Chapter 12
TWELVE
T he cold air assaults my face as I stare out at the water, the bitterness burning my cheeks. In the distance, the Statue of Liberty stands proud, a reminder of what this country stands for. Freedom. It’s what I’ve always wanted, what we all crave in some way or another. The need to shake the shackles of society, remove the thumb pinning us down so we can reach our full potential. Nobody wants to be doing somebody else’s bidding their entire life, but a job is a job.
I realized a long time ago that the possibility of me doing something meaningful with my life would always be dictated to me by others. Those shackles will never loosen, they’ll only grow rusty and rigid, and when it comes to breaking point, it’s either me or those cuffs that’ll finally snap.
The sad thing is, I never fought against any of this. I welcomed it because I felt like I had no choice, and now here I am, standing on the edge of the Staten Island Ferry, hiding under the guise of a personal day.
“She’s like a fine wine,” a voice says beside me. “She gets better with age.”
I turn to face the man, watching his features roll into a blend of familiarity and smugness. “You here to discuss wine or Lady Liberty?” I grunt with irritation.
The guy has always gotten on my nerves, but I have no choice but to interact with him. He’s my only contact outside of the Bratva, but that doesn’t mean I trust him entirely.
I give him what he wants and he leaves me alone. Anything more and we’d be dead men.
“Neither.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the rail of the boat. His salt and pepper hair flaps in the frigid breeze while his lips curl into a smile. He stays silent, admiring the woman that stands resolute on Ellis Island, like she always does.
Returning my gaze to the bluish-green statue, I pull a cigarette from my packet and light it up. I don’t offer him one since I don’t want to share my vice with someone like him. Sucking in a lungful of nicotine, I puff it out into the air, knowing I need to get this meeting over with.
“We had a situation,” I tell him, sucking on the cigarette again. I relish the rush that soars through my veins, the tightness in my chest that has become just as addictive as a certain Italian.
“What kind of situation?”
“The Five. Or should I say their heirs...they’ve gotten in the way.” I glance sideways to check out his reaction, but his side profile gives nothing away. He just shifts his stance against the railings.
“Should’ve expected that,” he mutters.
“It’s getting handled, but you should know that without their go ahead, the Russians can’t do shit.”
Turning, he gives me his full attention. His dark eyes are locked onto me. The sharp jawline that meets to form an even sharper chin would be attractive to some, but the years have clearly weathered the rest of his features. Tired eyes are framed by wrinkles, smile lines have faded around his mouth, and his pallor complexion is only proof of the stress he’s under. “That’s never stopped them, and you know it.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a sigh.
“And that’s what we’re counting on.”
I frown, returning my attention to the water as it parts away from the boat. I can’t say what I’m really thinking, because I’m afraid that it’ll come at a cost. So I keep my mouth shut as he continues. “I’ve got paperwork building up on my desk. It’s been how long?”
“Years,” I mumble reluctantly.
“Years. And we’re no closer. If I have to call this in, I will.”
As tempting as that offer is, I don’t really know where that’ll leave me. I know how much shit I’m in. I know that any attempt at breaking away from this life won’t just bite me on the ass. It’ll destroy me. “Give me time,” I reply in a low voice. “There’s been movement, and I know that I can get you what you need.”
“Are you compromised?”
“No,” I growl, irritation passing my lips.
He chuckles back at me incredulously, shaking his head. “So Mason Aintree isn’t one of yours?”
Without hesitation, I step forward, dropping my cigarette to the ground. “What the fuck are you insinuating?” I growl. The fact he’s questioning my loyalty shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does, but then again, I’m reconsidering where my loyalties actually stand these days.
The press of something hard against my stomach has me glancing between our bodies, his glock poised in position to do serious harm. I doubt the man would hesitate, but even more than that, I can’t find myself the least bit terrified at the thought. There’s not many people around us, so nobody would even notice, especially with a suppressor.
Smirking, I edge closer to the barrel. “Five years have taught me a lot. I’ve seen more than you can fucking imagine. You think threatening me with that is going to scare me?”
I hear the subtle click of the safety being removed. “No, but it’d relieve a lot of my problems.”
“Then do it,” I sneer. “Pull the fucking trigger and see how relieved I will be.”
The silence stretches between us until all I can hear are the gulls above us, and the water churning below. Understanding flows between us in that moment, and at the same time, I give him the answer to his question. He nods back at me, releasing the safety and concealing his gun beneath his jacket. “Fix the situation with The Five. They’re not our problem right now.”
“Done.”
His eyes narrow, but just as he goes to say something, the fog horn announces our arrival at the port to Staten Island. His tired expression is grating on me, so I’m thankful for the interruption, because my temper is already hitching higher. He’s obviously under a lot of pressure because he’s pressing on me now for an answer, and I get it,I really do.
But you know what they say; shit rolls downhill.