Page 36 of Dark Alliance
I won’t let this family die. I can’t.
I’ll save my fatherandthe Riccis, no matter the cost.
Nino crosses his legs and his arms, his fingers flicking over his rings. He’s irritated with me. For interrupting? I didn’t catch a word they said, if that’s his concern.
Considering what I overheard between him and Belinski at the salvage yard, though, I can guess the broad strokes.
I only pray my father talked him out of allowing the Bratva to use the Blue Hook Port to slaughter a handful of Irish Kings.
Father’s basically asleep now. He didn’t touch the polenta but finished his soup, so I’ll take it.
As soon as Nino realizes no more conversation will happen tonight, he rises, practically fleeing from the room. To escape me, I guess.
I move the tray, kiss Father on the cheek, and lower his bed.
Relaxed and pain-free, he appears at least a decade younger. As I study his face, vivid images from my childhood materializes in my mind’s eye.
We’re in Midtown on our way to buy a birthday gift for my mother. I’m eight, and Father’s just going along with me. He’s acting like it’s not midweek, he doesn’t have an enterprise to run, and I’m not dragging him into a toy store.
I plan to buy a giraffe I saw there around the holidays. Mother always says she wants to go on a safari. Father loves the idea. So, we purchase this stuffed giraffe, one that can stand up on its own. After that, we detour to La Maison du Chocolat for her favorite dark chocolate sea salted caramels.
I can’t recall Mother’s reaction. I’m sure she adored it. But I’ll never forget that day with Father, because every year on the week of her birthday, he’d pick me up from school so we could spend the afternoon together shopping for her. Our special day.
When a parent’s healthy, you rarely get to examine them like this. You’re not putting them to bed, not tucking them in. You certainly don’t take the time to reminisce about the past.
Nighttime comes with its fair share of stressors, such as,Will he survive the night?It brings more memories, too, and I relish them all at his bedside, grateful for what we shared.
I love him so much. He’s my everything and always will be.
I catch myself smiling as I switch off his bedside lamp, draw his curtains, and slip from his room.
Back in my own bedroom, I run the water and climb in the spa-like bath. The delicate blue walls reflect off the white tile floor, calming me.
Tonight, despite my little jaunt down memory lane and the rose-scented bath bomb I tossed in the water, I do everything but relax.
The disaster heading for my family haunts me, and I have exactly zero people I can confide in.
Nino’s out. And my father can’t handle any more stress. The last thing he needs is an in-house war between his two children.
Even though Connor insists repeatedly that I’m the only Ricci he wants to do business with, I can’t trust him.
I wish I could. Physical attraction aside, the man is cunning and astute, and as much as I hate to admit the truth, he’s correct when he says that neither Father nor Nino are currently capable of wise decisions.
This might not be the sort of problem I can solve from the background or one I can tackle on my own.
So where does that leave me?
Do I talk to Connor and attempt to strike some kind of deal? Our viewpoints on the alliance align—at least when it comes to the Russians—and he seems like the lesser of two evils. The only person who sees things my way.
Maybe…he’s all I’ve got?
Is his untrustworthy self worth the risk, though?
I rise from the tub and grab my robe. As I step past the pile of wet clothes ruined in the junkyard, my toe kicks a little black object that skitters across the cream tile.
I kneel and pick it up, thinking I must’ve popped a button, though my mind immediately insists it’s too small to be anything like that.
I roll the little circle in my palm, its smooth metal edges digging into my skin.
