Page 75 of A Game So Reckless

“What kind of business?”

“Business with the port.”

How much should I bother telling him? I don’t suppose there’s any sense in hiding things now. He’ll find out I’m engaged soon enough.

“I’m cutting a deal with the Sicilians.”

There’s silence for so long on the other end that I think the line may have gone bad. But then there’s the whistling inhale through a nose that’s been broken one too many times.

“What kind of deal?”

“Helping them move product through the port.”

This time, it’s an actual whistle I hear on the other end.

“Shit,” he says. “How much of that pie are you getting?”

“In terms of money?”

“Of course, in terms of money,” he scoffs. He gives a gruff laugh. “What other terms are even worth consideration?”

I want to laugh, too. If he only knew.

“I’m not getting paid.” I say it out loud and realize I truly don’t give a shit that I’m not getting any money out of this deal.

“What?”

He sounds just as shocked – and, frankly, appalled – as Vinny did when he asked me why I’d do this out of the goodness of my heart when I don’t have one.

“The Titones have something else I want.”

“What the fuck else could the fucking Sicilians have that you want?”

A siren.

“An alliance.”

“The fuck you need an alliance with them for?”

“Russians are getting uppity in Toronto. Bikers getting frisky in Montréal. We can support each other.”

“Support each other,” he says with a damning sort of irony. “Yeah. And who’s gonna support you when Vinny Titone stabs you in the fucking back?”

“I have good enough reason to believe he won’t do that.”

“Oh? And what reason might that be?”

“Because then he’d be down one very rich and powerful son-in-law.”

Quiet swearing. Rowan takes a turn through dark, rolling countryside. I wait.

“You’re marrying that Titone girl. The blonde one.”

“She’s a brunette, actually.”

What I wouldn’t give to bury my hands, my face, in those strands right now.

“Darragh…”

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