Page 123 of King of the Cage

At night, I gratefully escaped into dreams that were warm and full of contentment.

If anything good had come from my weird heard injury, it was that I was sleeping well. I’d never been a good sleeper, since Elio had been sent away and I’d gone to live with practical strangers. I’d gotten into the habit of staying up late at night, reading, or playing on my computer, escaping into worlds where I wasn’t annoying and too loud. Places where I didn’t irritate people just by existing. Those habits had been impossible to change, and it was a common occurrence for me to see the sun rising before Ifinally went to bed. The result of that lifestyle was a perpetual headache and a clinical-grade addiction to caffeine. Now, I got in bed happily and snuggled down to sleep before midnight.

What had changed? I pondered this as I lay in bed, before falling asleep. Hadhechanged it? Bran O’Connor’s strong face filled my mind. Had he cured the malady of a lifetime? How?

I had no answers to that, and my brother wasn’t keen on allowing the O’Connor heir to be around me, so I couldn’t ask him, either. I felt curious about him, in a distant sort of way, like one might feel about a handsome stranger.

I closed my eyes and fell into the dreams of safety and warmth. Nothing of note ever happened in those dreams. They were comfortingly blank, except for the sight of a strange sketch, long lines intersecting others. It was stark against its pale background. It meant something, I was sure, but I had no idea what. And I had no way to find out. In my dreams, I always had the feeling that if I could touch those lines, grab hold of that tantalizing thread, everything would fall back into place.

But I could never reach it.

35

BRAN

It was official. I was stalking my own wife.

I parked my motorcycle around the corner and jogged over to Declan’s car. He got out. There was no point in hiding. The Italians knew we were there around the clock, just like they were. We had lasted over a week that way. It was a miracle there had been no bloodshed.

“Any movement?”

“Her friends visited and stayed the night, but nothing else. She’s not left the place, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“We can’t let Santori lock her up at Casa Nera,” I reminded Dec.

If he did, I’d never get to her. So, they watched her, and we watched them, and they watched us back.

It was an unsatisfying loop of exchanging glares with the De Sanctis men. I hadn’t had a glimpse of Giada in days.

“What if that’s what she wants?” Dec lazily lit a cigarette.

He offered me one, and I shook my head firmly.

“I quit.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t remark on my sudden change to a lifelong habit.

“So, what’s the play here?” Dec asked.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, how long do we give them until we take her and do things our own way?”

I leveled a look at Dec.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Just wondering if you’ve always been a mind reader or if this is a recent development.”

Declan laughed. “Great minds think alike, I guess. Heads-up, we’ve got company.”

A heavy-looking black SUV pulled up behind us. I recognized the wheels. Few motherfuckers traveled in such style.

Elio Santori had arrived for his daily visit to his sister.

The Italian left the car and strolled toward me.

“You lost again, O’Connor? Hell’s Kitchen is over Midtown way.”

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