The Butcher

by Aaron, Celia

  “Vince.” I walked over to him, then sat so I didn’t have to look so far down at him.

  “Yeah? I’m kind of busy.” He tapped on his iPad.

  “I’d like a word.”

  His fingers stilled, a cagey look passing over his eyes. “About what?”

  I kept my voice low. “After tomorrow.”

  He glanced at the door. “What about it?”

  “Once everything is settled—”

  He held up a hand. “I already know where you’re going with this, and the answer is no.”

  I kept my face blank, but his words cut the fuck out of me.

  His forehead wrinkled. “Look, that’s the past. You’ve got a good job here. No distractions. You understand?”

  I gave the slightest nod.

  “Not to mention—” Another glance at the door, “—I’m going to be fighting for legitimacy immediately. My last name isn’t Genoa. So I can’t have any dirty laundry coming to light. All that Blanco mess has to remain dead and gone.”

  Strangling him would be easy. I wouldn’t even have to spend that much time at it—I could snap his neck instead of suffocating him. His crushed windpipe would do all the work for me.

  He shifted in his seat and leaned back as if he could sense the violence of my thoughts. “I’m sorry, David, but it’s just not going to happen.”

  Sorry. He wasn’t sorry. He was smart. Keeping Angel away would keep me on his leash and doing his bidding. No distractions. I had to give it to him—he was a cold motherfucker.

  I stowed my disappointment and rose.

  “Everything I promised you is about to come to fruition. You’ll see.” He picked up the iPad and went back to work.

  As much as it pained me, I left without spilling his blood. A deal was a deal, and he’d intended to hold me to ours. I couldn’t break it, not without putting Angel in danger.

  * * *

  David Raven. The sloping print in the blue ink sent my heart into a staccato beat. The kid leaned against the wall outside my apartment, the envelope in his hands as he popped his gum.

  “You Mr. Raven?” He perked up as I approached, then cowered when I got close enough for him to see me clearly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Delivery.”

  “Who’s it from?” I asked the same questions every year.

  He gave me the same answer. “It was left at the office before we opened, paid in cash, no return address.” After fumbling it out of his bag, he handed it to me. “Sir.” His voice cracked.

  “Get out of here, kid.” I said it to give him a break, or maybe I just didn’t want him pissing himself right in front of my door.

  “Yes, sir.” He took off toward the elevator as if I was chasing him.

  I opened my door and hurried inside. Sitting in my usual spot, I placed the envelope in my lap. It was a ritual now—I sat in the same spot, forced myself to calm the fuck down, and only then rewarded myself with opening the envelope. This year, though, I wasn’t calm. That one extra day had been a spike through my head and my heart for the past twenty-four hours.

  Before I could stop myself, I ripped the paper open and dumped out its contents. A letter and a photo fluttered out.

  Like a greedy child, I searched the envelope and peeked inside it to make sure it was empty. I couldn’t help myself. Especially when the letter seemed so thin this time. Where was the rest of it?

  I plucked the photo up and stared. Where was she this time? A tower rose behind her, the summit like a golf ball with an antenna on top. She was smiling, a hat pulled low over her eyes. How the fuck did she manage to become more beautiful each year? Her long hair spilled around her shoulders, and the red coat she wore hugged her hourglass shape.

  “The things I would do to you, my sweet Angel.” I placed the photo on the coffee table so I could look at it every so often while I read the letter.

  David,

  Star-crossed lovers. That’s what Romeo and Juliet were. I watched the 90s version of Romeo and Juliet a few months ago, the one with Leo DiCaprio and Claire Danes, and that phrase has been stuck on my mind since. Because that’s what we are. But we don’t have to be tragic like they were.

  Could have fooled me. Fuck, the ache in my chest increased—heartburn from hell that only occurred when I thought about Angel.

  Anyway, Berlin! Could you guess from the photo? The thing behind me is the TV Tower, tallest structure in Berlin. You can go up inside and get a full view of the entire city, see where the Berlin wall used to be, compare the East to the West. I can’t wait to come here with you.

  Jesus, I loved it when she was hopeful. Even if it hurt, even if I knew it was a mirage, I still needed it from her.

  Berlin has been amazing for business. Not to brag, but my fences in Paris, London, Budapest, and Vienna have been amazing. The finest stolen art and jewels pass through my hands before going on to buyers. You cannot imagine the things I’ve seen—antiquities, paintings that are “priceless” (though I can always get a price for them), and some of the craziest jewelry (I’m talking ROYALTY wore these!). Within the last year, Berlin has become a base of operations. I’m able to lay low here and still keep my finger on the pulse of the other cities.

  What started small in Paris is now a money-making beast. Are you shocked or proud or both?

  “Both.” Her letters always made me smile, and I couldn’t stop grinning. She was the real deal. Goddamn, this woman.

  With success comes a little danger, but don’t worry. The bodyguard I told you about last year? Well, now I have two.

  I was already tormented by the thought of another man getting close to her, but now there were two? Fuck.

  I want you to know I’m safe. And even though I’ve become one of the biggest dealers in fenced goods in Europe, I keep a low profile.

  But I’m looking toward expansion. And it’s almost time for me to go bigger and better.

  Keep your eyes open, handsome.

  All my love,

  ~A

  I flipped the letter over, desperate for more words, but there were none. It was by far the shortest letter from her I’d ever gotten. I wanted it to fill me up for the next twelve months. But this was an appetizer, not something to sustain me.

  Her other letters were well-worn, my fingers having felt every bit of them, the words embedded in my heart. I re-read them so many times I was certain I could recite them without missing a syllable. But this one was different.

  I dropped my head in my hands. “Are you leaving me in the dust, Angel?”

  33

  David

  Two Days Later

  “You punched his ticket already?” I pointed at the lumpy black bag Con had just thrown down on the cellar floor.

  “He’s still alive.” He adjusted his suit coat, smoothing the lapels. “Barely. One of Serge’s loyalists.” Though he’d killed Serge the day before and switched allegiances to Vince, Con didn’t seem even slightly ruffled.

  “Enough for me to work with?”

  He shrugged. “Make small cuts.”

  I hadn’t seen him in a month, and rumors were swirling around his odd absences. But that wasn’t any of my business. Privacy was a luxury—one that I wanted and would give in return.

  When I lifted the sack, a groan emanated from within. Good. If he could groan, he could talk. I dragged him into my room then returned to the main basement. Con waited there, which was uncharacteristic of him. He usually said what he needed to say and disappeared, off to do more angel of death dirty work. This was probably the most we’d spoken to each other in the past two years.

  But still, he lingered. I pointed to a card table and two chairs underneath the one grimy window that let a hint of light into the gloom. I took my lunch there sometimes.

  He nodded and walked over, taking a chair and pulling it so his back was to the wall. Typical hitman.

  I sat across from him, the metal chair creaking, and waited. If he wanted to talk—and he clearly did—he’d get to it when h
e got to it.

  We settled in for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the house. Water flowed through the pipes, the air kicked on, and the dying man let out a little squeak from inside his bag.

  “Here’s the thing.” His words were slow, measured. “That girl. The one we took from Blanco.”

  I tensed but didn’t give myself away. “Yeah?”

  “You loved her.” It wasn’t a question.

  I didn’t respond, just waited to see how this would play out.

  “I recognized it then. And I wondered how, because I’d never loved anyone. But I could see it in you. And that scared me.” His icy blue eyes met mine.

  The angel of death was scared? I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  “It scared me because I could see it. Clear as fucking day. And if I could see it, if it ever happened to me, that meant someone else could see it.” His pensive expression grew darker. “And if anyone knew that I loved someone, they would use her against me. In this line of work, I can’t risk something like that. Can’t let it happen.”

  Realization dawned on me. I’d been right when I suspected Con had changed because of a woman. Who had charmed this devil’s heart?

  I leaned across the table. Con was one of the few men who didn’t shrink away from me.

  “Here’s the thing, Con—and this was a lesson I learned the hard way. It doesn’t matter what you don’t want to risk, what you don’t want others to know, and what you don’t want to happen. When you find her—the one—there is nothing that can stop that never-ending pull you feel for her. Try to reason all you want, but once it’s set in motion, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Do you still feel it?” He peered at me like he knew Angel was alive out there somewhere. And maybe he did.

  I leveled with him, told him the truth he didn’t want to admit to himself. “Every second of every day. Like a knife between my ribs.”

  He sighed heavily, the weight he’d been trying to avoid settling fully on his shoulders. “So I’m fucked?”

  “Afraid so.” I sat back.

  A clatter of footsteps sounded from the eastern section of the basement, high heels on the polished wood floor above.

  Con turned his head toward the sound. “You’re going to want to clean up.”

  “What?”

  “Save that guy for later. He’ll live for a few more hours yet. Gut shot, but not too bad.” He rose and walked away toward the stairs. “I don’t think you want to miss this.” He pointed to the upper floor and disappeared into the unlit basement.

  * * *

  Peter greeted me at the top of the stairs, his face ashen. “Why are you up here?”

  “I can’t be up here?” I’d changed into my suit, and I didn’t have any blood on me … yet.

  “You can, but I just think—”

  “What’s going on?” I glowered at him.

  “Just a meeting. Nothing big.” Peter had a great poker face with everyone but me, though his alarm level was off-the-charts enough to make anyone give him a second look.

  Laughter rolled out of Serge’s old office—now Vince’s—with several voices joined.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Just business.” Peter grabbed my arm and tried to lead me back toward the basement door.

  I didn’t move. “Tell me.”

  More laughter. This time a higher note caught my ear. A woman. No, not just a woman. My feet moved without me telling them to.

  “David, don’t.” Peter tried to latch onto my arm and hold me back.

  A thousand men couldn’t keep me from the woman who made that sound.

  Vince’s office door opened, and a woman stepped out, her red hair up in a high ponytail and a black jacket hiding what looked like some serious hardware underneath. She checked the hallway and stopped when she saw me heading her way.

  “Whoa.” She reached inside her jacket and stuck out her other hand to block the door. Classic bodyguard behavior.

  Vince leaned out the doorway. “Oh, no harm there. He’s one of my most trusted men.”

  The redhead didn’t relax, but she didn’t pull her gun, either.

  “Good to know.” That voice.

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears, and my mouth went dry.

  A blonde stepped into the hall, her eyes latching onto mine. And I’d thought she was a knockout as a brunette. Holy fucking shit. She stopped me in my tracks. All I could do was stare like a complete idiot.

  She strode past her bodyguard and held her hand out to me. “I’m Corvi.”

  “There’s no need to introduce yourself, Corvi. David isn’t involved in any of the business we’re discussing.” Vince frowned as I took her hand.

  “I don’t mind.” She smiled, her mouth a perfect pout, her eyes the same ones that haunted my every dream. “I like meeting team members at every level. Like I told you, Vince, my team is what makes all this possible.”

  “At least say something, David,” Vince groused.

  My mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  Peter clapped me hard on the back. I’d forgotten he was even here.

  “He’s just recovering from a cold. Still a little fuzzy, you know?” Peter walked around and offered his hand.

  She didn’t release my grip. I didn’t know if I could let her go.

  “Going to need that hand back, big guy.” She winked at me. Winked.

  Peter elbowed me so that I released her hand, then gushed, “So nice to finally meet you, Corvi. I’ve been impressed with the numbers you’re putting up overseas. We may not have the same goods as the old world, but America has plenty of art and treasures that need a market.” He coughed. “A black market.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” She didn’t take her eyes off me. “Serge didn’t think there was a market for my trade here in Philly, so I’m glad the new management appreciates the money to be made.”

  “I certainly do, and I’m glad you came to my organization,” Vince tried to reclaim the spotlight.

  “Only the best.” She licked along her lower lip.

  The urge to throw her against the wall and kiss the shit out of her was almost overwhelming.

  How did Vince not recognize her? She was wearing a fitted white dress with stiletto heels—a woman, not the girl Blanco forced her to be—and her hair was blonde, but she was still the same goddess.

  “Corvi.” The redheaded bodyguard tapped her watch.

  “Sorry, must be going.” She stepped back.

  I followed.

  Vince scowled.

  Angel’s eyes twinkled, and my heart threatened to explode.

  “I’ll walk you out.” Vince shot me a hard look and reached to rest his hand at her lower back.

  He was seconds away from a gory death at my hands, but the redhead grabbed his wrist. “No touching.”

  Vince frowned, but said, “My apologies,” and walked them the rest of the way toward the door.

  I had to follow her. Couldn’t let her out of my sight again.

  “David!” Peter hissed and jumped in front of me, blocking the hall. “Don’t.”

  “It’s her.”

  “I know. Well, at least I suspected. She’s different now.”

  “It’s her.” I took another step as she disappeared into the foyer, but Peter shot his arms out, a comical attempt to stop me.

  “If you go out there right now, you’ll blow her identity. Maybe get her killed. Is that what you want?”

  His words percolated through the haze of my mind.

  “David, please. Think about this.” Peter sagged, likely realizing his block maneuver wouldn’t do shit to stop me. “She came here for a reason. She’s in town. Do you really think she’s going to disappear without seeing you?”

  I stared past him, desperate for another glimpse of her, but she was gone.

  And he was right. I hated him for being right, hated every goddamn thing about it. Starcrossed lovers was bullshit. I turned and rammed my fist into the wal
l, punching through to the other side.

  How many times would I have to let her walk out of my life?

  34

  Angel

  “That was him?” Iliana settled in next to me as we left the Genoa estate. They already seemed to be closing up shop—a moving truck sat in the driveway. Intel was that Vince preferred his house over in Bryn Mawr to this one.

  “Him.” I took a deep, shaky breath.

  “He’s huge, Corvi. Like, the biggest man.”

  “That big?” Liz asked from the driver’s seat.

  “A house.” Iliana spread her hands out in demonstration.

  “I told you he was perfect.” I leaned back against the leather and replayed the moment I saw him over and over again in my mind. A little older, even more handsome, and utterly shocked to see me—he couldn’t even talk at first. I smiled, and my hand strayed to the scar on my shoulder.

  “Damn.” Iliana shook her head. “I’ve never seen you do that.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Grin like that.”

  “The boss is grinning?” Liz turned the rearview mirror to get a look at me.

  “Knock it off.” I tried to sound stern, but the smile stuck on my face.

  “Oh, shit. This is serious.” Iliana smirked and pretended to look out the window.

  “I haven’t seen him in so long.” I stopped myself before pouring out all my thoughts to my bodyguards, even though they were more than that to me now. Still, I couldn’t seem to contain my emotions, and I needed to get my shit together. So much had been racing through my mind—had he forgotten about me, or moved on, or would he not recognize me? But I didn’t have to worry about any of that. The moment our eyes met, I felt that same magnetic pull. It never stopped drawing me to him.

  “Where to?” Liz pulled onto the highway toward downtown.

  “His place.” A tingle rushed over my body. “I want to be waiting for him when he gets home.”

  Iliana had broken in two days ago and gotten a duplicate key made for me. I’d asked her a million questions about his place—though the first ones off my lips had to do with whether there were any feminine sort of items in his apartment. “As mannish as man can be,” Iliana had reported.