Chapter One
Fifteen Years Ago
Awesome. Another back alley.
There were only a handful of activities that regularlyoccurred in the darkened backstreets of downtown DC and none of them wereappropriate for a ten-year-old girl.
I knew that well, since I had witnessed my fair shareof seedy behavior from this city. But that had never stopped my pops fromdragging me along with him to all of his work dealings.
“Keep up, Caro,” he snapped when his crew came intosight.
The morning sun didn’t reach this alley, and the coolair pulled the hair to standing on mybarearms. “Ishould be in school, Dad. I have a science test today.”
He glanced quickly over his shoulder at me, hisexpression only marginally apologetic. “I called them this morning. Told themyou had strep.”
Anger burned beneath my skin, turning my face red withfrustrated emotion. I ducked my head and let my short bob fall over my cheeks.
“Relax. It’s a free day off school. You should bethanking me. When I was a kid I would have killed for my old man to call in forme. Thetest’llbe there tomorrow.”
“That’s not the point. I don’t care that I’m notthere. I don’t want to behere.”
He grunted.“Yeah?Then youshouldn’t be so good at what you do.”
I stopped walking and ground to a halt. He was blamingthis on me?Me?I didn’t even knowwhat to say. The words and arguments and furious thoughts I wanted to throw athim tangled on my dry tongue, a retort-worthy traffic jam.
Sensing that I wasn’t following him, he turned aroundand walked the few steps back to me. He shot a glance to the cluster of menhovering between a rusted metal door and an oozing dumpster.
“Come on, Caro, I’m just kidding,” he insisted, eventhough we both knew he was not. “This is a favor to Roman, all right? There’sthis truck. The cargo is… worth our time, yeah?”
I lifted my chin defiantly. “I thought you didn’t dothis stuff anymore. I thought you got promoted.”
His bulbous nose turned red. “I did get promoted. Thisis a one-time thing. They need me. And I need you.”
My dad, Leon Valero, had recently been bumped up from highlevel lackey to bookie. He worked for brothers that ran an organized crimesyndicate in the underbelly of Washington, DC. They weren’t the biggest outfitor the most infamous, but over the years they’d developed a reputation thatheld weight.
My dad had worked for them way longer than I had beenalive. Bookie was supposed to be a better job than whatever he was doingbefore. Bookmaker meant more respect in the organization, a bigger cut of thepaycheck. He took bets on anything you could take bets on and paid out winnersand beat the crap out of you if you couldn’t settle your debt.
This promotion was supposed to mean more stability forme. He wouldn’t be gone as much. He’d make more money. He wouldn’t need me forjobs anymore.
Promises, promises.
“Look,” Dad coaxed. “Frankie’s here.”
I glared over at the only other girl my age I wasallowed to play with. Her long hair was somehow darker than mine, and I hadalways considered mine black. Hers was more like ink. Or oil. Today she hid itbeneath a hat. “That’s‘causeFrankie will do whatever it takes to prove she’s not a princess.”
My dad ignored my comment. He knew I was right. Butthe problem was shewasa princess.At least as far as the two of us were concerned.
“We need you, Caro.” His voice dropped when hecontinued. “Frankie and Gusain’tgot half the set ofballs you do. This can’t happen without you.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to glare at the ivy clusteredbrick wall that lined the alley but something else captured my attentioninstead. Not really something, but someone. Someone new.
I could recognize all the usual players. They were guysmy dad and his bosses trusted. Most of them were grown-ups that I was supposedto call uncle. As if making them part of our already dysfunctional familysomehow made them better humans. They were low-level goons at best—murderers,criminals and drug dealers at worst. But I went along with the lie. UncleBrick. Uncle Vinny. Uncle Fat Jack. My life was a cautionary tale.
Then there were the kids. Frankie was the only othergirl I really knew. There were girls at school, but none of them paid attentionto me. I was the poor, tragic outcast that cut her hair short because shedidn’t have a mom around to teach her how to braid it or hell, put it insomething as simple as a ponytail. Frankie and I were close for that reason. Itwasn’t easy being raised by this pack of animals. But she didn’t go to myschool. She went to some swanky private school that made her wear skirts and knee-highsocks every day. As the orphan niece of the three brothers that ran thesyndicate, she was basically royalty as far as I was concerned, and way higherup on the food chain.
Then there were Atticus and Augustus—known as Gus—brothersand sons of thederzhatelobschaka,the bookkeeper, OzzieUsenko.He held one of the highest positions in thebratva. Even though the brothersweren’t much older than me, they were already in training to be regular, paid membersof the crew.
Especially Atticus, even though he’d just turnedsixteen. He was born for the life. I saw the hunger in his eyes every time we wereallowed to be part of a job. He wanted this. He wanted to be one of thesoldiers.
