Page 15 of Fractured Loyalties

Fifteen

ROMAN

“Get your ass to the docks and then meet me at our usual place for lunch,” my father snaps over the phone when I call him back. “You can’t leave your dirty work to Edward and expect me not to find out. You sincerely overstepped your bounds.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I had a feeling that’s what he was talking about when he called me on the way to drop Ivy off, but now, I’m sure he knows—and that’s not good.

I force myself to take deep breaths and keep driving, while I focus on anything other than what I’ll have to deal with when I get home. I leave the school behind quickly, as well as the soft suburbs and everything that holds some semblance of goodness.

By the time I reach the docks, the sun is in the middle of the sky, and I know I don’t have a lot of time. The complex of warehouses and shipping yards lining the bay gives me the creeps. This is the kind of place you only come to if you’re picking something up or putting something down.

And unfortunately, I’ve done both.

The lot is empty, except for one sedan parked by the first dock. I know it’s Edward. I pull up next to him and kill the engine. I’m not even out of the car before he slides out of the driver’s seat, hiding behind a pair of gaudy Ray Bans.

“You know you don’t have to look like a secret service agent, right?” I shoot at him as he approaches me, his lips set in a grim line.

“You know you don’t have to kill every boy that looks at Ivy, right? Especially when they’re your father’s favorite.” Edward hits right back, and honestly, I realize he’s the closest thing I have to a friend.

I glance around to see what we have to deal with, but Edward just chuckles. The dock itself is a gangplank of splinters and rusted nails. After dark here, the only light would come from a single flood lamp that’s set at the edge, and it would turn everything beneath it into a punchline of shadows.

We won’t be here that long, though, but I notice it as something to think about if others come looking.

“In the back,” Edward motions to the hatch of his car. “I’m not a fan of taking risks like this.”

I ignore him and pop the trunk. “Yeah, but we both know you could’ve said no.”

“Touché,” he mumbles. “But um… One thing you should probably know, Roman…”

My eyes run across the kid in the back, already suspecting what Edward is going to say. I spin around to face him. “He’s not fuckin dead. You had one job, Eddy. One. Fucking. Job.”

My butler and henchman just stare at me through the dark lenses. “I think we both know who stopped that from happening.”

I let out a painful sigh, running a hand over my face. “Robert. Guess he wants me to change my mind.”

“No, he just said you need to do it yourself, and betray him like a man.” Edward raises his hands in a low gesture of surrender when I glare at him.

“It’s not personal, you know that. You know you’re my friend, but it’s really fucking hard to keep your dad from finding things out when there are cameras all over the place.

Kind of hard to hide a whole-ass person. ”

I nod, closing my eyes and then turning my attention back to the trunk.

Kade is out cold, gagged, and his wrists and ankles are cinched together with zip ties, duct tape, and something that looks suspiciously like rebar wire.

There’s a concrete block strapped to his knees and another to his ankles; the kind you buy in bulk at Home Depot if you’re pouring a patio—or drowning a person, I guess.

“So, you did all the prep work, but decided not to put the imbecile out of his misery?” I turn back to Edward.

“I tried to make it as easy for you as I could,” he replies. “You know, the boss said I couldn’t kill him, but he didn’t say I couldn’t get him ready—or that you couldn’t.”

“It seems crueler to send him down breathing, well, actually, it is. ” I purse my lips together, thinking about the way my father doted on him and Ivy smiled up at him…

Hmm… Never mind. This’ll do.

“I’ll grab a cart.” Edward disappears into one of the many warehouse buildings my father owns. I remain where I am, staring down at the asshole who thought he might get to fuck what’s mine.

Goddamn, it makes me want to slit his fucking throat. But honestly, I don’t want to ask Edward to clean up that mess. He’s got enough on his plate.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Edward said with a wicked grin on his face as he rolled some sort of industrial wagon toward me. I step away enough for him to line it up.

I grab at Kade’s feet, and Edward stays at the head.

“How old is he?” I ask.

“Turned nineteen last month,” he answers. “Parents held him back.”

“Well, then, at least he’s not a minor.”

“Uh-huh,” Edward snorts. “Whatever helps you feel better.” He gives me a nod and we haul Kade’s body up out of the trunk, both of us struggling with the… attachments .

Kade’s head flops, his lips open, and a line of drool traces his chin. He looks like a child who fell asleep at the wrong sleepover—one that he won’t be waking up from.

“This is pretty fucked up, even for you,” Edward says as he starts to roll the cart toward the edge of the dock.

“Nah,” I say with a shrug. “Sometimes people die. It’s just the circle of life.”

“How deep,” he scoffs, shaking his head at me.

We haul him down the dock to a waiting skiff, the kind used for hauling crab traps or shuttling the desperate across rivers at midnight.

And then… Well then, we dump him in the bottom of the boat where he lands with a wet thud. The chain follows, heavy enough to make the wooden planks groan. We wind it around Kade’s middle, looping it twice, then thread the end through the handles of the concrete blocks.

It’s almost beautiful, how precise we are.

I stop at the edge of the dock and stare down into the water.

The bay water is primarily black, reflecting nothing, and the surface is alive with oil rainbows and the trash that floats in from the city.

I fish a cigarette out of my pocket, light it up, and step into the skiff, feeling it rock as Edward moves in ahead of me.

“You wanna say anything before we do this?” he asks as I climb in and he starts the motor. His voice is flat, unempathetic.

I shake my head as he guns the motor. “I mean, he won’t hear it anyway.”

We take the boat out twenty yards, maybe thirty, then kill the engine. For a second, the only sound is the slap of bay water against the hull and the distant wail of a train no one rides anymore.

“Okay,” Edward looks over at me. “You’re positive you wanna send him to the bottom? We can still just take the shithead home.”

And risk him smiling at my little lamb again? Absolutely not.

Edward reads my silence for what it is, and then together, we haul the boat’s contents over the side.

The chain goes first, a silver snake uncoiling from the ship, and then the body.

There’s a brief struggle as we knock Kade over the side, and then a splash.

Bubbles rise frantically as the air escapes him, and then they stop.

“God, this is fucked up,” Edward stares into the water, as if he hasn’t dismembered multiple bodies at a time for my father.

I pick up my cigarette from the bench and take a long drag. “It is what it is.”

As Edward turns the boat around and heads back to the dock, he lifts his sunglasses, his eyes meeting mine. “Anyone gonna look for that kid, beside your father?”

I blow smoke at his face. “He’s no one important aside from Robert’s monkey. A scholarship case, who jumped from school to school because of sexual assault allegations. One was with a teacher.” I shrug. “I think we did the world a favor, honestly.”

“If you call sinking teenage boys to the bottom of the bay doing the world a favor, then sure. Okay.” Edward docks the boat and then steps out, dusting off his black slacks. “You’re gonna have to go talk to your old man about this. Might want to mention the kid’s rap sheet.”

“Ha, yeah right. That probably drew my father to him,” I scoff, lifting my heel and stubbing out my cigarette. I know better than to drop it on the ground, so instead, I shove it into my pocket.

We walk to our vehicles in silence, both of us operating in the state we find the most comfortable. The air tastes like salt and rot, very fitting, given the circumstances.

“See you at the house,” Edward grunts. “Hopefully alive.”

“Right back at you.” I hit the unlock button and get into the SUV. I smash the button that brings the engine alive, and drive toward the part of town that never gets its hands dirty…

At least not where anyone can see.

I step into the Harbor Club as if I haven’t just sunk a living person into the bay an hour ago.

“Mr. Woods,” the ma?tre d’h?tel says, with a slight nod of his head. “Your father is waiting for you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” I mutter, and I follow him past the velvet rope. Faces populate the other tables, I recognize from childhood Christmas cards and press releases—politicians and CEOs—the sort of men who shake hands on yachts and then break them in boardrooms.

It’s all a little disgusting.

I stick out like a sore thumb here. It’s not the bruises, although the one that I got is yellowing above my collarbone, visible if you know how to look.

It’s not my lack of a designer suit either.

I own plenty. It’s probably the stink of the docks, and the invisible slime of my own soul that won’t scrub clean.

I spot my father immediately. He is ensconced in a corner banquette that faces the entire room.

He’s nursing a glass of Macallan, neat, even though it’s only just after noon.

The sight of him is enough to make my teeth itch.

He’s in a navy suit, perfectly tailored, and a gold watch winks from under his cuff.

His phone is face down on the table, a threat and a promise.

I slide into the seat across from him, ignoring the scalding pain in my ribs that still lingers.

He lets me stew for a full minute, his eyes on the window. Then he tips his glass in my direction. “Hmm… You look well, Roman. Glad your face is healing.”

I resist the urge to check my reflection in a spoon. “I’d say the same, but that would be a lie.”

He actually smiles at that, thin and sharp. “You’re honest today. Good. It’ll serve you well in this conversation.”

The waiter appears, as if conjured, and takes my drink and food order. While we wait for the service, I expect my father to say something about what I know he knows.

But he stays silent.

I start to get nervous and bounce my knees under the table. I’m sure he’s probably clocking that, too. It would be shocking if he weren’t.

He’s trying to make me sweat.

When the entrees finally arrive, seared steak for him, some pale fish for me, I dig in. It’s dry and overcooked, but at least it gives me something to do with my hands.

He waits until I’ve finished a full bite before setting his fork down and pointing his knife at me. “Irena spoke with me this morning,” he says, the blade shimmering under the light. “She’s concerned about your…attachment to her daughter.”

The food curdles in my gut. “Ivy is hardly a project,” I say, careful to keep my voice even. “She’s just a mess. She needs discipline.”

He takes a measured sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your stepmother thinks you’re spending too much time with her. She’s worried you’ll compromise the family. Or yourself. My business. ”

I set my glass down, a little too hard, already seeing what he’s getting at. “Irena is paranoid.”

He shrugs. “That’s not the point. Irena’s role is to maintain appearances solely, and right now, you’re making that difficult. How do you think the world is going to react to a body being found in the bay near my warehouses? Who was my best intern? Like a real son to me?”

Ah, there it is. I have a strong urge to lunge across the table and smash the glass into his face. But I swallow it and fold my napkin, pressing the blood out of my knuckles until they gleam white.

“It needed to happen, and it had nothing to do with Ivy,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders.

“The kid had a long rap sheet. That wasn’t good for the business or school’s reputation.

If he’d have made the All-Star swim team, we’d have been in trouble.

Your business doesn’t need him as its face.

” I glare at him. “You and I both know you’re better off being covert creep fest.”

He smiles again, lips barely moving. “So, you’re doing charity work now?”

“Why call this meeting about such a nobody?” I ask, the taste of my whiskey turning bitter on my tongue.

“Because I’ve learned the value of insurance,” he says, his voice lowering as he leans toward me.

“Because also you’re reckless. And because the last thing this family needs is another scandal.

” He gestures around the room, at the men and women who rule the city from behind linen napkins and rare steaks.

“We’re different from them, but we still play by their rules as much as we possibly can. Get control of yourself. Or I will.”

The words hang between us like the stench of a dying animal.

I lean back, the pain in my chest flaring, but I don’t let it show. “Anything else, Father?”

He checks his phone and then sets it down, glaring at me. “Yeah, actually, one more thing. If anyone comes asking about this boy, you send them to me. Do not try to deal with it yourself. You won’t be able to handle it.”

I nod, swallowing the jab but loving the revenge. “Understood.”

“Good,” he says. He finishes his drink in a single swallow and then stands up, leaving his plate untouched. “Your mother would be proud of you… If she were still alive. She always was one for fucking things up for me.”

And that’s his way of saying goodbye. He walks away from the table, leaving me with the bill and a glare.

I watch him go. Surprisingly, I don’t feel hate. I just… feel nothing at all.

And that’s precisely why I need to get my head on straight. I need to get some fucking space, and Ivy needs to stew. I need to make her sweat.

Then, maybe she’ll miss me.

And realize I am the only safety she has in this world.