Prólogos
Loyalty.
It seems like that’s a dirty word these days. When I was a young man, it was on the lips of every man and woman, boy and girl I knew. We were loyal to our families, loyal to our communities. We respected the wishes of our elders and knew it was our duty to put aside our own selfish concerns.
Did I ever want to break away from the path set before me? Sure, maybe, once or twice. I remember sitting in art class thinking maybe I’d like to do something different, maybe paint portraits for a living. But those were childish dreams. My family business needed me, and painting wouldn’t have paid the bills. So I became what I had to become and never looked back.
And now, to see my own daughter ignoring my wishes? Refusing to marry the man I picked for her, to secure all our futures?
My cheeks flame with the impudence of it. How dare she run away from her duties? And to do what? Teach kids who can’t afford to pay her a penny to skate on the park’s ice skating rink?
Bah.
What will she do come summer? Teach them to skip rope?
I should never have allowed her to open her own bank account. My father always said women couldn’t be trusted with money. My mistake was in believing I knew better than his old-fashioned ways, believing his prejudices had no place in today’s world. Now I know I was wrong. Had Amara needed to come to me for every dollar she spent she would never have been able to leave, embarrassing me in front of my enemies.
Embarrassment might not seem like a big deal to those living ordinary lives in this city and across the country, but in my line of work it can mean the difference between life and death. One sniff of weakness and the dogs start to circle.
It’s a pity. I love Amara. I always have. Ever since I first saw her dark eyes looking up at me from her mother’s arms. Ever since I first touched that soft, chocolate hair.
But her betrayal cannot go unanswered.
She must be brought back to me and locked away until she agrees to what needs to be done. Once she’s married to Constantine, she will be his problem to deal with, and I can wash my hands of the whole business.
One of the children, a girl with torn jeans, skates a little too far away from where Amara is teaching her, and finds herself near me. She grins and waves, and I smile back, flashing her a glimpse of teeth, before turning away quickly. The sunglasses, hat and coat are nondescript enough, but I would be a fool to believe that my own daughter wouldn’t recognize me if she took a moment to really look.
Taking my phone out of the pocket of the coat, I bring up the name of one of my lieutenants, one I trust, and tap out a text message.
Me: It’s time, Camilo. She’s been away long enough. Execute the plan tomorrow, hurt her if you have to but bring her to me. Try not to harm any innocents in the crossfire but do what you must. I’ll take it from there.
A moment later, his reply is a simple affirmative. Nobody wastes my time, and that’s the way I like it. Time is money, and money is power, and I have spent a lifetime amassing both.
As I wander up the path to the road, where my Mercedes is parked, I smile to myself. The natural order will soon be resumed, and the dogs will know once again that I am alpha and my word is law.
Chapter 1 – Saint
I’m already pulling my t-shirt over my head before I enter the apartment, tossing it aside into the laundry hamper I keep by the door for just this purpose. It’s been a tough day and my muscles are aching, not to mention the sweat-damp dust that’s sticking to every uncovered inch of my skin.
“You need to get yourself laid, man.” Greg laughs down the phone. “Seriously. You, me, this evening, the old Irish bar we know and love. Even you have to score in that place, it’s a fucking meat market.”
I shake my head. I never really was one for casual hookups and quick fumbles, it’s just not me. “Some other time,” I tell him.
“Oh, come on, I haven’t seen you since you moved. What, you too good for old Greg now? Got your uptown friends? Like that Billy Joel song? Been living in your uptown world?”
I laugh. “Are you telling me you’re in love with me, Greg? Because I’m flattered and all, but—”
“Fuck off, you know what I mean,” he laughs. “You can take the boy out of the hood but you can’t take the hood out of the boy. You’re still just a steel worker, Saint, and don’t you forget it, because I guarantee your fancy new neighbors won’t.”