Shattered Prince

The second man followed. He was whip-thin and younger, though he had the same blue eyes. He wore a similar outfit, except his sleeves were cut off, showing his tattooed arms.

Cezary stopped a few feet away. I stood and nodded to him. He nodded back, his grin stretching. Mal stayed seated but I could practically feel his uncomfortable tension.

“I’ve got to admit, Falsone, I’m amazed you’re actually here. I got your message but I didn’t believe it.”

“I keep my appointments. I’m assuming you’re Cezary?”

He nodded. “That’s my name.”

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

He didn’t move. “First, tell me how you got my number.”

“A mutual associate gave it to me.” That’d been Maxim, and it’d taken a little convincing and a big, fat bribe. “This isn’t an ambush. There’s no danger here. I only want to have a conversation.”

Cezary’s eyes flitted from me to Mal. “I know you,” he said. “Heard about you from Balestra’s guys. You’re the one with the baton.”

Mal showed his teeth. “They know her well.”

Cezary laughed. He threw his head back and guffawed. “That they do. I like you, Mal.” He nodded to his associate. “This is my little cousin, Demian. Say hello, Dem.”

“Hello.” Demian glared from beneath a head of shaggy black hair and from behind a thick, black beard.

Cezary walked over and took a seat. He dwarfed the tiny outdoors chair with his bulk. Demian stayed standing a few feet off. I stared at him for a beat, not happy that he wouldn’t come over, but decided to let it go.

These men were clearly uncivilized. They were used to life in the suburbs and the small towns out in the middle of nowhere. Texas was a damn big state, and there were a lot of small clusters of houses and shops scattered all over the place, sometimes accessible only by a few local roads. The Smierc Gang got their start in those backwaters, robbing, killing, blackmailing, running small-time drugs and guns. It was a hard life, riding through the Texan desert like a band of marauders, all while evading Texas state police, most of whom believed they were cowboys.

Life in the cities was different. We had rules and procedures. There were too many politicians, civilians, cops, and money to act like untamed beasts. We had to be smarter. We had to be businessmen.

But not the Smierc Gang. They were still raiders at best, looking for plunder and treasure wherever they could find it.

“I’m sitting,” Cezary said, leaning forward. “Now, why did you make me ride all the way down here?”

“I thought we should meet each other. You’re working with Mauro Balestra to wrench my empire away. I figured you should know the man you were dealing with.”

Cezary laughed. “I know you, Falsone. I knew your father too.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. “You worked with my old man?”

“Placido was a little bitter turd.” Cezary spit on the ground. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

My fingers gripped the edge of the table. I could take an insult like anyone in my family, but the disrespect to my father was unacceptable. Mal put a hand on my arm and gave me a tight shake of the head, like he knew what I was thinking, and Cezary kept on grinning.

The bastard was goading me into a fight. But I wouldn’t fall for it.

I took a deep breath and let it out.

“I suspect you never knew my father. You’ve been too busy wiping road dust from between your sunburnt ass cheeks to meet a man like him. Tell me, Cezary. How long have you been robbing liquor stores and passing bad checks and threatening old ladies?”

His eyes sparkled as he laughed again. “You don’t know much about my reputation, do you?”

I’d done my research. I knew the Smierc Gang was smalltime, but vicious and quickly growing. I knew they had muscle and the willingness to get violent. I understood all that.

But if he wanted to play mind games, I’d play right back.

“I know you chose to attack my people and work with Mauro Balestra. I’m willing to refrain from cutting your throat for now on the assumption that you didn’t fully understand what you were getting yourself into.” I leaned forward, staring into his still eyes, and his smile never wavered. “But understand something, Cezary. You’re not in some bumble-fuck town anymore. If you keep going down this path, you and your men will die, and nobody will mourn your graves. I’ll make sure of it.”

He watched me carefully for several long, silent moments, before he sat back and sighed. He shook his head like he was disappointed, and my heart raced, sending black tendrils of excitement through my blood.

I loved this. I lived for these moments, the seconds that hung between one reality and the next. So much depended on what he said next, and so much blood would spill depending on how he chose to move forward. No part of me expected him to roll over and give up—but if he was smart, he would attempt to distance himself from Balestra as much as he could.