Page 6 of Courting Danger

They never even posed for the picture. It had been computer generated. If they had posed for it, they would have needed to glue me to the floor to get me to sit still long enough, and my mother would have had to stand on a box to be seen over the tall chair. Not to mention my father would have had to actually be present, instead of serving the first of his many stints in prison for the murder of a New Jersey couple. How the man always managed to get caught red-handed, I’d never know. My grandfather would probably roll over in his grave if he knew his legacy had turned into this kind of circus.

Since its creation, I had barely given the painting a second thought, but I stared up at it now, meeting the gaze of my father’s recreated eyes. I’d never noticed before, but they were the same shape and color as my own.

David Russo was a complicated man, to say the least. Marrying my mother and combining the Russo family with the Mariano family, their biggest rivals at the time, made him the most powerful man in the mafia at a very young age. Maintaining his position at the very top of the Italian crime syndicate from the time he was thirty was not a simple feat, but by force and by loyalty to the original families, he managed to uphold the legacy he’d been given. Well, the thrill of the power he held over others went to his head and he started making stupid mistakes rather quickly. My father held a lot of traditional beliefs that probably contributed to his multiple arrests, including insisting on checking the problematic facilities in their portfolio himself to show his willingness to get his hands dirty.

A little too dirty.

I didn’t know what to think about my father sitting in prison through most of my childhood and my formative teenage years. My father had been a hard man to live under, but he had his soft moments as well. Somehow he’d managed to maintain his business, keep his wife’s family in line, and be somewhat of a father to me despite his on again, off again incarceration. For many years, I’d looked up to him, my silver-haired idol, and wanted to be just like him.

Now, at twenty-five, I knew better.

Two years ago, an engagement had been arranged for me with a girl from one of our rival families. It had been meant as a way to forge alliances and was exactly the same way my own parents had ended up married.

Rather than follow tradition, I had taken that opportunity to come out as gay, insisting I could never make any bride happy. I’d expected punishment, reprimand, maybe even disownment.

What I hadn’t expected was for my father, after a long moment of silent contemplation, to sigh and reach for the nearby phone.

“I guess I should tell the Vidales family that the engagement is off.”

For all his traditional values, my aging father had simply accepted my declaration and moved on to the day’s business as if nothing untoward even happened. I had to respect the man for that, considering I knew it had to go against every ingrained thought my father had ever had. It wasn’t what he’d been taught as “acceptable” but he accepted it anyway. In his own way, my father loved me, his only legitimate son, and he would do what he had to to make sure I was happy.

From that moment on, I had been free to live openly, at least as far as my sexuality was concerned. I would never call my father a good man, but in this one instance he’d been exactly the supportive parent that I needed.

Now it was my father who needed support, and I was going to try, even if I thought the whole thing unnecessary. Just as I’d told Ghita, my father would likely be out of prison before I was even officially recognized as the head of the family.

A sleek black car waited for me right in the middle of the house’s long turnaround driveway. The engine was already running, just waiting for me to slip inside. I practically collapsed against the backseat, directing the driver to my Newark apartment as my mind buzzed with all the things I’d need to take care of tomorrow. It was going to be a nightmare, and now I had to hire a bodyguard on top of everything because I refused to break a promise to my cousin.

An idea came to me, lighting up inside my brain like a candle glowing at the center of a hurricane.

Pulling out my phone, I dialed one of the few numbers saved in my contact list.

“Hey, Ricco. Get me the footage from the Ultraviolet Room’s security cameras. Yes, from tonight. There’s something I want to look into.”

CHAPTER 5

Garrison

The sun was barely peeking over the tops of the trees as I reached the end of my fourth mile. I began most mornings with a run through the nearby park, always ending at exactly the same time. However, this morning I’d gotten a late start. The previous evening had been unexpectedly hectic, first fighting off a murder attempt, and then spending several hours being questioned by police.

They hadn’t even seemed to care about my answers, just filling out the paperwork so they could file the whole thing away.

This resulted in not getting home until the early hours of the morning, which threw off my sleep schedule and caused me to wake up late.

As I started the fifth mile, I checked my watch.

Still four and a half minutes behind.

I needed to run faster if I wanted to get my routine back on schedule.

I sucked in a deep break, my lungs filling with brisk morning air, and relished the burn of my muscles as I started running faster.

By the time I finished the park’s six-mile loop, I was exactly on schedule. My right knee throbbed with each step, but the dull ache was easy enough to ignore.

So far, it was a good day.

My usual path ended near the park’s playground. It took me exactly one minute and twenty-eight seconds to pass by the area. The playlist I listened to while running had been curated so the last song ended just as I reached my car. I removed the earbuds and reached for the door handle, barely noticing the sounds around me.

Before I could open the door, however, a child screamed.

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