by Nicole Fox
“A meeting,” Kazimierz replies. “In neutral territory. You’ll forgive me for not wanting to visit your home. Apparently, the Mazzeo Family does not honor gentlemen’s meetings.”
I tighten my fists in my lap. “At least we know how guests ought to behave.”
“You have made up some fabricated accusation to justify killing my brother?” Kazimierz asks, sounding bored.
“I made up nothing,” I retort. “He tried to rape a member of—he tried to rape my woman. My woman. And I killed him for it.”
“Then you did what you had to,” Kazimierz acknowledges.
“As I’m sure you will.”
I can’t see him, but I can tell he’s smiling.
“I’m sure we’ll get along fine, Lucio,” he murmurs pleasantly.
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“Are you prepared to meet with me?”
“Name the time and place.”
“I will call this number in precisely one hour with the details.”
“One of my men will accept the call,” I say dismissively.
“Looking forward to meeting you, Don Mazzeo.”
The line goes dead. I look up at my men.
“Yeah, I bet he fucking is,” Adriano practically snarls. “Fucker’s up to something.”
“Of course he is,” I agree. “We’ve just got to stay three steps ahead of him.”
I head for the door. Adriano follows me out of my office.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Why, do you wanna hold my hand while I go there?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Don’t duck the question.”
He’s a damn persistent bastard.
“I… want to check on Evie.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Evie? Or Charlotte?”
“Don’t—”
“I wasn’t aware she was ‘your woman,’ as you so eloquently put it.”
Fuck.
“I had to fucking say that,” I snarl, defending my words. Of course they’d come back to bite me in the ass. “I couldn’t exactly say she’s my nanny.”
“Riiight,” Adriano says, stretching the word out unnecessarily with an undercurrent of sarcasm.
I roll my eyes and he chuckles.
“I’m not blind, you know,” he says. “I have eyes.”
“How about you use those eyes to look somewhere else? Up your own ass, maybe?”
That just makes him laugh harder. “For the record, I think it’s a good thing.”
“What exactly is a good thing?”
He starts to make a lewd gesture with his hands, but I wave and cut him off.
“Never mind. Forget I asked. Nothing’s going on between Charlotte and me.”
His eyes flash mischievously. “Is that right? Because Enzo saw her leaving your room in the morning the other day.”
“She was bandaging up my wound.”
“For five hours?”
I whirl around. “The fuck…? Are you assholes keeping tabs on me?”
“We’re supposed to be keeping tabs on Charlotte, remember,” Adriano reminds me gently. “I believe those were your orders, Don Lucio.”
“We can relax those orders,” I say through gritted teeth. “Bunch of gossipy fucking sunflowers…”
I leave Adriano laughing in the hallway as I make my way to the kitchen.
Charlotte and Evie are sitting at the center island, eating sandwiches from a round plate. Evie’s wearing a little sweater with the Staffordshire logo on the front.
A sense of dread pools in my stomach.
Fuck.
Was today her first day of school?
“Hi, Evie.”
“Papa!” she chirps. “I went to school today!”
“I know,” I lie smoothly. “How was it?”
“A little bit scary,” she admits. “But then I liked it.”
Charlotte beams proudly at Evie. “Tell him the highlight.”
“Huh?”
Charlotte shakes her head. “It means the best news.”
“Oh,” Evie smiles before turning to me. “I made a friend.”
“Yeah?”
“Her name’s Lucy and she’s got dark brown hair like Charlotte. And dark brown eyes. And dimples in her cheeks when she smiles. And she’s got a kangaroo named Pony.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Her kangaroo’s name is Pony?”
“Indeed. Isn’t that a good name?” Charlotte asks with a don’t-fuck-this-up-you-idiot sparkle in her eyes.
I smile at my daughter. “I like Paulie better.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, but my answer goes over pretty smoothly with the little one.
“I can’t wait to go to school tomorrow,” Evie says, clapping her hands. “We’re going to feed the hamsters.”
“Sounds exciting.”
Charlotte glances at me, a smile in her eyes as she pushes the plate of sandwiches towards me. “Try one.”
“I’m guessing they’re not ordinary sandwiches?”
She chuckles. “I jazzed them up a bit. Would you—”
“Oh!” Evie blurts, interrupting Charlotte excitedly. “And we drew pictures today, too. Do you wanna see mine?”
“Of course, tesoro.”
“I left it upstairs in my backpack,” Evie says, jumping off her seat and nearly tripping over in her haste.
“Whoa,” Charlotte warns. “Be careful, Evie.”
“Be right back!” she yells as she runs out of the kitchen.
Shaking my head, I turn back to Charlotte. “So I take it she likes school?”
Charlotte laughs. “She’s hasn’t been able to talk about anything else since Enzo dropped her off.”
I reach for one of the sandwiches and take a bite.
“Whoa,” I mutter as the flavor hits my tongue.
I can taste cheese, maybe two different varieties, as well as shredded beef and caramelized onions.
“You like it?”
“It’s fucking amazing. Who knew a sandwich could be so interesting?”
“Making the beef took time,” Charlotte admits. “I needed to slow-cook it for a few hours. But with Evie in school, my mornings are free.”
I take another bite of the sandwich and regard her thoughtfully.
“What?” she asks self-consciously.
“I was just thinking. I could pull some strings. Get you a cooking job somewhere nice.”
Her eyebrows rise. I can’t tell if she likes that idea or not.
“You’d do that?”
I shrug. “You said your mornings are free, right? Might as well put you to use somewhere.”
She smiles, and I see her imagination fleshing out the image in her head.
Then she shakes her head a little and I know it before she says it—she won’t accept.
“It’s tempting,” she admits. “But… I want to be able to make it on my own. If I get a job as a chef somewhere, I want it to be on my own merit.”
“You have the talent,” I point out. “I wouldn’t be offering if you weren’t good.”
“It’s a nice offer,” she says. “But I’d rather just do it on my own. If I do it at all.”
Before I can push back, Evie returns in a blonde flash.
“Here it is!” she yells, rushing into the room like a little Tasmanian devil.
She pushes a large piece of paper into my hands. I take a good look, trying to puzzle out the image she’d drawn.
“Wow, this is great, Evie,” I say. “What’s what?”
“It’s the house,” Evie says, pointing. “See? That’s you. That’s Charlotte. That’s Enzo. And that’s me and Paulie.”
I smile. “Now I see it. I like the shirt I’m wearing.”
She giggles. “It’s not a shirt. Those are your muscles.”
I raise my eyebrows as Charlotte bursts into laughter.
“Oh. Right. Thanks, tesoro.”
“Papa?” Evie says shyly. She’s chewing at her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
My smile instantly curdles into a frown.
Friends mean strangers in my house. Strangers with unknown backgrounds. Unknown connections. Unknown threats.
And after what Bartek did, I don’t like that thought at all.
“I don’t know about that, Evie.”
“Please?” she says, grabbing my arm. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”
I offer her a forced smile. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” Evie accepts with a mature nod. I can tell she wants to plead her case some more, but she’s still not comfortable enough to push it further.
Evie grabs Paulie and skips off towards the garden, but Charlotte stays back.
“I think it’ll be good for her to have a friend her own age,” she begins.
“And ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind. But with all the shit happening with the Polish—”
“I understand,” Charlotte says in a hurry. “But maybe Evie could go to Lucy’s house for the night or something?”
I don’t love that suggestion, but I don’t dismiss it immediately.
“I’ll think about it.”
Charlotte nods, her expression a little uncertain. “How are things going… with the, uh, Polish?” she asks cautiously. It’s as though she’s nervous about asking at all.
“There’s a lot to sort out,” I say vaguely. “I have to go deal with it now.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I frown as I study her expression. “Was there something else you wanted to say?”
She opens her mouth and then she shakes her head. “Nothing. Just, uh, Evie stuff. It can wait.”
“Okay.”
“Lucio?” she says, just before I leave.
“Yeah?”
“Just… be careful.”
Her blue eyes are soft. I give her my best smile.
“Always am.”
37
Lucio
The Grand.
A nineteenth-century factory revamped into an upscale hotel for the rich and famous.
Nestled in the heart of a huge spread of land and surrounded by lush greenery, the place makes it easy to forget you’re in the middle of a city.
When Adriano and I arrive, we’re shown into a private meeting room overlooking the east wing of the garden.
Honest to God, there is a fucking deer grazing just outside the elaborately-paneled windows.
Even the walls have intricate carvings chiseled into the wainscoting.
“Jesus,” Adriano mutters, glancing up at the painted ceiling and massive crystal chandeliers. “Can’t have a goddamn shoot-out in here, can we? But then again, maybe that’s the point.”
“No,” I rebut, going off my instincts. “This motherfucker just likes luxury.”
“More than he likes punctuality, it seems.”
I glance at my watch. Adriano is right—Kazimierz is ten minutes late.
But there’s a whole lot of shit at stake here. So I’m willing to ignore that…
Provided he shows up in the next five minutes.
Right on cue, the door clicks open and two men walk in.
I zero in on Kazimierz immediately. He’s wearing a suit. An expensive one, by the looks of it.
His features are similar to his brother’s, but he’s good-looking in a more natural way. And young. I’d guess his age at around forty.
He’s not as tall or as built as Bartek, but my instincts tingle with warning. And every cell in my body is screaming one thing: this man is far more dangerous.
It’s in his ranging eyes.
It’s in the manic tilt of his smile.
It’s in the twitching, tapping fingers, never at rest, always prowling for more, more, more.
I glance at the man he has brought as his second. The bastard is pale, with sharp features and dark eyes constantly roving every corner.
He’s been in the room all of five seconds, and I have the feeling he’s already sized Adriano and me up quite thoroughly.
“Siema, Lucio!” Kazimierz says in Polish, greeting me as though we’re old friends.
I incline my head coldly. “Kazimierz.”
He makes no attempt to shake my hand. I’m not upset about that.
“This is my second, Adriano,” I introduce.
“A pleasure, surely.” Kazimierz smiles. “And yet, does it matter?” he asks me. “After all, they’re just… spare parts.”
Adriano stiffens violently. Even from my peripheral vision, I can see that his face is flush with rage.
I ball my hand into a fist and tap it gently against the ornate armrest.
It’s a reminder.
Stay calm.
Don’t let this motherfucker rattle you.
“Did I offend you?” Kazimierz asks, grinning gleefully. “That wasn’t my intention.”
Something tells me that was exactly his fucking intention.
“It seems we have different ideas of leadership,” I say, staring Kazimierz in the eye. “I don’t consider my men to be property.”
“You should,” he suggests. “You attacked four different Polish locations. You took out over a hundred in a single night. It didn’t make a difference to me. I slept like a baby anyhow.”
I keep my expression studiously neutral. “Is that right?”
He shrugs. “They were merely pawns,” he explains. “Their lives are meaningless. Their deaths irrelevant.”
“Interesting,” I reply. “So then I haven’t offended you in any way?”
A smile spreads across his face, twisting his good looks and turning him sinister. Ugly.
“Oh no, dear Lucio. On the contrary, you’ve offended me greatly.”
“I thought you didn’t care about your men.”
“I don’t. This is about my brother,” he says, the smile on his face never wavering. “Make no mistake: I cared for him only out of habit. In that tiresome, obligatory way you care about the people who share your blood. But my personal feelings are immaterial. He was my blood. And therefore, this is personal.”
Something about the man’s shift in tone chills me to the bone. “Your logic is flawed.”
“Flawed people are the only ones worth living,” he tells me, his eyes dancing wildly. “The predictable riff-raff are merely a waste of their father’s semen.”
Fuck me. This son of a bitch is batshit crazy.
One look at Adriano tells me that he’s thinking the exact same thing.
“And who decides who gets to live?” I ask. “You?”
“The strong,” Kazimierz replies. “And the powerful. You and me, my friend. We make the rules. Which means we get to break them.”
“Your brother—”
“My brother was a fool,” Kazimierz interrupts. “He was a fool to think he could walk into your compound and walk back out again unscathed.”
He pauses. Glances up at me. Grins.
“But if you killed him because of a woman, then you’re a fool, too.”
My fists tingle. I’m desperate to wipe that smug smile off his face.
“Let me tell you a little story,” Kazimierz muses. He leans forward and extends out his open palm.
Robotically, Kazimierz’s nameless second-in-command pulls out a cigarette and lights it for him. Kazimierz accepts the cigarette and takes a long, melodramatic puff.
“My second wife was a beauty,” he tells me. “I thought I was fucking in love with her. Then I come home one day and she’s gone. Run away. Can you believe that?”
He chuckles and sighs, gazing off into the distance like he’s reliving the memory.
“It took me three months, but I finally tracked her down,” he continues. He’s still puffing on his cigarette. “She was living in some shithole in the middle of nowhere, that kurwa.”
Polish suits his voice better than English. It’s harsher. Colder.
Adriano and I sit perfectly still. E
ven as a nasty feeling starts to thicken in the air of the room.
“I brought her home and put her back in her room. I told her I wanted only one thing from her: she couldn’t die.”
My instincts are telling me what’s coming, but I don’t want to hear the rest.
“I gave her everything… and she repaid me by running.”
“Is she dead?” I interrupt.
Kazimierz’s eyes snap to me angrily. A moment later, they soften again.
But in that second, I see the frenzied glare of a maniac.
“Who knows?” he says with a shrug. “I haven’t checked on her in a few weeks. This nasty business with you and my brother has been taking up much of my time.”
Next to me, Adriano lets out a low, horrified exhale. He knows better than to show his emotions too visibly.
But I’ve been friends with the man for decades. I can tell when he’s fuming.
And right now, he’s about to fucking explode.
“I kid—I’m sure she’s alive,” Kazimierz adds. “She’s been in that room for two and a half years. I’m sure she’s made it through the last few weeks.”
“Two and a half years?” Adriano breathes, his eyes bulging.
“Time surely flies, doesn’t it? I lost interest in visiting her after her speaking became unintelligible. Isolation does such vicious things to the human brain. But I do enjoy her pussy every now and again.”
I was wrong—he’s not just a little unhinged.
Kazimierz is a full-on psychopath.
And now, he’s got the whole Polish mafia at his disposal.
The man chuckles. “What I’m trying to say is, women are not worth fighting over. They’re not worth much at all, as a matter of fact. Take what you want and leave the rest.”
“Pawns,” I say softly.
“Exactly!” Kazimierz agrees with a delighted nod. “So you understand now why I can’t forgive you killing my brother? If you’d had a good reason, I might have been able to reconcile with that. But he died for a woman? That I cannot accept.”
“You’re not required to accept a fucking thing,” I growl, losing my patience with this monster. “Your brother crossed a line and you’re dangerously close to doing the same. So my advice is, do not fuck with me.”
Kazimierz sighs. “Pity. And I thought we were getting along so well.”
He glances expectantly towards his personal pawn. The man rolls up his sleeve and extends out his forearm towards his boss.