Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Then we can make it a trap.” Will’s eyes gleam. “Take Tony down. Finish this whole ugly story.”
I shake my head. “That’s not our goal.”
“Adler—”
“I know where you stand. You think Tony’s better off dead, but you’re wrong.” I dismiss him with a gesture. “Get things prepared.”
Will’s not happy about it, but he goes.
I don’t blame him for wanting violence. There’s been a low-level war between the Sunrise and the Oceanview for a long time now. Nobody’s died, not yet anyway, but there have been fights, hospitalizations, loss of revenue, threats, fires, and worse.
It’s only a matter of time before someone eats a bullet, and it might as well be Tony.
At least that way, all this trash can end.
Except I’m a naive fool who still believes Tony can be saved.
Even if he doesn’t want to be.
The Hilton front desk staff are not happy to see me. “Mr. Costa,” the hostess says. I don’t recognize her. “Your party is waiting for you in our executive conference room. If you’ll follow me?”
“I know where it is.” I gesture at a few of my men to stay in the lobby. I spot Tony’s guys doing the same, trying to look inconspicuous. My guys have strict orders not to start any trouble—anyone caught antagonizing Tony’s boys will deal with me directly.
Which means they’ll obey, even if they don’t want to.
I head down the back hall with Will. The conference room is halfway down, the door propped open. I pause on the threshold and stare inside.
Tony’s sitting at the head of the table. His assistant is at his elbow—a young woman named Angelina. Short blonde hair cut straight, bangs pushed to the side, startling green eyes. Pretty in an uptight sort of way. I have no clue where Tony found her—she appeared a couple years ago and hasn’t left his side since.
“Adler,” he says, not standing to greet me.
“Tony. Been a while.” I enter the room, checking the corners out of habit.
“It’s not a fucking ambush,” Tony says, sounding annoyed. “Will, how are you? Looking spry as always.”
“I’m in the best shape of my life,” Will says. “Angelina.”
She nods to him and says nothing.
“Why’d you call this meeting?” I sit at the opposite end of the table. Will shuts the door behind me.
“We’ve got to talk.” Tony stares at me hard for a moment. He looks tired—bags hang under his eyes—but he’s been working out and his hair is freshly dyed. If the guy’s really planning for office, he’s been preparing for a while, at least physically.
“If you’re trying to end our feud, I’m willing.”
He leans forward, palms on the table. “I’m trying to find out what the fuck you’re doing marrying Casey Kiernan.”
I cross my arms, not surprised in the least, but still unhappy that he’s approaching it so directly. I’d hoped that my marriage would’ve remained a secret for longer, or at least it would force him to keep his distance. Clearly, that didn’t happen.
“An opportunity presented itself,” I say, not breaking eye contact.
Tony’s lips pull back into a sneer. “An opportunity, huh? You always did want to fuck me, Adler.”
“You’re very wrong about that.”
“You know I’m running for office.” A statement, not a question. He hasn’t formally announced yet, but the rumors are rampant, and now he’s confirming it.
“Might’ve caught wind of something like that.”
“Then you know that girl’s a problem.”
I glance at Angelina. I’m not sure how much she knows, but it would surprise me if she was aware of exactly why Tony thinks Casey is a liability.
“There are rumors all over the city,” I tell him. “Rumors that you’ve been taking care of problems from your past.”
“That’s right. Call it a little spring cleaning for all my skeletons.”
“Casey is not an issue. She is under my direct protection now.”
“There’s the problem, right there. She’s under you, and that doesn’t make me very comfortable.”
“She’s my wife now, Tony. I understand you have an issue with her, but all that’s in the past. Leave the girl alone.”
He drums his fingers against the tabletop. So much has changed about my friend over the years: he wears more expensive clothes, drives flashy cars, put on twenty pounds of muscle, buys lavish dinners and expensive gifts for his mistresses.
The guy I remember was frugal, he was caring. He gave a shit about the people around him.
Until that night.
Something snapped inside Tony, and it hasn’t been right since.
But there are still glimpses of the man he used to be, like his nervous tics.
He catches me watching his fingers and forces himself to stop. He clears his throat and shifts in his chair.
“You really think I’m going to hurt an innocent girl?” he asks, head cocked to the side.
“I think you’re willing to do whatever’s necessary to make sure you win this election coming up. Which includes burying a few bodies in the bay.”