Page 29

Quinn

Silver never looked hotter. He freshened up for me. Grey suit, blue tie, big-faced crystal blue watch, and streaks of silver and black beard echoing his full head of hair. And underneath all those expensive clothes? He’s Adonis.

I grab onto his arm, dragging him toward a Mediterranean restaurant I always wanted to try.

Athena’s Delight. I was careful not to pick one where the staff had seen me before, or one where I could bump into someone.

The wig and shit make-up helps, but living twenty-four years in mid New Jersey leaves little to the imagination in terms of neighbors.

Alas, nothing to worry about here.

“This was your big plan to woo me?” he jokes.

We look through the glass to a cozy candle-lit atmosphere with a white chandelier and blue-white tiles up the wall to emanate Greece vibes.

“How am I doing?” I wink at him.

“It’s working.” There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he masks it with his million-dollar smile. With his beard this trim, I can see one dimple too, which almost distracts me from the looming reaper supposedly paying a visit tomorrow… at my old house.

Terrible images of him being executed by a bratva brigadier makes me swallow past a lump in my throat.

Death is in the air. I can feel it. And I’ll do everything I can to stop it.

The door closes behind us.

“Table for two,” I say.

“Reservation?”

I shake my head.

“That’s okay. Should have something open. The back alright?”

“The back is perfect.” I clasp my hand with Silver’s.

As we’re seated and brought bread, I can’t help but bother him. I’m playing footsie under the table, and tapping the soft of his fingers with my nail.

“Must you?” he growls.

“Mhm.” I nod haughtily. “Wanna know why?”

“Hm?”

“You’re not going tomorrow, Silver.” I lean in close. “You’re not leaving me.”

“We can’t stay in hiding forever, Harley.

” He smirks sadly at me, and I want to choke him all over again for giving me that nickname.

“The time’s come to give you two a safe path back to your old lives.

I told you once—there’s no other way to grant you two freedom but to give myself up.

Otherwise, the bratva will always be after you.

” He squeezes my hand. “Let’s not talk about that.

You dragged me all the way here and made me get dressed up—”

“You’re always dressed up.” I hold back tears as we both laugh at the obvious. Biting my lip helps distract from crying.

“I suppose that’s true. And look at you. You finally listened to my dress for success lecture.” He smiles, bringing it back to the first time I wound up in his stage house.

“My animal socks got me to my first promotion, I’ll have you know.” I frame my face in victory.

“What, did you put on a puppet show?”

“ No. ” I chuckle. “They’re good luck. That’s why I wear them. And, well, because they’re warm and cozy.”

“Well then, I guess this is where your luck runs out.” He points under the table, to the Louboutins covering my bare feet.

“Nuh uh.” I point to my earrings that have little paw prints on them.

“The hell? I didn’t buy you those.”

“They were in my pocket when the Russians kidnapped me,” I say.

“Then they can’t be that lucky.”

“What are you saying, Silver? You were literally the ghost that saved me.” I squeeze his hand. “These animal prints, whether on my feet or on my ears, brought you.”

“Jesus. Next, you’re going to tell me you believe in crystals—”

“What if I do?” I make a wide-eyed crazy face at him. “Just kidding. Animal accessories are the extent of my superstition. What about you? Have any weird habits that keep you sane?”

He looks to the table as if I struck a nerve.

Then I realize it probably has to do with his past.

“Oh, sorry, Silver, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright, kid.”

“We don’t have to talk about any of that.” My lips fold into a line. I’m embarrassed.

“I want to.” The words shock me stiff. “If you’ll hear me.”

“Of course.” Sirens are going off in my head. Is this old mafia hitman about to actually open up to me?

“It’s not a pleasant story,” he warns.

“I’m not only here for the easy stuff,” I say. “I want to know everything about you.”

He sighs and flicks his wrist, showcasing his watch.

“I used to click the dial once every time I would accept a job.” He clicks it to show me.

“I’d tell myself that the click allows me a free life.

It would protect me, my wife and kid, and the Valentinos from harm while I carried out my task.

And when the dial would make one full rotation all the way back to 12 o’clock, my luck would’ve run out. ”

The idea gives me shivers. What kind of jobs are we talking? Judging by the way he thinks, and the Russians he killed without so much as a blink, he was probably one of the most revered hitmen of the five families.

“In my head, my little ritual worked for years. It granted me protection if I somehow slipped up.”

“ You? Slip up? Every little detail is planned based on what I can see.”

“You’d think. But fate always plays a role. Take your kidnapping, for example. How could I have guessed the big bratva would go rogue and try to have his way with you during the break-in? It’s against all logic.”

“I see.”

“So, this dial… it accounted for that fate, or luck… until I got about half way. It was a job against the Albanians in NYC. They were getting wind of our heists and carrying them out before we could get to them, so the don at the time—Giovanni, Donny’s father—sent me in to take care of the situation. ”

The waiter walks up to us, prompting Silver to pause.

“Do you need a minute?” He bows in close. “May I read the specials?”

“If we could just have a few. Thank you.” I smile pleasantly at the waiter.

“Of course. Take your time.” The waiter walks away.

Silver clears his throat. “So, I did. I made them disappear without a trace, leaving their little gang to scratch their heads and mourn bodies that were never found. And never will be. Or so I thought.”

I find myself clenching, because I know how this story ends, and the idea is harrowing… Especially after experiencing that fear for myself more than once now.

“You think I’m careful now, kid? Back in my heyday, I was feared like the grim reaper himself.

But fate intervened. A rat in the family ranks sold out Don Gio’s order to hire me for the job, and naturally, the Albanians had to have their revenge.

” He takes a strong breath. “One night, when I was out for a Valentino family meeting, my family innocently had a movie night at home. My wife, Lisa, and daughter, Isabella, called it a ‘girls’ night.’” He takes another breath.

I notice his chest caving a little bit more than normal.

Is the poor guy having an anxiety attack?

Trust me, I get it. I’ve been stuffing down the trauma since Dad was taken.

Grabbing his hand, I rub his knuckles with my thumb, telling him it’s okay. He can stop or keep going if he wants. Either way, I’m here.

“It was cute to come home and see my wife with ten scrunchies in her hair because Isabella wanted them to be twins,” he laughs.

“I can’t believe you know what a scrunchy is,” I laugh back.

“Well, when you have a daughter, sometimes you have no choice.”

Can’t help but smile at that. “What else do you know? Piercings? Makeup?”

“I know every cut of diamond thanks to her wandering eye. ‘Daddy, what’s Mommy’s ring?’ she asked me. I told her pillow cut. Then she said, ‘That’s ugly.’ And I agreed, telling her Mommy picked it out.”

I laugh at that. “She sounds cute.”

My heart wrenches when I realize I mentioned her in present tense.

“She was cute.” He lowers his head. “That night, when I came home from the Valentino meeting, they were left on the couch, facing the TV, my wife sitting on the floor, my daughter on the couch with her hands in her hair, both with their throats slit.”

I turn away abruptly as if he painted the scene and showed it to me. “My God...”

“Propped up like two dolls in a museum,” he says.

“I’m so sorry, Silver.” I find my way back to his eyes.

He grunts past the pain. “Safe to say, there is no more functioning Albanian gang operating out of New York. At least, there wasn’t for a decade following the incident.”

I shiver at that. I’m sitting across from a pretty prominent serial killer, and I still can’t help but feel nothing but love and warmth from him.

“My world is dark, kid.” His lip curls up into a sad grin.

“I know, Aros. I’m living in it.” I find his hand and squeeze it again. “Who would’ve thought, though…”

“Hm?”

“…This is where I belong.”

He huffs at that. “Not if your father has anything to say about it.”

“Screw him. Once he’s safe and sound back in his job, he can screw right off.”

“You’re mad,” he says the obvious. “Don’t be.”

My blood boils thinking of how stubborn my dad is. “He’s not grateful. His head is thick.”

“It’s because he’s doing his best to keep you safe and teach you his ideals,” Silver says, and I’m shocked to hear the words. “I’d give anything to guide my daughter, to live out the years where I can teach her how to survive the world. Don’t be mad at Patrick. He’s a good man.”

“He doesn’t think the same of you. He’s blind,” I say.

“As are you.” He leans close. “I just told you in so many words that I’ve slain countless fathers, as is the way in my old world. If I were Patrick? I’d say the same to you.” He leans back in his seat. “Not to mention I have twenty years on you. A lifetime , Quinn.”

Whenever he says my name, I tingle in the worst ways.

“Cut it out, Aros . We’re a little past that, don’t you think?

” I tilt my head. “I know what you’re trying to do.

Let me down easy so you can make your poetic exit to find your late family.

” I grit my teeth and hold his gaze. “Your story is haunting. And I feel for you. And I love you. But it’s not over.

That cruel hand of fate isn’t without its other side, the one that led you to your second life… with me.”

He’s awestruck by my words. He can’t even hide it.

“It’s stupid and ridiculous, and makes no sense that we’re sitting at this table for any other reason than you being my sugar daddy, but that’s not what this is. I love you.”

He sighs, breaking eye contact.

He’s not saying it back, and I know why—trying to break it off so I can move on after tomorrow.

Going to be stubborn like another old man I know? Fine. I’ll just have to remind him why life is worth living, even after suffering something so tragic.

I poke my head away from Silver and wave down the waiter. “We’re ready to order.”