Page 77 of Mercy in Betrayal

“Let me drive you, at least.” Tom holds out his hand like I might hand over my keys, but I need to drive. I need the peace and calm, even if it’s just for the short journey to the location that Cassidy sent me. That’s how I feel when I’m behind the wheel, a sense of control and peace, and I need that right now.

I choose my favorite, the 22 Bentley Continental GT. It’s not as flashy as the Ferrari or the Maserati, but she’s a classic. Vintage. Something Rowan would like.

“I’ll drive,” I say as I get into the driver’s seat. Tom slides into the passenger side.

“I can talk to them,” Tom starts for the hundredth time.

“No, this is the way it has to be.” The garage door rises, and I pull out into the crisp night air. Dawn is not far off by now, and that makes this all seem like a dream, one I hope I wake up from alive and breathing.

My father used to find me in my cars as easily as he located me anywhere else. He never failed to interrupt those soothing moments, bent on defeating me every moment he could.

Even after his death.

This drive is different, though. My thoughts are consumed with Rowan. She brings me peace. And fire.

Reset. That’s the word she whispers when she thinks no one is listening. Reset, refocus, regain your ground.

God, I wish I could have her one more time.

It’s dangerous: being this focused on someone you care about. And I have to finally admit to myself that I care deeply for Rowan. I should be thinking about how to keep my ass alive and not about Rowan. She won’t save me.

Tom doesn’t speak, perhaps realizing I’m lost in thought. He plays with a cigarette, spinning it between his fingers.

“Light it up,” I say.

He glances across at me from the passenger seat, his eyes widening. Smoking in my cars is the one thing I have never allowed. “No, I’m good.”

“Light it up, Tom.” The same words I had used on Vitto, but for a different reason. I know it will give Tom a moment of peace. The smell of smoke is instant, and I’m back to thinking of Rowan and how she’s my peace. How she breaks my father’s voice. She’s like a barrier that he can’t penetrate.

Reset.

I repeat the word to myself. I need to reset, refocus, and win this fight. Killing Cassidy would take another part of Rowan, but at least I would have the rest of my life to make it up to her. Once we’re done with this, I’ll never hurt her again.

Cassidy’s challenge is being held at Fort Washington Park, and we roll up alongside the railroad tracks to my left and the Hudson River to my right. A good part of the park is located beneath the George Washington Bridge.

A group of men have gathered there, most of them smoking what may be their last cigarettes. At times of war, when a man was dying, his final wish was often a cigarette. It wouldn’t be mine. My wish would be to see Rowan one last time.

We come to a complete stop, and Tom gets out straightaway. I don’t linger but set the brake and join him.

Your time is coming. My father’s voice laughs at me, but another breaks through.

Reset. It’s Rowan’s, and it gives me courage.

My crew sees me and walks across the park in my direction. Cassidy said to meet here but didn’t state exactly where. The light dew that settled overnight on the grass has frozen in the cold. It breaks and crunches under our feet as we walk toward each other. Some of the crew flick their cigarettes away, the amber lights sailing to the ground like falling stars. Not far away, I see the little Red Lighthouse, dull in the darkness.

Beside the lighthouse is a series of tennis courts. A couple of hoboes woken from their sleep shuffle away from the area. They don’t say anything but keep their heads down. New Yorkers are very good at minding their own business. Especially seeing us coming.

The lights of Manhattan are so bright that the tennis courts are not in total darkness. Between the lights on the skyscrapers and the bridge nearby, the area is in a bit of a twilight haze, illuminating the waiting men. Cassidy and his crew are already there. I watch as Cassidy paces; wearing a white tank top despite the chill and finishing off a cigarette as I approach.

It’s hard to tell if the clouds in front of my face are from the cigarettes or the frosty air.

Another crowd enters the tennis courts. It’s Luca, and beside him is Carina with her own crew.

My heart stalls, and I stride quickly to my sister.

“What are you doing here, Carina?”

“If this is actually going to happen, I figured that I needed to throw my hat into the ring.” She has no fear in her voice.

---