How many kids has he fathered that he doesn’t know exist?
He was our role model, the alpha of the pack.
That was until I met Karina the second time. After discovering what I’ve been missing, I’d never want to return to that life. The emptiness and loneliness consumed me.
* * *
Returning to the house, we head outside into the garden. It’s a nice day. I want Ashton to enjoy the warmth and sunlight in the last few days of autumn before winter bites.
I hand him a glove that fits his little hand, and we toss a ball between us. It’s a good release of energy.
The walkie-talkie secured to my belt has been silent. There’s been no communication from Alessandro within the compound or the guards standing at the gate.
My attention is on Ashton. I want him to remember this moment with his father playing ball with him.
There are guards posted outside the compound and several still onsite, but I can’t help but worry that the Bianchi’s might retaliate.
We did kill their second in command and are going in to take down their don. If our soldiers get slaughtered, and it’s a setup, then any moment Bianchi’s soldiers could come tearing down the fort, destroying our home.
Maybe I should have taken Ashton and Karina out of the city for the day. But I’m not a man to run.
I don’t cower or hide.
I wait.
And the best way to do that is to spend time with Ashton. He’s the perfect distraction. A moment to both bond with the boy, my son, and forget the horror that’s happening outside the compound.
The crackle of static on the walkie-talkie jars my attention. I drop the ball just as Ashton tosses it at my glove. I reach for the device on my belt loop.
“Daddy!” Ashton tries to get my attention.
I turn the sound louder to make sure I hear what’s being said.
“Target is neutralized.”
I exhale a heavy breath.
“Throw me the ball,” Ashton whines and stomps his feet, dragging them across the grass.
The kid has about as much patience as I do—one of the many traits he’s inherited from his old man.
I put the walkie-talkie back on the belt clip and grab the ball off the ground. “You want this?” I ask, showing him the ball. It’s like a tennis ball, so that it shouldn’t bust any windows if Ashton misses a catch or overshoots a throw.
“Yes,” he groans and stands there, with the biggest pout on his ruby lips. The kid is going to be a heartbreaker, no doubt. I just hope he doesn’t take after Alessandro, parading women around without a care in the world.
Thankfully, I don’t let him near Don Rinaldi, not that the boss wants time with my kid.
I toss the ball back to Ashton, and he throws it at me. The game continues for several minutes, helping ease my mind and the tension pulsing through me. It’s hard not to wonder if there were any causalities other than our target, Dorian Bianchi.
The sun is low across the horizon, and Karina wraps her arms around herself. She looks chilled. “One last throw,” I say to Ashton.
“Aww,” he fusses, giving me a fastball that requires me to outstretch my arm to catch before it breezes past me for the door.
I open the French doors and escort Karina and Ashton inside.
Alessandro stalks down the hallway and pauses, seeing us entering from the garden. “Aurielo, can I have a word with you?” It’s not a question.
“Of course. Do you want to take him upstairs? Get him washed up for dinner?” I suggest handing Karina my glove and ball to take with her.