Page 31 of Courting Danger

“You knew that club was owned by the Italian mafia when you took me there to interview for a job. And based on your reaction when you saw him, you knew exactly who Alex Mariano was. Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was cold enough that the steam from our coffee didn’t last long. The drink had already cooled enough for Caden to chug the rest of his.

“To be honest, I thought you already knew. It wasn’t until you accepted the job as his bodyguard that I realized you didn’t, but what could I do about it then?”

“You could have warned me before even taking me to the club. Even if you assumed I would recognize the Mariano name, I couldn’t have known who owned the club.”

“Well...” Caden reached for his drink, only to remember at the last moment that it was empty. Instead, he fidgeted with the sling supporting his arm. “You needed the money, and the bouncer job was legit. Even if the Mariano family owns it, the place still needs to function as an actual club. So, you wouldn’t need to get involved with anything illegal.”

Half of my coffee still sat in the cup, but I set it aside anyway. “Then why did you pass on Alex’s message to me?”

The look Caden gave me made me feel like my intelligence had suddenly been cut in half.

“I work for the club, so it was easiest for them to get in contact with you through me. And when the Mariano family personally asks you to do something, you don’t tell them no. Not if you want to keep breathing.” He grabbed my half full cup and downed it as well. “Bleh. Why don’t you use sugar?” The newly empty cup joined his original cup in the trashcan next to the bench. “Look, Garrison, you’re asking a lot of questions, but I don’t think any of this is what you actually want to know. So why don’t you ask your real question? It’s too early for these kinds of games.”

Caden’s choice of words prickled under my skin. They were too close to the accusations I’d directed at Alex.

I wasn’t playing games. I just didn’t know how to ask what I wanted without it sounding like an insult.

“You work for that club, which means you work for the Italian mafia. So, I just want to know... how?”

The wind blew, bringing with it the first hints of daytime warmth, yet Caden’s demeanor turned icy. “What kind of work do I do for them? Mostly, I’m just a courier. Don’t need four working limbs to drive a vehicle, and my handicap license means I can park pretty much anywhere and no one will ask questions. So long as I don’t get too curious about what I’m transporting, it’s fine.”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or frustrated. It was good to know that Caden wasn’t involved in anything too violent, but it didn’t answer my question.

“No, I mean... how did you get your head around working for the mafia in the first place. You were a soldier. You worked for the military. How did you go from protecting people to hurting them?”

Caden jumped to his feet, nearly falling over when his bad leg refused to support his weight. “Hey, I don’t hurt anyone. I just drive a truck.”

He fumbled for a moment as he retrieved his cane from the ground, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood with his back to the bench, staring off into the shadow of the trees.

“Ask yourself this, Garrison. Did we ever really protect people? We didn’t serve together, but we were in similar units. If your service was anything like mine, then you probably had to hurt a lot of people and do a lot of things that would horrify the average civilian.”

The scars on my back ached, and my knee jerked as old pains flared up again.

Caden turned back to face me, shuffling over the gravel to avoid losing his balance again. “It did bother me when I first accepted the job, but I realized that the mafia wasn’t asking me to do anything that the military didn’t demand. Less even. I’m not required to kill anyone now.”

We’d been sitting around long enough for the sun to finally stretch its rays above the trees. Sunlight chased away the dew clinging to the grass and provided a promise of warmth.

I shook my head. “It can’t be that easy.”

“It’s not easy,” Caden agreed. “But neither was being a soldier. Think about it. What’s really the difference between working for the military and working for the mafia? We end up doing the same thing, either way. If we kill someone, then they’re dead. It doesn’t matter who authorized us to pull the trigger. Dead is still dead. Violence is still violence. The only difference I can see between our old masters and our new ones is that our old masters had the authority to declare our crimes legal. Our new masters don’t.”

I had specifically chosen this bench because it was nowhere near the playground at the front of the park. Yet, at that moment I swore I could hear the sounds of children screaming in my ears. I wanted to cover my head and block out the noise, but it wouldn’t help. The park was silent. There was no hiding from the horror-filled contents of my own mind.

A flash of sunlight glinting off metal broke me away from my memories. I dived off the bench and knocked Caden aside. We both skidded over the gravel, but I was immediately on my feet. A knife stuck out of the bench, right where I had been sitting.

One of the stitches on my arm popped open. A drop of blood ran over my skin, but I barely noticed as I followed the knife’s trajectory back to the person who had thrown it.

“Impressive.” A short, curvy woman with an even shorter haircut stepped out from the shadow of a tree. “Alex said you were good. Seems he was right.”

Without looking away from the woman, I helped Caden clamber back to his feet.

“Who are you?”

The woman came to a stop well outside my reach. She looked relaxed, but she was obviously still wary of him.

“I’m Ghita Mariano. Alex’s cousin.”

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