Chapter Fifty-Nine

Perth Amboy, New Jersey

October 31

C hug flew out of his chair and shouted into Miles’s face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“ Never play the ace up your sleeve if you have a winning hand . I would never have known until you repeated it last week in your office. It’s the exact thing you said to me twenty years ago in that house.”

“You’re off your rocker.”

“7727 West Charger Drive. Ringing any bells, Chug?”

“The fuck?” Ugentti went deathly still.

“I was the kid, Chug. I stood there and watched you rig the gas line.”

“What’s he talking about, Boss?” One of Ugentti’s goons asked.

Chug fastened the button on his suit jacket and smoothed his lapels. “Ancient fucking history is what he’s talking about.”

“I didn’t realize it for years. You see, I didn’t know much about the people who adopted me. I was fifteen when they died. Five or six years later, I was sitting in a coffee shop, and someone had left a newspaper on the table. It was folded open to a picture of Vincent Barzetti; he and his new wife welcomed a baby daughter. In the inset was a photo of Barzetti’s oldest daughter, who’d died in a house fire. I can’t tell you how long I stared at that picture. It was the woman who adopted me. You murdered two people. One of whom was the daughter of Vincent Barzetti, the most infamous crime boss on the East Coast. I have you on video, Chug. And the ring. I took your pinky ring.”

When Miles mentioned Barzetti, Chug paled but quickly recovered. He let out a booming laugh. “That’s a pack of lies. The Feds came nosing around twenty years ago, jackass. I have an airtight alibi for that murder. If you think I can’t explain away decades-old evidence, then you must not be very good at your job. Send that fucking file to the ghosts of Eliot Ness and J. Edgar Hoover for all I care.”

Ugentti pulled out a gun from inside his suit jacket. Regaining his composure, he pointed the weapon at Miles. “Finish transferring your client files. It’s a bullet in the knee if it takes longer than ten seconds. Then, my nephew is going to delete the other file. You’re a valuable resource, Caleb Cain , but if I get wind that law enforcement has new information about that house fire, you’ll have a girder in your gut holding up a support beam of my latest construction project.”

“I didn’t send the file to the cops, Chug.”

“He sent it to me.”

Vincent Barzetti stepped out of the shadows.

Wearing a pin-striped double-breasted suit with a full head of graying hair and tan complexion, Barzetti looked straight out of central casting for the role of mob boss. He was composed and commanded respect. Miles could see how the man had held the reins of the New York mafia for forty years.

More of Barzetti’s men filed in, blocking the exits. Chug’s men surrendered instantly, dropping their guns and raising their hands.

Barzetti turned to Miles. “Your team is waiting outside at my request.”

“Mr. Barzetti, I can explain.” Ugentti paced frantically through the open space.

“There’s no need, Chug. I always suspected it was you. You were overly fond of the gas leak back in the day.”

“Vinnie, I’m a fucking United States Congressman now. Think of what I can do for you.”

“I have seven Congressmen, three Senators, and a Supreme Court Justice on my payroll. I doubt there’s anything you could provide that would deter me from avenging my daughter’s death.”

“She ran off with that rat!” Chug screamed, grasping at any straw to stop the inevitable.

“She was spoiled and reckless, that’s true. She was also the light of my life.”

Quicker than Miles would have thought him capable, Chug dove for the fully automatic machine pistol dropped on the ground by one of his men. In an instant, at least ten weapons were trained on him. Barzetti held up a hand. Miles assumed Barzetti had plans for Chug’s demise, and it would not be a quick death.

“I’m walking out of here, you fucks. I’m Chester fucking Ugentti, a member of the United States House of Representatives. In four years, I’ll be sitting in The Oval—”

The rant was interrupted by an engine part about the size of a softball hitting Ugentti square in the face. He fell backward as he pulled the trigger, sending a spray of gunfire in the air. Barzetti’s men surrounded Chug and disarmed him as the Bishop Security team poured in the doors.

Miles shook Barzetti’s hand. “Glad you found some closure.”

Barzetti watched as his men corralled a semi-conscious Ugentti. Water from a pipe overhead dripped onto Miles’s head.

Barzetti said, “Not yet, but soon. I owe you one. I’ll keep you in mind if I ever need a fixer.”

“Thanks, but I’m retiring.” Miles jerked his head toward the team. “Joining this motley crew. I’ll be running the New York office of Bishop Security.”

Another splat hit Miles.

Barzetti rested a firm hand on Miles’s shoulder. “Then may our paths never cross.”

Miles turned to leave. He needed to get back to Clara. He needed to hold her.

Barzetti called after him. “Is your team accounted for?”

Miles scanned the room, confirming the count. “Yeah, why?”

Barzetti held up the hand that had squeezed Miles’s shoulder. “Because somebody’s bleeding.”

Just then, Herc, the Bishop Security sniper, shouted through the transom window in the ceiling, “Man down!”

Miles’s eyes ran up the storage shelves until they settled on the out-of-place image. A slender hand hanging over the edge, limp.

T ox watched from across the room as his twin realized Clara had been shot. He ran to help Miles. They located the electric lift in the corner of the room and brought Clara down. They were a perfect team working in unison without a word needed.

Tox stood to the side as Ren examined the bullet wound in Clara’s shoulder.

“Looks like a through and through, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Pass me my kit,” Ren said. When Tox complied, Ren poured the coagulant powder on the wound and bandaged it. “We’ll need to get her to a hospital for antibiotics and stitches.”

Tox looked up to share his relief with his twin. Miles had backed away and was watching the scene with a distant, dazed expression.

Tox bit back a curse. Miles had come so far. If anything happened to Clara, he would lose his twin for good. Miles would never recover from another loss. Tox crossed to his brother in long strides, hauled back, and punched him in the face.

Miles staggered back, cradling his jaw. “What the fuck?”

“Snap out of it. The self-pity stops fucking now. Yes, we’ve lost people we love. Would you trade loving Clara for sparing yourself pain?”

Tox dared Miles to protest. If his brother couldn’t see that he loved her, he was blind.

Miles rested the top of his head against Tox’s chest. “I don’t know if I can.”

Tox wrapped his twin in a hug. “You can. Now, go take care of your girl.”