“So,howdoyouwant to handle old man Dimakos?” Tore called out from his study while I wiped my back and neck dry in the en suite bathroom.
“When we get him, hand him over to the capos,” Vinny said. “With the number of men we’ve lost because of him, they’ll each want a limb.”
“The question’s not what we do with him, but how we get him. The man’s more slippery than an eel. Years of hide-and-seek. Barely anyone sees him in public these days.”
I, too, had some grievances to work out with Dimakos. Blood spilled was blood owed, and I’d bled my fair share because of him.
I slipped on a clean black shirt. The fabric rubbed against several scars—most received while behind bars. The worst included a long slash over my shoulder that itched from time to time, courtesy of Giambrone’s men, and a scraggly stab wound that still ached after overexertion by Dimakos’ men. Both had landed me in the hospital.
“We go through his son,” I said.
“You jealous he stole your bride?”
“Hardly. He’ll just be the fish we use to reel Ilias in.”
“If we can find them.”
I sprayed on some cologne, grabbed a small towel, and opened the door. “If we can’t track Dimakos directly, try going through Michaela. Seven years ago, she was close with her twin brother and younger sister. I doubt that’s changed. She won’t go long without reaching out to them.”
Tore clicked his tongue. “That’s why you’re the boss.”
“I think both of you are forgetting the most pressing matter,” Vinny said, his leg kicked up over his knee, fingers crossed.
I hadn’t. Ainsley never left my mind. During my years in prison, her letters were my lifeline. Her words were my voice of reason when the going got rough. She kept me grounded when I felt on the edge of losing who I used to be. She kept me company when I was alone, surrounded by people with little to no honor or loyalty. She’d been my constant companion, the friend I didn’t know I needed until she’d become an essential part of me. We’d been more than friends, yet not, but that was when we’d been worlds apart.
I picked up a framed photo of Tore, Ainsley, and the kids from their trip to the Polynesian Islands two years ago. Her smile lit up the photograph—full of life and possibilities.
I’d resolved to let her go once I got out. She deserved better. She was young, smart, and driven, the kind of person I could only ruin and taint. I’d been nearly twice her age when we first met. I almost became a father figure to her. And now I’d fucked her, and myself, because I wanted seconds and thirds. I wanted everything she had to give, but she wasn’t my woman. She could never be my woman.
“I want to look at other candidates.”
“Renzo, we’re limited on time, and you need this contained,” Vinny said. “She’s the one.”
“Just let us do the talking, cugi. We’ll get this sorted out between you two. You won’t even have to talk to each other after today if you don’t want to.”
“What exactly are you getting at?” I asked Tore, toweling my hair.
“We all know you two can’t get along. Doesn’t seem like seven years of distance helped that much.”
If only he knew the truth. I thought about her too much. I knew her too well.
I tossed the towel at his head, enjoying his muffled grunt, before he passed it on to Vinny. He casually swatted it to the floor, not looking up from his phone.
“That was years ago. Things change.”
“Well, Anzy knows how to hold grudges better than you do, so I doubt it. It’s going to be hard enough getting her to say yes without you opening your mouth.”
“If I wanted this, I’d get her to agree easily.”
“I feel a bet coming along.” Tore rubbed his hands together.
“Weren’t you refusing just minutes ago?” Vinny casually asked me.
“I’m not agreeing either.”
“Agreeing to what?” My head snapped toward her voice. Ainsley stood in the opened doorway to Tore’s study.
Instead of the earlier scrubs, she wore the same baggy pants and tight tank from this morning. That top hugged her breasts like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. I’d seen everything she had, yet it teased me with the desire for another look.
