Page 4

Arosso

This dumbass kid is going to be the end of me.

It’s my own fault, I guess, for entering into this brat’s life against every instinct inside me. Now she’s sprawled on her knees, dirtying the floor with her tears and the slush on her boots.

I lick my teeth and pace back into the kitchen.

The hell am I going to do with her?

Grabbing a towel, I have half a mind to dab it in chloroform and knock her out until I figure out my next move. Except six neighbors saw her chasing me down the street with that loud ass mouth of hers.

As I’m about to throw the towel at her, my heart pangs like I’ve been punched in the gut.

What…?

An image of my late wife and daughter crying manifests right where she’s sitting.

I’m dumbstruck.

The memory is haunting and vivid, resurfacing like an old movie reel.

Lisa… I’m sorry…

She broke down because we had to switch homes again for another job.

Everyone always said I was too careful, and never enjoyed the fruits of family.

Staying put, playing house while acting the devil during my night shifts.

It’s what all the mobsters did. But not me.

I was always paranoid. Rotting in jail was never in the cards. I’d rather be shot dead.

Still, fate had her way with me. How foolish to think I held any control.

I should’ve enjoyed them when I had the chance… my family.

Stanzo the Glove and John Scar told me over and over again, but I didn’t listen.

Now they’re gone.

I blink hard to get the vision out of my head, then toss the towel at the young woman. “You’re making a mess.”

She looks up at me in disbelief, face all reddened. She’s not an ugly crier though. In fact, the tears falling over her silky skin paints a portrait of beauty.

“You must be a real goddamn sociopath, Silver. Do you care about anyone but yourself? Or are you as barren as this hollow house?”

I’ve heard similar words before in past one-night-stands…

not quite as creative though. But this is different.

She’s different. It tugs at whatever’s left of my greying heart.

I thought it was all ghastly mist at this point…

and I thought I’d never really feel anything again after the death of my wife and daughter.

Not sure what’s coming over me, but I crouch down to be eye level with her. She smells like tears and honey. That sweet scent won’t leave.

Her sobbing stops as she stares me dead in the eye. That fiery anger resonates this close. A quiet moment speaks more than all of her loud words.

“You were never here,” I say evenly, with no room for question. “The idea was yours, and yours alone. Nod if you understand.”

Her body tenses. She knows I’m about to throw her a bone. Her arms straighten by the elbows, eyes lighting up like Christmas.

“Nod if you understand,” I repeat, and she does.

We both know she’s lying. Yet I’m compelled to advance this strange interaction inch by inch.

“It’s the Russians,” I say, savoring her expression. The thankfulness for new information, the anger as she places ethnicity to those who terrorized her, the fear for her father. She’s a pinwheel of emotion, and I just blew another gust her way.

“That mark?” her voice cracks.

“A sign. Part of their star. The reason you couldn’t identify it is because it isn’t finished. They leave random parts at every hit. So small and so faint, the cops would never—”

I stop myself, as I’ve already said too much.

“You’re in the mafia, aren’t you?”

I straighten, looking down on her. “I’m nobody.”

As I go to walk away, her hand wraps around my calf. She squeezes and holds, begging me to look down again. The demon in me draws to her lips first. I trace them carefully before moving to her pleading eyes.

“ Thank you, ” she whispers.

Bolts of fire run up my leg, sensations I haven’t felt from any of the women since. It’s dangerous.

In this moment, it doesn’t feel like winter.

“Finish cleaning up and get out,” I growl. “I’ll tell you when the coast is clear.”

I twitch my leg out of her grasp, suddenly experiencing a coldness in place of her hand.

She takes off her boots and delicately places them on the mat.

What a ludicrous pair of fuzzy bright blue socks with dogs on them.

They completely match her personality— loud .

I fight to hold back a smirk as she slides into the kitchen, grabs a few sheets of paper towels, and slides back to continue cleaning up her mess.

“Those are ridiculous,” I soften, looking out the window to pinpoint the whereabouts of the rookie cop in this woman’s house.

“What? These ?” She wiggles her toes in them. “Don’t knock them ’til you try ’em.” She chuckles, obviously happy I gave her the lead.

What she doesn’t know is that the cops are entirely too slow to catch the bratva, even if they went full force. Her father will be underground within a night—dead or alive.

“They’re cozy, and warm, and a thousand times more practical than those thin business socks you’re wearing. I mean… who the hell wears suede loafers in the snow?”

“Image is important,” I say. “You’ll learn that when you grow up and get out of Daddy’s house.”

I’m throwing her another bone and I don’t know why. Implying there’s still hope for her father being alive keeps her smiling as she collects the last of the slush.

“I’ll have you know I’m a working woman… not some deadbeat. Accountant at Fitsjen Associates…”

“And you roll into work like that? Good luck getting promoted,” I scoff, catching a glimpse of the rookie pacing on the phone. I snap my fingers, changing the tone in an instant. “Get moving, now . The rookie is headed to the other side of the house.”

She jumps in place and runs to slip back into her boots as I move to inspect her cleaning work. Not bad. She’s not a total slob.

I fold my arms, imagining toned legs beneath those baggy sweatpants. Her curved backside peeks out just so… hypnotizing me.

She’s a child, I tell myself. Twenty years younger, at least . Go rub one out and stop being a moron.

As she’s about to reach for the doorknob, she turns to me. “I’m Quinn, by the way. Nice to meet you, neighbor.”

“Yeah, great. This will be the last.”

“I doubt that.” She smiles wide. “I’ll be sure to parade my dad back here and say it was all thanks to you.”

Heat boils in my abdomen. That earlier chloroform thought comes rushing back tenfold.

“Kidding. I’m kidding. ”

I huff. Can’t believe I let that get to me. “Out,” I repeat.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

I clench my jaw. She’s a good kid, despite her annoyances. Lonely, it seems, like me. I should take my mental snapshot and move on with my life, but for some reason, I’m intoxicated.

“Aros,” I say.

“Like rice? That’s weird. Hm. I think I’ll keep calling you Silver.”

Bitch.

“I’m going, I’m going.” She puts her hands up, able to tell I’m getting annoyed. “Bye, Aros. Thanks for the tip.”

Kchrk!

The door shuts. I lock it behind her and beeline it to the office room to watch her scurry away, then head to the window to make sure Mr. Rookie isn’t staring through any of the windows. I’m being paranoid, true to my nature. There’s a rush attached to it that I haven’t felt in ages, though.

Pacing to my duffle, I pull out a burner phone stashed away for emergencies, and can’t believe I’m about to use it. Out of habit, I start dialing Stanzo’s number, then wince when I remember his fate.

I should be used to death at this point. An old ghost like me experienced more than his share, but for some reason, this one still hurts. Deleting the number, I reenter John Scar’s and put the phone to my ear.

“ Uh… John’s phone? ”

I know that voice anywhere. Sal Dicey Matteo, right hand to the fucking Don. His nickname should be Jester, or douchebag. Either fits.

“Hi, Sal,” I say.

“ Hey, John. ” He pretends to cover the mic. “ It’s weird, just wind on the other line, ” he says to someone else in the backdrop.

I shut my eyes and sigh.

“ Hah. Ghost. I feel like the last time you called, I was in diapers. ”

“Hilarious as ever, Dice.” I massage my temples.

“ Oh really? I got more. Ahem… now you’re the one in diapers. ”

“How does the Stallion deal with you?” I ask genuinely.

“ Pfft. The bastard is numb to me. Anyway. What can I do you for, good man? And when are you going to get me into your cool big-time movies, huh? ”

“Put John on.”

“ Mm. He’s a little—uh— busy at the moment. ”

I shake my head, missing the thrill of the job. The old Scar is still at it. “Fine. The Russians charged the kingdom,” I speak in code.

“ The fuck outta’ here. ” Sal spits.

“Right next to the Six Flags castle,” I say.

“ Dirty Jersey? The one off Windham? Goddamn. ”

“Sal…”

“ Relax, old man. Our calls are double-VPN-blocked. Putin couldn’t even hack us. Tell me more. ”

“Captain of homicide, mid-Jersey unit. He lived right across the way. Scooped up in the middle of the night.” I look out the window, spotting Quinn with her laptop open outside—likely matching the Russian mob star with the shaded points on her house. Brat doesn’t trust me.

“ Dall, something or other? That dude has been stirring all sorts of shit for our Jersey crews. I’ll let Trino know. Thanks for the heads up. Might be open season for a bit down there, huh? You, Mr. Ghost, just opened the floodgates. ”

“Mm,” I growl.

“ Stay put, will you? Need to let big boss know. This ain’t no little biscuits move, now that I think about it. ”

“Glad that finally clicked for you.”

“ Oh! Oh! He’s got jokes! ”

“Bye, Dice.” I hang up the phone.

I don’t appreciate requests from the family anymore. I’m supposed to be out . The truth is, they don’t have the capabilities to find me if I chose to go off-grid. The only one I’d be worried about is supposedly islands away with one of his chained-up wives. Leandro, you sick bastard.

Disappear and don’t look back , I tell myself, watching Quinn rush back into her house.

Bzzzt!

The burner vibrates. Not sure of the number, but the Artemis Hotel is generally the big boss.

“Hello.”

“ Long time, Ghost, ” Donny’s unmistakable voice rumbles through. “ How’s my big cousin? ”

“As elusive as ever.” I switch my view to the window when I notice movement.

“ Gasper tells me you run a tight ship on set. ”

“Our money, right?” I laugh. “I don’t ask for any producer credit, just follow my fucking lead.” I snap my fingers.

“ Even the directors are scared of you. ” Donny laughs with me.

“Nah, c’mon. I don’t interfere with their vision. But if they overstep… then maybe I’ll make it go a little hazy for a minute.”

“ Forgot how crazy you are. You know I have to jump through a lot of hoops to keep you out. People always asking— ”

“My circumstance is unique,” I say.

“ That it is. Rest their souls, ” Donny pays his respects. “ Listen, Ghost. I know it’s not part of the agreement, but as a cousin and a friend, I have to ask— ”

“Not doing it, Donny.” I shake my head. “Don’t need money, don’t need friends.”

“ You haven’t even heard my proposal yet.

It won’t interfere with your business. I know you’re in between sets.

It’s a short-term endeavor. We need to know what the Russians’ end game is here.

After what Castor and Big Ace did to Yuri and his business, I have to know if they’re planning on some kind of grand scale retaliation. ”

“From one paranoid Valentino to another, you’re overreacting,” I say, eyes lingering on Quinn through the window.

I picture her sobbing on my floor. The poor kid.

“ Maybe so. But all’s been too quiet on that front, ” Donny says.

“You have an entire army now. Surely you have a new ghost in town,” I grumble.

“ With less experience and less care, ” Donny pleads. “ For what it’s worth, the Rigianos have the same hunch I do. They’re moving, Ghost. Trying to make sure no more families wind up broken, you hear? ”

I stay quiet on the other line, again picturing Quinn sob.

“ All I ask… is that you locate the Russians… and simply observe. ”

“Alright, Donny. But I move on my terms.”

“ That was never up for debate. ”