Gino and Brandon Cassini exchanged looks and adjusted their respective grips on their firearms, a Glock for the wiry Gino and an Uzi submachine gun for the bulky Brandon. Their heads swiveled back to the door and, by unspoken agreement, the younger Brandon reached for the handle. He glanced at his brother and, receiving a nod, opened the door quickly, bringing his weapon to bear.

For a moment his mind couldn’t process the scene. The lot outside the warehouse door was smoky. Two of the other men were down, groaning. Brandon didn’t pay them any mind; they were piciotto, button-men, and therefore expendable. Willy the Pick was holding his face and whimpering, his clothes smoldering. There was evidence of a small blast on the asphalt nearby.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away his grogginess. The light hurt.

“About time, hoss.”

Squinting, Luke tried to focus on the figure before him. It seemed indistinct. Opaque. Slowly the haze cleared.

“You done napping?”

Luke tried to laugh, coughed instead. Everything hurt.

“Quite a mess you got yourself into, hoss.”

“I know,” Luke croaked. He was still tied to a chair. Tightly. “I know,” he said again.

“Any ideas how you’re going to get yourself out of it?”

Luke sighed. Wheezed, actually, but it amounted to the same thing.

“I’ll figure it out, Dad.”

“Are we sure we want to do this?”

“Hello? Am I talking to myself here?”

“Yes, we want to do this.”

“What a shock. How ‘bout you, Jen? You don’t have to—“

“Y-yes. For him, yes.”

“’Atta girl. Frankie?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m not really—“

“Frankie.”

“I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’m in. Right? I’m in.”

“Doc?”

“What? Oh. Yes. If I can help, I will, of course. I’m just not sure…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I just…”

“Listen, you’ve done plenty. You got us to the game, okay? No need to go any further.”

Valentine’s Day

The Emerald was packed. Luke had had the foresight to make reservations so he and Jen had a small table in the back. Granted, there were a lot of small tables in the back at this point, and he could’ve reached out in either direction and taken a drink off the adjoining tables, but the ambience was unmistakable. On stage the modern rock-jazz sounds of Blended Neon oozed out over the crowd. They were a mix of Steely Dan and Chicago, and both he and Jen had enjoyed the evening’s entertainment thus far. They sat next to each other, crammed between every other couple around them, holding hands, laughing, sipping at their cocktails, and in every way acting like two young people in the early stages of love.

It was cold. That happened in February. Hudson City was a cold place to begin with. Even in his insulated suit Nemesis felt the cold. Part of it, he had to admit, had nothing to do with the weather. He was hunting, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to catch his prey.