“He’ll think it’s me killing them off. When his men around the edge of my territory start dying, he’ll come after me without a second thought.” My words come out deadly. “This isn’t me starting a war, it’s you.”
“I’m giving her to you for a reason.” He rushes his words with sincere bewilderment.
“No deal,” I say and turn to leave, but Aria’s whimper pierces through the air. Even without a word spoken, I can hear her plea not to leave her at their mercy. It does things to me that it shouldn’t. Just the knowledge that the threat of my absence can create a reaction from her is everything to me in this moment.
“Wait!” Romano’s hands smack on the wooden table in the center of the room. “What if,” he swallows visibly as he pushes off the table and then lets out a heavy breath. I peek at Jase for the first time since we’ve been in here. In a slim-fitting suit and his arms hanging loosely in front of him, he could be the usher at a fucking wedding right now. Well, if it weren’t for the glare on his face that can only be read one way, for anyone looking at him to fuck off.
“What if…” he pauses and clears his throat before looking me in the eye. “Once I take over Talvery’s territory, we could split it.” He earns himself a small reaction from me, the tilt of my head for him to continue. “I want to start flooding the product at the top, closest to just outside of the tri-state area, to keep the cops away from our bases.”
“And?” I question him. “None of this is relevant to splitting a damn thing.”
“I only need his territory in the Upper West Side. I don’t even have enough men to cover the rest,” he says in a lighter, nearly comical tone as if the problem’s already been solved.
“I’m not interested in more territory,” I state, and my barely spoken words cause the hopeful expression on his face to fade. “But I’d happily take a percentage of the profits to cover my losses,” I offer. “Fifteen percent every quarter until my losses are paid.”
“Deal.” Romano is so quick to oblige, even his own men stare at him rather than at me. They can’t be that stupid. An even-numbered war is never a good thing. They need men and territory and backing. I’ll give them the minimum, and pray they still kill each other off.
I nod my head once. “Deal,” I say and while forcing a semblance of a smile to my lips, I offer him an outstretched hand.
I have to keep the grin from spreading as I turn my attention back to the wide-eyed girl, still tied up on the floor. “Jase.” I speak to my brother although I keep my gaze on her, “Put her in the trunk.”
Chapter 6
Aria
* * *
It’s odd, the things that you think when you’re alone for hours in a room filled with nothing but hopelessness and anger. Some thoughts make sense of course.
Thoughts of Mika and how he should have been there. He should have been at the bar, and I find myself wondering if he knew. If he took my notebook because he knew how much I loved my art and I’d know he had it and come after him. I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t expect me to go after it. Or else why do it? I’ve spent hours trying to determine the intentions of a psychotic asshole.
But the truth is that I wouldn’t have gone after him for any other reason. I wouldn’t have left the safety of home… if that picture hadn’t been tucked safely inside.
The thoughts of Mika and how bleak my reality is seem reasonable.
Other thoughts though… other thoughts don’t make sense.
Like the flashbacks of my mother.
I’ve been haunted by so many images of what happened the day she died for years now. But none of those keep me company as I rock on the cement floor in the corner of the cell.
It’s the sweeter things I remember that are driving me mad.
My thumb brushes against the cut on my lip, sending a sharp pain through me that reminds me this isn’t a dream.
“Aria,” I hear my mother call out for me in the memory. I was hiding in the closet, so proud that I’d hidden so well. “Ria?” Her voice changed to fear and desperation, and my smile vanished. “Ria, please!” she begged as her hushed cry from the hallway beckoned me to show myself. My fingers gripped the door of the closet just as she forced the guest room door open. I remember how her light blue dress swung around her knees. How her perfectly pinned hair didn’t come undone. Yet her voice and her bearing were nothing but distraught.