mob.
“Come in,” he says, his voice unusually dark and low.
He steps back and I slip through the door, which he quickly closes behind me. The bar is dark and empty, with most of the chairs still turned upside down on the tables.
I follow him to the bar where he pours both of us a drink without asking whether I want one or not. Whiskey, neat.
“You seem distressed,” I notice when he hands one of the small glasses over to me. “Did anything happen?”
Christian brings the drink up to his lips and finishes it in one go, before he looks at me with furled eyebrows.
“You know very damn well what happened,” he hisses. “There’s a killer out there who eradicated the entire gang—and you want me to believe that they’re not after me next.”
I nod quietly, taking a careful sip from my own drink, just for the impression, not because I actually like it.
“That’s fucked up, man,” Christian adds. “And you know what’s even more fucked up?”
He glances at me through narrow eyes, supporting himself on his elbows as he leans over to me.
“What?” I ask, raising one eyebrow to show how little his affected behavior impresses me.
“The way you’re dealing with this,” he hisses. “Just telling me to let it go, to live my life without worrying. After all of this happened? Do you really think I’m that stupid, Joe Mars?”
I flinch at him mentioning my real name. I have never used that name with the mob, and there were only a handful of people—mostly the boss and his immediate associates—who knew my legal name. It probably wasn’t that hard for Christian to find out, but the fact that he is mentioning it now shows that he really did some digging in my direction.
“That’s right,” he says as if he was reading my mind. “I did some research, Mr. Stockbroker. Trying to make a name for yourself out there, are you?”
“Get to the point, Christian,” I hiss at him.
He clears his throat and straightens up to his full, yet not very impressive, height.
“I think it was you,” he declares. “You wanted out. You have never enjoyed being involved in this business and you know the mob better than I ever have. You wanted to get out and you knew that things were going downhill with them. The fights, the deaths, the mistrust—they were weakened, and you took the first chance you got to eliminate them once and for all, man by man.”
I don’t reply anything to his accusations and take another sip from my drink, just damping my lips, mostly to win time.
“Am I not right?” Christian continues, now placing his hands on his hips, trying to hold an intimidating and confident posture. But I can see his hands shaking when he lifts them up. He is anything but calm and confident, because he knows who he is talking to.
“I see why you would think that,” I say. “But don’t you think that even if your accusations were true, I would admit to them right now?”
His face freezes.
“So, you’re saying I’m right?” he says in disbelief.
I shake my head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not denying it either!” Christian insists. “And you want me to live in a fool’s paradise so you can go after me next!”
I roll my eyes at him. This guy is making things worse for himself with every sentence, and he doesn’t even realize it.
“I have no intention of killing you,” I tell him, even though I am not entirely sure at this point.
“But you killed the others—”
“Christian, listen,” I interrupt him. “We have something in common, you and I.”
He furls his eyebrow. “I don’t think th—”
“We both never belonged,” I continue. “We both could have been eradicated at any moment if we stepped on anybody’s toes. You were useful for them, but also a constant danger. Who knows how long they would have let you go on like this before the boss decided that you pose too much of a threat.”
“But I never—”
“Shut up!” I bark at him. “Let me finish, you idiot!
“Come in,” he says, his voice unusually dark and low.
He steps back and I slip through the door, which he quickly closes behind me. The bar is dark and empty, with most of the chairs still turned upside down on the tables.
I follow him to the bar where he pours both of us a drink without asking whether I want one or not. Whiskey, neat.
“You seem distressed,” I notice when he hands one of the small glasses over to me. “Did anything happen?”
Christian brings the drink up to his lips and finishes it in one go, before he looks at me with furled eyebrows.
“You know very damn well what happened,” he hisses. “There’s a killer out there who eradicated the entire gang—and you want me to believe that they’re not after me next.”
I nod quietly, taking a careful sip from my own drink, just for the impression, not because I actually like it.
“That’s fucked up, man,” Christian adds. “And you know what’s even more fucked up?”
He glances at me through narrow eyes, supporting himself on his elbows as he leans over to me.
“What?” I ask, raising one eyebrow to show how little his affected behavior impresses me.
“The way you’re dealing with this,” he hisses. “Just telling me to let it go, to live my life without worrying. After all of this happened? Do you really think I’m that stupid, Joe Mars?”
I flinch at him mentioning my real name. I have never used that name with the mob, and there were only a handful of people—mostly the boss and his immediate associates—who knew my legal name. It probably wasn’t that hard for Christian to find out, but the fact that he is mentioning it now shows that he really did some digging in my direction.
“That’s right,” he says as if he was reading my mind. “I did some research, Mr. Stockbroker. Trying to make a name for yourself out there, are you?”
“Get to the point, Christian,” I hiss at him.
He clears his throat and straightens up to his full, yet not very impressive, height.
“I think it was you,” he declares. “You wanted out. You have never enjoyed being involved in this business and you know the mob better than I ever have. You wanted to get out and you knew that things were going downhill with them. The fights, the deaths, the mistrust—they were weakened, and you took the first chance you got to eliminate them once and for all, man by man.”
I don’t reply anything to his accusations and take another sip from my drink, just damping my lips, mostly to win time.
“Am I not right?” Christian continues, now placing his hands on his hips, trying to hold an intimidating and confident posture. But I can see his hands shaking when he lifts them up. He is anything but calm and confident, because he knows who he is talking to.
“I see why you would think that,” I say. “But don’t you think that even if your accusations were true, I would admit to them right now?”
His face freezes.
“So, you’re saying I’m right?” he says in disbelief.
I shake my head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not denying it either!” Christian insists. “And you want me to live in a fool’s paradise so you can go after me next!”
I roll my eyes at him. This guy is making things worse for himself with every sentence, and he doesn’t even realize it.
“I have no intention of killing you,” I tell him, even though I am not entirely sure at this point.
“But you killed the others—”
“Christian, listen,” I interrupt him. “We have something in common, you and I.”
He furls his eyebrow. “I don’t think th—”
“We both never belonged,” I continue. “We both could have been eradicated at any moment if we stepped on anybody’s toes. You were useful for them, but also a constant danger. Who knows how long they would have let you go on like this before the boss decided that you pose too much of a threat.”
“But I never—”
“Shut up!” I bark at him. “Let me finish, you idiot!
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