All of the Lights (53 page)

Borrowed time indeed.

"Hello, Raena," he starts coolly.

His eyes, dark and slanted, frost over the second Freya plants herself next to my feet. Her lips curl back to bare her teeth and every hair on her back stands on end as a low warning erupts from her throat. When the mayor just narrowed his eyes, her body curves up to the ceiling and a sharp hiss vibrates through the air.

The mayor huffs. "I told you to euthanize that animal months ago."

"Yeah, well," I tell him flippantly as I scoop my hissing cat up in my arms. "I didn't listen."

I never have to listen to you again,
I think smugly
.

"Can I help you with something?"

Now, his sharp eyes shift from the cat to me. "Watch your tone, Raena."

I don't give him the satisfaction of backing down. Instead, I hold my ground and stare right back.

"I'm here to pick you up for the fight tonight."

My body freezes in the doorway and I know there's no way he missed it. No way he can't smell my fear or taste my anxiety. That's what he lives for.

"What do you mean?" I swallow hard and squeeze Freya's little body to me for some sense of security in my own home. "I don't know anything about that."

He just grins, but it's more to bare his teeth than anything. "Of course you do. My assistant forwarded you all the information last week and you confirmed you would be attending as well as sitting with me in the VIP section as my guest."

A scare tactic. That's what this is. He's trying to manipulate me into doing what he wants through lies. By strong-arming me. By conning me. Even if I didn't want to be within 100 miles of that fight tonight, he's not going to win.

"Sorry," I shrug easily. "There must've been some mistake. I never confirmed anything and I definitely never got any kind of invitation. Maybe she sent it to Lucy."

The error in my words slams through me before it even flickers over his face. His lips spread in a victory I'd voluntarily forfeited—all over one simple slip of the tongue.

"Yes," he practically purrs, his voice smooth and slippery. "Maybe I did sent it to Lucy. Perhaps I should go pick her up instead. Perhaps
she's
the one who should accompany me to the North End."
It's enough to give me pause and he knows it. He's just bought himself some more time and then he unleashes without warning in a low, clipped growl, "Perhaps, if your sister isn't an option, then maybe your brother is."

My blood halts in my veins even as he rolls right along.

"Oh, that's right. He's probably already there to help prepare Flynn, isn't he? Pity. I'm sure he would've made interesting company in light of the upcoming election."

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words are trapped in my throat and beyond that, I've got nothing.

"How is Flynn these days?" the mayor grins knowingly. "I hear he's been busy."

The walls close in on me as all the blood in my body races to my head at once. He's shown his cards and I know, the same way I knew things weren't all as they seemed with this fight, that the mayor hasn't even played his full hand yet. There's more. There has to be more. He wouldn't be here, right now, on this day, if there wasn't.

"If you were smart, Raena," he tells me with a sinister smile that has me trembling right in front of him. "You would do as I say.
Now
."

Numbness creeps down my spine, infecting my limbs, my mind, my spirit...everything he has to take, everything he has to manipulate. I feel like it's his already and we've barely just begun. So I give Freya one last squeeze for some semblance of strength, set her down behind me, and follow the mayor outside, pausing just long enough to grab my purse. It doesn't matter. There's nothing in there that could possibly help me. Not even my phone will do me any good.

His Maserati idles close by and after he holds the door open, I wordlessly, cowardly, slide into the back seat. Once the mayor is seated next to me, we're off—to the arena, to hell, I don't know. It all feels like one in the same. Silence haunts the air just long enough to turn my clammy hands into cold, sweaty messes before his voice, cool and crisp as it ever was, finally breaks the surface.

"Did you really think I didn't know?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy like an anvil, and I almost ask just what it is he thinks he knows. It doesn't matter. He'll probably never let me leave this car anyway. At least not alive.

"I've known about the blood that runs through your veins since before you were born," he continues. "Your mother believed she could hide it from me, even gave you an Italian name to keep up the pretense, but I'm nobody's fool."

Even now, I don't know why she bothered. If she was so hell-bent on running away with Roark Callahan, why did it matter if I had an Italian name or not?

"I didn't kill your mother," he informs me easily. "But I wish I did."

I suck in a harsh breath and bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"I gave that woman everything I had to give. I loved her. I took care of her. Gave her free rein to come and go as she pleased. Gave her access to her own account and let her spend it however she wanted. She had everything she could've ever wanted and yet, it wasn't enough."

If she hadn't gone behind his back the way she did, I wonder if things might have been different for her. All Valentino Moretti truly cares about are appearances—having the perfect life, the perfect wife, and the perfect family. Not being able to control the situation, not being able to dictate who knew which details, where they went, and how long they stayed there for...that must've been what drove him crazy the most. He was clearly willing to raise a child who wasn't his, or at least pretend to, just to keep anyone from knowing. Why wouldn't he have been willing to accept my mother's lover if it meant he could maintain his image and stay in front of any potential bad press?

Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. Or maybe she just never cared enough to really understand the man she'd married. Maybe her cardinal sin wasn't the act itself, but the concealment of it.

"She dug her own grave," the mayor's ice-cold voice floats around me. "And I haven't given her a second thought since."

Sure. That's why you have pictures of her in the office you lock 24/7.

He loved her and she threw it away. I guess I know a little bit about what that feels like. Our shared bitterness and our shared sense of abandonment aren't going to be enough though. Still, surprise grips my throat when the car pulls right up to the front of the Santino Arena. The expansive parking lot is packed full to the brim with spectators rushing in get to their seats and when my door opens, I have no choice but to join them.

The mayor grips my elbow to pull me along as we're ushered in through a side door, flanked by security detail, until we're shown inside a swanky, heavily furnished room with a large viewing glass window at the front. He pushes me into a seat as the door shuts and drops into the seat next to mine.

"Ah," he gestures down to the empty boxing ring in the center of the floor. "We're just in time."

Right on cue, the lights dim, leaving only a spotlight shining on one corner of the arena.

"Ladies and gentleman," a voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Welcome to the inaugural fight at Santino Arena! Please direct your attention to the corner of our arena for the pride of Southie...Jack Flynn!"

The crowd erupts—some booing the enemy, others whooping for the horse they've placed all their bets on—and there he is. Tattooed muscles rippling as he pounds his gloved fists together, wearing an appropriately green pair of long silky shorts, and makes his way up to the ropes with Brennan and Father Lindsay right on his heels. The priest must be Roark Callahan's proxy, as usual, because I can't imagine a scenario where the eldest Callahan would actually show up for this particular fight.

I watch helplessly as Jack's eyes scan the crowd with a lazy smirk on his face. His gaze drifts from the crowd on the floor to the windows above him and I brace myself for the impact. The moment our eyes meet, Jack's body turns still as a statue, on alert, furious and pale all at the same time. Right on cue, the mayor leans forward to ensure that Jack sees who I'm sitting next to.

Now I see this for what it really is. I'm a distraction. A warning. A threat. If he wins, what's going to happen to me? If he loses, what does that mean in the long run? That evidence Jack believes we need to prove everything the mayor has done...

All the air whooshes from my lungs in one fell swoop.

"Did you really think I didn't know?"

Of course. How could I have been so stupid? God, why did I get in the car?

"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" the mayor's eerily calm voice fills the room. "That you could visit Sean Callahan in prison and I wouldn't know? That you could speak to him on the phone and I'd never find out about it? That you could break into my office and I didn't have video surveillance running to protect myself? That you and Jack Flynn could steal files from my computer and I'd be none the wiser?"

It's as if the floor has opened and swallowed me whole, pulling me down into a fiery hell of my own making. Stupid girl. So, so stupid. And overzealous. And reckless. And goddamn suicidal.

"Right now," he continues in that cool, easy timbre. "My men are in your apartment erasing all the files from your computer. They're deleting your emails and clearing your hard drive. They're confiscating the flash drive you used to steal my personal information. Your phone is inconsequential because I've been monitoring your calls and your text messages since you were 15, but the photos you've taken during your so-called surveillance have also been removed. As you can see, any evidence you believe you have is now null and void."

The bell rings as the fight begins, both fighters circling each other, and even though no punches have been thrown, the sucker-punch has already landed on its target.

"I have every intention of letting you live, at least if you don't force my hand."

It's clear to me now. If he really believed I would use the information I had against him, he would've intervened the second he found out I'd been in his office the first time. I was never a threat. Barely even the possibility of a threat.

"But that doesn't mean I can condone the crimes you committed against me. I'm willing to give you 24 hours to get your affairs in order and then you're never to step foot in this city again. You'll disappear and everyone will forget you ever existed. I don't care where you go or what you do as long as I never have to hear about it."

My lips part, but all I can do is inhale sharply. What can I possibly say or do? He's won and he knows it.

"My generosity only extends for the next 24 hours. If you choose to disobey, if you choose to contact any authorities or media outlets, all I have to do is say the word and Sean Callahan will suffer an unfortunate accident in prison. Brennan Callahan will mysteriously disappear. Jack Flynn will succumb to injuries sustained in a fight. Bennett Kelly will suffer through a terrible beating on the street and the police will have no other choice but to chalk it up to another hate crime. Or perhaps, if you'd prefer, I could have your other knee smashed. Perhaps I'll just finish the job altogether and rid myself of you once and for all. You know I can and I will if you leave me no other choice."

I shake my head. My objection doesn't matter. It never did.

"I'm surprised, given all the information you stole from me, that you never connected me to your attack seven years ago. It wasn't really about you, of course. It was meant to send a message and it succeeded."

So that was the missing piece of the puzzle. The one detail I should've figured out from the start. Nero Gianotti attacked me that night because the mayor ordered him to and most likely paid him handsomely when the job was done. I wonder what else he's conveniently left off his records, what else he's done that he's concealed from view.

"What about Lucy?" I hear myself asking with a foreign, hoarse voice.

His eyes narrow. "Luciana is the reason I've decided to spare your life. It would hurt her too much if anything ever happened to you. She'll just have to accept your disappearance and I don't care what excuses you give her after you've gone."

How generous of him. Having me killed would be too messy, too difficult to explain away.

And now, as Jack swings his fist around, connecting with his opponent's jaw and slamming him against the ropes, it doesn't matter if he wins because we've already lost. Even if he senses the way the tides have turned against us, he continues to furiously pummel the other fighter until the ref raises his fist in victory with his opponent a bloody, messy heap on the floor in front of him—almost as if he does know, almost as if he's taking this one last opportunity to defy the stars.

The mayor sighs dramatically next to me and gestures toward the fallen Italian fighter on the floor. "What a shame. I put a substantial amount of money on that one too. I suppose it's all decided now. I
did
warn them."

My eyes narrow at his word choice, but I can't call him on it. I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone engage in a battle of words and wits against him when I've been so thoroughly bested at my own game. When he waves a hand at the door, my limbs lock up in my seat.