When the boss calls to demand an audience with you, you don't turn him down. Uncle Sal asked to meet Riley, and so I had no choice but to comply with his request. He's got honest questions and I can't blame him for needing answers. If a quarter of his infrastructure depends on a single soul, he has every right to meet her.
"So this is the one," Sal says, unbothered by the way Riley stares out the window ignoring us both. I can see the tension laced through her body. She's not comfortable but there's nothing I can do to help her ease up at all. Sal's a tough guy, and she knows that he's the boss. She probably has all sorts of imaginations flitting around her head about Mafia bosses and how they treat people, and most of them would be right. But Sal does have a soft spot for family like me. She's safe as long as she keeps her rebellious trap shut.
Riley's gaze flicks to him, then back to the window, but she doesn't answer him.
"She doesn't talk much," he continues, looking at me now. "That's good. Shows discipline."
"She talks when she needs to," I say, and I feel slightly annoyed that Riley's chosen her stubborn silent treatment for just this moment. She's even rolled her eyes at me a few times.
"And she's cracked the cypher?" he asks, which makes me squirm. She's almost cracked it, not entirely, but she will. I'm confident of it.
"Yes."
Sal nods slowly, drumming his fingers against his knee. "You've acquired a valuable asset, Rafe."
His words put me in my place and remind me exactly what we're doing here. Sal knows me, maybe better than my own father did before he died. Riley's a good-looking woman. If Sal can see the chemistry between us even while Riley is frozen solid in her stoic, speechless state, anyone who sees us together will be able to. It's why he's reminding me not to get attached by using words like "asset" so I'll keep the right perspective.
The truth is, I've been thinking about her more than I should. Ever since that night when I had her against the wall, when her defiance turned into heat and I felt her body respond to mine, I haven't been able to stop. She infuriates me. She challenges me. She says things no one else would dare say, and instead of making me want to get rid of her, it makes me want to keep her close.
I don't trust her.
I know the moment this is over and she thinks she's free, she'll run straight to the authorities and tell them everything. It's whySal calls her an asset. Assets get burned when they are used up and no longer useful. They're discarded like material goods.
But when I think that way about Riley, something inside my chest twists uncomfortably. I don't like the way it makes me feel to think of discarding her at the end of this, and I don't know why. I've done it with dozens of people before her, albeit most of them men. But in this situation, I've let my guard down and I actually fucking care for some reason what happens to her when Lombardi's ledgers are restored and the end of year audit is done.
The SUV turns off the main road and heads toward the old airstrip on the outskirts of the city. The pavement is cracked and overgrown with weeds, and the hangar in the distance looks abandoned. This is neutral ground, a place where deals get made and blood gets spilled in equal measure.
We're meeting here today to see about getting those ledger sheets back, maybe in a trade for things Riley has worked out, like the fact that the journal in her back seat that held all of his ledger sheets didn't just hold them for the Ferrettis. I have access to records from other families now too. That revelation helped simmer some of the suspicion about the Feds and what their seized sheets may hold. The heat isn't off me, but it's not as bad as we once thought. They could have stuff on Caruso, whom I see in the distance as the SUV bobbles over potholes.
"Stay close to me," I tell Riley. "Don't say anything unless you're spoken to. And if things go bad, you get behind me and you stay there. Understood?"
Her eyes are wide as she nods, and I watch her throat work before she says, "Understood." She’s right to be nervous. This could end up going pear-shaped real fast, and I'm not sure howCaruso will take things when he finds out what Lombardi had up his sleeve.
The SUV rolls to a stop near the hangar, and Feodor kills the engine. The second vehicle pulls up beside us, and my men climb out with their hands resting on guns holstered at their hips. Uncle Sal opens his door and steps out, and I follow, reaching back to help Riley out of the SUV.
Her hand is cold in mine, and I feel the tremor in her fingers before she pulls away.
Enzo is already waiting. He stands near the hangar entrance, his wiry frame wrapped in a dark coat. His hair blows in the stiff breeze that makes it feel all that much colder. Three of his men flank him, and I count two more in the shadows of the hangar. All of them look ready to start a war while we're here hoping to talk peace. I don't like the feeling I'm getting in my gut.
Sal walks forward to speak with him but I remain a few strides back, keeping Riley tucked behind me. She's here to offer specific insights into Enzo's family's finances if requested to prove to him that we have the very things we've told him we have. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, bringing her here, but sometimes things don't go the way you want.
"Salvatore," Enzo says, but his voice sounds menacing. It's like he's mocking us already. "Good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same," Sal replies. "You said you had something for us."
"I do. But first, we talk terms."
"We agreed on terms. You bring the ledger pages. We pay you…"
Enzo's mouth curves into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Plans change."
I feel my jaw tighten. This was always a risk. Enzo isn't the type to honor agreements. He's opportunistic, always looking for an angle, always trying to leverage his position into something bigger.
"What do you want?" Sal asks.
"Access to the docks. Fifteen percent of your pharmaceutical distribution. And immunity from retaliation for the next six months." The sinister way he eyes me as he flicks a few fingers in the air at his men makes me on edge. I watch them move closer, but no one pulls a weapon yet.
"No." Sal can't do anything but refuse outright. No way in hell we'll ever give the Caruso family that much of our profit. It doesn’t matter if he has dirt on us. That'd be like exposing our throats to their blade.
