“But you’re not angels, James. None of you are. Johnathan…” she trails off.
“Sophia, I’ve killed a lot of men in my life.” I can feel her stiffen in my arms and the sudden memory of last night comes back to me. What I said to her and her reaction. “In the military and out of it. I don’t and won’t pretend they were all bad, or that they were all criminals. But I do what I have to in order to protect three things. You, my family, and me.”
Pulling away from Sophia, I turn her to face me.
Shaking her head, she has this look of fear of me, of my job, of everything, on her face.
“James, you… you can’t say that and—”
“I killed a man because he was trying to give you GHB at the night club. He had a shit ton of it in his pockets. He’d raped before, and he’d still be raping if I hadn’t ended his little streak of terror,” I tell her and force her to look up into my eyes.
“I’m a bastard, Sophia, literally and figuratively. I kill men because they’re trying to push things into this city that would make my family seem like the Brady Bunch. The Russians want this city badly. It’s a crossroads to so many vices across the nation. If we didn’t control it and they did, it would give them a free reign of terror.”
“I’ve lost a lot of brothers in the fight to protect this city. We’re not superheroes though. We’re the bad men who do what we have to keep this shit somewhat sane,” I explain, then sigh at all the words that are coming out of my mouth.
None of it is penetrating through her sense of what’s right or the common notion that bad is bad.
“Charlie would have been sold to the highest bidder, just like you, Beth, and Amanda. They killed one of your friends and they sold countless women and children across the nation. We stopped that. We stopped Charlie from becoming someone’s sex puppet. We run illegal gambling, racketeering, money laundering, protection, and strip clubs. Simon hates those. And more. Weapons trafficking, private security, assassinations, car chop shops, dive bars, and upscale bars. We own banks, low-income properties, and luxury apartments. Sophia, I own properties here and in Louisiana. My net worth isn’t even—”
“Stop.” Sophia shakes her head at me. “Just stop. You said you were in the military… What did they teach you about all of this… stuff.”
“They didn’t. They taught me to point a rifle at someone and shoot until they stopped moving. I learned from my time overseas that the world isn’t nice. All the people who believe in the black and white of things are wrong. The world is full of shit, Sophia, and you’re either the sheep or the butcher,” I say and cringe at the phrase I used.
Fuck.
She just doesn’t get it and I don’t know how to help her understand what we do.
“James, do you think you’re a good person?” she asks.
My answer is immediate. “No.”
“No? Like you don’t think you’re good and you’re not even going to try to bullshit me on that?” she asks again and she’s staring at me dead in the eyes.
“I’m not a good man, Sophia. I’m a bad man with a very broken moral compass. I don’t go to church. I don’t repent for my sins. And I know where I’ll go when I die,” I say and every one of those words is the full truth.
Incredulously, she asks, “And you want me to be okay with all of that?”
“I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never hurt our children. And I’ll give you revenge,” I say.
With each thing I profess, I see her falling deeper into her own mind.
“You say those things like that’s all there is to life. How would I sleep at night knowing the man beside me is a killer?”
“Like a baby because you know I’m your killer. I’m the one who keeps you safe and keeps our children safe,” I say, and I mean it.
“What happens when you die in some gunfight?” she asks quickly, and I can tell that’s something she’s been thinking about because it just feels like she’s been waiting to ask it.
“You’ll be taken into the fold of the family and protected by them all,” I say.
It’s true. If I happen to die protecting the family, they will make sure she’s given protection and everything she needs.
“What about money? What about our children growing up without a father? What about my needs?” she asks.
“You’re a multi-millionaire already, thanks to me. Money will never be an issue. The men of the family will step up and help with the kids. I know that’s not the best answer, but it is what it is. Your needs? I’ll get a silicone dildo made of myself,” I say with a smirk.