I wondered which male the unexpected visit scandalised most: the amputee garbed in cashmere or the grey-eyed soldier scheduled for late-night surveillance duty at the Manor. Judging by their pallidness, their shuddering twitchiness, both men were equally aghast, which is almost incomprehensible, given the fact I had yet to utter a word. I was momentarily nonplussed by their rubicund faces and loose, rumpled attire, though.
"Yeah..." Nate merely smiled. "Did we come at a bad time?"
Alfie's rosy cheeks pushed tanned freckles into the foreground. "It is not how it looks."
It is exactly how it looked.
I stepped over the box of condoms on the floor.
"Those are from last night." Alfie's irregular breathing heightened as he kicked the unopened box aside. "I mean, I met a woman downtown and invited her over."
"You got unlucky, huh?" Nate drawled, and Alfie's lips meshed in perplexity. "Am I in the wrong lane? It's just you never got to use them..." His hand smothered amused lip twitches. "Maybe you went bareback?"
"Perhaps Alfie prepared for another visit." Naturally, I glanced at Jax. "Or he was until you arrived."
"Yes," Alfie stuttered. "She is coming over this evening. I wanted to stock up."
Nate laughed under his breath.
"I had to drop off whey protein." Jax tidied his dishevelled hair. "I should go." He looked uncomfortable in Nate's shadow. It's not often lower ranked soldiers conversed with the elite. "I guess I will see you at the Manor."
"Doubtful." Nate toyed with the gold curb bracelets on his wrist. "Run along."
Alfie refused to look at Jax. "Thanks for the order, mate."
Nate hearkened to their awkward exchange through tight, sceptical eyes.
When Jax, red-complexioned and noticeably disappointed by Alfie's coldness, fled the apartment, Alfie sat on the brown chesterstone sofa. "What can I do for you, Warren?"
Popping open the button of my suit jacket, I eased into the leather wing chair. "Are you lovers?"
Sweat trickled from his temples in slow dews. "I am not gay."
I made a low, humming sound. "Is Jax privy to your sexual preference?"
Alfie was at a loss for words.
"Jax is attracted to men, correct?"
His voice lowered. "Is that what he signed on the job application?"
I simply stared.
"Yes," he answered after a short pause. "Yes, Jax is gay. His sexuality should not affect his employment, though."
"Umbrageous." I smiled pityingly, and the muscle in his jaw pulsated. "Has the syndicate given you a reason to believe that we practice sexual orientation discrimination?"
His cheeks puffed on a deep inhalation. "No."
"So, is the defensiveness necessary?" Holding out a hand, I accepted the envelope from Nate. "I come bearing gifts." I slide the non-disclosure agreement across the multifunctional coffee table. "For you."
Alfie knew I meant business. "I am disinclined to work for the institution. The last time I stepped foot inside the Warren Manor, I came away with four-less digits." A black sock-covered his deformed hand. "If that would be all, I would like you to leave."
"It's not for the syndicate." Nate dropped a holdall on the ground. "It's for Alexa." Going to one knee on the medallion navy rug, he extracted sterile gloves first, then a sealed package. "Remove the sock."
Alfie discarded the utilised coverage from his disfigured hand and extended an arm to Nate, who patiently assessed the aftermath of his boss's temper.
Adjusting his black-framed glasses, Nate clicked open the leather case to retrieve the point-digit prosthetic fingers. "One-handed operation and various levels of flexion," he explained, twisting each titanium and stainless steel digit into the durable hand-and-thumb strap. "You can lock each mechanism into fifteen unique positions." He looked up. "Palm upward."
Alfie listened to instructions.
"Relax." Nate secured the leather strap to the man's stump. "It will take some time to get used to the weight and flexibleness." He left a list of questions and answers on the table alongside a book. "Pick it up."
Alfie reached for the book, struggling to curl his bionic fingers around the spine. "It doesn't work."
"You have fake fingers," Nate said sarcastically. "Move your knuckles."
His trembling hand hovered and sagged with listless frustration atop the old paperback, which became the cynosure of all in attendance as he concentrated on the task. One by one, his knuckles spasmed as he slipped each mechanical digit between the pages. Desperate, he snatched chapters into a tight fist. "Why is it so exhausting?"
Nate rested on his haunches. "You need to practice."
"I am no good to Mrs Warren." Alfie's voice was a pained whisper. "How can I ensure her safety when impaired?"
I lit a cigarette. "Are you ambidextrous?"
"No," Alfie said, and the thought of unmet expectations seemed to leave him in a state of self-disappointment. "I am right-handed."
My frown sharpened. "Is the functionality of your right hand compromised?"
His undamaged hand curled into a fist. "No, Sir."
"You are sound of mind," I said with a dismissive hand wave. "You have arms and legs and a well-functioning trigger finger. What else is necessary to ensure my wife's safety?" Puffing the cigarette, I retrieved the envelope from the inner pocket of my suit jacket and tossed it on his lap. "An advanced payment for her happiness."
Understanding passed between us.
"Mrs Warren requested my return," he said knowingly, and I did not deny it. "You do not wish for a bodyguard. It is friendship that you seek."
I breathed through my nose to calm increased irritation. "Did it pain you to spend time with Alexa?"
His gathered brows softened. "No, Sir."
"Then, what is the issue?"
"There are no issues." Not bothering to check or count the money, he individually inspected his new fingers. "I have a lot of time for Mrs Warren." His twisted expression suggested that his fondness and respect did not extend to me. "How is she?"
I let out a slew of smoke. "Alexa will be more content once you return."
Nate placed a pen on top of the document. "And your return is not open to discussion or modification."
Alfie's real fingers twirled the pen. "What if I refused?"
I gave him a measured look. "You are not foolish enough to decline."
"About earlier." Alfie penned his signature beneath the non-disclosure agreement. "Jax is just a friend. I do not want the brothers to assume otherwise."
"I speak on behalf of the brotherhood." Nate rezipped the holdall and flung the strap over one shoulder. "We are not homophobic bigots."
"No." Alfie's head shook. "You got it all wrong."
"Are you ashamed?" I rose to my feet, and the two men followed suit. "Is it why you live in denial and lead two separate lives?"
Alfie was frozen with panic and apprehensive by the unknown. "I just..." He rubbed the scruff of his jaw. "It is frowned upon."
I regarded Nate before saying, "We are not part of the real world. We are in my world. And here, we abide by my rules, not society's expectations. If you wish to lay down with a man at night, what business do I—or any other member of the syndicate—have to intrude?"
He was unconvinced.
"I am not interested in your relationship with Jax." Snatching the document from his working hand, I handed it to Nate for filing. "You will receive an email shortly with a starting date. In the meantime, master the mechanical strap." I headed for the front door. "Alexa is throwing Logan a sixteenth birthday party." His droopy eyes brightened. "You will join us for celebrations. I trust you will not disappoint."
Although Alife looked worse for wear and was maddened by the sight of me thirty minutes ago, the thought of seeing my wife, his former boss, lifted his spirits. "Of course, Sir."
Scrutinising Alfie from head to toe, I left the apartment the same way I entered.
***
Old floorboards creaked beneath strides whilst I explored the maisonette thoroughly. Every room was dank, sordid, and, in my opinion, unaccommodating. Damp besmirched the undecorated walls. Upcycled furniture draped in dust sheets stationed in no particular order left no room for movement, and off-white nets oscillated in the windows. It felt cold and unlived-in, but there were leftover food containers in the fridge, unwashed dishes in the sink and folded clothes on the tumble dryer.
Grabbing the whiskey bottle from under the kitchen counter, I poured a generous amount of amber liquid into an adequately clean glass. "Where do you reside?"
Vincent appeared from the shadows.
I never faced him, though. I stood with my back to him, drumming my fingers on the wooden counter. "Not here," I said positively. "A flat above some seedy reggae bar? It is beneath a man like you." Swallowing a whiskey shot in one mouthful, I refilled the glass and, turning to him, rested against the counter. "You do not live with Valerie."
Throwing me a wicked smile, Vincent strolled across the dark, unspacious room, hands in his trouser pockets. "You are very inquisitive lately. I have yet to interpret whether your sudden attentiveness is genuine or ingenuine."
"You are my brother." Nursing the whiskey glass, I crossed my legs at the ankles. "I wish to know which side of the bed you lie on."
His stone-faced expression hardened upon the oblique remark. "That sounded like an accusation."
My smirk was wolfish. "What gave you such an impression?"
"Besides the sarcasm? Your eyes threaten bloody murder." He is in front of me now, the goading son of a bitch. "I live here, there and everywhere." His whispered voice breathed in my ear. "Satisfied?"
I am unsatisfied. "You skip around a dangerous line of tergiversation."
"Let me guess." He stroked his chin. "I have offended you."
"All too often," I said tightly. "Perhaps it's high time I show you who's boss."
"Brother." His hands smoothed over my shoulders. "You needn't exhaust any energy. I know where I stand in the scheme of things."
Swinging whiskey, I glared over the glass lip. "I want an address."
"Why?" Ever so calmly, he took the glass from my hand. "Do you plan to visit for Sunday lunch? A little heads up, Mother dearest might make an appearance. Valerie never quite cut the apron strings. She loves cooking," he added, and I had to cross my arms to prevent a fist from flying down his throat. "You should taste her beef wellington." He kissed his pinched fingers. "Moreish."
My upper lip twitched. "Why must you antagonise?"
"Antagonise?" Pouring whiskey down the sink, he set the empty glass on the drainer. "Are we not playing games?" He stared at me. "Oh, come on, brother. You are not here to pick flaws in my choice of lifestyle, so leave oppression for those deserving."
I said nothing.
"You might be a master manipulator, but so am I." His nose touched mine. "I will not tell you my address simply because I do not want to. Now, let us cut to the chase. Ask your question and see yourself out."
"Deja vu." Grasping the collar of his shirt, I tugged him in. "How many times must I put you in your place? You are no match for me, Vincent. You know. I know it."
Cockiness oozed from the pestiferous sibling.
"Perhaps I need to exert additional force." Slamming him against the fridge freezer, I snatched the steak knife from the knife holder and pointed the sharpest point between his round eyes. "Go ahead," I rasped in his ear. "Fight me."
Vincent's fingers bent around my wrist to prevent any intentional slips of the blade. "Even if endangered," he said in a low, strained voice, "I will never challenge you."
"You challenge at any given opportunity." My mouth twisted in repugnance. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Chucking the knife over one shoulder, I stepped back. "You wanted a rise out of me. I am here for the fucking taking."
Pulling the silk napkin from the suit jacket's breast pocket, he wiped the moisture from his brow. "You know."
"Of course, I fucking know," I spat, and he grimaced. "You senseless motherfucker. You risked the safety of my wife!"
"I would never harm Alexa," he said through gritted teeth. "It was an easy shot."
I pointed in his face. "You missed."
"I did not miss." His face was red from rage. "Am I disappointed that Moretti survived? Yes," he enunciated. "I take those shots weekly. I always aim for the head. Yet, he lives to tell his story because your little wife blew my goddamn cover."
I scoffed in disbelief. "How can Alexa know the shooter was not a threat if you do not communicate with me, Vincent? I sought a ceasefire between warring families. I made a call." I slapped my chest. "Me. Not you. You are not authorised to act on behalf of the syndicate."
"I did not aim fire for the institution." He squared up to me. "If I join you or the brothers for a closed-door conclave or lend my services to the syndicate, know that I do it out of loyalty only." His jaw flexed. "You are my brother, but I do not work for you. I am not indebted to you. I am not bound to you. I am not obligated to abide by your rules."
My breath came out harsh. "You are a liability."
"No, I am a lone wolf." His head cocked. "You need to accept that I am not under your control."
"I do not wish to control you. Is an advanced warning too expectant, though? I walked into a situation blind. Your recklessness risked the lives of those I love." My grim expression steeled. "Such foolishness is unpardonable, Vincent."
"You are not open to debate. If I'd have told you, would you have listened?" Before I could consider the question, he chuckled dryly. "No, you would have tried to talk me out of it."
"Your disregard for concord is only the beginning." My heart pounded in my chest. "People will die. Remember that when demons keep you awake at night."
"Moretti left me for dead!" He snarled in disdain. "I almost died on the operating table. You know. You were there to bear witness. Or have you already forgotten what he did to us? What he did to me!" His dark eyebrows gathered above sharp, angry eyes. "Fuck restoring law and order between bad blood and vendettas. The Italians deceived us once. They will deceive us again. I will not bow for their fucking mercy, not even for you."
I was not conceited enough to treat his concerns with unheeded arrogance. "Yes," I agreed, succumbing to the temptation of vengeance. "I seem to have misjudged the severity of their offences."
"Because of the girl," he said, and my eyes snapped to him. "What? Grapevine conversations, brother. You forget I am in cahoots with certain detectives at the metropolitan."
"Donny talks too much," I quipped, and he gave me an insouciant shrug. "If it is revenge you seek, then we need to be on the same team."
Vincent handed me a cigarette before lighting his own. "Do you want to know what I think?"
I nodded.
"We should spare the lives of no one." He expelled smoke. "It is them or us, right?"
"Indeed." Tapping the unlit cigarette on the kitchen counter, I balanced it behind my ear for later. "Come to the club tomorrow. We can plan an attack—together."
"My soon to be home." He inhaled sharply. "Is midday good for you?"
"Yes—no," I corrected myself. "I have errands to run for Alexa tomorrow afternoon."
He wore a lazy smile. "Errands?"
"Yes, I am foolishly in love. If the wife demands, I deliver." I laughed at my own discomfort. "Perhaps you'd like to join me?"
His smile slipped away. "How long is the list?"
"No idea. I haven't read the message yet."
Mumbling words of displeasure, he speared a hand through his hair. "Text me in the morning with a location."
I headed for the door.
"Liam?" he called, and I glimpsed over one shoulder. "I rent a townhouse near St James's Park. I can see two palaces from the bedroom window."
I leaned against the front door. "You can afford to buy, so why rent?"
He snubbed the cigarette in the ashtray. "I haven't found the right home yet."
"Are you waiting for a significant other?" I asked, and he merely rolled his eyes. "Maybe a female friend to help decorate?"
"Pigs will fly before that happens."
I deliberately taunted him. "In the end, love conquers all."
"Love." Vincent's gaze cast to the ground. "No me pertenece."
My phone vibrated in my pocket. "What language did you speak?"
He looked through the window. "You should get that."
I checked the message.
Alexa: Fancy some company?
Me: Where are you?
Alexa: At the Manor.
Me: Where is the boy?
Alexa: He went to the court to play basketball with Tre.
Me: I am meeting Brad at the club. Do you want me to pick you up beforehand?
Alexa: Please.
Me: I will see you soon.
Alexa: I'll beat a kiss out of you.
Me: X
Alexa: LOL
"I have to go." Tucking the phone in my trouser pocket, I swung open the front door. "So, tomorrow?"
Vincent watched drunken fools outside. "Tomorrow."
Closing the door behind me, I ambled down the long-stretched hallway, ready to turn the corner, when the irascible barman from downstairs walked straight into me. "Watch it," he snapped, spinning on his heels to glare daggers at me. "Are you leaving?"
I stared narrowly. "What's it to you, old man?"
"I don't know why Vincent entertains you." He levelled me with an ice-cold glare. "You will be his biggest disappointment yet."
Watching him enter the reggae bar's flat, I stood back in both bewilderment and vexation. He had a name, the man from downstairs. I was introduced to him once. Yet, for the life of me, I could not remember the exact conversation.
Well, he is not important enough for memorableness, anyway.
—————————————————————————
I will come back for typos.
An other late update, but I'd rather post late than never!
Anyhow, thoughts on the update?
—Liam?
—Nate?
—Alfie?
—Jax?
—The barman?
If you like the book, please don't forget to vote. ⭐️