I nod. “The Irish set a bomb off in one of our warehouses. I was on the scene until late.”
“That’s horrible,” Alexis says, eyes widening.
“It’s not uncommon for them,” I tell her.
“Was everyone okay?”
I think of the soot-blackened faces, the wide, staring eyes. I shake my head. “No. Three dead.”
I watch as the coating of shock and horror on Alexis’ face drip away to reveal the anger underneath. She understands me now, perhaps more than she ever has before.
“We will make them pay, Alexis,” I assure her.
We. I like referring to us as a we. I can tell Alexis likes it too because there is a dash of pride in her eyes when she nods.
“I have something to tell you,” she says. “Ruby Flint came to see me at the office yesterday.”
I bristle at the very mention of the woman’s name.
“If she’s harassing you…” I begin, but Alexis shakes her head.
“She tried to get me to flip,” Alexis says. “She painted a beautiful picture. Me and the two babies, out in a little house in the countryside somewhere, far away from all the blood and lies.”
For a second, the image appeals to me too. I picture Alexis safe, with Harry and his sibling chasing butterflies, sunlight gilding waving fields of wheat. But Alexis is right. The safest place for her is by my side.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?” Alexis prods a second later.
I’m surprised to find that trusting Alexis has become so second nature that I hadn’t even considered her flipping as a possibility.
“You said no,” I reply. “I trust you, Alexis.”
She looks fully awake now, blinking at me somewhat in surprise but also in appreciation. Her generous mouth curves, and she leans across the desk, planting a soft kiss on my lips. I capture her face in my hands and hold her there. I kiss her back slowly. My thumbs stroke over her cheeks, and I bask in the warmth of the moment.
When Alexis pulls away, her eyes sparkle. She sits back down and drums on the top of my desk.
“I’ve got more news,” she says.
I sit back and gesture for her to continue.
“I went ahead and did a little more digging into Ruby’s debt at the Stardust Casino,” she says. “Her creditor is a man called Thomas O’Shea. I think you’re probably familiar with him. He’s related to Kevin Lynch.”
“He is,” I say, nodding. I’m impressed by her research. “He was friendlier with the Walshes than he ever was with Lynch, but they do business together.”
“So, what should we do?” Alexis asks.
“What do you think we should do?” I counter.
I get the feeling Alexis already has an idea, and in all likelihood, it’s probably a good one. I’m beginning to discover that she’s a keen strategist.
Alexis licks her lip. She understands how monumental it is for me, the mob boss, to be asking her advice, and she doesn’t want to disappoint me.
“I know we talked before about pressuring Ruby with the debt,” she says. “But that would involve either us paying off O’Shea or bringing him onto our side somehow. An easier and cheaper solution would just be to discredit Ruby.”
“Oh?” I say. “And how do we do that?”
“We out her connection to the Irish mob—the primary distributor of purple heroin in the city—and spin it so that it seems like she’s trying to take you down because you’re reopening treatment centers to combat the war on drugs.” She smiles. “Nobody will care that it’s not true, especially if we leak details of her affair and gambling addiction. Her reputation will be so tarnished that they’ll have no choice but to take her off the case, and at that point, it won’t be difficult to get the case thrown out entirely.”
Alexis is nearly breathless with excitement by the time she’s finished. She watches me, eager for any sign of a reaction. She wants to please me. She wants to impress me. She always does.
“It’s a good plan,” I tell her. My chest swells with pride. She’s going to give Silvano a run for his money with her scheming once he’s back on his feet.
She grins. “Thank you.”
For a second, the brightness of her smile pushes away all the dark clouds that were hovering over me only moments before. I don’t think about the dead, or how many more are still to die. I don’t think about what will happen if I lose this war, and what else I will lose with it.
I only think of Alexis and our family and how bright my life is with them in it. It is the most peace I’ve felt in days.
I drag my heavy limbs up the stairs and down the hall, feeling as though I am more stone than man.
Another long day.
I spent most of the day working on Bellucci Inc. business, and the rest of it chasing down Kevin Lynch. He’s an elusive bastard, I’ll give him that. I tire of this game of hide-and-seek, but no matter what leads I follow or whose face I break, I can’t find him. On the plus side, one of the men we interrogated today was responsible for the warehouse bombing. It was my personal pleasure to dole out the appropriate justice.
It’s late now. I know when I go into Alexis’ room, I will find her sleeping soundly, and that once I settle down next to her, it will only be a matter of time until I am doing the same. I always sleep easier with Alexis. My thoughts often torment me and keep me awake when I am alone, but with her, it’s like I have already slipped into the dream before sleep can catch up.
I twist the knob on Alexis’ door and walk in, then begin to strip down in the dark.
“Hey,” she greets quietly from the bed.
“You’re awake.” I shuck off my shirt and pants and cross the room, sliding onto the mattress next to her. Her warmth seeps into my bones, and my eyelids feel heavy already. I wrap an arm around her and pull her in close.
“Yeah. Can’t sleep.” She grunts and curls in against my side. “I’ve got wicked cramps.”
“Cramps?” My eyes flick open, sleep scampering out of reach.
“Yeah,” she hisses. “I’m considering just getting up to go do some work. I don’t think I’ll be getting to sleep anytime soon.”
“How long have you been having the cramps?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alexis detects the stress in my voice and runs a hand over my cheek. “It’s only been a couple of hours. You were busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Alexis,” I stay through gritted teeth. “If you’re in pain, I need to know.” I sit up, heart hammering against my ribs, and shuffle to the end of the bed. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she protests.
“I’m. Calling. The. Doctor.”
Alexis sighs and lies back in bed. I turn the light on and fish my phone out of my pant pocket, dialing the number for Dr. Steinman and waiting as it rings. He answers, somewhat groggily, and I demand his presence at the house.
“I’ll be there right away,” he says, and I hear him shuffling in the background, probably rushing to get dressed.
“Good.” I hang up.
I approach the bed, and Alexis sticks her tongue out at me. “You’re freaking out over nothing,” she says. Then her face contorts in pain. I get on the bed and pull her into my lap, cradling her in my arms.