Chapter 1:
New York in December. Two words, bloody cold! I stood there on the sidewalk waiting for my brother, who as always, was late. I watched the darkened sky above me as a winter storm loomed and snow threatened. I would give him five or maybe ten more minutes and then I would leave. John was not as dependable as he used to be. I decided a while back not to ask any questions about what he did or how he suddenly became wealthy in a matter of months. I really did not need to know or get involved, but I had my suspicions. Coming from the past that we did, I could guess quite well. I had come here from London to get away from my father's line of work, my mother being Italian-American and ever the professional businesswoman, did not like the choice to stay out of the family business. I looked at my watch again, ten minutes was almost up.
Being a mortician, I knew the people who would pay big money to smuggle drugs in bodies that were being returned to their homelands. I had done it a few times. Clearly, my older brother had not caught wind of that one. At least I hoped he hadn't. That could be a problem, it was something he would tell my parents and they would go back to fighting over me. Something I did not want, I'd seen enough of their fighting to last me a lifetime.
I looked across the street, some movement had caught my attention. A man, probably in his mid twenties, stood against the wall of the building there. He was not built very big, no extreme physique, but something about him, made you think of power. He leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette and looking formidable. My instincts told me he was a dealer of some kind. What link in the chain he was, that was a little harder to discern. By the way he was standing and his demeanor, he was more than simply a dealer. He looked like someone who demanded attention. I was in the middle of contemplating the person across the street when John walked up behind me.
“You make a nice target, sis.”, John’s voice was rough and somehow quiet simultaneously, years of cigarette smoking had left a rasp in his voice.
I spun around to face him, and he was smiling, “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to notice you staring at that guy like you’ve never seen a man before.”, Now he was snickering.
“I was not. I was just trying to figure out what he was up to over there.”, I looked back across the street. The man, now staring at John and me, caught and held my gaze for a moment. When he looked away, I looked at John.
“You don’t need to know what he’s up to. It’s really none of our business.” John, usually fun and laid back, suddenly got a little darker and colder.
I was still trying to put my confusion away for later when John grabbed my arm and lead me away from where we were standing. He took us along the street and down toward the restaurant to which we were supposed to be going. I realized something was wrong when John’s grip on my arm tightened. I pulled away from him and stopped.
“What is wrong with you? What the hell are you doing?”
John looked around nervously, “I’m trying to protect you. Now, come on, let’s go.”
“No. You will just get me hurt by not telling me, so out with it.” I stood staring at him, not willing to back down.
Emotions ran across his face, I was not sure exactly which ones, but I still refused to back off the subject. If he were involved with someone or something that was not very good, then not telling me what to look for would be dangerous for me. I was not ready to be used as leverage in a game I did not play.
"John, if you don't tell me what's going on, I swear I will turn around and walk the other way. I will not play mind games or be kept in the dark. That's what happened last time and our family paid dearly for it."
“Let’s just go to dinner. I will tell you then. I don’t like being out in the open . . . too dangerous.” John turned away from me and started walking.
I heard a sharp sound, one I recognized from long ago. I stopped dead. John turned fast. He had a gun locked, loaded and aimed before I could blink. He stood straight and still, aiming at the shadows just to my right. I was in the middle, between my brother’s gun and the other person.
‘I am going to die . . . ’ I thought, ‘What a way to get involved . . . ’
John’s gaze flickered to me, he knew I was in a precarious position. If he fired, I was dead. Most likely the other armed person was aiming at me. I had become leverage . . . something with which to bargain. I took deep breaths and tried to calm myself. It’s not every day I get a gun pointed at the back of my head. I tried to keep the memories of the past from flooding my mind, but they came anyway. Hugo's face, Prima's laugh... Erik's ever present smile. All gone. All dead. I snapped myself out of it, it would only hurt to remember, and hurting was not what I needed right now.
I heard the person behind me shuffle a little, getting restless. I wanted to move too but was afraid of the consequences of the action itself. So I listened to him instead, focusing on the sound of him, I discerned where he was at. I kept my attention on him, the sounds of his breathing, the shuffles of his shoe soles on the pavement. Every noise punctuated and clear in my ears.
I could only think of my obituary in tomorrow’s paper; Local Mortician Dies in Gang War . . . Lovely, I looked at John. His attention still on the man just behind me and off to my right, he caught my gaze for a split second and it was enough. I ducked and simultaneously John fired. A yelp and then a sickening thud sounded behind me.
I looked behind me and the body of a young man lay crumpled on the ground. Blood was spilling out from underneath him and bubbling out of his mouth. Strange, I had been a Mortician for a long time, and I had never seen someone actually kill someone else. Dead people were dead people. Almost all the same but I was watching this man die, watching him first sputter and twitch, then the light left his eyes and they became glazed and blank . . . He grew pale as the heat left his body, the blood draining away from the surfaces of his skin, the veins in his face turned gray and in a matter of moments I was looking at what I always saw. A dead body.
