Tonio made a low sound. He would never understand how the women in his life shopped so frequently. Once a year, he updated his wardrobe and considered that more than enough.
The study was a storm of papers, a half-empty glass, and the thick smell of whiskey and cigars. Luc dropped into his chair, motioning for Tonio to sit. “We’ve got a problem.”
Tonio dropped into the open chair, hands folded in a relaxed manner, eyes steady, though a tightness coiled in his chest. Every “problem” like this carried weight and came with blood. “Tell me,” he said quietly.
“Our senator is compromised,” Luc began, low and even. “An affair from his early days produced a daughter. The mother was paid to disappear, and she did. The daughter is now grown, digging into the past and asking questions that could ruin him.”
“Fuck,” Tonio said.
Luc sighed. “If this surfaces, it doesn’t just end his career. It ends his marriage, connections, and his presidential bid. It ends him and our connection in the Senate.”
Luc’s eyes locked on Tonio, leaving no room for doubt. “His downfall would be a complication for us, I would prefer to avoid. He isn’t just a friendly vote on the port authority. He chairs the intelligence committee. He buries FBI field reports that would expose our operations. More than that, he’s one of our key early-warning systems. The moment a federal task force whispers our name, he is the first call.”
Luc leaned back in his chair. “Our job is to keep him clean. His job is to keep us in business. Simple.”
Tonio rolled the glass in his hand, watching the ice melt. “And what exactly does he want?”
Luc’s jaw tightened. “For us to handle it. Quietly. Permanently.”
The words hung between them like a noose.
A coldness whispered through his senses. Tonio’s internal code was clear: women and children were a line he’d promised himself he’d never cross. Yet here it was again, a life dangled like a test of loyalty.
Tonio’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t touch women. Or kids.”
“I’m not asking you to kill her,” Luc said. “Just… steer her off. Find out what she wants—money, answers. Be generous enough that she leaves willingly. If she doesn’t, make her want to leave.”
“You mean scare her.”Be merciless enough that she would run and never look at the senator again.Tonio emptied his whiskey glass, letting the burn slide down his throat. “We’ve done a lot of things,” he said, low, “but we’ve never crossed that line.”
Luc’s silence was its own answer.
“You’re asking me to cross it,” Tonio said, his voice rough. “Once I do, I don’t come back from it.”
Luc watched him, fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the desk. No apology in his face, only that familiar calculation—cold, precise, yet restrained in a way Tonio knew. He’d seen Luc make decisions with deadly clarity before, but this time… something held him back. Maybe it was his wife or the knowledge that he was struggling with his morality.
“Get the job done without taking her life. We have used intimidation many times before.”
Tonio let out a short, humorless laugh. “What do you know about this woman to presume she will just walk away?”
“Everyone has a price,” Luc said. “You know this better than I do.”
Tonio’s jaw worked. He was skilled at identifying people’s price points and bottom lines as an enforcer. Finding hers and using it against her was cleaner than the alternative—but still rubbed him the wrong way.
Luc studied him. “I know this isn’t your usual thing. But the senator’s been good to us. He’s calling in a favor.”
Tonio said nothing, and the silence stretched thick between them.
Luc took a long drink. “If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone else.”
Tonio’s stare didn’t move, but a slight shift passed across his face. He already knew the
kind of man Luc would send instead. Another enforcer, perhaps one without Tonio’s compassion toward women and children.
Tonio drained the rest of his drink, setting the glass down hard. “I’ll handle it.”
Luc nodded. “I knew you would.”
Blackwater Falls,Utah, was too quiet, too clean—not the kind of place Tonio ever pictured himself. Porches, people waving hello, everyone knowing the mailman by name. It was a far cry from New York’s alleys and high-rises, where silence usually meant trouble. But he could blend in anywhere.
