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“What?” I lower my voice, glancing up toward the staircase.

“The world has stopped turning . . . hell has frozen over . . . Austin Black is taking a day off.” He snickers.

“Fuck off, or you’ll be getting a permanent vacation.”

“You’ll have to catch me first, boss.”

He’ll never let this go. Luca was the fastest in our school, ran like a fucking whippet on cocaine which got him out of many sticky situations. You know the phrase you don’t need to be faster than a crocodile; you just need to be faster than the guy next to you? Yeah, that was Luca, and unfortunately for me, I was the guy next to him. I’d been caught by a fewcrocodiles in our thirty years as friends, but luckily, I’d made it out alive.

“I’ll call you if I need you, but otherwise, it’s radio silence until then. I should be no more than a week.”

“Yes, boss.” He still sounds unsure. He’s my right-hand man and as ruthless as they come, but we grew up together. We’re basically brothers in every way except by blood.

“I'll call each day to check in—when I get the chance.”

“Thanks, boss.”

I hang up, taking a deep breath. Time for my second phone call and the one where I’m not the boss. An excited thrill rips through me as I dial Dr. Alfie’s number. He’s not going to believe this happened. I mean, sure, he’ll be furious. But he’ll realize my obsession has been reciprocated, and I just need to work out why.

I started talking to Dr. Alfie two years ago. I’d been working for my father since I was fourteen and raised to be a ruthless killer. Actually, no, that’s not right. I was raised to be obedient. To follow orders. The killing was a byproduct of that arrangement.

Then, one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d lost all ability to function, let alone whip some fucking runty drug dealers into shape. I lost my edge. I hesitated. So, at Alfie’s suggestion, I took a week off. And well...that week turned into two years. Of course, as far as everyone was concerned, I still worked for my father. God forbid anyone thinks there’s trouble in the regime.

During my initial week off, I got blind drunk and tried to fuck anything with a pulse. As I was puking my guts up, clinging to the wrist of some poor woman who was trying to get back to her friends, I looked up, and that was when I saw it: a huge fucking billboard of Alfie Adams from high school.

Now you might think we’d rekindled some sort of friendship, but in reality, I was an asshole in school. Not more than I am now, just different. The kind of high school bully who doesn’t stand up for others and makes himself look biggerby cutting everyone around him down.

Dr. Alfie had made it big on some network show where they called him Dr. Angel. What had been a scrawny specky nerd had turned into the ultimate glow-up. He filled out, his muscles hard and his suits tailored. Hell, he wore the fuck out of those suits. On occasion, he’d wear tortoise shell-rimmed glasses, giving an intellectual, academic vibe. The man had style.

And not only that, he had the women of the Pacific Northwest eating out of the palm of his hand. He was gruff, straight-talking, and commanding. Hell, he put me in my place a few times, and I’m not ashamed to admit it: the man would have made an excellent gangster. You know, if he hadn’t taken the Hippocratic oath to be caring and considerate or whatever they fucking promise the community. Maybe he should be a Daddy instead.

Despite our difficult time together in high school. I’d stormed into Alfie’s office with the intention of threatening to kill him unless he helped me. I mean, sure, a few threats were made, and once his current patient had left shaking and in tears, and thanks to me, a thousand bucks richer, he agreed to be my therapist.

There were conditions to our doctor/patient relationship, of course. He couldn’t repeat a goddamn word I said, and I couldn’t kill anyone anymore. Easy. I didn’t want to fucking kill anyone anymore anyway. It’s the whole reason I sought him out.

And the past two years, Dr. Alfie—or Dr. Angel when I try to irritate the fuck out of him—and I had been working toward my goal of cleaning my ledger and building a life that I could be proud of. One where I wasn’t controlled by my father or his business and where I could take ownership of my own actions. Of course, there was a teeny tiny problem with the self-loathing and self-sabotaging side of me, but hey, therapy is a process, and I’m not afraid to say that he’s basically saved my life.

No one knows about our sessions, and they never will.

If it ever got back to my father, he’d kill him. Of that, I’m certain. And I’ve grown rather fond of the handsome bastard.

And despite what he’d tell you, I’m sure the grump is quite fond of me, too. I was supposed to have a session today, and one of the rules of Dr. Alfie is that you never miss a session without good reason. I’d say that getting myself kidnapped on purpose by the woman I’ve been semi-stalking for the last two years might give me a free pass, but that remains to be seen.

“Mia, hi. It’s Austin. Can you patch me through to Dr. Alfie, please?” I ask Alfie’s receptionist.

“Are you sure? He’s miserable today,” she responds in a hushed tone.

“I’ll deal with him, don’t you worry,” I reply softly.

I like Mia. She’s never acted afraid of me and always seems to know the right thing to say. Even with Alfie, she’s kind, considerate, but she doesn’t take any shit from him. She practically runs his whole business. He better pay her well to put up with his mood swings.

“Austin. You know how I feel about missed sessions.”

His annoyance permeates through the phone and scratches at the insides of my ears.God, he’s annoying.

“Good reason coming your way. Do you remember Olivia?”

He sighs in that exasperated way that only he can muster. “The same Olivia you’ve talked about at every session for the last two years? That Olivia?”