An elderly woman, by the name of Gladys, had her funeral yesterday. It was the newest gravesite in this tiny, overgrown cemetery. Which made digging up the soft soil, and then refilling the hole, a little easier.
Murphy didn’t stand a chance after what he had done. Right after he was released from the hospital, he was stuffed into an awaiting trunk and dealt with.
Antonio had grown tired of the Irishman’s games with me and put a stop to it, reminding me he looked after his own. But I didn't care. I couldn’t give a shit about Murphy living or dying, or where he was buried. Maybe if my heart wasn’t so broken, and my brain wasn’t on the brink of losing it, I might’ve been a little more sensitive to my arch nemesis’s demise.
I knew Antonio liked killing two birds with one stone, which was why I was at a cemetery at 7 AM on a Sunday. Murphy's burial was a perfect opportunity for a small meeting too. I just wished he had done it while the grave was being refilled instead of making me wait.
I didn't want to be there. I needed to be with her.
She was so far gone when I laid her on the gurney. I wasn’t even sure she was breathing when they rushed her down the corridor.
It had been 15 hours since I last held her. 14 hours since I realized I couldn’t sit in the gutter outside of a hospital, in a T-shirt covered in blood as the sunset. Her blood had seeped through onto my skin, smeared across the Medusa tattoo. There had been so much of it on me and my shirt, and even more across the back seat of my car, that I gave up removing it on the third rinse in the restroom basin. I washed my skin, pulled on a hoodie I found in the trunk beside a cash counter and an empty gasoline can, and binned the shirt altogether.
My fists flexed inside my pockets, stretching the faint cuts on my knuckles as I thought about Aiden. It had taken everything in me not to finish what I started. The low-life didn’t deserve the air he was breathing through that fucking tube.
When the last of the dirt was patted down with their boots and spades, Antonio’s men left with only a nod to the boss as a form of goodbye. One he returned before he slowly made his way over to where I stood beside Gladys’s husband’s grave.
Vince excused himself, saying something about waiting in the car.
For a moment we stood in silence as the sun slowly rose. Its orange haze was glaringly bright. I chose to look down instead.
“Why am I here, boss?”
He breathed in with content, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sun. His white hair was a stark contrast to his black suit. “I thought you’d want to be here when it happened. For closure.”
My eyes narrowed on him slightly. “This isn’t like what happened with my dad. I never asked you to do this... I don’t owe you anythin’.”
“I know.” He smiled pleasantly and then looked down at the soil. Toeing a clump of dirt that hadn’t broken apart. “This was more for my peace of mind. As I said earlier—”
“Weed the problem out at the roots,” I drawled tiredly, looking back at the headstone.
“So you were listening.”
I inhaled sharply, jaw tight. “Can I go?”
“Not yet.” He paused for a moment to look out at the city, like a king surveying his kingdom. “It wasn’t me who ordered The Den to be burned.”
I remained indifferent. Unreadable. “Okay...”
“I have reason to believe it wasn’t a business threat but something personal.” Another sidelong glance but this time his smile had gone. Replaced by that all-knowing look.
Only three people were willing to risk a personal attack like that, at least that's what Antonio believed. But even if it hadn’t been them who started the fire, their timing couldn’t have been better.
I looked ahead. “You think they’re back?”
He took a deep breath and let it settle as he stood his cane in front of him. It was the first time in a long time I had seen him nervous. His anxiety was subtle but there.
“I’m afraid so. Clearly, they want to make it known too.” He raised his brow with subtle amusement, examining the golden eagle head on his cane as it glinted in the sunlight. “This stays between you and me. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing we’ve talked about them. It would only go to their heads.”
“Why are you tellin’ me this?”
“You’re the son I never had. I trust you.” His smile was cunning and I knew Antonio was planning something but wasn’t about to reveal all his cards just yet.
“Right.” I scoffed quietly, rolling my tongue over my teeth as I shook my head slowly in disbelief. Once again, I found myself getting dragged back into one of his games.
I glanced at the skyline, tilting my head back as the sun finally rose above the tallest of buildings.
“She’ll be okay, Dean.”
