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a terrible position. I either have to get involved in organized crime or leave a man to die in a trashcan.

It’s disgusting.

“What did you do?” I hiss.

“Vito raped a woman,” the man pants. “I told the cops. I told them other stuff. He found me. He stabbed me. I’m bleeding out, miss. It’s really bad.”

“It’s locked,” I say. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Find a rock or something. You have to try. Please.”

I lay my lemonade on the ground, already cursing myself for getting involved in this messy madness. I should be back at the apartment with mom, changing her towel if it needs changing, helping her to sit up so she can take a few sips of the lemonade.

I turn and scan the surrounding area, praying for a cop or another pedestrian to come and take control of the situation.

But there’s nobody around except me.

“There’s nothing,” I say, turning back to the bin. “And even if there was, I wouldn’t be able to break the lock. Give me a second. I’ll go and see if Mr. Pham has a hammer or some bolt cutters or something.”

“God bless you,” the man whines. “Please hurry. They could come back at any second.”

I turn, breathless, and then my heart tries to explode out of my mouth and my whole body feels like it’s going to seize up.

I’ve only ever seen him on the news before, never in the flesh. He seems taller in real life, his shoulders broader. His hair is jet-black and slicked back, and a gold watch glints at his wrist. His eyes are narrowed and cold, but his smile seems almost happy like he’s enjoying this new development.

Five men crowd behind him, all of them Mafia-looking, with suits and watches and the same haircuts.

“Look what we have here,” Vito Franzese smirks. “A motherfucking do-gooder.”

I back away slowly, feeling like the world is tipping and I’m going to fall flat on my ass at any second.

“Not a good idea,” Vito says, still grinning as he moves forward. “Unless you wanna end up like your new friend here, I suggest you stay right where you are.”

CHAPTER TWO

Ryland

I sit on the back porch with my muscles throbbing from the workout, sweat dripping down my bare chest and pooling on the stone beneath me. The sun rises over my estate, glistening down, and I feel myself almost smiling.

I can’t remember the last time I outright smiled.

When I was a kid, maybe, but even then I had more important things to think about than my need to smile and be happy.

Chopper walks around the garden, tail perked and nose down, sniffing and making the loud rumbling noises I named him for. The dog sounds like a helicopter, and that’s how he got the name.

He must feel me watching him because he turns and tilts his head as if asking me if he can keep growling and sniffing.

“Have at it, boy,” I say, waving a hand.

I reach across the table and grab my ice water, taking a cool sip as my breathing returns to normal.

I’ve just completed a two-hour grueling workout and my body is pulsing nicely. It feels like the only time I can think clearly is after I’ve put my body through the wringer.

Just as I place my glass down, my cell phone rings.

I sigh and flip it over, glancing at the number to see if I can recognize it.

Forty-two years old may be young to retire in any normal career, but after the two and a half decades I’ve had, I’m ready to put all this shit behind me.

Bloody work starts to weigh on a man if he keeps at it for too long.

I don’t recognize the number, but that’s nothing new.

A lot of my contacts change their phones every other week.

I answer and hold the phone to my ear without talking, letting my eyes flit over Chopper and the long greenery of my estate. Maybe bloody work has weighed on me, but at least it’s bought me this, a place I can hide away with my dog and forget about the past.

“Hello?” a voice says.

“It’s a bright morning,” I murmur when I don’t recognize the voice.

“Yeah, it’s lovely.”

I grunt out a laugh as I hang up.

Yeah, it’s lovely, is not the right fucking response.

If he’d said, But it’s gonna rain later, then I’d know he was worth dealing with. That’s this week’s passcode, proving that he’s been suggested by the right people and he’s not working with the cops or the Feds.

I sigh as I take apart my phone, snapping each part and leaving the ruined remnants on the table.

Chopper runs over and sits at my feet, gazing up at the phone with his head tilted.

I lean down and stroke him behind the ear.

“What do you think, boy?” I say. “Time to call it a day? I’ve got money. I’ve got security. I’ve got you. Maybe that’s all I need.”

I sit back as he returns to his sniffing and growling. It’s probably a byproduct of where I found him, all that growling bubbling up inside of him, but I wouldn’t change him for the world.

I close my eyes and let the sun glow against my eyelids.

I’ve got everything a person could reasonably want at forty-two years old, at least where money is concerned.

What about a family? a small voice whispers inside of me.

I almost laugh the question away.

When I was a younger man, I knew that I wanted to meet a woman and start a family. I felt certain that one day, I’d meet somebody who made me feel something I couldn’t ignore, that’d make me sit up and act.

But, as the years wore on, it became clear to me that that was never going to happen. For whatever reason, every woman I ever met just left me feeling bland and bored and lonely.

It didn’t matter how attractive they supposedly were.

It didn’t matter how hard they laughed at my jokes… or laughed when I wasn’t even making a joke, but they

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