Chapter 23
Nicola.
There he was.
A single light hung over a trembling figure, his head covered by a burlap sack.
We never used burlap sacks. The guys really leaned into the drama.
He was tied to a chair and whimpering. In any other situation, this would have really cheered me up.
“Hello,” I greeted easily.
“I—I told the other guys I paid all those debts off,” he stammered, lifting his head. “I don’t do coke anymore. My debts are paid. I swear.”
“I’m not actually the drug dealer,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “But I appreciate that you think I am.”
I pulled the sack off his head. He squinted against the light, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted.
He wasn’t ugly. A decently handsome face. Sandy golden hair.
Actually, when I pictured a man from a respectable family, a steady job, and a clean record, I pictured him. I had a feeling he wore a lot of polo shirts and played lacrosse.
I knew him for ten seconds and I hated him already.
Pierce stared at me, wide-eyed as he looked me up and down.
“I don’t understand.” His voice shook. “What did I do? I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh,” I said with a laugh, slipping off my jacket. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
I draped it over the back of a nearby chair before glancing toward the men standing by the warehouse door. My head jerked to the side.
They filed out without a word, the heavy steel door clanged shut behind them.
Pierce watched them leave, then back at me again, bewildered.
I pulled over another chair and sat down across from him. Resting my forearms on my knees, I leaned forward.
“Do you know who I am?”
He swallowed. “Uh...I don’t want to stereotype.”
I smiled. “No, please. Go ahead.”
“You’re...” He hesitated as he took one look at the tattoos on my hands. “In the mafia. Someone important?”
“Very good.” I nodded once. “And you’re Pierce.”
His breathing quickened. “Wh-why am I here?”
“Because you’ve been taking advantage of my...” The word caught in my throat, but I said it anyway. “...friend.”
It sounded wrong. The word felt too small. Too impersonal.
Something seemed to click behind his eyes. “She talked about you.”
I smiled. “What did she say?”
“That you hurt someone. That she ran away from you.”
Fury... rising. Tamp it down. Breathe in through your nose.
Okay. Better.
“Everything in her life that can be fixed is going to be fixed. And from what I can see, there’s two big problems. One, her father’s cancer. Now.” I pat my chest. “I can’t cure cancer. One of my very few faults. But I can fix the other one.”
I met his eyes. “You.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to stop taking the alimony."
His eyes widened. Appalled, he reared his head back. "Are you speaking on her behalf?"
...
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Abby’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘It's about control.'
My jaw tightened, now hyper aware of the pistol in my suit jacket right behind me.
Tamp down the anger. Deep breath.
“She won’t do it. She’s too kind. She’ll keep trying to save you.”
"Fuck." His shoulders sagged, his eyes dropped to the floor. “I screwed everything up. I know. If I could go back...”
His voice cracked. “I would. In a heartbeat.”
My smile slowly disappeared. God, he sounded pathetic.
He sounded exactly like the voice in my head.
“I visited her at work earlier.” He looked back up. “I brought her coffee. You know, she looked miserable. Was that because of you?”
My jaw ticked. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
Pierce looked at his feet again. “I know I don’t deserve her. I know that. I just...” He laughed bitterly. “I’d settle for being her friend. I’d take whatever she’d give me.”
My brow furrowed. “...Why?”
“She’s the only person who talked to me like I mattered, even after all the drug stuff. The cheating. She still talked to me like I was...” He searched for the words. “A human being.”
Jesus Christ.
I looked away. A hand dragged slowly across my face.
"I do care about you, Nicola. You, the person. Not the don."
She told me that from the beginning. Over. And over.
‘There's not much difference between the two," I’d said.
She could tell, even then. She needled herself beneath my skin, broke all the armor. I turned back toward Pierce.
“Precisely right. She’s a good person who deserves better. So you’re going to refuse every alimony payment from now on. You’re not bringing her coffee. You’re not showing up at her apartment. You’re disappearing from my town.”
“So you can fuck her over next?"
The slap echoed through the warehouse. He squeezed his eyes shut. Blood gathered along the corner of his mouth.
God, I couldn't even enjoy this. One little slap, and I could hear her voice in my ear, begging me to stop.
I pulled out the pistol and held it to his temple. He began to shake.
“Tell me,” I said quietly. “Tell me you’re going to leave her alone.”
“I... I will.” His voice trembled. “I swear.”
My eyes looked at the trigger, my finger was loosely wrapped around it.
Slowly, I relaxed. No.
It wouldn’t solve anything long term. It would only hurt her more.
I picked up the burlap sack and pulled it back over his head. My jacket was slung over my shoulder.
I walked toward the door, paused halfway. “If I have to come looking for you again, Pierce, I’ll kill you. Consider this my one and only kindness.”
I opened the warehouse door. I stepped out into the cool night air.
A cigarette glowed somewhere off to my left. Michael looked up from where he leaned against the loading dock railing, waiting for me.
“Well?”
I shrugged into my jacket. “He’s not a problem anymore.”
Michael studied me for a second, then his eyes darted out as Pierce was guided back to a SUV by two men. We both watched for a moment.
"Did you find anything?"
"One strong possibility." He pulled a folded map from his pocket and spread it across the hood of the SUV.
“A warehouse district near Red Hook.” His finger tapped one of several abandoned buildings. “Ferraro territory. We’ve had eyes on it for the last hour with Tommy's drone.”
I studied the map. “Movement?”
“A handful of guys on security, maybe seven or eight.”
I traced one of the access roads with my finger.
“No convoy.”
Michael frowned, looking up at the group gathered. “We’ve got enough men.”
“It feels easy. He wants us to find this place.”
Michael considered that. “You think it’s a trap? It's on Ferraro territory. It's not like we can just waltz in."
"No, but I think Lorenzo Ferraro has spent too many years alive to make careless mistakes. He's playing a game.”
With Aubergine as the fucking pawn.
I folded the map, grit my teeth. “So... we’ll give him exactly what he wants.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“A small team with silencers. We go in fast, we get her out.”
“And... what about when Lorenzo still looks for his fucking pound of flesh?”
“I don’t care,” I replied sharply. “We focus on getting Aubergine out. We worry about Lorenzo after. Capisce?"
In the SUV, there were five of us.
“No gunfire unless absolutely necessary,” I reminded. “Let’s keep our presence hidden as long as we can.”
Michael glanced toward the warehouse. “Thomas’s drone showed there’s two posted outside the doors.”
I pulled my silencer out of my pocket and began quickly screwing it over the end of the barrel. “It still feels like a trap. I imagine Lorenzo wants me here so he can call the shots.”
“And?” Michael pressed.
“He won’t kill me. Not while he holds her over my head. He’ll negotiate to get what he wants first.”
“How do you know that?” Gio asked.
“Because that’s exactly what I would do,” I replied and climbed out of the car.
In front of me, Gio and Michael crossed the empty loading yard in silence.
We were close to the docks. I could smell the sea water. It was foreign territory to me. I knew my territory like the back of my hand.
Old shipping containers stood stacked like crooked buildings and I was struggling to map it all in my head. I kept going back to Aubergine in that photograph. Her head lowered, scared out of her mind.
The first guard rounded the corner before he ever saw us.
Michael caught him, wrapped a hand over his mouth. One single shot. The suppressed shot sounded little louder than a cough.
He slowly lowered the body to the ground. Standing, he wiped the spray of blood off himself.
No alarms set off, yet. We kept moving.
Michael took out the second guard standing post. We watched as his body stuttered, then dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Gio caught him and slowly lowered him.
It was deathly quiet when we entered the building. The only sounds were our footsteps… and distant machinery, something motorized.
The first room was empty. The second room. Nothing. Michael and Gio checked each room and cleared it as we passed through.
Soft voices came from the final door on the right.
Everyone froze.
Michael moved against the wall beside the door. Gio covered the opposite side.
I wrapped my hand around the handle. Silently, I mouthed:
Three. Two. One.
The door exploded inward.
My gun came up, then faltered when the sights were directly on Aubergine.
She was alive and bound to a chair. Her blindfold was gone.
She was breathing. Oh, thank fuck.
Relief flashed across her face, only to turn into fear.
“Nicola—”
A metallic click echoed through the room. Lorenzo Ferraro calmly lifted a pistol and rested it against the side of her head.
Like a good host, he gestured toward the empty chair opposite him.
“Please.” His voice was almost warm. “Take a seat, Don Moretti.”