Chapter Two Just When I Thought I Was Out…
West
Fifteen Minutes Ago
I stare at my phone with wide-eyed dismay.
What fresh hell is this, and who dipped their grubby little fingers into Berruci’s money?
“West! Look!”
Jack waves from the top of the red tube slide.
She giggles all the way down, hopping out onto the playground’s surface of dry wood chips.
I remember to smile when she looks my way.
She circles back with a giggle and scrambles up the fake rock-climbing wall to go another round.
We regularly come to this playground in particular because it’s the only one in East Sacramento with a new built-in waterpark—a perfect place to cool down in the climbing April heat.
While I’m grateful that she’s having the time of her life, I’m on the brink of a panic attack seated on the scalding-hot kiddie park bench.
This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
The call comes in not a minute later. My hands shake so hard I nearly make the mistake of hitting decline. I don’t have to look at the caller ID to know who’s waiting on the other end.
“Val, old friend!” I greet with a strained chuckle, praying he can’t detect my unease. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I know it’s a deliberate move on his part to make me sweat. “Went on a little shopping spree, did you?” he asks, his voice raspy from years of heavy smoking.
I haven’t had the misfortune of seeing the man in ages, but I’m already about to lose my lunch.
Memories of that night come flooding in, leaving no space to think or breathe or remain calm.
Months of planning—only for everything to blow up in our faces.
Diana, Joseph, Bannock and Henrie…all arrested within minutes of each other.
I didn’t exactly get away unscathed either, forced into this god-awful arrangement.
Berruci made it seem like a generous pardon, but I saw it for what was: an ultimatum.
And Michael was the one who paid the price.
I decide to drop the confident act. Knowing Berruci, it’ll only piss him off more. “It wasn’t me; I swear. I just got the notification too. I know better than to take what’s yours.”
“Fuckin’ right you do,” Berruci replies with a dry cough. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you why you’re playing the role of a suburban dad. How’s your niece doing, by the way? Jacqueline, did I remember that right?”
I grit my teeth. So he wants to throw low blows early, does he? “Leave her name out of your mouth,” I snap. “We had a deal.”
“A deal that’s now been broken. All you had to do was let me use you like a good little mule. Keep my money safe, collect interest and not touch a fucking penny. You seriously think I’m stupid enough to believe you had nothing to do with it?”
“But it’s true! I didn’t take anything.”
It’s true that he pays me a 0.3 percent kickback to keep quiet and maintain the account, but I’ve refused to touch a cent.
I’ve been working nights as a warehouse stocker to make ends meet, which conveniently leaves my days free to look after Jack and ensures that Berruci has one less thing to hold over my head.
“Then who did?” he asks gruffly.
My heart plummets. “I…I don’t know.”
“How convenient.”
Half a yard away, Jack waves at me again to get my attention before swinging across the monkey bars with impressive agility.
I wipe any trace of concern from my face.
She doesn’t know who I really am—who I used to be.
She has no idea about the world Michael and I were born into.
A world we fought tooth and nail to escape, all so we could keep her safe.
Panic grips my throat, squeezing at my windpipe. I promised Michael I would keep her safe. If something happens to me, what’s going to happen to Jack?
“I’ll find them,” I say into the phone. “I’ll find whoever did this and recover the money.”
“See that you do,” Berruci replies coldly. “And know this: you can either serve the fucker to me on a platter, or I’ll kill you in their place. Got it?”
I swallow hard. “Loud and clear.”
“Good.” And then, after a pause that seems to last an entire decade, Berruci adds, “Isn’t it Jacqueline’s birthday next month? I’ll have to stop by to give her a gift from ol’ Uncle Val.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say firmly.
We both know it’s a thinly veiled threat. To think he’d stoop so low as to rope Jack into this…She’s only six, for God’s sake. But I do understand why he’s bringing her up. He thinks it’s going to light a fire under my ass. An unspoken deadline.
And it’s working.
I’d hoped to shield her from all of it. I’d agreed to be one of his mule accounts so that he could launder his illicit funds more easily, and I’ve never said a damn word, not about his underhanded business deals, about his schemes.
About how he made Michael disappear. In return, he was supposed to leave me and Jack alone forever.
I should have known better than to make deals with a rat.
They’re incessant little creatures, capable of squeezing through the tightest of cracks.
“Watch your back,” Berruci grunts and hangs up without so much as a ta-ta for now. Not that I can imagine a burly tatted crime boss saying something so flamboyant.
At some point, Jack must have hopped down from the monkey bars, because the next thing I see is the blur of her bright-red running shoes—she begged me to buy them for her when she saw them at the store—zipping toward me.
Her cheeks are flushed, but so is her forehead, a telltale sign that the coconut-scented sunscreen I badgered her into putting on is starting to wear off.
She peers up at me with her big blue eyes, and I can’t help but think about how Michael used to pull the exact same face when we were kids. “Does your tummy hurt, Uncle West?” she asks.
I force a smile. “My tummy’s fine, sweetie.”
“Then why do you look so sick?”
The last thing I want is for her to worry. I ruffle her hair, a much lighter blonde than Michael had. “I think I need a little nap, that’s all.”
“Aren’t you too old for naps?”
“Too old for naps?” I gasp. “But there’s no such thing!”
“Tommy from school says I’m too old for naps,” Jack mumbles, her face twisting with her obvious disgust. She picks at the edge of her insulin patch on the back of her right arm. She chose tape with bright pink and yellow flowers to keep it securely in place.
I gently pry her hand away. “Don’t listen to Tommy. We both agreed that he’s a…What did you call him the other day?”
“A dickhead.”
I throw my head back and laugh, momentarily forgetting my troubles. A few of the other parents standing nearby shoot me disapproving glares, no doubt having overheard her colorful language, but I don’t care.
“Remember not to say that behind his back, alright?”
Jack nods. “Right. If you’ve got something mean to say, you should say it to someone’s face.”
“But?” I prompt.
“But you should always be prepared for the consa…the consta…”
“Consequences,” I say, helping her out.
“Yeah, that.”
I nod in approval. “How about we head home? I’ll make spaghetti tonight—your favorite.”
Jack’s smile is the sweetest thing imaginable. For a moment, I almost forget that there’s someone breathing down my neck. “With little hot dog pieces?” she asks.
“What do you think, chef? It’s a complicated recipe.”
She giggles. “We can do it!”
I pick her up and carry her with one arm.
My niece is getting a little too heavy for me, which is all the more reason to appreciate the moment.
Before I know it, she’ll be all grown up and learning to drive.
She’ll bring home her first boyfriend or girlfriend and I’ll have to pretend to be cool about it.
Though, if I’m being perfectly honest, I’ll probably fail in spectacular fashion.
She’ll graduate high school and pursue a field of study she’s passionate about.
And one day, if I’ve done everything right and kept my promise to Michael, she will grow into a good, sensible young woman.
Provided I can keep Valentino Berruci the hell out of our lives. Therein lies the problem.
Even if I do somehow figure out who took the money and turn them in, that doesn’t stop Berruci yanking the leash strapped around my neck whenever he feels like it. His very existence is a problem, one that threatens Jack’s safety.
I carry Jack home. She makes it a whole three blocks before she falls asleep, drooling a dark patch onto my shoulder. I hold her a little tighter, equally as protective as I am paranoid, all while my mind races to stitch together a plan.
I can do this. I have to. If all goes well, I might be able to take out Berruci once and for all.
Step one: come out of retirement.
Step two: track down the thief.
Step three: find a babysitter.
But before I do any of that, I set Jack down on the couch for her afternoon nap, draping a light knitted throw blanket over her for warmth.
I make my way into the kitchen and pull open the cupboards beneath the sink.
Feeling around blindly, I locate the small burner phone I have taped to the underside of the counter.
I’d tucked it away in a sandwich bag years ago to protect it from the damp.
After shoving its battery into place, I boot it up and scroll through my short list of contacts.
I don’t know if her number is still in service.
It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
Thankfully, Diana picks up on the sixth ring.
“Salut?” she answers in French.
“It’s Mathieu,” I reply. The language feels strange on my tongue after all these years. “Mathieu Maunier. Do you remember me?”
It takes her a moment, but she finally says, “How could I forget? I was so sure he made you disappear.”
“He sort of did. It’s a long story.”
“Tell it to someone who cares,” Diana answers bluntly.
“Wait,” I say in a rush. “Please, just…wait. I know you’re pissed. You have every right to be.”
“I served three years. And now I find out you’re alive and well while I was stuck in the clink. Why wouldn’t I be pissed?”
“Diana, listen. I understand you’re upset. What happened that night…It was a bad night for all of us, but I can make it up to you.”
There’s a long pause. Somewhere in the background, I can hear traffic and distant chatter. “Go on,” she says.
“I have a plan to go after Berruci. Do you want in?”
Another pause, this one so long that I worry the signal’s dropped. I don’t exactly have a great international calling plan. But if there’s anyone I can count on, especially when it comes to putting that son of a bitch away for good, it’s going to be her.
“Fine,” she says after an eternity. “What do you need me to do?”