Chapter Forty-One

New York City

October 23

M iles wanted to kill Lucien Kite. His brother had convinced him that laying low was the safer option. So, after a sleepless night, while Ren took Clara to get her things, Miles sat in the passenger seat of the Suburban as he and Tox drove to the Upper East Side. They were mid-discussion about the Broncos’ offensive line when Miles spotted an open space and directed his twin to park.

Tox leaned forward and eyed the highrise through the windshield. “So this is what? A vacation apartment?”

“It’s Caleb Cain’s apartment. I don’t want clients knowing where I live. I just need to grab a few things, then I’m never coming back.”

Tox placed a big hand on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re taking Nathan’s offer.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a team player. I’ve been a solo act for a long time.”

“We used to be a pretty good team,” Tox said.

Miles held out his fist. Tox bumped it twice with exploding fingers like they did when they were kids. They were getting some of their mojo back. It felt good.

Miles opened the passenger door. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

On the sidewalk, a man was leaning against the building, eating a hotdog. Miles waved to Burton, the uniformed doorman who ushered them into the lobby and onto the elevator. The twins walked down the hall on the eleventh floor—beige carpet, taupe walls, generic wall sconces.

“This place is charming. In an airport motel kind of way,” Tox said.

Miles jiggled his keys. “Wait’ll you see the luxury six grand a month buys on the Upper East Side.”

Tox stopped him with a hand to his brother’s chest and a tip of his head to the open door. “Expecting anyone?”

“No, but Ugentti’s people have a habit of showing up.”

Tox tsked, “I hate the pop-in. Fucking call if you want to come over.”

“It’s only polite,” Miles agreed.

Through the cracked door, they spied a man bent over with his head in the fridge. He was as big as the appliance.

Tox whispered, “You ever learn how to fight beyond delivering a scathing insult?”

Miles chuckled. “Fuck off. I train bare knuckle. I can throw a punch.”

“He’s got a buddy in the bedroom.”

“How do you know?” Miles asked.

“They always do.”

Something bloomed inside Miles—like a time-lapse image of a tree in spring. He turned to his twin with a core memory burning bright.

Tox’s eyes lit. “Mrs. Conroy’s banana cake?”

Miles rechecked the room. “The cage match version. I’ll distract. You sneak attack.”

“I’d rather be stealing banana cake.”

“Just get this fucker.” Miles scolded.

“Go.”

Miles entered the apartment and tossed his keys on the side table by the door as though nothing were amiss.

The behemoth at the fridge jumped to attention and grabbed him by the collar.

“What the hell? Who are you?” Miles asked.

“Mr. Ugentti wanted to make sure you were gathering the information he requested and remind you that he doesn’t like delays or publicity .” He shoved Miles forcefully against the wall.

Miles stalled, waiting for an opportunity to strike. “Look, asshole, tell your boss I’m working on it. And I don’t appreciate the interruptions.” A sound from behind them distracted his captor, and Miles delivered an uppercut to the guy’s nose that had him staggering back a step. The big man sneered as blood ran down his yellow teeth. He was big but slow, and Miles dodged the first punch easily as the guy’s fist smashed into the drywall.

“Mr. Ugentti says you have one week to deliver.” The goon cocked his meaty fist but never threw the punch.

Tox stood behind him, gripping the man’s hand in his huge palm.

Miles said, “Tell Mr. Ugentti our business is concluded.”

The hulk spun out of his brother’s hold and moved to the coffee table where he’d left his Beretta.

“Looking for this?” Tox trained the weapon on their assailant. The goon immediately raised both hands.

Miles looked over his brother’s shoulder. “What about the other guy in the bedroom?”

“Nobody there.”

“But you said there’s always another guy.”

“There always is.”

They both heard the elevator bing its arrival.

Miles remembered the man leaning against the building when they arrived. “Hotdog guy?” Miles asked.

Tox nodded. “He was wearing military boots.”

The twins moved in sync. Tox held the gun on the first intruder while Miles moved to the wall beside the front door. The man from the sidewalk came through the entrance and jabbed his gun into Tox’s back. “Drop it.”

Tox let the weapon fall to his feet as Miles leveled a punch to the second man’s temple, dropping him to the floor unconscious.

“Nice punch, Miles.” Tox nodded his approval.

“Told you I’ve been training.” Miles turned to the first guy. “Out on the balcony.”

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t gonna kill you.”

Tox turned to Miles. “He has a point. He didn’t seem murderous.”

“I realize that, but he came into my home and attacked me.”

Tox retrieved the beretta and dismantled it without looking. “Bro, one punch, and he didn’t even land it. I’ve punched you harder.”

“When have you punched me harder?” Miles asked.

“Uh, third-grade play when you made fart noises before my line.”

“Oh yeah.” Miles laughed. “I actually saw stars.”

“Fellas?” Ugentti’s man interrupted.

“Balcony.” The twins said in unison. Miles added, “When sleeping beauty wakes up, he can let you out. Tell Chug—you know what? I’ll talk to Chug myself.”

“What about my gun?”

“It’s not a gun,” Tox said.

Miles grinned. “It’s Mrs. Conroy’s banana cake.”

When the guy was locked on the balcony, Tox said, “Grab what you need, and let’s go.”

Miles threw his suits and a few items of clothing he kept there into a duffle—he definitely needed the boxer briefs. “One last thing.” Taking the pair of loafers from the closet, Miles peeled back the insole and removed the tracker.

“Do I want to know?” Tox asked.

“More horse shit,” Miles replied.

“Here. I’ll crush it.”

“Nah, I have a better idea.” Miles dropped the shoes in the bag and zipped it closed.

“Ready?”

“Ready. I’m done with this place.”

“Good.” Tox said as he stepped over the unconscious man, “I don’t like the vibe in here.”

Miles said, “Let’s meet up with Clara and the boys and get going.”

At the car, Tox popped the locks and tossed the duffle in the back.

Miles scanned the street. “Hang on a sec.” In front of the neighboring building, a Lyft driver was loading a suitcase into the trunk as a passenger climbed in the back seat. Miles walked over, tossed the tracker into the trunk, and jogged back to his brother, who clearly enjoyed Miles’s little move.

Tox started the SUV. “Is there a bakery around here? I’m suddenly craving banana cake.”

Miles shoved his brother, both men stifling their laughter.