Page 26 of Dangerous Refuge

“It shouldn’t have happened, that is for sure,” Dad slurs. “How did we let this go so long?” His eyes turn upward at Leo, the second oldest. Leo’s head hangs in shame, his shoulders dropping like a wilting plant. Nick was his best friend and he never saw it for a single second.

“He had us all fooled,” Dominic tells Leo, gripping his shoulder.

“But he was my best friend.” I watch Leo’s fists tighten and loosen as he fights himself. “I should have seen it.”

“There is an old saying,” my father chimes in, “that says ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ It reminds us that we should know all things at all times from all people. If they are not your friend, they are your enemy. Your mistake was thinking Nick was a friend and suspecting others. This family must scrutinize everyone at all times because power like we have does not come cheap—” Dad’s words are cut off as he begins coughing. His coughs shake his whole body, and Rome, the youngest, hands Dad a handkerchief.

We wait for him to settle. It’s tough watching my father suffer, but it is the process of life. He reminds us this every time we show a trace of emotion about his impending death. Each of us stands with great heaviness, but other than Leo none of us show it in our body language. We are men, bred to be leaders and demand respect.

“Dad is right. We all have a great deal of responsibility to trust no one. We must protect our family name and the power that comes along with it. Nick was a parasite amongst us, but he’s gone. Now we rebuild. No one is to be trusted, because we don’t know who left may have been loyal to him. Everyone must be vetted again, and we must bind together.” Dominic put his fist into his palm and ground them together.

One of my aunts, sister to my late mother, pushes her way into the circle and sobs on my father’s shoulder for a moment. Red meant nothing to her, but like a moth to the flame, she flits about the money and power in this room every chance she gets. Dad dismisses her, and Leo guides her away, and we are left with another coughing fit. The handkerchief in Dad’s hand is peppered with blood, a sign that his condition is worse than we all know, but he will never let on. He folds the handkerchief and tucks it into his breast pocket.

“This is all nonsense,” he says, waving his hand in the air. His fingers are curled slightly, thin skin revealing every vein beneath its translucent surface. “When I die you all know what I want.” He shakes his finger at each of us, just as Leo returns to take his place. “You turn me to ash and pour me off the Brooklyn Bridge. Set my soul to rest where I feel most at home—the sea.”

I’ve heard the speech a hundred times, at every funeral we’ve endured since the time my mother was laid to rest when I was just a teen.

“And don’t have a ridiculous ceremony. Move on with life. Death is final; no need to commemorate it with meals and gatherings.” He uses his cane to stand, forcing his weak body upward. Leo is there for support but Dad waves him off. He feebly wobbles his way toward the door and Leo, Rome, and Matty follow him out the door.

Dominic and I stand like sentry’s next to Red’s casket for another hour, allowing all the mourners to pay their final respects before his body is taken to the cemetery. Dad refused to have a graveside service, so only Dominic will attend the body. When the last of our relatives passes by, I ask Dominic the question I’ve been waiting all day to get an answer for.

“So this new guy, Jimmy… You honestly think we can trust him?” I don’t look at my brother as I speak. I’m irritated by his choice of replacing Red with an outsider. Jimmy Slater is not blood. He’s not even Russian. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s not just some plant from one of our enemies—or worse, a cop.

“You heard nothing Dad said?” Dominic reaches up and closes the casket, hiding Red beneath the maple wood. “Trust no one.”

“So Slater though? You brought him into our family because—”

“I’m marrying his sister. That’s family enough. Nick wasn’t blood either, and—”

“My point exactly, Dominic.” I turn and square off with him, puffing my chest out. “Nick had no allegiance to us because he was not blood. This Slater guy—”

“Knows I will kill anyone who crosses me.” Dominic’s finger pokes into my chest. “Including blood.” His nostrils flare. “Now fall in line, Sven, because I don’t want to attend another funeral for a family member.”

His threat isn’t even veiled. It’s outright. He’s telling me he will kill me without hesitation, the way the leader of this family should. Even my own father would take my life if it meant protecting the legacy. I nod, infuriated but not threatened. I know my place. And that place is to obey orders, even when I hate them. I back away, ramming a hand through my hair. I need a drink.

I head down to the pub where the family hangs out now and the—an old place called Al’s on the corner a block away from where Allie used to work. I do my best thinking in this old bar. It’s where I would come to toss a few back with Red when I needed advice, so it only seems fitting that I have a drink in his honor.

Tony, the bartender, jerks his chin upward as I enter, greeting me, and I slide onto an empty barstool between two other men whose faces are in their drinks. “The usual,” I tell him, and he nods, heading off to pour my top-shelf Scotch. I nearly lost Tucker. David was severely injured. That bastard Paul is gunning for me now because I’m protecting his ex and kid. And now I have to deal with Jimmy Slater as my info guy—a man I know nothing about but already sense is not good for our family. The piece of crap put Red in danger. It’s his fault Red is dead. How can Dominic not see that?

“How was the funeral?” Tony asks, sliding my glass in front of me. I reach into my wallet and pull out a twenty and toss it at him.

“Keep the change…” I pick up the drink and down it, then set it back down. “Fill it again, at least a double this time.” I sigh, not really wanting to hash out the details of the funeral, but I know Tony was close with Red too. “It was real nice, Tony. Red would have liked it. Even my father spoke.”

“Mmm, shame I had to miss it.” He picks up the bottle of Scotch from the shelf behind himself and sets it on the bar next to my glass. “In Red’s honor.” He nudges it and bows at the shoulder, then walks away leaving me to my drink and a bit of peaceful introspection.

I began to think about how Red would handle Paul if he were here, what sort of things he would look up for me to find the man. I still have no clue where he is staying, though he seems to be a step ahead of me anyway. Even Red wasn’t keeping up with Paul’s movements. There is no way Slater will be any better at tracking Allie’s ex. I toss back another drink, then another. And soon I’m feeling very drunk. It’ll be a while before I can drive home, but stewing seems to be what my mind and body want right now.

Rubbing my face, I sit hunched over the bar, the near empty bottle of Scotch next to my empty glass. Ever since I laid eyes on Allie I knew I wanted her. It is a no-brainer for me that we belong together. The spark of connection looks different for each person—some people call that romance. I call it fate. She needs protection. I am a protector. Simple match made in heaven, and I plan to eliminate her need for protection soon, which will leave only desire. And I desire her a lot.

“Woah, buddy!” A man slams into my back, making me jolt so hard my arm thrusts into the bottle of Scotch and it takes a tumble, spilling out onto the floor. I lurch off my seat and come out swinging. I didn’t even see who ran into me, but with two men already throwing punches, my fists fit right into the fray. I swing hard, connecting to one of their guts. The man doubles over and gasps, and I bring my knee up hard into his face.

“Fuck’s sake, man. You broke his nose. We were just having a good time.” The second man leans over the first, inspecting the stream of blood now trailing down to his chin and the first tears himself away, coming at me like a freight train.

He rams his shoulder into my gut and we tumble backward, slamming into the bar. I hear something crack in my back, and I bring my head down hard on his, headbutting him. He winces, throws a few punches, then backs away. Fists continue to fly, splintering bar stools and sending drinks toppling as other patrons scurry out of the way. And before I know it, I feel a strong pair of hands grabbing my shoulders from behind.

Rome stands in front of me, blocking my view of the bastards who interrupted my mourning, and I spin around to see Matty. He pulled me out of that fight and now he’s glaring at me. “Tony called. What the fuck, Sven? Dom is going to have your head. Get the fuck out of here.” He pushes me toward the door and I glare at the bleeding men as I am forced to retreat.

Matty pushes my shoulder again as I exit the pub, and I jerk away from him. “Keep your hands off me.”

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