Drip, drip, drip.

The blood stains the concrete—a slow flow to fill the silence in the room.

Another one of my men lost.

Another faithful employee killed by Rafino's hand. Well, maybe not his hand, but whoever he hired to do it. It's another attack against me. Another warning to stay away and allow him to run this city into the ground.

Not going to happen.

"He's getting creative." Delano, my most trusted and senior employee, eyes Lyonel's body which is currently hanging upside down from the ceiling. His eyes are wide with terror, a knife protruding through his skull. Lyonel was a good man. He had a wife and kids and offered to snoop around Rafinio's territory for information. Now he's dead, and the guilt every death brings me never seems to lessen.

"Very," I mutter. "Delivery included." Whoever Rafino hired to kill Lyonel decided to drop him off in one of our delivery locations—the freezer of a deli market in Brooklyn. The butcher called me frantically when he saw Lyonel strung up next to other slabs of meat.

Sickening.

"He doesn't like that we're getting closer." Delano, holding bleach in one hand and a pair of gloves in the other, steps closer to Lyonel. Formerly my father's right hand, his loyalty transferred to me without question after the tragic passing of my father. To the rest of New York, Patrick Nash killed himself in the office of Nash Enterprises, our family's successful hotel chain, but I knew the truth. The feud between Rafino and my father has been ongoing for years. And while my father's passing may have been intentional, it wasn't his doing.

Rafino killed my father, and in due time, he'll be dead, too.

"He can run, but he can't hide for long." I frown at Lyonel's body, turning my back from it to face Delano. "Can you handle the cleanup, or do you need help?"

"Have I ever needed help?"

No, he hasn't. He's been cleaning up my father's dirty work for years and now mine for one. Sometimes, I feel he should have taken over this operation. Half of what I've learned has been from him. A few months before my father was killed, he let me in on his mission to save this city from the crime and abominations festering due to Rafino. Back then, I was too stunned by his secret life to pay attention. Now I know it was because he had a feeling something was going to happen to him, and rather than bringing my brother Lincoln into it, who had always dreamed of becoming a cop, he entrusted me with his secret instead.

"We're the good guys here," Delano reminds me. "Don't forget that."

I run a hand along the back of my neck and shake my head. "Sometimes it doesn't seem that way."

With every death, I feel more shame. The lives I've taken have been for good reasons. Criminals, rapists, killers, I've racked my body count up high enough to forget the number at this point. All of it has been for the good of this city, but at what cost? Rafino still lives, and my hands keep getting bloodier.

"I know," Delano replies cooly. What else can he say?

"You sure you're good here?"

"Positive. I'll text you the signal when I'm finished."

Turning to leave, I pause when I see a strip of red paper dangling from Lyonel's shirt. It's waving in the wind from the freezer, and my fingers are numb when I snatch it off the fabric, squinting my eyes to read the tiny, scrawled print.

Keep digging and he promises it'll be your family next.

Delano steps behind me, reading the note before he curses lowly. "Son of a bitch."

Crumpling the note, I toss it aside to the floor with my hands balled into fists at my sides. I've done everything in my power to keep my family out of this. My mother has no idea of the revenge my father has tried to exact on Rafino, nor was she aware of the entire operation he runs in New Jersey. And my brother, Lincoln, who recently took over the hotel business in my father's place still believes he killed himself. It's better that way. If they knew the truth, it'd put them more in danger. Thus the reason I took it upon myself to move to New Jersey and keep them both at arm's length.

Now, it seems my plans are going to have to change. If one thing's for certain? Rafino keeps his promises, and I have no intentions of stopping until everything he's ever worked for has been burned to the ground. This just means I have to adapt, just as I do to everything else in my life. They need protection.

"If you need me to head to the Bronx and investigate, I can—"

"No need," I reply, tone clipped. "I'll be in town for the next two days. I can handle it."

"Again?" His brow furrows. "You avoid the city like the plague, and for good reason. Your safety is the most important, Corden. That's why you have employees to investigate for you."

A flash of neon green lingerie crosses my mind, momentarily distracting me. Delano is right. I normally avoid the city like the plague, but last weekend I ran into a surprise. An unexpected woman who hasn't left my head since the last time I saw her five days ago. I haven't allowed myself to feel temptation until her. Work has always been my number one priority, and yet her thighs wrapped around the pole have been on my mind more than business this week.

However, I can't tell Delano this. Although he's my closest employee, I keep him at arm's length, too. I keep everyone at arm's length. It's safer that way. Less hurt if something happens.

"I don't need anything else happening to another one of my employees today," I reply tersely. "I'll look into it and be back in New Jersey on Monday. Just head home after you're done here, alright?"

He narrows his eyes, almost as if he wants to add something but thinks better of it and gives me a stiff nod. "Will do, boss."

***

On my way into the Upper East Side, my brain is frazzled with alternate routes after Rafino's threat. I somehow have to figure out how to keep my family safe without them knowing, run the operation back in New Jersey, and still track Rafino down so I can end him with my bare hands.

Both my body and mind are exhausted. I'm always like this after another death occurs. Although Delano reminds me it isn't my burden to bear, it is. I failed to keep them safe. So, even though I want to think about plans on how I'm going to accomplish all my needs, I'm pushing it to tomorrow. Tonight, I allow the guilt of Lyonel's death to hit me in full force.

When the driver pulls up outside of The Harbor, I slide out of the car with grace. Masked as an office building, the doorman dips his chin as soon as he recognizes me and opens the door. From the outside, you wouldn't know the skyscraper is a club for the Upper East Side's elite. There's a receptionist desk inside with plants and linoleum floors, but when I step inside the elevator, I pull out the access key given to only the esteemed members that will bring me to the fortieth floor.

As the elevator climbs higher, the soft thumping of music enters the four tiny walls. People who know who I am tend to stay away from me here, and I don't blame them. Even though I wouldn't, I have the authority to end their lives with a single phone call. Those afraid of me have a right to be. 

Slipping on that mask of indifference when the doors open, I hide the pain from the loss of today and keep my eyes peeled for the only reason I'm here. Most of the time, I meet with those who are against Rafino and who'd like to aid with their efforts to end his wrath. There are many places to exchange secrets, but The Harbor is my preferred location.

Buck, the club's owner, stops me before I cross the threshold of the entertainment space. "Corden? Wow, I didn't expect to see you here again. What do I owe the pleasure?" His eyes move side to side, a nervous tell of his before he wipes a sweaty hand across his forehead.

"Am I not allowed to visit two weekends in a row?" My patience is already running thin. He should know better than to waste my time with irrelevant questions. I have an access pass, which means I can come here every damn day of the week if I'd like.

"O-Of course," he stumbles. My eyes glance down to where he's making a crease on my suit from his grip, and he quickly releases his hold. "You're here for business, I'm assuming? I can lead you to the right booth."

"Pleasure, actually," I correct him. "I'm looking for Hadari."

"Hadari," he repeats. "Ah, she's a beauty, isn't she? Endless curves. I can see the infatuation."

My jaw ticks, my patience running thinner. He already pissed me off last weekend when he grabbed her wrist without her consent. With that comment? I'm practically daydreaming about what it'd be like to cut his fingers off that same hand one at a time.

I guess my silence is warning enough because Buck shuts his mouth and points to the bar. "She's getting some water, but if you head over there now I'll make sure she tends to you immediately."

Sticking my hand up before he can lead the way, I shake my head. "I'll be fine on my own."

Buck gets the hint and flees to do whatever the hell it is he does here, leaving me to find my way to the bar, which I prefer anyway. I've never come here for pleasure before. Mainly because no one has ever been able to distract me enough to pull my mind away from business.

Tonight, however, I don't have any business deals or secrets to discuss.

Tonight, I'm here for distraction and pleasure, both of which I'm confident Hadari will bring me yet again.