Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“I just had to share it with you. It felt like a gift, a beautiful, precious gift. It was just a dream, but it felt more real than anything. I wanted you to know that I saw you happy, so deeply happy, surrounded by love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you honey.”
We both begin to cry as if the emotions of the past couple of years are catching up to us.
“Promise me you’ll try,” she whispers, “to be …happy.”
She’s falling asleep again as the last word slips from her lip. “I promise, Mom,” I whisper.
What I don’t say is that the one man I can imagine that future with wants nothing to do with me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TRISTAN
When it’s time for the meet, I sit in the front window of the electronics store across the street from the Trentini Family’s bar. It’s tucked away in a dimly lit alley, the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you knew it was there. The neon sign flickers, casting an eerie, intermittent glow that barely cuts through the darkness.
Two hulking figures guard the entrance. Their faces are shadowed, hands resting casually near their hips where I know guns are holstered. The heavy, reinforced door has a small, grated window that slides open for a quick once-over before anyone is let inside.
The windows are tinted, hiding whatever’s going on inside, but the muffled sounds of music and laughter seep out. A few luxury cars are parked out front, glistening under the streetlights, their presence starkly contrasting the rundown surroundings. There’s a sense of controlled chaos about the place. You can feel the power and danger emanating, a warning to those thinking of causing trouble.
Soon, men begin to emerge, heading for their cars. None of them are Trentini higher-ups, which means, most likely, they’re all still in the bar.
I text Raffie, wondering if he’s betrayed me, wondering if I even give a damn. Whatever happens now, I have to go in there. I have to end these bastards. All the stuff they’ve done—trafficking, pushing drugs on poor neighborhoods, the murders, the pain—has to stop.
Are they there?
A moment later, he responds, Yeah, the don, the consig. Hell, even the lady cop is there. Are you sure about this?
It’s too late for that. You better make yourself scarce or sell me out. Now’s your chance.
I’m not an idiot. I’m getting the hell out of here.
A few minutes later, I see he’s telling the truth. A wiry, jittery figure emerges, walking down the alleyway from the two burly guards. I grit my teeth, getting myself mentally prepared.
What choice do I have left? I tried to do it the right way, the honorable way.
I tried to be a good man, the person Maya deserves. I tried to walk the straight and narrow, but sometimes, the world won’t let a man do the right thing. Sometimes, to make things good, you have to do bad. That’s how this all started with the dog home.
Heading for the door, I feel the pressure of my gun pushing against my lower back. I turn off my feelings. I switch off any thoughts about Maya. I forget about any notion I might be a good man.
One of the guards turns to me as I approach. Even if I’m just as big as he is, something in his body language tells me he thinks he’s going to be able to brush my ass off. He raises his hand, smirking, and the other doesn’t even bother facing me.
Sure, that might have something to do with how I walk like I’m one drink away from being hospitalized. “Whatsortaplaceisthisthen?” I spit it out all as one word.
“Listen, guy,” the man says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Just get on your way, eh? You don’t want no problems here. Trust me.”
“Wait a second…” The second man slowly turns, his eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”
I move far more fluidly than these men anticipated. That’s what saves me and has saved me so many times. Hesitation gets people killed. Punching one man in the nose with my gun, I leap at the other almost at the same time. The result is one of them gasping as he clutches his bloody nose and the other staring at me in disbelief as I drive him against the wall.
“Don’t make a fucking noise.” I take a step back, switching my pistol’s aim between them. “We’re going to do this slow. People will die tonight, but play it smart, and it doesn’t have to be you.” Reaching into my back pocket, I take out some flexible snap-on handcuffs. “Put these on. Now.”
The men do as told in a way that would make their bosses ashamed. Or maybe it’s the devil they see in me. Or they’re just smart enough to know their bosses don’t give a damn about them anyway.