We head up into the apartment and she disappears into the bathroom. The shower water runs and I think about checking on her, but she needs time to process what happened as much as I do. My emotions are beginning to recede and the giddy adrenaline-fueled joy of winning a fight is leaving only a cold, clinical rage.
I call Balaska and he answers on the second ring. “You’re already making news, Peter.” He sounds amused.
I’m not fucking amused.
“Who were they?” I ask with a low growl.
“Careful,” he says, chiding, and I know I can’t push this too hard. Balaska is the one in charge here, whether I like it or not, and if I want to build enough power and influence to start my own family, to strike out and become my own crime lord, I need to play the game first.
“Someone tried to kill me outside of your club. Who were they?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find out. We have one in custody.”
“The other?”
“Dead. Bled out.”
“Can’t say I’m upset about it.”
He lets out a long breath. “I’m not upset about the dead thug, but I am upset about having to bribe the damn police to keep off my back. You know how hard it is to run clubs without someone getting shot around the corner? It’s bad enough I’ve got them breathing down my neck all the time begging for more money. Now they’re going to tap dance all over my goddamn bank account.”
“If I knew how expensive this would be for you, I would’ve let them kill me.”
“Don’t be a prick.” Balaska sounds more exasperated than angry. “Like I said. I’ll find out who sent them and we’ll deal with this from there. From now on, no more dead bodies.”
“If I can avoid it, I will. Particularly my own.”
“And that pretty girl you’ve got working for you. How did she react to seeing you kill a man? That girl is trouble, Peter. Beautiful, but trouble.”
I stare toward the bathroom and listen to the water running. “She’ll be all right,” I say but I’m not so sure. “Tell me what you find. I’ll keep my head down for a few days.”
I hang up and pour myself a drink. As the whiskey warms my throat and belly, I think about what Adrienne must be feeling right now. I know the bare outlines of what happened to her with the Russians—kidnapped, tortured, escaped—and I know there was blood and violence involved. But I don’t know the details, and I don’t know how watching a man get shot in front of her is going to affect her moving forward.
This is the problem with working with people. I’ve never had to worry about anyone’s feelings other than my own, but now I have to keep Adrienne’s in mind if I want to make sure she doesn’t panic and do something stupid.
I finish my drink, check the time, and make another call. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” Papa says with a smile in his voice. “How are things in Greece?”
“Things in Greece are boring,” I say and push back against the guilt over lying to my old man. Lord knows he fucking deserves it and wouldn’t tell me a damn thing if he were in my spot. “You really must want the Italians to owe you some favors if you’re going to keep me out here babysitting this girl.”
“Ah, come now, I saw her. Kacia’s friend is pretty. Why not enjoy yourselves?”
“She’s pretty like a pit bull.”
“So picky, Peter. You need a nice girl to settle down with. Have some babies.”
“Nice girls don’t go for men like us, Papa.”
“That’s true enough, my boy, true enough. Except your mother, God rest her soul, she was a saint.”
“A saint slumming with a sinner.”
“As it sometimes goes.” He lets out a low chuckle. “What’s the news with the crime lords?”
I fill him in on the recent happenings, but don’t mention Balaska or what happened tonight. I feed him morsels of simple gossip to make it seem like I’m keeping my ear to the ground, and Papa accepts it without questioning too much. I’ve been a good soldier and a loyal son for a very long time now—he has no reason to suspect I might be striking out on my own.
There’s some residual guilt in my chest. I don’t enjoy doing this, sneaking around, working behind my family’s back, but there’s no other way to break free. My life was given up to the Calimeris family since the day I was born and nobody bothered to ask if I was happy about it. I was raised, trained, and thrown into hell, and expected to be unflinchingly happy about the whole thing.
After thirty years of service to my father’s crime family, I have only one two things to show for it. A heft bank account and hard-won skills.