Page 63 of Thief of my Heart

Lis asked Ares something in Albanian, and he answered in kind. There was a hum from the other Albanians as father and son carried on a conversation, occasionally glancing my way. Then Lis turned to Ricky.

“You agreed to pay for the surgery?” he asked.

Ricky gulped under Lis’s interrogation. “I—yeah. But that was for three cars. We only got two.”

“Only because you and your lackeys weren’t at the drop on time,” I said. “I did my part, then had to wait around, and you left me there to get busted.”

“No one told you to leave it on the fuckin’ street for all that time so the cops could ID the plates,” Ricky sneered. “Rookie move. You deserved to get pinched.”

“For being loyal? For keeping my word? Nah, I didn’t deserve shit,” I retorted.

“You could have driven it around the block, you dumb fuck.”

“And you could have showed the fuck up!” I shoved back from the table, about ready to pounce, room full of thugs or not.

Ricky was up a moment later, and more than one person in the room had their hands inside jackets or under shirts, reaching for their pieces if the worst happened.

Then Lis barked something else in Albanian, and silence fell. I couldn’t have translated worth a damn, but in my experience, “shut the fuck up” sounded about the same in every language.

“You had an agreement,” he reiterated to Ricky. “Michael did his part. You did not. This is the truth.”

A quick glance from Ares made me wonder if he had a part in this particular judgment.

Ricky’s face flushed an even brighter shade of red. “Yeah, but he didn’t finish the job! The cops grabbed the last car?—”

“Because it sat on the street for an extra four hours, you crooked piece of shit,” I cut in. “If you’d been there on time, you would have gotten your car, I’d never have been locked up, and my little brother might still be alive.”

Ricky glared like he wanted to shoot me between the eyes. I stood straighter, daring him to come for me. I would have been more than happy to shove my fist right through his face, maybe force him to get a few more gold teeth. Thinking about Tommy had that effect on me. Especially when I was staring at the asshole responsible for his death.

In the end, Ricky didn’t have to make a move. Lis made it for him.

The boss barked something in Albanian over his shoulder. Immediately, the men on the couches stood.

Ricky’s eyes bugged out in fear.

“No,” he sputtered. “Lis, please. Come on, man, this happened a year ago.”

“It was a bese,” Lis said calmly. “A promise. And a man is nothing without his promise.”

He repeated the order to his thugs, who yanked Ricky away from the table and shoved him toward the exit.

“Lis, please!” Ricky shouted. “I’ll make it up to him, I swear it! I’m good, man—don’t do thi?—”

His cries were silenced when the door slammed shut behind him. Beside me, Paul and Jay looked like they wanted to melt into the floorboards.

I focused on Lis, who was sitting there as calm as ever, as if he hadn’t just ordered a man to, well, I didn’t know what, exactly. But I was pretty sure if I did, I’d be in even more shit.

He looked me over with a critical eye. “You don’t let people push you around, Michael Scarrone.”

I shrugged. What was I supposed to say to that?

“You keep your promises,” he continued. “And you keep quiet.”

He glanced to Ares, who seemed to nod in agreement, then to a few other men, who did the same. I didn’t like the feeling that they were having an unspoken conversation. Even more that it seemed to be a decision about me.

“We could use someone like you,” Lis said. “Someone with integrity. Someone we can trust. And with your job, your position?—”

“No,” I interrupted, though that dread was seeping into my chest, my heart, with a finality I truly hated. “I told Paul. I told Ricky. And now I’m telling you. The Zolas are straight. They don’t deserve to be dragged into the life if they don’t want it. I won’t do that to them.”

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