“Now I understand why you didn’t want me to do that hit back there. Too many innocent people.” He sighed and rubbed his face then stood. “And you were right.”
“I know I was right.”
He stared at me for a second, and I thought I saw pity, or maybe sorrow in his eyes—it didn’t matter either way. My hands were shaking, though I managed to raise the wine glass to my lips.
“And you’re right about this world. We’re a bunch of fucked-up egomaniacs with guns and too much time.”
I put the glass down. “So what do you want to do about it?”
He approached me slowly and when I didn’t flinch away, he put his hands on my hips and looked down at me. I felt a thrill—both self-loathing and desire.
“It’s not what I’ll do, but what you’ll do.”
“I can’t do a damn thing.”
“Married to me, you can. You want this city to be safer for everyone? Then you need to stick it out.”
“You’re going to murder that man.”
He moved closer, lips so soft and gorgeous. “I have to and you know it. He’s not going to stop until he kills me or hurts you in the process.”
“Reid—”
“No,” he said, voice hard, “listen to me. What happened to your friend was wrong, but this is different. Jarvis is a rabid dog that got a taste of blood and now all he knows is fighting. I need to put him down, and I need you to be okay with that—or at least be willing to step aside and let me do what I have to do.”
I stared at him and wanted to push him away, but his words sank in. I knew he was right. I’d met men like Jarvis in my time with my father, men that were abrasive and dangerous and no matter what would always get in trouble. My father pushed men like that out, got them away from the core of the family, and they tended to end up arrested or dead.
Jarvis had to go, one way or the other. I knew it was true, but I still couldn’t be part of it. “I won’t stop you.”
“Good.” He kissed my neck. I let out a soft sigh.
But he pulled away before he could do more. I didn’t know if I wanted him to come back and touch me or if I wanted to curl up in my bed and pretend like the world didn’t exist.
“What now?” I asked.
“Now you go to sleep. The guys will get back to me soon and I’ll figure out where to go from there.”
I hesitated, finished my wine, then turned and left the kitchen. I knew if I didn’t get out of there fast, I’d get sucked back into all this—despite wanting to run as far away as I possibly could.
Upstairs in my room, I undressed and sat on the bed. Reid’s lips came back, running through my mind, and I wondered if it was all made men that I hated, or just the particular men I grew up with.
I wondered if I could be married to a man like him and still retain my identity.15ReidI stood outside of an old, boarded-up building, hiding in the shadows across the street with Enrico and Aldrik. A red plastic cannister sat at our feet and the smell of gasoline wafted into the air.
The building was one-story with a wide concrete lot out front. It used to be a gas station at some point in its existence, but based on the weeds growing up between the cracks in the pavement and the way the walls looked like they were half-rotten and crumbling, I guessed it’d been a long time since anyone used it for anything but drugs and murder.
Enrico leaned back against the shop to our backs. It was a dry cleaner’s, but it was closed, the metal grates pulled down over its door and windows. “We saw him go in a half hour ago,” he said. “Aldrik’s been watching the back.”
“He hasn’t come out,” Aldrik said. “He’s in there right now, boss.”
“How sure are you?”
“Completely sure.” Enrico looked at his fingernails then down at the gas can. “What are you thinking here?”
“I’m thinking I want to go in there and murder him,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “But maybe there’s a better way. Maybe we can kill him without the city thinking it was us.”
Aldrik grunted. “Don’t know why that matters.”
“That’s why you’re not the one in charge,” I said, and took a breath to calm myself as I watched the building.
Cora’s story ran through my mind. I went through violence when I was younger, saw my fair share of blood and wounds, knew men that died in terrible ways—but her story still resonated. Her friend seemed like a good enough person, not the typical scumbag street bastard like me, and he probably didn’t deserve to get caught out in the fire like that. I couldn’t blame her for hating the mafioso after losing her only friend that way.