Page 36 of The Brigadier

Back in the old days, the bloodshed was almost daily, which is why so many of what had been called the five families had been on every law enforcement’s radar. In the age of computers, big corporate business and more legitimacy, in addition to owning half the police department, entities shared the streets in certain respects. The FBI and CIA mostly left us alone.

As long as you didn’t fuck with each other’s turf, which most syndicates didn’t bother any longer, you could easily get along with each other to a limited capacity.

I headed out of the office, wondering how Chantel had slept. Better than me, I hoped. Even with the terror, she at least understood the life of a Bratva princess.

There were several aspects about what we’d heard and experienced that last ten days or so that troubled me.

Whoever was behind the planted threat, and I was beginning to think that’s what it was, to place us on edge, had no desire to openly state who they were and what beef they had. That wasn’t the norm with the unwritten rules that almost every city had in place. No one wanted cities destroyed or to be unable to enjoy time with their families. That just wasn’t acceptable any longer.

I jogged up the stairs, turning to the right. Both Chantel’s suite that I’d provided and Damien’s were close to each other.

Her door was wide open. His was cracked.

For some stupid reason, I approached cautiously. I’d left my weapon in my office. I never wanted a weapon around my son. He was far too curious about everything.

I was still a few feet away when I heard happy chatter. Happy chatter. That was odd because Damien hated the mornings, usually throwing a fit. My heart was thudding in a different way than usual, my mind hopeful that the kid didn’t hate Chantel.

Using a single finger, I slowly opened his door. I’d spent a fortune since his arrival, trying my best to make him feel special. Plus, the sensory activation with colors and textures seemedgood for him. Sometimes, that wasn’t the case with autistic children, but he adored his room.

I’d been shocked before by both good and bad things in my life. Who hadn’t been? But seeing Chantel on the floor with him, zooming his favorite trucks and cars across the floor like he adored was priceless and my heart almost stopped.

She acted as if she completely understood what he was saying to her, and I had to admit his speech was more adult-like this morning. Plus, she was completely attentive, her eyes lit up as much as his.

The little man was also dressed, his hair combed.

I had no words, no easy way of processing what I was seeing but there was no doubt my son’s connection with Chantel was as strong as mine. Perhaps she could be a godsend, at least in the interim.

Something caught her eye and she finally turned her head, smiling at me. “I found this little guy whimpering. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing amazing,” I told her as I walked further into the room. “Hey, little buddy. What do you think about our guest?”

He scrunched his little nose, staring at her for a few seconds before nodding. “She’s beautiful. And nice. I want to keep her.”

The two of us laughed and he thought it over, which was also unusual.

“I just figured you were busy and he seemed to want to change from his PJs,” she said, the tension remaining. I hated this being so awkward.

“Never too busy.”

I tried to concentrate on the moment. She was dressed in a darker pair of jeans, a bright red tee shirt, and tennis shoes. Not running shoes either. “What’s his name?”

“Damien and getting him dressed is usually… complicated.”

“Not at all. I just made it a game. But I think he’s hungry.” She rose to her feet, tousling his hair.

“Then let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll show you his six favorite cereals,” I told her.

“Six, huh? Wow.”

“You’ll see. Hey, little man. You hungry?”

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. I think that was another first. Maybe Chantel was good for him.

And maybe I was jumping the gun.

We all trotted downstairs to the bright kitchen, my housekeeper not set to arrive for a few hours. She didn’t cook, but took care of the house, much like I had a landscaper and men who handled any repairs on the various houses. Given the renovations had been completed a few months before, there was only the need for my landscaper once a week.

The property was tiny as pretty much all of them were in the Brighton Beach area.