They will still know I outlived the other Chicago-based organizations. Maybe that will be enough for Rinaldo to get what he wants. It shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. I’m not in this for myself; I’m in it so Rinaldo can win. I’m not even supposed to be involved anymore.
“This is supposed to be my fucking retirement,” I mutter under my breath.
“Mine, too,” Stark says with a humorless laugh.
“Oh yeah?” I shift my head lower to rest it on the snow and sigh again. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Killing your ass is the plan.”
I roll my eyes. In my opinion, the whole banter thing these tournament veterans find so entertaining is simply tedious. They are all so casual about it, but the puffing is annoying and pointless. It makes them sound like characters out of a Marvel comic, and I’d never enjoyed those for the same reason. All those elaborate plans and plots the villains would conjure up just to have the heroes escape at the last minute in some ridiculous way.
I tend to go with the straightforward approach—aim and shoot.
“I’ve heard that before,” I say. “Everyone who ever said it is floating in the Chicago river.”
“Everyone I’ve ever said it to is six feet under.”
I look at him and try to gauge his expression. Though the words are cocky, I don’t see the same cockiness in his face. He’s just stating facts, not bragging. He’s got history on his side as well. He’s out of practice, thou
gh, and skills do fade.
“So I’ve heard,” I say, “but you’ve been out of the games for a long time.”
He doesn’t respond, and we lapse into silence for a time. I keep picturing Lia and wondering what she is doing right now. She would be back from her trip to her mother’s and at home in our cabin. Right now, she’s likely taking our dog, Freyja, out for her afternoon stroll through the wooded area nearby. I wonder where she thinks I am.
If I don’t return, how long will she wait? Days? Weeks? Will she try to reach out to someone to learn what happened to me? Would anyone tell her the truth?
She’s going to be seriously pissed off.
I look over at Stark and wonder if his girl is pissed off at him. She knows what’s going on, but does that make it better? He’d been out of the games for so long, I have to wonder what made him decide to play again.
When I ask, the answer doesn’t surprise me. He’s fighting for her and his son. I didn’t realize Franks was actually holding the two of them hostage, forcing Stark to participate. I thought he was in it for the money or glory or whatever.
When he inquires about my reasons for being here, I see no reason to lie.
“Rinaldo asked me to do it.”
“You always do what he asks?” Stark asks as he eyes me.
“Pretty much,” I confirm.
“Why you?”
I smile a little to myself though I certainly don’t feel any joy. Rinaldo already had a tournament player lined up, but the guy had gotten in my way, pissed me off, and I put a bullet in his skull. If I had any kind of control over my temper or if that guy had just been somewhere else that day, I wouldn’t be here at all.
“I killed the guy who would have otherwise done it,” I admit as I look skyward. The cloud cover is thick enough to block the sun, and everything above me is gray.
“You killed one of your boss’s men?”
I just look at him in response. I don’t feel the desire or need to repeat myself.
“You got balls,” Stark remarks.
“He was an asshole,” I say.
“There are plenty of those around. You can’t kill them all.”
“Maybe.” I’m not sure I agree with him. I’m actually pretty good at removing the assholes in my life. It’s easy when you don’t feel any remorse for what you do.