We found him at the top level of the dirty house, sitting on a moth eaten couch.
My heart rate spiked as I breathed in his fear. It was palpable.
“I know you were not expecting a visit, but your recent behavior has certainly warranted one.” My father liked to use a grandiose tone when he was punishing people. One that let them know exactly where his authority lay. It was somewhat juvenile, but we all had our things. He grabbed a chair and took a seat. The man liked to watch the bloodshed, but he was never one for getting his hands dirty. Unless the mood struck.
Me, I wanted to spill some blood. I had very little tolerance for traitors. It was one thing to want out, it was another entirely to switch sides.
“Not every day two major made men and their sons showed up at your door. Not to mention the fact that the men in question ran the fucking mob you were running your mouth about.” Michael’s words seethed, the true power of a second in command. “Who were you talking to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Already with the denials. I could see it in his face. He was lying.
“Do you really want to go down that road and play that game?” I asked as I shoved him against the wall. I pulled out an intricate dagger, one I used for all these little jobs. It had served me well over the years. I held it up to his cheekbone.
It would spill blood and leave a nasty scar, but it wouldn’t do much damage there. It was my calling card. I dug into the flesh and watched as a slow trickle of blood fell from the cut and turned into a flow.
“What the fuck?” the guy asked.
“That’s just for wasting my fucking time. J. Hold him down.” Janson was my right hand. The man was perfectly suited to me.
“You answer the big man’s questions or I’ll dig into that skin of yours. And I really wanna leave a trail of blood.” Torture. Interrogation. It was all the same to me.
“Why did you think leaving was a good idea, Jordy?” Michael asked. He was going to draw it out.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” Jordy answered, his eyes wide. “I would never leave the family.”
“I was hoping he’d say that.” I traced a line down that cheek along his jaw leaving a trail of blood in its wake. It was barely there. Just surface. Nothing that was going to kill him.
But it did hurt.
“Keep lying and I go from drawing pretty lines in your flesh to cutting off fingers.” I grinned at him and Janson pushed him harder against the wall.
“I got approached.”
“By who?” Michael asked.
“I, I don’t know his name. He just approached me, said he knew what I did. Who I was. That he had an offer for me.” The asshole was sincere. He wasn’t lying. Dammit. I wanted to sink my knife into something more substantial.
I bit back a growl.
“Then what?” Michael crossed his arms, and I looked back at my father. He was pleased. I could tell by the look on his face. I was back to doing what he wanted. I was thriving in the world that he had created, not fighting it.
“I never met anyone who was as important. Never knew their names, but I knew the family they worked for. They wanted information.”
“What family?” I asked. I knew it wasn’t my place, but I didn’t care. I wanted a reason, any reason.
I could see him hesitating. If he named the family he was dead, but if he didn’t he was dead. It was an impossible situation. The only thing he could do was choose the time. Now, or later.
I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was choosing later.
“O’Brien.” I paled as he said it. It was not a name I wanted to hear, and I could tell by the look on my father’s face that any enjoyment of the situation was gone.
He just nodded at me.
I knew what needed to be done. I didn’t hesitate because I wanted to, I did it because of the face I saw in my mind. The one that would run if she knew what I was about to do.
Joanna.
I slit his throat in one quick motion then turned away from him, not bothering to look, not wanting to enjoy what happened next.
It was quick, at least there was that.
“Now what?” I asked as I cleaned my blade on a rag and placed it back into my belt.
“We talk about the options.”
Joanna
I stared at the phone just waiting for him to call, text, something. But he didn’t. It was all radio silence from Greyson Fitzgerald. Would he even acknowledge it?
Of course he would, why wouldn’t he? He’d always answered my questions, listened to me, talked about the things that were bothering me. It had never been a problem before.
I looked through my phone to find a lone text, from Claire, the woman from the party.
Hey, got your number from a friend. Want to do lunch?-Claire
Sure. When? I answered. She knew Greyson, knew him from before. I needed to know exactly what I was getting into. I was curious. I needed to talk to someone, but it couldn’t be Claire. She wasn’t the type of person I could trust.
No, I needed to get in touch with the only person who knew me. Except I hadn’t told her jack-shit about what was happening to me lately. She was going to be pissed. Probably threaten to beat my ass.
That was just like Willa.
I pressed her name on the contact list and waited for the phone to start ringing. Willa and I had been friends since middle school. It was a classic situation I was being bullied, she saved me from the bully. We were inseparable from then until the end of college when she went off and got a job in the city and I stayed behind to “find myself”. We talked all the time and got together, but it wasn’t unreasonable for either of us to go days or weeks without a chat.
“What’s up, lady?” she asked her voice cheerful as she answered.
“Quite a lot, actually. How much do you want to hear?” I answered, smiling. Her cheery disposition always lifted me up a little higher.
“I’m just getting out of work now, wanna meet up at The Hive for coffee?” It was her favorite diner, a fifties style place that served all the usual fare and locally roasted coffee.
“Actually, I’m not in Glen Burnie. I’m in Federal Hill.”
“What are you doing there?” I knew she lived in Fells Point, just a few blocks away but this whole time I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about any of this. It just seemed too surreal. I kept thinking that I was going to wake up from a dream and I would be in my little apartment with my books and my life. But it wasn’t a dream. It was real, and it wasn’t going to just disappear.
“It’s a long story?” I said.
“Meet me at Down by the Tea Shore.” It was a ritzy little tea and coffee shop with astronomical prices.
“Oh, sure,” it didn’t seem like Willa, but I didn’t question it. I needed to talk to her, now.
It didn’t take long to get there, and as soon as I walked in I saw her seated, a book in her hand. It was simple and quiet and pretty. Now I understood. Willa loved quiet places where she could read.
“So, what is this long story you’ve been hiding from me?” she asked. “Don’t worry about the tea, I already ordered your favorite, chai.”
“I love a girl who gets me,” I said as I slunk down into the chair beside her. I had a lot to tell her and it was going to be a long one.
***
“Wait, so you’re telling me that you are marrying a billionaire crime boss who just happens to be hot as hell?” she asked. I’d unloaded everything, left nothing back. Well, except for the steamy details. She scowled at me, but I promised to tell her more later.
“He’s not a billionaire, his father is, but probably a millionaire, I don’t know his net worth,” I scowled as she waved me away.
“Whatever, same difference. He’ll be a billionaire eventually.” She crossed her legs then uncrossed them then slammed her hands down. “Jesus, Jo. This is a huge freaking bomb on my head.”
I swallowed.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Well, it all just kind of happened.” I sipped my tea and looked around. This was the kind of place I usually felt totally out of touch with. Hipsters with their tight pants and thick glasses, business men and women sitting down for a cup of coffee after work. Hell, I imagined even upscale people came in. It wasn’t for me.
“Oh, Joanna, I thought that was you, I saw you from the window and just had to come in.” Claire’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
I turned in my seat to see her waving at me a small bag in her hand.
“Oh, don’t peak in the bag, it’s part of your bridal shower gift. I thought I would shop myself instead of sending someone.” She grinned. “A low key surprise wedding! You could’ve told me at the dinner, I hated making a fool of myself.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“The bridal shower invitations came this morning, special delivery. Wedding invitations to follow. I assume you’ve hired Mary Fitzgerald to do all the work? She runs the prettiest little florist shop down in Fells, but her real talent lies with wedding planning. It makes perfect sense.”
“I-” I stammered.
“What Joanna means to say is, ‘Hi, this is my best friend in all the world, Willa.’ She’s just a bit of a forgetful bridezilla these days,” Willa extended a hand.
“Ooh, I like you.”