Page 83 of When Sinners Rise
I nod under him and smile.
EPILOGUE
DANTE AND WREN
It’s fucking cold.
I never did much like the cold.
Blowing out some smoke, I scowl at the words still filling my air space and find a voice I've been holding back. “Sit your ass down before I put it down.”
The guy keeps pacing about this old bar like something’s gonna change his luck – still talking shit and still pissing on my mood. If it was up to me, nothing would be changing his luck anytime soon. I gotta listen, though, apparently. Abel said so. Do whatever Logan says, he said. Yeah, well, Logan fucking Cane said a lot of things about a lot of crap. And yeah, some of it was something about letting this guy – whatever the hell his name is – dictate where we draw the line of girls working across the block borders. Shame of it is, I don’t agree. I know girls, and I know which of the old whores are in control regardless of their pimps. Was Logan’s mother a whore? No. Mine was, and I understood that bitch inside out.
“You gotta get them to back up to where I’m putting them,” he says, grumbling. “Logan agrees and-” I tune the restthe fuck out. Logan says? Screw Logan. What the hell does he know about working the streets and making sure pussy behaves itself? Nothing. He called us here to do that for him, didn’t he? Let’s not even discuss his inability to control the pimps out shooting substances up every goddamn crevice they’ve got. He wants his streets clean, then he can damn well heed a warning and watch me clean.
I stand and crush my smoke into the dirty carpet. “No.”
He looks at me from the corner. “What?”
“I said no. We’ll do it my way, or you can die. Whatever.” He startles at that and backs up a step or two. “And if you’re thinking about reaching for that piece under your jacket, don’t. People have tried before. I still killed them while I was bleeding.” I light another smoke and look around the space at the other guys in here. “You’ll all be long dead before my lungs give in.”
The atmosphere shifts, caused by my attitude, no doubt. I don’t give a fuck. All these assholes could do with someone in their face. I’m it. And unless Kai or Knox are getting their asses here sometime soon, I’m working triple time and not trusting a soul.
I walk to stand in front of the original guy, taking a long, hard look at his thirty-something face. Logan said he’s old school mafia, said something about him being trustworthy. I don’t buy it. All he’s doing is trying to close borders down and keep profits higher on his side of the blocks. “You’re done. Go home to your mama and tell Logan I said he can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m hauling your ass around.”
And then something’s rushing at me from behind.
I turn, grab at a neck, and toss what belongs to it on the ground. A few sharp twists and my knee embeds itself onto the face heaving under me. His jaw cracks as I pull a gun from the side of my boot, aim at dick number two, and move myself somy back’s to a wall. He does the fucking unthinkable and tries rushing me, too.
One shot, aimed at his neck, and he’s on the floor with his hand trying to stem the bleeding.
My head turns for the original guy, barrel aimed. “I've got about one ounce of patience, and most of it's gone.” His hands go straight up in the air as the gurgling carries on beside and under me. “Jesus, are you all dense as fuck?” My head shakes. Even Shaw had more about him than this. In fact, in this goddamn moment, and for the last fuck knows how long, I’ve realised more and more how useful he was at his job. Might even miss his kind of backup and defence. “You running home to mama or are you gonna do as you’re told and behave?” I push down on the face with my whole weight so I can stand again. “’Cause I don’t have time for cunts who think they can out-manoeuvre me. You might as well all be dead if that’s the case.”
“No. I’m onside, Dragon. Whatever you say.” Sneering, I turn back to dick number two on the floor, watching his colour drain away, and let out a shot to put him out of his misery.
Another death on my timesheet.
“That was Logan’s godson,” the guy says.
“God?” I snort, look down at the dead body, and head for the door. “God doesn’t live here anymore. I do. If Logan wants his streets clean, he’ll listen to the way we do it.”
Dirty, cold air hits me as I get outside, and my boots sink into the snow. Part of me smiles at that. My Wrenbird likes the snow. She says it’s like being a child again, like when we were young. I don’t remember any snow, but if she does then I’m down with that memory.
“What’s the plan then?” the guy asks as he comes out behind me. “Where do you want me?” In the Hudson.
I look back at him briefly. “What was your name?”
“Janello. Marco Janello.” Never heard of him.
“Yeah. Whatever. Get that cleaned up inside. The other one’s got a broken jaw and dislocated shoulder. I don’t want to see him again. Tell Logan that.” I light a smoke and look at the cars going by. Yellow cabs weave fast, like they’re gonna kill someone soon. If I’m honest, I fucking love it here. It’s dark, full of my kind of people, and ready for someone like me to introduce myself fully. “And tell him if he’s got a problem with my way of dealing with the trash, he can come talk that through with me himself.” A bunch of working girls walk by, all of them trying their best to hustle their streets. Not with me, though. They know that about me already. Six weeks of me being around has me recognised well. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow night. Don’t do anything dumb until then.”
Walking takes me straight back to fifth and the main reason I agreed to this crap. She’ll be up there, waiting for me after her long day working with wedding bullshit. And if she’s happy to let me be who I am, and I get to have my family back, New York is fine by me. Abel needed me, and I understood that, but I wasn’t doing a damn thing without her agreement. She surprised me with that. She said, and I quote, “You’re not completely you unless you’re with them, Dante.” She was right, despite how much I love her. “I want all of you happy. You don’t touch one single girl, though. Not one.” So, I don’t. Fact is, I don’t want to touch another woman but her. Only her.
I turn onto our street, enter the building we're calling home, and hit the elevators for the penthouse Logan gave us. Mine now. Abel doesn’t want it, and Shaw didn’t have enough seniority for it. Knox? Too damn cynical for anyone to be picking his place of living. He buys his own shit as and when he feels he needs it. As yet, neither he nor his wife are here full time.
The elevator doors open straight into the apartment, and I scan the dark space for Wren. Nothing but silence and more dark spaces greet me. I call her as I’m making my way aroundthe place, then grab a bottle of bourbon from the wet bar. The liquor pours until I’ve got a healthy double and she still hasn’t answered. Voicemail kicks in. I end the call, down my drink, and pour another to try stemming my own anxiety about where the fuck she is.
I don’t like not knowing every move she makes. Never have. But we’ve argued about that some. She says she’s allowed a life; I disagree unless I’m right by her side or know exactly where she is.
