Sam, aka Leo, aka Saint
Five years, I’ve pulled this off. Five years of celibacy, five years of refusing to risk a person getting close, and I go and help a young woman and fall. I fell the moment she came to me in the shower. Maybe sooner. Those bright-blue eyes—strong, intelligent, and kind, but also in need of protection. She pulled strings I’d tamped down. Reminded me what it is to be close to someone, to be real with someone. The attempted abduction eviscerated any doubt.
She said she loves me. I pretended not to hear–a shit solution. She’s fallen too. Which means when I leave, and the day will come when I leave because I have a family to return to, she’ll hurt. She’ll mourn me, and I’ll watch from afar. Only, whereas I knew one day I’d come home to my sisters, I’ll never come back for her.
I ache, knowing what’s coming. Knowing what she’s going to go through. This operation is so fucked up and has been since takeoff. The plan had been for me to be missing in action for a couple of months, long enough that if I were caught, no one would connect me to my real identity. No one would take vengeance on my family, a real risk considering the organizations and governments I’d be deceiving.
But the months turned into years. I left my sisters so many clues that this was happening, hoping they’d piece it together. I’d thought I’d get one more time with them so I could lay it out for them. They didn’t have clearance, but I was going to break policy, to shield them from the pain. Trust in their acting skills. And then it all happened so fast.
Light spills out of Nick’s office. He’s in his office chair, a bottle of scotch on his desk, and two highball glasses holding healthy pours.
“You’re going to want a drink,” he says, gesturing to the liquor.
“After the day I’ve had, I want the bottle,” I say, sinking into one of the leather chairs. There’s a fire going, and the room has the smell of a campfire from my youth.
“Sir, do you require anything?” The woman at the door speaks like you’d expect her to be in uniform, but she’s in a casual dress with slippers.
“No, we’re good, Freya.” He lifts his glass and pauses, “Unless… Do you need food?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I’m too numb and exhausted to want food. “This scotch should knock me out.”
“You can retire, Freya. Thank you.”
The tall, middle-aged woman nods, her gaze set on Nick. I glance between the two of them. Nick doesn’t keep a full staff, but here this woman is, presumably living on the premises.
Freya steps into the hall, and Nick calls, “Please close the door.”
“Who all is here?” I ask after the door clicks closed.
“Lina.”
“Oh?”
“Tell Willow under no circumstances is she to cave to any of Lina’s ideas.”
“What’s Lina up to?”
“She’s itching to leave the estate.”
“You won’t let her?”
“There’s no temptation on the estate,” he says as he picks up an iPad and flicks it to life.
“You can’t exactly withhold all temptation.” While he fusses with the device, I add, “We gain the strength of the temptation we resist.”
“Is that biblical?”
“Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
“Where did you say you went to school?”
“Not Oxford,” I say, shooting him an amused grin.
Nick has the most prestigious academic record of anyone I’ve worked with. He’s a mostly good man who skirts the law and is intelligent enough to never get caught.
“Massimo De Luca called me earlier.”
“Apologizing or declaring war?”
“Eh, middle ground. He feigned ignorance of Leandro’s plans but said it was our fault.”
“Because I married someone he wanted?”
“Apparently, Willow’s father promised Willow to Leandro.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.” Alessio likely would’ve caved with pressure, but I don’t believe he had already done it when he blessed our union.
“Truth doesn’t matter. What I’m telling you is what Massimo believes.” Nick pointedly looks at me, and I get what he’s not saying. It’s a point he’s made repeatedly. Truth is immaterial. The only thing that matters is what one believes.
Truth was a twentieth-century inconvenience, and it’s a twenty-first-century myth.
“He suspects the syndicate is behind the heroin bust that landed his capo in prison but doesn’t have proof.”
I’d been aware of Nick’s scheme. Kept Interpol abreast. But they observed and didn’t get involved. “Who knew?”
“I’m working through that. Massimo may have been probing. Trying to figure out if Leandro was playing him to justify coming after Willow. It might’ve been conjecture on Leandro’s part. Guy wasn’t stable. Had a history of being delusional.”
“Perhaps some of the law enforcement groups that normally would’ve been paid off to re-direct a bust suspected something? Shared their suspicions with Leandro?”
“Perhaps.”
“Where’d you leave it with him?”
“I agreed to send his brother’s body back to him so he can have a proper funeral.”
“And in exchange?”
“Officially, we let bygones be bygones. Willow stays with you.”
“Her father?”
He waves a hand. “I don’t think he was ever going to do anything to Alessio. He’s too wealthy. Wields too much power. And some portion of that pea-brain recognizes that his brother was demented and a woman forty years younger wasn’t a suitable bride.”
“So, it’s over?”
Nick’s brow furrows, and he pushes the iPad across the table. “Not at all. The Grigi are slow learners. They need another kneecapping.”
On the screen, there’s a list of weapons.
I flip to the next page. Another list.
To the next page. Another list.
“What’s this?”
“Cargo on three Titan ships. Two other ships are carrying sanctioned oil. We’re going to bust one of these ships.”
“Are the weapons going in or out of Russia?”
“Saudis and Chinese are fortifying Russia. I’m thinking if we do this right, we’ll piss the Russians off, and if we can lay blame at Massimo’s feet, make him look incompetent, they’ll take him out.”
“Won’t that just make Gagliano look incompetent?”
“Massimo orchestrated the sale. Putin will blame the man who took his money.”
“You don’t want to go the legal route?”
“Would get too suspicious. Plus, the paper trail at this stage is too complicated for the international courts.”
“So, your goal is to have the Russians eliminate Massimo in the hopes he’s replaced by a more capable leader?”
“Tensions are high. Putin’s patience is thin. If the Russian cartel steps in to eliminate Massimo, the world will assume Putin taught a lesson. Any of those ships represents a tidy sum. But you’re the arms expert. Which one is going to piss Putin off the most when it doesn’t come to Papa?”
I flick between the pages. “Any of these ships could blow away a small country.” I glance up. “Chemical warfare? Is this real?”
The door opens, and Lina steps in wearing a silky floor length nightgown. “Is it true?”
“Lina, when the door’s closed, knock.”
“Oh, my god. Like I care if the two of you get blitzed. Freya said we have guests. Plural. Is Willow here?”
“She’s sleeping,” I answer.
Lina claps her hands. “Finally. Guests. I’ve been bored out of my mind.” She drops into the seat across from me.
Nick pushes up and grabs his sister by the arm. “Out you go.”
“Piss off.”
“Lina, you are trying my patience.”
“I am always trying your bloody patience.”
“Precisely my point.” He hovers over her.
“Did you know we lost Internet. Again?”
“We didn’t lose Internet, Lina.”
“Yes, we did. I was in the middle of streaming a movie, and tits up.”
“Fuck, Lina,” he grumbles. “I’m going to go fix her goddamn television. Look over that list, and let’s discuss when I’m back.”
“What list?” Lina asks as Nick shoves her out of the room.
“Contrary to what you believe, Leo and I work. It’s a new concept. One you should contemplate.”
The door clicks closed. I listen to the steps moving farther away and scan the room. Nick’s office is a camera-free zone, unless he’s lied to me over the years. No time like the present to discover the truth.
I whip out my mobile. It’s not a burner, but I’ll switch out the card. I snap photos of each list.
Nick wants to take out one of these ships. But we need to take them all out.