"I don't care about being safe. I care about you coming home."
"I'll come home. I promise."
"How can you promise that?"
"Because I'm not done with you yet. We're forever, remember?"
She looks at me with those green eyes, and I see the fear glimmering in the depths even though she tries so hard to hide it. But underneath the fear, there's trust. She believes in me.
"Forever," she whispers.
I kiss her forehead, then her lips. "I love you, Livvie Viacava."
When I stand and head for the door, her voice slips over my shoulder. "I love you, too, Kingston. And it’s not because you look good in a suit."
I keep walking, the smile on my mouth fucking aching my cheeks. Who knew having a wife could light me up inside.
The meeting is in a nondescript officebuilding in downtown Manhattan. Twenty floors of legitimate businesses, but the Red Tribunal owns the top three. Bronx and Reign flank me as we ride the elevator to the twenty-first floor. This time, they allowed me to bring guests because my brothers helped to neutralize the threat of Roman and his crew.
"Whatever they offer," I say, "we listen. We don't commit to anything."
"And if they threaten Livvie?" Reign asks.
"Then we fucking burn this building down with them in it."
The elevator opens to an expansive reception area that looks like any other corporate office except for the two armed guards and the metal detectors that lead toward a hallway.
We're led to a conference room by a petite brunette where three men in expensive suits are waiting for us.
My skin crawls with impending dread.
"Mr. Viacava," the middle one says. "Please, sit."
None of us move.
His lips pull into a tight line. "Very well. Let's get to the point. Your wife's assignment has been completed."
"She didn't kill me," I say. “So how’s she off the hook?”
"Your death warrant was signed when you failed to kill your target. However, you succeeded in that mission when you eliminated Roman Keane and Agent Rawlings who were selling classified information. Agent Rawlings was your original target. Therefore, we’ve chosen to pardon you at this time."
Agent Rawlings. The masked fucker at the pier was a fucking Fed?
I exchange a look with my brothers and the man continues.
"Your wife is no longer required to fulfill her directive. Consider her debt paid."
"What about our families' obligations to you?"
The man smiles, and it's like watching a viper bare its fangs. "That's more complicated. You see, we know you've accessed certain files of ours. Information that could be… well, let’s just say, problematic if it fell into the wrong hands."
"What are you offering?"
"Continued protection for your operations. Expanded territories. Access to new revenue streams." He slides a folder across the table. "All in exchange for your discretion and full assistance whenever we ask for it."
I don't touch the folder. "What kind of assistance?"
"The kind your family has always excelled at. Problem-solving."
