Falling for the Killer

I left my men behind. I didn’t want to risk any of them making a mistake. Stefano fought me on that point and insisted on coming, but I refused to tell him the meeting location and left before he could do anything about it. He was a loyal guy and smart, but I couldn’t risk this, not for anything.

I approached the Gazebo with Ash on my arm. Colm wore khaki slacks, a simple hunter green sweater, and a gray baseball cap pulled down low. He sucked on a dark cigar, so dark it was almost black, the cherry end casting long shadow across his face. He had a long nose and a square jaw, and was a tall man, fit and athletic. He tilted his chin up and squinted at me, and I caught sight of green eyes beneath the brim of his unadorned gray ballcap.

“You showed up,” Colm said.

“You did too.” I stepped beneath the gazebo’s roof. Ash hesitated, but decided she’d rather get out of the rain than keep her distance.

“Sit,” Colm said. “Cigar?”

“No, thank you.” I sat on the bench across from him.

He looked at Ash, head tilted to the side. “So it’s true then,” he said and laughed. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t totally believe it. Daughter of the Adamson family, slumming it with some Valentino Capo, no offense, Gian.”

“None taken,” I said and took Ash’s hand, drawing her down to sit next to me. “Frankly, I’m just as surprised as you.”

Colm chuckled then pulled on his cigar. Smoke wafted around his face like a halo. “If that weren’t bad enough, you killed a few of my boys.”

“Only because they tried to kill me first,” I said. “And tried to kidnap Ash.”

“Ah, well, that.” Colm gestured with his cigar. “You’re quite in demand, young lady.”

“So I’m told,” she said and I could tell she was struggling to keep herself under control.

Colm had a presence. I hated to admit it but the man had a weight to him, almost an outsized glow. Being around him was like sitting at the base of a massive cliff, or at the edge of the Grand Canyon: the threat of violence or something terrible was always there, hovering in the air like fireflies, winking on and off.

“What can I do for you, Gian?” Colm asked. “I assume you didn’t come here to share a cigar, although they are quite good. Not Cuban, I’m afraid. Those are illegal.” He grinned, showing teeth.

“I want to discuss a truce,” I said. “A lasting peace.”

“Interesting.” Colm flicked his cigar. The ash dropped beside his shoes. “Why would you want that? I haven’t had much luck taking your territory. Although, let’s be honest, I haven’t tried too hard yet.”

I held his gaze for a few seconds and composed myself. I’d thought about what I’d say to that question ever since asking the Don for this meeting, and it wasn’t until this moment that I decided. I looked at Ash then and took her hand suddenly, holding it tight in both of mine. Colm’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he still said nothing.

“Ash is pregnant with my child,” I said.

Her eyes went wide with shock. I held her hands tight, trying to make her feel that I had this under control, that I was making a calculated decision. I could lie to Colm, but that wouldn’t get me what I wanted. I needed him to understand that this was about more than pride, more than the streets.

This was about family and revenge.

Two things he understood well.

“Congratulations then,” Colm said. “There’s nothing more important than a man and his children.”

“I agree,” I said. “Which is why I’m here. I want to kill Stuart Plight, and I want your help doing it.”

Ash pulled away from me. I hadn’t told her this part of the conversation because I knew how she’d react. I refused to look at her, refused to give Colm the satisfaction of seeing that little drama play out, but amusement sketched across his face as he smoked his cigar, puffing on it thoughtfully.

“That isn’t a simple request,” Colm said. “Stuart’s been quite good to the family.”

“I’m sure he has,” I said. “But I’m here to negotiate for his life.”

“And what would that get you?” Colm asked, leaning toward me. “You kill the Plight boy, and then what? You have a second rich family that hates you guts.”

It was my turn to smirk at him. I leaned in, staring into his eyes.

“I want the bastards to know that money can’t save them,” I said and let that hang in the air between us.

Colm laughed. He seemed genuinely delighted as he puffed away. “You think you kill Plight and that’ll scare the Adamson family, is that your play?”

“That’s the idea,” I said. “I want your backing on this. I know he’s involved with your family. I suspect he’s bankrolling what you’ve been up to lately.”