Light pools onto the lawn. It’s a balmy night, but the boss steps outside in a bulky sweater and khaki shorts. He stands at an average height with a faded tattoo of an Italian flag on his left leg. A bowl of white hair used to cover his head, but he went bald with the cancer treatments. When I met him he was as strong as a bull with a robust chest and a deep laugh. Took six months for the disease to strip the fat from his bones and make clothes droop on his frame. I’ve seen the bruises on his thin arms. I don’t know how the hell he’s on two feet. Maybe he keeps his heart alive by pure spite. His accusing stare is like a hand around my throat.

You fucked up.

The throaty voice echoes in my head. It’s a grittier version of my own. The man I created—Bastien—needed to be ruthless. Badass. He’s every evil thought I ever had dragged from a dark corner of my mind.

He saw you.

“Hi, Dad!” Eva’s smile disarms him as she walks to the door, squeezing his arm in an affectionate gesture. All trace of drunkenness vanishes. “Everything’s fine. We just got back.”

“Get inside,” he barks.

Eva keeps her head down as she obeys, shooting me a nervous look over her shoulder. I shove my hands deep in my pockets and follow her. It’s a decently sized place, and it might’ve been nice at one point, but it’s fallen into disrepair. Not very glamorous, though I hear the other boss has a mansion. Guess Vito pissed away his savings. The wallpaper frays in a few rooms and the floors need a good sanding. Jesus Christ, is this what a lifetime of this work leads to? Two threadbare couches and moth-eaten afghans?

I imagine Eva living in this house alone after her dad passes. Sweeping the dust and replacing the peeling paper. She’s probably done everything she can to liven it up. I catch glimpses of her touch. A colorful throw draped over a couch here, a decorative pillow there. The whole place desperately needs a remodel, but Vito doesn’t have the money.

She follows the runner carpet to a closet down the hall and slips out of her heels. Smiling, she kisses her father on both cheeks. “I’m going to bed,” Eva says, waving at me. “Night!”

“See you.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Vito says. He watches his daughter climb the groaning stairs with a tired smile and gestures for me to join him in the office. Vito clasps his hands as he leads me into a room filled with books. Self-help volumes, dog-eared health tomes, and a stack of pamphlets sit on his leather desk. Living with Cancer, This Is Cancer, Dealing with the Emotional Toll of Cancer, and World Without Cancer. Multicolored notes stick from the pages.

Vito sits with a heavy sigh, noticing my gaze. “Eva believes if she reads enough books, she’ll find a way to cure me.”

He laughs bitterly. Vito strikes such a powerful figure it’s hard to imagine him dying, and yet I recognize defeat. I’ve seen that shrunken look in men, and it never bodes well.

“How is it?”

“Bad,” he says. “I will not last another six months.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He sets his mouth in a grim line. “So am I. Have a seat, Seb.”

Shit. I recognize that tone.

I sit. “Your daughter seemed upset tonight.”

“It’s been hard for her. She wasn’t too close with Marc, but still.”

“Any word on who’s responsible?” I ask.

He frowns. “None.”

I cross my legs. “Is Johnny behind it?”

Weakness draws predators. The other boss in Montreal, Johnny Cravotta, could’ve sensed the family was dying. Decided to clean up his city. Would be typical for him.

Vito shakes his head. “Not his style.”

We discuss retribution for Marc’s death. Who’ll handle it. I volunteer to help because morale is low. The assassination came after Naz got into a turf dispute with the Legion MC and lost. They’re picking us off one by one.

“We’ll find whoever’s responsible and make sure they pay.”

Another sharp sigh. And then his gaze centers on me. “I saw you with Eva.”

I can’t read anything from his face. My nails dig into the armrests.

“You put your hands on my daughter,” he says in a grave voice.

I’m dead. “Sorry.”

“I asked you to show her a good time.” He leans over the table. “Not manhandle her.”

Fucking beg for your life, moron. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you’re a miserable prick and I should cave your face in?”

“We went out for drinks. Both of us had too much. That’s it.”

He falls into his chair, his smile predatory. “Fuck you.”

“She’s a beautiful woman, Vito. I’m sorry.”

I’ve never pissed off Vito. Fuck me. I could die because I lost my damn mind and licked his daughter’s tits. What the hell was I thinking? It comes down to this: whether the boss will grant me a reprieve or take the sidearm he hides under the desk and kill me.

Vito sighs. “It’s a good thing I’m not in a mood to break your arm.”

It’s a ruse. “I swear to God, I meant no offense.”

“Are you interested in my daughter?”

What should I say? “She seems amazing.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“I’ve never talked to her until today, but yeah. She’s definitely—well—she’s beautiful.”

“Look, Bastien. I won’t beat around the bush. I’m asking because I want to see Eva married to a good man. Someone I get along with. You’re Italian. In the past, you’ve always been respectful. And I think Eva would like you, too.”

Holy fuck. “Not sure I follow.”

“Marry my daughter.”

For a moment ringing fills my ears. Marry his daughter?

“I realize I have no right to ask,” he tacks on in a hurry. “This is not a demand from your boss. I’m asking you as a favor to a dying father. Please.”

“All due respect, Vito, that’s a huge request.”

“I know, but I’m thinking of her. My daughter’s thirty-three and alone because of me. You don’t understand how much that hurts me. All she wants is a family. If you’re interested, and she is, why not?”

It’s a bad idea on so many levels. My mouth snaps shut and opens again. “Because I might be a piece of shit to your daughter.”

“No,” he says quickly. “You’re a good man. I’ve watched you for six months. You’re not like the others.” His face crumples. “I’m sick, not delusional. This family won’t last.”

“That’s not true—”

“We don’t have the strength to survive a war. Making my daughter happy is more important than anything else.”

I stand, heart hammering against my chest. “I’ll think about it.”

Jesus Christ, he wants me to marry his daughter, Eva Romano. The princess and the soldier. A match made in Heaven. One fatal flaw lies with Vito’s plan.

I’m a fucking cop.