AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT—DEEP IN THE NYC INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT
I stare up at the old abandoned building. It used to be a functioning factory. But like the rest of this neighborhood, it’s crumbling into ruin now. Everything we passed on our way here reeked of hopelessness and lost potential.
True to my agreement with the Greeks, I have only twenty men with me. But I do have three other backup teams stationed about a mile off in case Rokiades doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain.
I’m a man of my word. But I’m also not a fucking idiot.
Everyone else in my life seems to think I am, though. I’d declined a call from Cillian earlier this evening. There’s no way he’d agree to this, so why put myself in a position where I’d have to openly defy my older brother?
Besides—if he didn’t want me doing as I see fit, he shouldn’t have made me don in my own right.
I’d have smirked at that if I weren’t so fucking tense. A message comes in on Eugene’s comms device, but the static swallows up the words.
“What was that?” I ask from the back seat.
“Some movement has been detected on the east side,” Eugene replies. “The Greeks are on the move.”
“How many vehicles?”
“Four, same as us.”
We’re an hour early, but that’s intentional on my part. I like to take in the lay of the land before a fight. Especially when I can’t be sure of my enemies. It’s a long time since I’ve been in this part of town, and it’s even grimmer than I remember.
Up ahead, I notice the makeshift basketball court sitting right next to the empty lot where Rokiades and I are supposed to be meeting soon. A handful of young boys are shooting hoops under the moonlight. They look like they’re in their early teens. Five of them, at least.
I’d picked this time and place believing it would be deserted. Realistically, they aren’t an issue I need to be worried about right now. Just some kids fucking around with their friends. But I’d feel better if they get far the fuck away from here.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Collin asks, noticing my expression.
“How long ‘til the meeting time?”
“Fifty-three minutes.”
I nod and get out of the car. Two of my men get down and follow behind me, but I wave them away. “I won’t be long.” I feel their hesitation but in the end, they stay behind.
The game pauses and all the boys glance in my direction as I make my way onto the basketball court. The basketball rolls off into a corner, seemingly forgotten.
One of them separates from the pack and struts over to me. He’s sixteen or seventeen, with bad skin and crooked teeth that tell me his parents can’t afford the health care he needs. His sneakers are beaten-up hand-me-downs and the broken slant of his nose says he has been in his share of fights over the years. His face has that weathered quality of someone who has seen too much, too young.
I gaze around at the other faces. I can see the deprivations of their lives on their faces. And I feel a stab of pity for the lost communities who’ve been left behind. All these poor little pockets of the city, ravaged by too much crime and not enough jobs. Too many drugs and not enough hope. Too much of the bad shit and not enough of the things that make life worth living.
“It’s a little late to be playing basketball, eh?”
“Who the hell are you?” he asks.
“Just a friend,” I tell him. “With a little advice for the lot of you.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks aggressively. “And what’s that?”
I know how important it is for a kid like him to exude the aura of control. Of confidence. He’s doing a good job, but I can sense his nerves beneath the surface. “Time to go home, boys,” I say gently. “The game’s over.”
The kid staring me down narrows his eyes and glances over his shoulder at his friends. The two boys at the very back look like they’re about to shit themselves, though the others are managing to keep themselves together.
“I don’t think it is, old man,” the leader fires back. “And I don’t think you get to make that call.”
“I’m gonna be straight with you,” I say. “There is something going down tonight. And you don’t want to be anywhere close when it does.”
The kid stares at me for a moment longer. He’s tall for his age, but still a head shorter than me. I don’t blink. Eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, we stand there.