DANNY
* * *
Fuck, this wasn’t part of the plan. No second chances, and taking his lover is a second chance. I’m blaming it on grief. And the fact that I need that marina and Adams in power. Good God, Adams has had more chances than all the men who have wronged me put together. But I need that marina.
I sink back into the chair on the terrace, trying to focus on business and not her. I don’t even know her fucking name. The moment I sat at that card table, I felt eyes on me. It’s not unusual for many eyes to be on me, but this time I didn’t sense fear in a stare. My skin wasn’t cold. It was blazing. I sensed something other than fear. I sensed fascination. And that only fascinated me, more so when I found the source of the stare.
Her.
“Business,” I growl to myself. Perry Adams is trying to worm his way out of my clutches, and something tells me it isn’t because he wants to go legit. And the stupid fuck thought I’d just let this go? I should have shot him across that fucking card table. Probably would have, had something else not got my attention.
Her.
She moved gracefully. She glided. Her legs go on for days and carry her body with a beautiful elegance. Not forced. Not practiced. It was natural and spellbinding. She could have been floating, and it’s ironic since she’s so obviously weighed down by something. Her face, however impassive, radiated a cruel beauty that made me pause what I was doing for a moment and try to absorb it. Forcing my eyes back to the table took an inner strength I’ve never had to call on before. And then Perry’s man fucked up and grabbed her violently, and she didn’t move a whisper. I saw the brutal hold from meters away, saw his fat fingertips puncturing her delicate flesh. She was completely unmoved by it. Untouched and unbothered.
And I know it wasn’t only because her attention was rooted on me. I started that card game knowing I was going to lose. I started knowing what I was going to take when I lost. Perry’s wife. I had men lined up to fetch her from her charity trail in Cambodia, just to help her stupid husband along the path to sense. Things changed the second I saw how he looked at her. Perry’s in love with another woman. The feeling isn’t mutual, that’s very clear from her complete lack of reaction to Perry denying he knew her. Ice princess. Regardless, she’d be useful. A pawn to me. A means to get what I want.
I toast my conclusions on another swig of my drink.
When the door on the terrace slides open, I look up and find Brad. He closes it behind him and joins me, handing me a cigarette. “At the risk of you shooting me, what the fuck?”
I smile, only because Brad is the only man on this planet who I would hesitate to kill. “We need the marina, and I want that twat in power.”
“But the woman? You know the rules, Danny. We don’t deal in anything that clouds our judgment. Drugs and beautiful women cloud our judgment.”
“Only if you develop an attachment or addiction.”
Brad glances at me, not saying anything but saying everything. “So, what now?” he asks.
“Now we watch Adams. No one suddenly decides they want to go legit, especially when they’ve taken my money.” I light the cigarette and pull in a long inhale, staring at the stick as I blow out a cloud of fumes. I need to fucking quit. I can hear Pops in my head warning me. Threatening me with my life. “Watch him while he’s here. We’ll head back to Miami when Adams does. We have the shipment coming in next week to the boatyard. We need to be ready.”
Brad nods, twiddling with his cigarette between his fingers.
“Spit it out,” I prompt, hearing his mind racing.
“It’s been over a week, Danny,” he says tentatively. “The priest is asking about the funeral arrangements.”
The priest. A man of God. A man who is an advocate of the seven commandments. We’re sinners. Not saints. My father wasn’t religious. Part of me wonders if his wishes are a sick goodbye joke. And another part of me wonders if the money he’s churned into the church over the years was his way of gaining absolution for his sins.
“Everything my father wants is listed in his last will and testament. I’ll send it to Father McMahon.”
Brad nods and stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. “Get some sleep, Danny. You look like shit.”
Sleep. What’s that? I haven’t slept properly for six months, passing the night hours watching over my father. He’s not here to watch over anymore. But I’m still not sleeping. I growl under my breath, frustrated by the pang of hurt in my dead heart. That damn man is the only person who can make me feel anything in the muscle that keeps me alive. It beats. Steadily. Always has. But it doesn’t feel.