Roma
“Your little girlfriend is doing all the work for me,” Mr. Black says.
He leans over me, looking down his nose and into my face. Three goons stand behind him and judging by their expressions—rabid dogs would make them look tame—they’d love nothing more than to lay into me right now. Beat me so bloody that I can’t breathe and then finish the job with a bullet to the head. And that’s what’s going to happen, I think. But . . .
My lips are dry, chapped, and my body is in agony from being bent out of shape for so long.
“What—” I cough, my mouth tasting stale and off-putting. “What do you mean?” I manage to wheeze.
“Felicity and her father are having a little party. And when I say little party, I mean a party that could rival the most decadent of Ancient Roman orgies. I have it on good authority that they are hiring a large function room and inviting the cream of the crop of Mr. Fellows’ political friends—and enemies, come to think of it, but when do such distinctions matter in politics?”
No, no, no. My mind rebels against the idea. Felicity should be far away from here now, far away and somewhere safe, not having a party.
“You might ask yourself, why is he telling me?”
I nod, head feeling weak, neck feeling like it can’t support my head.
Mr. Black grabs my face with both his hands and brings his face close to mine. His eyes really are black. I look into them and I see nothing. Crow’s feet tug at the corners of his eyes and for the first time I realize how old he must be. He was at least forty when I got into the game. He must be mid-sixties now, at least. He digs his fingers into the skin of my face.
“I am telling you, Roma, because I am a kind man. I am willing to give you yet another chance to prove yourself. I am willing to treat you like a son. Because, and this may surprise you, you are a son to me. I’ve known you since you were a teenager, since Bear brought you into the organization. Despite what people say, my heart isn’t as black as my name. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to lose you. But, you understand, if you are to have any chance of being welcomed back into the fold, you have to prove yourself.”
“Boss,” one of the goons mutters.
Mr. Black spins on him so quickly I feel a breath of wind touch my face.
“Don’t you ever interrupt me! You are stone! You are a rock! You do not speak!”
The man swallows audibly and then takes a step back, inclining his head.
Mr. Black, hands trembling, turns back to me.
“Roma, think now. Be smart. How many women are there out there? I can get you any woman you like. Black, white, Asian, Columbian, English . . . the list goes on and on. I can get you a whole harem of women if you like. You can do whatever you like to them. Piss on them, shit on them, slit their throats for all I care.”
My bones go cold at his words. How did I never spot how twisted he was before? I think. How have I worked for this man for so long? But I never questioned the life, not before I met Felicity. Before her, the life was the life and that was all.
“Here is my proposal.” Mr. Black glances at the man who spoke and then back to me. The man looks as though he’s just been stared down by a viper. “I am going to give you an escort, men who will make sure you carry out your task. They are going to take you to a building opposite the function room and you, with a scoped rifle, are going to assassinate Ambassador Fellows like we originally agreed!” Spit flies from his lips on the last words, hitting me in the face. “Or,” he goes on, forcing calm into his voice, “you will hesitate and the ambassador will die anyway. My men will put a bullet in the back of your head—and much worse beforehand, I’d wager—and I’ll go on with my life. I’ll be sad to lose you, but the organization will go on. Don’t speak.” He holds up his hand. “I don’t need an answer. This is what’s happening.”
I want to roar at him: I’m not doing it! You can’t fucking make me! Kill me! But I can’t.
If I’m taken to the party it means I’ll get to see Felicity again, even if it is through the scope of a rifle. I’ll be able to lay eyes on the woman I love again. I thought I was being left for dead. And no matter what, I’m a survivor. I’ve been a survivor my entire life, ever since I was thrown onto the streets by parents I never knew. When you give a survivor a chance to fight, they take it, make no mistake. And I’m no different.
Mr. Black turns away from me, taking my silence as assent, and walks past his men. “Get him ready, get him into position,” he mutters. “Let him prove his worth to me. If not . . . Do with him as you will.”
“Boss,” the men mutter, eyeing me with hungry eyes.
One of the men kneels down in front of me, looking up into my face. “I hope you fuck this up,” he says. “I really do. ’Cause that big bastard Bear killed my fucking friends and he was only there ’cause of you and the slut. So when you fuck this up, don’t think you’re gonna die sweet and easy. It’s gonna be a long hard road to your grave.”