Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I figured you would.”
“Old man Fontana. He’s still alive.”
“You know the outfit’s finished, right? Now that the rats are abandoning ship, it won’t survive much longer. You don’t need to do anything to him but wait.”
“I know that.”
“You’re still going to ask me, aren’t you?”
“Let me kill him, Stellan.”
He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “No.”
I stop walking. “What the fuck?”
“No, Prime. Because I’m not positive you plan on coming back from that hit.”
I drink my coffee and take a beat to steady myself before replying. I could snap at him, react like the old Prime would, but I’m not thinking short term anymore. My life doesn’t have a black spot past Fontana’s death.
“I want kids. I ever tell you that?”
Stellan snorts. “You’re lying.”
“I’m serious. You know how I grew up. The shit I went through. I want kids of my own and I want to spoil them rotten. I want to do it right, be a good father, give them a good life. Make up for some of the hell I survived.”
“You can do that without killing Fontana.”
“No, I can’t. I need to end it. I have to know it’s over. It’s been eating at me all these years, Stellan, and maybe I don’t want to go down into hell after the old man, but I have to send him there. Now’s my chance. The only one I’ll get, right now while he’s weakest. Please, Stellan, this is the last favor I’ll ask of you. Give me permission to kill the old bastard, and afterward, I’ll focus on my wife and on getting her as pregnant as I can.”
My friend smiles and claps my shoulder. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“I won’t do it if you refuse. But I’m asking you for one more thing.”
“Do it then. You have my blessing, so long as you find your way back after it’s over. I like that wife of yours. I’d hate to see you break her heart.”
“Never.”
Stellan says goodbye in front of the Art Museum. His driver’s waiting in a black limo. When he’s gone, I call Deanna, and she picks me up ten minutes later.
“How’d it go?”
“About as good as it could’ve.”
“Anything I should know?”
I lean over to kiss her neck as she navigates the narrow Philly streets. “Tonight, I’m going to kill Fontana. And afterward, I’m going to come home, and I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.”
She laughs, flicking my chin until I back away. “Who said I want to get pregnant?”
“You don’t want a family?”
“I do, but I’m still young.”
“All the better. We’ll have more time to pump them out.”
“Prime!”
“I’m going to fill you with babies, Deanna.”
“God, you’re a psychopath.”
“Dozens of them.”
“Three. No more. And we’ll start when I’m twenty-six.”
“That’s forever away.”
“It’s long enough for us to travel, go to dinner, do all the dating things we never got to do, before we give our lives over to kids.”
“That’s a fair point.”
“Good.” She pats my cheek. “That’s my husband.”
CHAPTER 37
PRIME
Augustus Fontana’s house looms in the evening beyond his high walls. I pause on the sidewalk across the street and marvel at the roofline and wonder if he’s feeling the squeeze the way everyone else in his world must be. And I smile, because I know he’s watching the last of his power evaporate like water in the desert, sucked into the earth, gone in an instant.
I land hard on his grass and amble through the manicured trees and bushes. It’s exactly the way I remember it from my last visit. Fucking Fontana—years ago, when he was at his strongest, he never would’ve let someone like me anywhere near this place.
But he got desperate. He wanted to flex and lord over me and prove to himself that he’s still on top.
He should’ve stayed hidden.
The tank at my hip sloshes and bumps with each step. It’s heavy, but worth the extra weight. I wonder if there are any guards waiting, any eyes watching from the shadows, anyone monitoring the multiple cameras and motion sensors I notice all over the property.
If anyone cares that I’m here, they’re not doing anything about it.
I walk on, thinking about Shawn, about how he befriended me when I was nothing and needed him the most, about how he gasped and looked so scared as he bled out in my arms. About running away, leaving him there, hating myself for it. How that hate only got worse over the years and thickened into a hideous scab over my heart.
Until Deanna came along and ripped it away.
The front door’s locked. I sigh, put the tank down, and knock. Part of me wants to break it down, but it looks like sturdy wood and likely has a solid deadbolt, so why bother wasting the effort? After a short wait, there’s a thud, and it croaks inward.