The Baron's Pet

S POV,

r as I stare down at t

t it's fresh. Sti

l as I grip it tighter and cut the engine

e; they always do. It didn't matter. He owed. He t

e hand that

make in a year. Gold trim. Shiny as hell. Enzo is, probab

If the Don's here,

cheap cologne on expensive suits. I nod at N

he always does. I'm the

sixteen. Rinaldo's erran

lood in their name. That's

door. His real name is Stefano Plazo, but

crest like a damn stray they took pi

to Enzo now," someone

of papers. The

voice, low and smooth like poison in wine.

and is still on the doorknob. My

ok

press closer. It's quiet for a second,

the sob story. That we fo

t worked," Rinaldo says, amused. "He was a Bartello.

ars

tel

o

no

at name all my life with disgust. I've put bullets in

self. Wood creaks under my boot.

, into the driver's seat with my mind in shards. I sit there,

rror looks calm. Dead calm. That

ows of a parking garage in Midtown. Priv

eetings with the man

o doesn't look

oks l

n his black hair and a long scar d

e structure? It's mine. Or I guess, his. He size

ice like gravel. "Did the Cirel

am here because I

m wh

y hand. DNA kit. Quick swab. Third-party lab. N

es. Then s

e says. "I will find ou

all just a misunderstandi

o handshake. No hug. He wal

sleep t

, I play my part. Meetings

in later that week, they

9% m

hem. I don't pick up. I drive instead

while my whole world rea

vening, we

eavy silence between two men who should have had

s finally. It sounds like it

u are the reas

looking for you. We were ambushed. You were two. The cops sent

I don't know

. "What do you want?

. You belong with us

. I don't want protec

ving," I say

not one of them. You are a Barte

n in my hand when I was fifteen. I've bled for that

o remain there so you can bur

thin. Cold

a long time. Then he nod

on't

other. But we understand

hey raised dies, and I bec

oyalty. No more

ment on, I'm

he Cirelli's pay for ev