Chapter 7
Aron
Well, everyone seems satisfied with my nightly performances so far.
Every day since Dad’s guard released me from my chains, I’ve gotten cheers and fist bumps from Dad’s men, and some of the women are eyeing me a little too closely.
Maybe they think they can move up in the Empire by cozying up to Dad’s son …
but they have no idea. They can’t ever know, not if I’m going to pull off my plan.
Unfortunately, I can’t put that plan into motion just yet. Dad’s got another big drug shipment coming in tonight, and he wants me there to supervise. Since I’m still under scrutiny, I have to play along and make sure none of his men try to pocket any bricks.
Soon, though, I’ll earn enough freedom for a quick drive by myself. That’s when I’ll take my chance.
That’s when I’ll signal Matt.
The thought of seeing Matt again has been the only thing keeping me going. Through the stupid sex performances, through the nights spent trying to sleep next to Emily, through our shared showers in the morning, through all of it.
Emily insists on more “marital intimacy” in the shower.
No surveillance in there, but to keep her from running to Dad, I oblige.
It’s terrible that my wife is basically blackmailing me into having sex with her.
She didn’t outright say anything to that effect, but she did smile and point to one of the hidden cameras when she suggested it.
“We could make love in here instead, if you’re not feeling up to shower sex yet.”
That lets me know that every night’s actions will continue to be on display for the foreseeable future. Public displays of affection, it seems, are a new requirement in my life. Emphasis on public.
With only hours to go until the shipment arrives, I pour over maps and schematics of the docks and their layout. I need to know every detail, need to know every angle a threat could come from, even if that threat ends up being Matt.
I have no doubt that the twins are still up to their tricks.
Dad has it on good authority that they’ve already informed Matt of the shipments, and Matt’s not dumb; he knows how to hit my dad where it hurts.
These shipments provide extra funds that Dad didn’t have to steal from Tito, and those funds go into accounts that the twins can’t yet access.
I know that they’ve already stolen several million from Dad, going after the accounts that Dad put Tito’s money into.
It’s only a matter of time before Holly and Hank gain access to the other Empire funds.
My stomach churns at the thought of fighting my former associates … of fighting Matt. If he shows up for this shipment, I might have to act. Can I kill the man I love just to maintain my cover?
Who am I kidding? When it comes to Matt’s safety, I’ve always been as ruthless as Dad or even Tito, but to turn on Matt? Forget it.
I’ll have to make whatever goes down tonight look as convincing as my sexual activity with Emily, even if that means flubbing the shipment transfer so Matt and the Syndicate can steal the product.
I’m no stranger to taking a bullet, though this would be the most roundabout way I’ve taken one for Matt in all our years together.
Usually, I’m jumping in front of Matt to catch the bullet before it hits him, but here, I might have to jump in front of a bullet Matt fires to avoid suspicion.
I might have to take a critical hit.
No. Matt wouldn’t do that. Maybe someone else in the Syndicate, but if I die tonight, I’m confident it won’t be by Matt’s hands.
I just hope it doesn’t kill him to watch.
* * *
Dad’s men are idiots.
I’ve counted no less than thirty of Matt’s associates hidden around the docks, exactly what our mole’s count was, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the bugs and cameras are piping straight into the mansion where Holly and Hank are watching.
When I casually mentioned the Syndicate attacking this shipment, Dad’s top man besides me, Eddie, just scoffed.
“Don Matteo’s not that dumb. He wouldn’t risk an attack on the Empire just a week after torching Javier’s warehouse. I think your dad’s little friend is just trying to get in good with Javier, get in good with the Empire. The info’s bogus.”
He doesn’t know Matt like I do.
Of all the men hidden around here, I don’t spot Matt himself.
He could just be hiding better, or he could be orchestrating this from the mansion.
While I’d love to see him again, even for just a second while he’s pointing a gun at me, I hope it’s the latter scenario.
I can handle Matt playing it safe when I’m not there to protect him.
Unfortunately, not a minute after that thought hits me, I spot Matt crouching on a nearby houseboat. I know the owners are out of the country right now, so obviously the five men hiding there catch my eye. I’d have to be as stupid as Eddie to miss it.
Our mole didn’t say that Matt would show up to personally oversee this attack. My nerves fire erratically, and my stomach churns. Matt could get hurt if this goes sideways.
I guess it’s up to me to make sure it only goes sideways for us.
The boat carrying the shipment arrives right on time, and some of Matt’s men move silently in the shadows, getting into a better position to strike.
I bark out orders to the Empire men on the dock, moving them to places that are beneficial to Matt.
Get a few men in firing range of that group, some more near another group, and even a couple—Eddie included—right next to the houseboat, and they’ll be easy pickings.
I see the mole here, too, but if my plan goes right, he won’t live to run and tell Dad what I’m doing. Our men might have strict instructions not to fire on him, but Dad never explicitly told me anything of the sort.
My last move before setting things in motion is to board the shipment boat and start helping Dad’s associates unload the product.
We wear gloves and masks to keep from accidentally dosing ourselves if a brick comes open, and we form a production line like a fire brigade to move the drugs more efficiently.
My spot in the line puts me at the back of the boat, near the water.
If, or should I say when I get hit, I can fake a fall into the water and swim to a safe location.
Then, I’ll use the burner that’s safely bagged in my pocket to signal Matt.
The tension rises with each passing moment. When is Matt going to attack?
My answer comes when one of Dad’s men shouts an alarm. All holy hell breaks loose, and I drop the bricks in my hands to arm myself.
Our suppliers fall first, a smart move on Matt’s part.
Can’t set up new shipments as quickly when the men hauling the drugs are dead.
Next, the Syndicate players pick off the Empire goons, firing fatal shots almost faster than I can track.
I crouch down and return fire, aiming for limbs and nonfatal targets.
These men are currently my enemies, but that could change tonight.
I don’t want to piss too many of them off by killing their friends.
I definitely don’t want to risk hitting Matt.
Gunfire fills the dock, blowing holes in the bricks and the ship, and cocaine powder drifts through the air like some kind of sick snowfall.
I shield my eyes with one arm while still firing, inching backwards towards the stern of the boat.
Movement catches my attention, and I barely have time to position myself to take the bullet just right before Matt fires.
Matt.
He shot me.
I let the force of the bullet spin me around, and it’s easy enough to pretend to lose my balance as I’m about to anyway. My hip slams into the gunwale, and I topple over the edge into the frigid water below.
Okay, Aron. You planned for this. Hold your breath.
Swim to the east, about a hundred meters.
No one will see you in the darkness. Use the ropes to pull yourself up.
Fuck, that hurts! He hit just below my ribs, and my abs are on fire.
I don’t think anything vital is shot, but I’ll need Matt’s TLC when this is over.
I stay near the surface of the water, in the shadows, as sirens blare in the distance. Hopefully I swam far enough to stay out of the cops’ search radius.
The icy water starts to numb my pain, and I notice less blood oozing out of the wound. A blessing in disguise, I guess, though I’d give anything right now for a warm fire and Matt’s arms around me.
To my relief, the cops speed past my location on their way to the scene, not even slowing.
If I know Matt, he’s already fled, along with the surviving Syndicate members.
I honestly don’t give a shit how many of Dad’s men made it out, though, and as soon as the sirens stop, I pull myself the rest of the way up with the ropes and board whatever boat I stopped at.
Blood and water drip everywhere, but I rummage around and find some towels to press against my wound and staunch the bleeding some more.
Tying the towels in place with some strips of fabric I ripped from clothes I found on the boat, I finally feel secure enough to climb out onto the dock and slink away to the truck I hid earlier.
My memories of our flight from my destroyed home after Emily’s fake death are hazy, but I have a good sense of direction. I’m confident I can find my way without too much trouble.
I take out the burner phone, pull it out of the waterproof bag, and text a number I know by heart.