Page 57 of The Finish Line
“What’s the update on the garage?” I ask, between the three of them. “How close are we?”
“It’s done. As soon as I get my settlement money,” Dom says. “No other offers on the table because no one else around here has the money to buy it.”
Tyler chimes in, his brows drawn tight. “What’s the point of the garage with everything else we have going on? Is it just a front?”
“No,” I say, gaze straying back to the fire. “It will be a legitimate business. We’ll be fixing cars and taking money for it. The legal age for mechanics in this state is sixteen. But we’ll need a few more in order to make a decent profit and handle overhead costs.”
“I know someone,” Tyler adds. “Name’s Russell. He’s been teaching us how to work on the classics Sean’s uncle left us. He’s old enough. And he’s fucking good.”
“Trust him?”
“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “He’s good people and never been printed either.” We have a strict no-print rule when vetting new birds for obvious reasons. We don’t want anyone associated with us with fingerprints in any database—even as a juvenile—which makes it harder to find the type of recruits we need. We need smart thieves and good men, but in our neck of the woods and with the meth spike, they’re hard to come by.
“Bring him in. I want to meet him.”
Tyler nods. “I’ll see if he knows anyone else.”
My eyes drift back to the flames, and it’s then I’m struck by the thought of my parents, locked in a room as similar flames surround them while they scream for help. It’s no mystery why that image of them is weighing on my mind.
Picking up some kindling, I toss it into the fire. “I saw Roman up close for the first time today.”
“Where?” Sean asks.
“The library,” Dominic supplies, “when he came to pick me up.”
I glance over at my brother, mildly surprised. He was in the far corner of the library, engrossed in his book when Roman strolled in, looking weightless, as if he wasn’t responsible for ruining lives. But I guess he wouldn’t be weighed down with guilt. Men like him consider my parents, “the help”, no more than liabilities whose murder probably inconvenienced him more than anything else. He’ll never know that my mother was the only woman capable of getting me out of my moods, of soothing my temper with a few words, of making me smile not just with expression but with my whole being. He’ll never understand the notion of my stepfather’s American dream. Or that my parents chose the town he’s monopolized to create a better life for us—and for the woman he rescued from her mad husband and her bastard son. Even if he was made aware, I doubt he would care. Because it was evident by the way he treated his own daughter today, he’s got no weaknesses of his own.
Dom stares back at me, irritated. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice the man who murdered my parents?” He scoffs. “You think I’m still too busy playing video games and jacking off?” The look in his eyes is one of an old soul, not a kid inching toward sixteen.
“We aren’t positive it was premeditated. And before we make a move, I want solid proof.”
“The two fucking headstones at the cemetery aren’t enough?” Dom snaps, underlying rage in his tone. He’s angry—in the quiet way—which means he’s been simmering about this on his own. Glancing out past the clearing it’s then I notice some of the field has been unearthed. “What’s going on here?”
“Speak of the devil, and he appears.” Dom nods toward the newly vacant land. “Roman’s decided to move into our neighborhood. He’s building a fucking mansion where those trucks are sitting.”
Seething from the idea that he’s so close to my place—to our place—I curl my hands into fists. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Believe it. I’ve seen the blueprints.”
I glance at my brother. “Do I want to know how you came across this information?”
“Building permits. He was approved for them last week. He owns everything now up to that flag post.”
Fury sets in that I’ve had my head so far up my ass—in truth, up Antoine’s ass. I’ve been so distracted carrying out his orders, I’ve dropped the fucking ball on my own agenda. My time in Paris now only takes away from my progress at home. I can feel some resentment coming from Dom as I soak in that realization. My priorities are in Triple Falls, and this is where I need to be—not playing errand boy for a French gangster. But even with the need to erase Roman from the board, the image of his little girl trailing behind him toward the parking lot today remains front and center. The look of defiance in her eyes with their exchange damn near makes me smile. That combined with the clear rebellion in her words and posture before she trailed behind him and I followed. I’d been in the know about his daughter for years, but she’d never been part of the picture until today.
In all my plans to bring him down, I never considered bystanders. I’ve seen the carnage that comes in wars like these, mostly territorial, and I refuse to let that innocent kid suffer for her father’s mistakes. In a game made of criminals bordering psychopaths, many have no regard for innocents, especially when at war, but being a bystander myself, that man will never be me.
I wasn’t sure if Dominic noticed Roman or thoroughly researched him to the lengths I have, but it’s clear he knows a lot more than he’s let on.
Even at their age, with no shortage of dick jokes and immature behavior, they seem to comprehend the importance of hammering out the details. After a lingering silence, I finally speak up.
“We’re going basic with our strategy.”
“Meaning?” Tyler asks.
“We’ve got to play this just right. The only way to defeat a man like Roman is to play sleeping giant.”
“Think Helen of Troy,” Dom voices, reading my line of thought before glancing at Sean and Tyler. “But it seems like a lot of trouble to go through when we can just eliminate the problem.”