Burn this City by Aleksandr Voinov

44

Sal honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to shake or punch Jack, but seeing him, he was just relieved that he’d caught up to him. Spadaro had spotted Jack the moment he’d entered the check-in area, and then given Sal directions.

And while an airport was not the best place for this, it also wasn’t the worst. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“I’m done in Port Francis.” He sounded very calm, very reasonable and now straightened in his seat.

Sal sat down next to him, with one seat between them, still catching his breath. “Done with what?” None of this made sense, but if Jack needed to put this into his kind of words, he needed to ask questions and listen to the answers, even if he didn’t like it.

“My job. Sal, you got everything you wanted. Every last bit. Everything …” Jack’s voice vibrated with some kind of suppressed emotion that Sal couldn’t parse. “Everything and more. You didn’t take any losses. Your enemies are dealt with. You got the money, the power, the businesses. Nobody will ever disrespect you again. It’s a fantastic victory. Congratulations.”

Yes, and? Why did Jack sound bitter now? “And what’s the problem?”

“And I … didn’t.”

“Bullshit. You made it possible.”

“Possible. Jesus.” Jack’s eyes narrowed with pain. “And I got nothing. My job … everything I’m good at, that’s all done. You winning always meant I’d lose. Yes, I’m breathing, but that old me, the man I was as part of the Lo Cascio, he might just as well have drowned. And I think I deserve to find out who else I can be.”

“Might just as well have drowned.”

Fuck. Then who’d the man he’d had sex with been then? Jack didn’t even allude to that, though, likely to keep his dignity, but Sal thought he could hear those meanings in his words too.

“Yes, you do,” Sal said and meant it.

“Thank you.” Jack took his bag, slipped the strap over his shoulder and stood. “Goodbye, Sal.” He turned to leave.

“But you can do that here.” With me. Sal forced himself to remain sitting.

Jack half turned. “I’ll be a traitor and turncoat. I’ll never be anything else.”

“And I turned you into that, is that what you’re saying?”

Jack’s lips tightened. “No. I made my choices. I own them.”

Brave fucking consigliere. Jack had always had heart, but his integrity and inner strength kept shining through, and Sal admired him for it. Few men just unblinkingly accepted the consequences of their own actions. At the same time, Jack was definitely being too harsh on himself. He rubbed over his face. “I told you we’d talk about everything. And you didn’t even give me a chance for that.”

Jack glanced back to the departure board. “I’ll miss my flight.”

“Talk to me, Jack. After that, I’ll let you go. Fuck, I’ll even walk you to the fucking gate.”

Jack took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then shook his head. “You got everything you wanted.”

“I think we both know that isn’t true. I didn’t get you.” Shit, and this was something he’d wanted to say after some languid sex in that huge bed in his suite. Ask Jack whether he could imagine trying for something more. He’d been ready to negotiate the terms of a relationship—and now it seemed that had never been on the table. Sal had never been much of a negotiator, but he realized that had been Jack’s whole life. Everything he was. This was little-explored territory for Sal, but he’d be damned it if he walked away without trying.

Jack’s face softened and he seemed to waver. “It’s not enough. Who would I be if I stayed?”

“Whatever the fuck you want. Retire if you want. If it’s not working out, I’ll drive you personally to the airport, though a bit more slowly.” The attempt at cracking a joke didn’t fall completely flat; Jack’s lips twitched. “Don’t think all of … all of this happened because I used you. I didn’t use you when it came to the personal stuff.”

“No, I didn’t think you did.”

“Then give me a chance.” Sal stood when Jack kept looking at him. He wished he knew what was going on in Jack’s head—that was one constant in their relationship. “If it’s because of the job, fuck it, you could work as an independent negotiator and act as my go-between with the Dommarco. Or join my people.”

“How would that look?”

“Independent then. Reevaluate after a few years. There’s plenty of work for a smart man. Fuck, get in with the Prizzi, I’m sure they’d have work for a consultant. Do whatever you want.” Just don’t leave.

Jack was wavering, thinking, and Sal took another step toward him. He wanted to touch him, but they were in public, and he really didn’t want to spook Jack now. Not while everything could still turn to shit. Jack could still decide to run, and while Sal had the means to hunt him to the ends of the earth, he’d force himself to let Jack go if he really wanted that. After everything he’d done to Jack, he did owe him that much respect, even if it would hurt like hell.

“But for what it’s worth,” he lowered his voice even more because the last thing he wanted to do was entertain a bunch of travelers while they queued for their burgers, “I’ll always respect you. Your choice. If you want my protection, you can have it. If you want anything else … same. It really is your call this time.”

Jack gave him warm smile. “Thank you.” It sounded heartfelt, and Sal still expected a “but” and then Jack would walk off and vanish from his life.

But it didn’t come. Jack cast another look at the departure board, then plucked his boarding pass from his inside pocket, ripped it up, and threw it in the nearby trash can. He gripped his bag tighter and returned to Sal. “I didn’t check out of the Lodge. Should we meet back at my suite? Discuss the … particulars.”

“Of course,” Sal agreed and watched Jack go. He didn’t quite manage to take a deep, calm breath—he’d do that when he could hold Jack again. Kiss him. Fuck him. Keep him. Of all the things about Jack that intrigued him, of the many ways the man had earned his respect and won his heart, Jack’s poise and grace under fire hit him the hardest. But having to go toe to toe with him and being so unsure who’d win in the end still unnerved him. He’d never met anybody else who could turn the tables so completely on him, outwit him with his head under water, even at the cost of his own life. There simply wasn’t anybody like Jack Barsanti.

Spadaro stepped to Sal’s side. “I don’t think I have to chase him down again.”

“No, I think he’ll listen.”

“Good. Battista will be happy about how all of this is going.” Spadaro looked around. “No massacres necessary. I haven’t done an airport yet. Though it’s pretty small.”

“Just don’t.”

“Joking.” Spadaro scoffed as if Sal couldn’t have possibly thought he was serious. “I’ll get going. I’ll be around for a few more days. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume all is well. If you need me again, call me. Enzo’s got my number.”

Sal offered his hand and Spadaro shook it. “Much appreciated.”

On the way to the exit, Spadaro put the helmet on and then he was already through the door. Sal gestured to Enzo, who joined him. When he turned to leave, he heard, “Final call for passenger Mr. Jack Barsanti at Gate 8” through the loudspeakers. He exchanged a look with Enzo, who looked a lot calmer than Sal felt.

“You drive. And before you get sassy with me, there’s something else we need to talk about.” It was a distraction for himself, but it was also long overdue.

Enzo lifted his eyebrows and gave a small nod. He’d coordinated those parts of the clean-up that Sal hadn’t, and taken out a couple capos himself. Those first thirty-six hours had been some of the bloodiest in Port Francis’ history, and after his killing spree, Enzo had settled in with a bottle of nice old cognac—not to deal with the blood and murder, but to tamp down on the adrenaline and exhaustion. Spadaro had roamed freely around the city, tying off “loose ends”.

“Seems we’re growing a lot after this, so we’ll need to fill some positions” Sal said softly when they sat in the truck. He noticed how Enzo’s shoulders relaxed. “Wait, what were you thinking I was going to say?”

Enzo shook his head and started the engine. “I don’t know, something about sex, I guess.”

Sal blinked, but decided to stay on his original track. “It’s time to fill a certain position. We haven’t needed an underboss, but it’s becoming necessary.” He’d also shied away from filling the position because that had been his own launching pad to take over the family. With the low profile he’d kept, it hadn’t been necessary to have somebody handle the day-to-day.

Enzo kept his eyes on the road. “You do know I’ve never played for that.”

“But would you take it?” Sal lifted a hand. “No, I mean, will you take it?”

“Well, we can’t have some other douchebag doing a shit job,” Enzo growled softly. “And I have a soldier who can take over my crew, and won’t fuck it up.”

Sal laughed and patted Enzo’s thigh. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

“Yeah, and fuck you too,” Enzo muttered. “Thank you.”

“You earned it.” Sal shook his hand. “And now, since we’re nice and alone in the car together, what was that about sex?”

“Jack’s a good guy. He’ll look after you.”

“If we can work this out, yeah. But I don’t feel like I’m completely in the clear yet.”

“You can be very convincing.” Enzo glanced in the mirror and changed lanes. “And you can always count on me in the life and outside of it. But I don’t think you need me the same way anymore.” He left that hanging between them. “That role’s been filled by a guy who’s better at it than I am. And I’m okay with that, just in case.”

“Setting boundaries, are you?”

“Just in that way. It’s time for me to move on.”

Nothing about Enzo suggested he hadn’t thought long and hard about it. Or, really, short and hard. Enzo wasn’t the type who ruminated over these things. And he was right, he’d served as Sal’s lifeboat too long already. “I respect that. So, you’re going back into the dating game?”

“Soon.” Enzo shrugged. “A week or so. I’ll give it until Saturday.”

Until Saturday? How oddly specific. That little piece of information connected with another one in Sal’s head. Silvio Spadaro’s departure date. “Comparing notes with the Barracuda?”

Enzo jumped a little. “Nothing serious, but he’s very good at what he does.”

Holy shit. The things that happened under pressure in life and death situations. He couldn’t see those two together, though they’d clearly gelled well when it came to planning and executing a mass killing. “Welcome to the bisexual club. We have the hottest members and plenty of choice, but the heartache is pretty much the same, just saying, sorry.”

“I have no fucking clue what he is, but I don’t think it matters. Might widen the field. Might not.”

“Take it one day at a time,” Sal said, echoing what Enzo had told him so often.

“Yep.” Enzo smirked. “You think you’ll join us for dinner tonight in the restaurant? Boys might want to see your face.”

“Won’t promise it.” Sal patted Enzo’s arm. “You cover for me, sottocapo.”