War(21)

I gave enough respect that those I did business with didn’t take offense or allow hurt feelings to interfere with the work, but I knew others didn’t take such an enlightened approach. I also knew that despite my complete disinterest, many hated me, and probably for good reason. I wasn’t so detached I was unaware of how what was a simple transaction to me might be life or death or the loss of a valued position to another.

So yes, there were people who would revel in my downfall, those who would do anything in their power to see it brought about.

Power, though, was the very question that vexed me.

Because while I had my enemies, none that I could think of had the combination of influence and bravery that it would take to attempt this course of action and bear the risk of both Vasile’s and my own wrath. Such a person or group would have been at the top of my mind, especially after the shooting.

There was only one organization that had the will and resources to attempt such a thing, but unless something had drastically changed, the Syndicate wasn’t after me. Which left a mystery.

I fucking hated mysteries.

“My sources at the police say there’s a bounty on witnesses,” Vasile said.

Without realizing it, I’d looked away, so I looked at him again, his words turning my mind from my own predicament, at least for a moment.

“A bounty? Information or bodies?” I asked.

It could go either way. Someone might be looking for information about the witnesses and what they’d said, a chance to remind them that saying anything further might be detrimental. Others were more aggressive and had no interest in what a witness had said or might say in the future, only concerned with making sure they were silenced permanently.

“Information,” he said.

Uncontrolled, my thoughts immediately went to Milan. Those seeking information were less of a concern, but I knew how this went, knew that bounties could shift in an instant, those “conversations” becoming more unpleasant than was probably intended.

Just as quickly, I pushed those thoughts away. Milan hadn’t gone to the police, at least she hadn’t anytime soon after I’d left. Even if she did, she’d be fine. There was no reason to think she was anything more than a person who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. No one would bother digging too deep into her story.

She would be fine. She would be, and I’d tell myself that as long as it took to believe it.

I shouldn’t have spared her a second thought. Still, she’d been tough in a scary situation and that had earned my admiration, so I wasn’t particularly keen on seeing her suffer. That was the extent of it. At least that was what I told myself.

“Are you going to be involved?” I asked, turning back to the business at hand.

He shook his head. “I’ll pull the men I have looking for you off the street and ask Anton to do the same.”

A huge favor to me. At least I wouldn’t have the added burden of trying to avoid Vasile’s men as I got to the bottom of this.

“So you are business as usual?” I said to Vasile.

“Not entirely. A few more enterprising souls thought yesterday would be a time to cross me,” he said.

“Something I’m sure you will make them regret,” I replied.

He nodded. “Once I’ve made that point, I’m going to take a trip. My wife has never seen the ocean,” he said.

For a split second, I saw a glimpse of the love he felt for his woman, his family, and for an even shorter moment, I envied him.

But both passed, and in the next blink, he was again business. “What will you do?” he asked.

I spared not a single breath’s pause to give my response. “I’m going to find out who’s setting me up, and then I’m going to kill him.”





Twelve





Milan



I thought I might cry with relief when I turned the corner that led to my house, and tears did start to well up when I saw my car parked at the curb, or rather, near the curb since Tiffany had never quite grasped the finer points of parallel parking.

Damn near skipping, I made my way to the front door, key already in hand. I unlocked the door, entered and then engaged the chain after I closed it.

Once I was safely locked inside, I slumped against the door, relieved to finally be home, ready to put this nightmare behind me. My gaze went to the corner where Priest had stood for so many hours, the spot where he had sat, and for a brief moment, I was transported back to last night and this morning, remembering him in my home, remembering his lips brushing against mine.

My body started to respond, the stir low in my belly now having everything to do with the man and nothing to do with fear or nerves. I stayed in that moment, letting myself imagine what it would have been like had we met under different circumstances. Would whatever the draw was between us have existed, or would it have been nothing?