russian showed up and made a stink when nobody could tell him where she went.”
“He called me a bit ago.”
“Yeah? What did he want?”
“To use the kid to get me to cooperate,” I say. “He had her ask me for her mommy.”
Jameson makes a pained face. “He must be getting desperate.”
“He is, which means it’s probably going to get ugly soon. I’ll try to keep it all under the radar, so you’re not pulled in, but I wanted to give you the heads up so you’re not blindsided.”
He nods, sipping on his beer. “Do what you’ve gotta do for your girl, Gambini.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he says. “You’re sure going through a lot of trouble for a girl that’s not yours.”
“It’s principle,” I tell him. “The sooner this is over, the sooner my life can get back to normal.”
“Normal.” He laughs at that. “When the hell has your life ever been normal?”
I cut my eyes at him but ignore that question.
We drink in silence for a while.
Jameson shoves his glass aside when it’s empty. “I need your assurance that Aristov is the end of this.”
I look at him but say nothing.
“I’ve looked the other way on a lot of shit, Gambini,” he says. “I’ve buried a lot of evidence for you going back years. I let your friend walk for taking out all those bosses, because you came to me, a favor for a favor, when I had more than enough to lock him away for the rest of his life. So I need this particular situation to end with the Russians, okay?”
He’s not spelling it out, but I know what he’s getting at. “You want me to leave Detective Fuckface alone.”
“We had a deal, you and I... no cops. You remember that, don’t you?”
I don’t make promises, but I did tell him years ago that I wouldn’t target any boys in blue. It was his hard limit. I could raise as much hell as I wanted, but if I ever killed a cop, it would be all over, our arrangement off.
“You really want to cash in your favor for that scumbag?”
“No,” he says, laughing dryly. “I felt safer, knowing you owed me, so I hoped to keep that card for a long time, but I haven’t got much of a choice unless I want a fellow cop’s blood on my hands.”
“I can make him disappear, no blood at all.”
He cuts his eyes at me.
Apparently, he doesn’t like that idea.
“Okay, then. If the guy stops breathing, it won’t be my doing. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Deal.” I take a swig of rum before shoving the bottle aside, tossing some money onto the bar to pay as I stand up. I take a few steps away, pausing to glance back at him. “Just so we’re clear... do ventilators count? Because I can do a lot of damage if we let a respirator do his breathing for now on.”
Jameson’s eyes narrow. “Don’t lay a finger on him, Gambini. I mean it.”
I hold my hands up. “Just checking. Have a great day, detective.”
He mutters something before motioning for the bartender to bring him another beer.
I walk out, seeing my car still parked along the curb, Seven behind the wheel, tinkering with my phone. I climb in beside him and he cuts his eyes my way, carefully setting the phone down.
“Someone call?” I ask, picking it up.
“Yeah.” He starts the car. “A rental agency. Your brother put you down as a reference on his application for an apartment.”
“Did you handle it for me?”
“Of course,” he says. “Told them he was a great kid, a hard worker, responsible and respectable.”
“Good,” I say with a nod, settling in. “Thanks.”