11
Nico
The subway doors creak open at the Bleecker Street station, and a hot gust of urine-scented air blasts me as I step onto the platform. I usually avoid the subway like the bubonic plague, but today, I want to fly under the radar, and rolling up to a dingy shithole bar in Hell’s Kitchen in my Audi R8 is a definite red flag.
A red flag for a lot of people, namely the enemies tracking my every move.
They’re out there. I can sense them, just like they can sense me.
It’s only a matter of time before they make their move, and I’m trying to buy up as much of that time as I can in the meantime. It’ll give me a chance to get my plans in place. I need to make sure Viktor is in my corner, and that’s why I’m sweating my ass off in this hot-as-fuck subway station. This meeting, our meeting, is going to set us up for the future. I’ve already laid the groundwork. I just needed to find the right partner, a partner with resources…and I’m not just talking about money.
Money can buy you power, but loyalty can buy you so much more.
It’s the so much more that I’m after.
I wind through the maze of dirty, dank corridors in the underground station, sidestepping bums and panhandlers. I finally spot the staircase leading to the outside where the air will most likely still smell like piss, but at least it won’t be so damn thick, choking me like a noose around my neck. I jog up the steps, taking them two at a time in my Nikes. Perspiration drizzles down my back, and as soon as I hit the cool air on Bleecker Street, it morphs into icy cold trickles.
My Apple watch pings, and I see an incoming text from Shaye.
We need to talk.
Great. Talking. My favorite pastime these days, aside from eluding death.
I send her the thumbs-up emoji because I’m already late for my meeting, and I really don’t feel like recapping my blow out with Max right here on the street. I know that’s what she wants to talk about. But I am nowhere near being in the mood to rehash the whole thing for her, especially since it’s just one more reason for her to lay into me about the need to air my feelings. As if I really want to admit to my fears about this whole Luca shitstorm and its potential long-term effects on my life, Shaye’s life, the lives of my family members…
Yeah. Fuck talking.
Another ping.
Now.
My phone rings a second later. I clench my fists and round a corner to get out of sight.
I stab the Accept button because I know what’ll happen later if I don’t. “Hey.”
“You fucking fired him? Now? Are you insane?”
My eyes dart left and right. “Listen, now isn’t a good time to talk about this.”
“Why not?” I can see her hand on her hips, blue eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “Is your best friend’s welfare not important to you anymore, either? Is anything fucking important to you anymore? Because you’re drifting farther and farther away, and I have no idea how to pull you back!”
I grit my teeth and press my hand against my temple. “You don’t under—”
“Of course! That must be it! I just don’t get it!” Shaye’s voice rises about ten octaves. “You know what? I’ve tried to help you, Nico. I’ve tried to get you to talk to me, and you give me a little crumb here and there. Is that what this relationship is going to be from now on? You let me in the slightest bit and then shove me out the door again. Who the hell are you?”
“Listen,” I seethe. “You have to trust me. I’m trying to evade a fucking killer, to keep my business intact, to keep this whole family operational! And, oh, by the way, I’m trying to see if there are any fucking rats trying to sell me and my dad out! I’m sorry if I don’t always feel like talking about the shit I’m dealing with right now!”
“We’re supposed to be a team, Nico.” Her voice is no longer angry. It’s sad. And that’s something that makes my gut clench. I never want to see her upset. It’s my job to make sure she’s happy. And safe. And happy.
But I’m fucking failing…on all fronts. I don’t know who I am anymore, and I have to figure it out pretty fucking fast before I lose everything. There’s one person I can trust, and she’s stuck with me through all of this even though I’ve given her every reason to bolt.
“Babe, we are. I know every time you bring this up, you want to hear me say that things will be different, that we can go backward. But we can’t. Not yet.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” I look around at the faces passing me by, wondering what their lives are like, wondering what their biggest fears and challenges are. Is someone hunting them, lurking in the shadows, angling to stick a gun to their temples and blow their fucking heads off? Fuck, is the money and all this power really worth it?
I feel like I ask myself that question a lot…more than I probably should, considering how I make my living. I wasn’t given the choice to do it any other way, and now as much as I hate to admit it, I’m scared. Scared to fail everyone. Scared to lose it all. Scared to lose myself in the process.