“I’m going to take care of that motherfucker with or without the Knights behind me,” I said firmly.
“The fuck you are,” he shouted, shaking his head and crossing his arms against his chest. “You’re talking about taking out a made man, a fucking boss. That shit don’t just happen without consequences. You give Gold what he has coming to him and you bring war to the Satan’s Knights.”
“Dom, you’re not hearing me,” I said as I leaned forward. “This is happening,” I whispered harshly.
He exhaled roughly and ran the back of his hand along his jaw before piercing me with a hard stare.
“Then it happens in a way we’re covered,” he insisted. “Let me sit on it, figure out a way where you get your revenge and we still get to breathe. Pastore didn’t cut you no slack. He gave you a gift man, something he knew you wanted but he knew the rules. Fuck, he had a hand in making them. He knew you’d be fucked if you killed Jimmy now that he’s running the show. He used you to protect his interests. I’m pulling Riggs off Bianci. Let them guinea’s take care of their own.”
“Bianci is good people,” I said.
“Maybe so, but he’s not your brother,” Blackie stated. “Give me time, Bulldog.”
I stared at him for a moment knowing I’d bide my time. I would let him do his thing but I wasn’t going to let him pull Riggs off Bianci. Anthony Bianci may not be a part of the Satan’s Knights but he was a good guy, dealt a shitty hand, and finally has a bit of happiness in his life now. I would not be the guy to take that away from him.
“Riggs stays with Bianci,” I said finally. “You do your digging, find me a way to get the job done.” I glanced at the clock plastered to the wall, stood up and gathered the photos of my brother, shoving them back inside the envelope and tucking it under my arm. “I got someplace I gotta be.”
I felt his eyes follow me toward the door as he muttered a curse. I pulled open the door and glanced over my shoulder, tipping my chin toward the table.
“Oh, and have Bones sand down the table, maybe slap a coat of varnish on the fucking thing while he’s at it.”
“Fucking hell,” Blackie hissed as I walked out the door.
Chapter Two
I heard the engine even before I could turn around and peer out the window, I knew he was there. I watched him as he threw his leg over his bike. He parked right in front of Dee’s Diner; just as he did every night I worked the graveyard shift, which was five nights a week. I didn’t mind the hours, favored them even, the less people coming in and out of this place, the fewer who saw me. But him? He came in every night I worked and he saw me. It was unnerving the way he looked at me, those eyes of his seeing right through my armor, down to the scars that marked my soul.
The bell chimed above the door as his boots scraped across the laminate flooring. I poured him a cup of coffee. He took it black with two sugars. I didn’t lift my eyes, or acknowledge his presence but I knew he parked his ass in his usual seat at the counter.
Five weeks.
Five nights a week.
He came into Dee’s.
Each night I poured him a cup of coffee and slid a menu across the counter.
Each night he pushed the menu back.
I reached behind me and pulled out my pad and pencil. As I kept my eyes focused on the blank ticket I spoke the same words I recited to everyone that came into the diner.
“What can I get you?”
“I’m good for now,” he said. I felt his eyes travel over me, pleading with me to lift my head and look at him.
It wasn’t that I had anything against him. I treated all my customers the same. I took their orders and served their food but I didn’t give them anything more. Dee asked me a time or two why I wasn’t more personal with the customers, told me I’d make better tips if I treated them to a smile here and there. I didn’t want to disappoint Dee, nor did I want to lose my job but I wasn’t so sure I knew how to smile anymore.
“Pie,” he said, jolting me from my thoughts. He never ordered anything other than a cup of coffee. It was a shock, an ad lib in a well-rehearsed script and it caused me to lift my head and stare into his eyes.
They were dark brown, almost black, not a spectacular color, not even something that deserved a second glance. Yet, I gasped when I looked into his black irises. Dark eyes that hinted at a dark soul. There was hurt behind those eyes. There was pain.
I wondered if it was his own pain or if it was just mine reflected back at me.
“Cherry,” he added.
I swallowed, tore my eyes from his and tried to focus.