A warning—no, a promise to the Mafia.
“Gwen, Ray killed his mother,” James said softly. It was the gentlest he had been the last few weeks—to anyone. She lookedover at him, her blue eyes scanning him, and her lips thinned before she nodded. There wasn’t concrete proof of that yet, but it was a gut feeling.
She had been playing devil’s advocate for the last week, and before her, Dean was. However, the baseball player knew the only way to get things done was with force. The further we went down this road of darkness, the more of the monster I saw in him. No doubt he was a force to be reckoned with during those years with Romano.
“Collin isn’t just his hitman anymore. One of the Yankee players told me he came by the stadium to check the funds, the bets. Ray was training him to run the damn operation. Tony never wanted to be on the business side of things,” Dean explained. “He wanted to be on the field.”
The mafia was using players like damn chess pieces, and you could either comply, or…
“Tony Romano wanted to play the game, and Kevin Matthews wanted nothing to do with it,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes at the end of her sentence.
She shifted in her seat, tucking her feet underneath her, cradling her cup of coffee to her chest as she looked out the window. For a moment, a brief moment, I saw the old Gwen. The girl who was full of life and love, the girl who dragged Kay and Haley all over this city to create memories, the girl whose laugh was so damn contagious, she could have the whole bar room laughing. The woman in front of me isn’t that girl anymore.
I put my hands on the back of my head and looked to the floor.
This was so fucked.
“The Romanos stole everything from us,” I whispered, and the already-silent room slipped into a deep spell of heartbreak.No one spoke for a long time, all of us lost in our own thoughts, fighting our own demons.
Blame.
Guilt.
Rage.
Hate.
Pain.
Haley’s kidnapping was my fault, there was no doubting that. Doubting that would make me a lesser, weaker man. I was the one who pushed her to go after Collin after finding that file. My rage took control, and I—
My eyes fell closed as memories of us flying down the interstate flooded my mind, flashing behind my eyelids. Then, it shifted to memories of me picking on my sister when she baked for the crew. She made the best peach pie.
Would I be able to move on from this when they were home safe?
I already knew the answer if they didn’t. My punishment, my judgement awaited me.
Death awaited me.
My eyes snapped up to the unhinged agent at the sound of his movement. He looked nothing like the James I had grown accustomed to. He stood in black slacks, an unbuttoned black shirt, and his gun holster on his shoulders. His white undershirt was stained with blood, caused by our run earlier, his face had the makings of a beard coming in, and his hair hung limp on his forehead. That was Tipponi’s blood, spilled all over James’ apartment.
Did he get the answers we needed? Yes.
Did we have to kill the man? No, but fuck, was it fun.
None of us were the same people we were five years ago, and for normal people, that would be okay, but we weren’t normal people. This wasn’t a normal life with white picket fences andnine to five jobs. This was the world of twisted baseball run by the fucking mafia, and we were the infected, the darkness they spread running through our veins.
Contaminated.
Incurable.
“And we don’t stop until we find what was stolen from us,” James said, warmth absent from his voice.
Present Day. St. Louis Field Office.
“Casey!”
My honey girl jumped at the snap in James’ voice. Clenching my jaw, I twisted my neck to glare at him. He stood at the doorway of the interrogation room, his eyes wild with rage.
