◆ The Encounter ◆

◆ MILES ◆

"How's the baby?"

"Baby Jules is healthy, and ready to go home," Ricchar announced over the phone.

"And Cloe?"

"She's doing fine. Tired and bled for a few hours, but, all's good. Doc said it's normal."

"Congrats." I smiled and pressed my phone onto my ear, the pinch of panic after hearing Cloe just gave birth now subsiding.  At least my cousin had good news for me tonight.  Good enough to distract me from the sense of imminent doom creeping into my thoughts.

"Still no sign of him?" Ricchar sighed after a stretch of silence.

"Don't bother." I lit a cigarette and glared at a black  SUV as it snuck into the half-empty parking lot beside the nightclub.  "He's prolly holing up in a beach house somewhere with his whore."

"And Zia?"

"Mamma's home. Resting. Just got back from another board meeting."

"Did Archambault talk to her?"

"Yeah. Last night. Practically offered her the same terms." I watched the SUV park beside a lamppost.  The bright headlights made the license plate blurry.  They looked like vanity plates.  "Stay there for now. With Cloe and the baby."

"Why?" Ricchar murmured.

"Just precautions."

"Where are you?" Ricchar asked, his voice on the other line sounding pinched.  "I hear shitty club music."

"Out. Needed some fresh air."  I was waiting for a drug dealer.  The young call girl I texted half an hour ago might come in handy if said dealer was a no-show.  But my cousin didn't need to know the specifics.

"Who's with you?"

"Alei, and four guards." I took a drag and stood still by the entrance doors as some dark-haired men rushed out of the black SUV. On impulse, I touched the loaded handgun under my leather jacket to undo the safety catch.

"Go home. Stay home."

"Yes, Daddy." I snickered to quell his worries and flicked the cigarette into the trash bin.

"I'm serious, Maxim."

"Same. Catch up tomorrow. Night."

"Go home."  Ricchar hung up.

I grinned to myself and checked my notifications again.  I sighed.  Still no replies from Kel.  I'd been texting her the whole day.

Five missed calls. Eleven unanswered messages.

Great.  She might have blocked me, but so far all my messages still got through.

Recipient: Mykaela -new

"How's the training? Better schedules?"

Sent 09:49

"U doing okay?"

Sent 10:55

"I miss you"

Sent 11:59

"Sorry."

Sent 14:45

"Pick up. Just wanna catch up."

Sent 15:32

"Tell Baby Meesha I hope she likes the gift. Thanks."

Sent 16:11

"Tell your Mom and Jill sorry I couldn't make it. Thanks"

Sent 16:39

"I miss my best friend. Don't hate me for too long."

Sent 17:28

"Mamma says hi."

Sent 19:47

"Can I see u soon?"

Sent 20:12

"I'm serious."

Sent 20:21

Dammit.  I was well aware how busy she was with her hospital trainings and classes.  But not a single reply all day? Was she that upset? Still?

It made me want to hit myself, but I understood her choice.  I knew her reasons.  Almost every one of them, I supposed.  I was the last person she wanted to talk to, and it's all my fault.

Although hopeless, I sighed and composed another message.  Just a short text.  A more neutral one.  Not too pressured.  It should make her text me back at least once.

Recipient: Mykaela -new

"Hey. Cloe just gave birth. Healthy baby boy 7.3 lbs"

Sent 21:33

I stared at the screen for a moment, just patiently waiting for a response.  A minute ticked by.  Then two.

Fine.  She's not in the mood to chat.  I should just wait it out.

Besides, I had other things to worry about.  More pressing matters that should be addressed.  Like finding my father so we could put him where he belonged, before his involvement with the Tomassinis did any more damage to our clan.  To our businesses, especially.

I still had to make sure the rest of my family didn't suffer the same fate.  Mamma.  Ricchar.  Cloe.  Baby Jules.  Another innocent Falco need not suffer just because my father was too selfish to care about the long-term consequences of his actions.

I straightened and put my phone in my pocket as the group of men from the SUV headed my way.  A coffin-magnet bunch of assholes.  The tallest guy reminded me of the last time I marched into a Tomassini's territory.  Not a pleasant memory.  But the most familiar face belonged to the multimillionaire drug lord standing smack in the middle.

His attention centered on me. Now he stood before me.  A few inches shorter, but mostly built like a bodybuilder.  Slicked back jet-black hair. Thick goatee. Clenched fists. Dark button-down that matched the sense of peril in his cold, soulless eyes.

I kept my ground and tilted my chin.  My gut's telling me to shoot him in the head now for what he did to Mykaela.  But sleeping in a cold jail cell tonight didn't sound so fun.  To be safe, though, I should disarm him before he could do anything scandalous. Like  slaughtering me and my bodyguards right in front of this shitty club.

Too many witnesses.  I wouldn't want my face and our family name to get plastered all over TV and the daily paper first thing.  No thanks.

This filthy rich scum probably found out how Niccolo and I fucked up his incoming cargo, and how easily we stole and lost his high-grade contraband.  He must've heard I was out here and it triggered a gnawing urge in him to seek retribution.

Although we were in a public place,  men like Leandro Tomassini didn't give a shit.  It could be one of his recently purchased strip clubs, mostly used for human and drug trafficking day in day out.  "Where is he?" He stood closer to me now. His nose almost touched my chin, his warm breath reeking of hard liquor and something familiar.

I just couldn't put my finger on it.  "Who?" I muttered while trying not to grin.

"Tell me where the fuck he's hiding."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"Don't make me put a bullet in your skull tonight, you spineless son of a bitch," Leandro mumbled through clenched teeth, his shadowed eyes glaring at me.  To most, he'd look like he's on the cusp of a psychotic break.

I'd love to get a video of him pitching a fit in front of this many people for my own amusement.  But I was too lazy to take my phone out of my pocket.  Alei or one of my new bodyguards could be doing the job for me now, though, and from a safe distance.

Although I would bet my left nut this short-fused psycho carried a small pocket knife and a handgun at the very least,  I wasn't scared of him.  Clearly he's itching to interrogate me at gunpoint.

His big guns were in the form of six brawny guys surrounding us, ready to pull out their weapons and spray bullets all over the place at any moment their mobster boss decided it's my time to die tonight.  "Where?" he yelled when I only stood still and toyed with my lighter.

I smirked at his keen and seething gaze.  The excitement running through my veins only heightened the urge to laugh at his outrage.   "Was meaning to ask you the same thing.  Where's my piece of shit father?" I lit another cigarette.  "Heard he ran off with that accountant your uncle used to screw on Tuesdays."

"Don't fucking test me, Falco."

"If I find out where he is..." I sighed, blowing smoke all over his deep scowl.  "You won't find him alive."

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