Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  Andros had a thing for owning art.

  Jean-Michael Basquiat and Andy Warhol were two that caught my attention.

  “Do you play?” Mr. Sparrow asked as my gaze went back to the chessboard.

  “Not as well as I play poker,” I replied.

  “Then I might have a chance to beat you.” When I didn’t reply, he gestured toward two other chairs near his desk. “Please, I know you’re probably hungry, but if you could have a seat for a moment.”

  I wrapped my arms around my midsection. “Please, Mr. Sparrow, don’t say you want Ruby and me to leave. I know this is all yours. Patrick wants us to stay, and I’d never ask Patrick to choose between us and you. It wouldn’t—”

  “Madeline,” he interrupted. “that’s not at all what I’m about to do.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No.” He gestured again to the chair.

  With a deep breath, I sat along the edge of the seat with my hands in my lap, ankles crossed, and back straight. Irina taught me long ago that it was the way proper ladies sat.

  Mr. Sparrow laughed. “You’re sitting like my mother. I would prefer if you’d relax, but the similarity is funny.”

  “It is?”

  “Because you’re not related to my mother.”

  I shook my head.

  “First, my name is Sterling.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  His brow lengthened. “I have no fucking idea what to do about having a sister.”

  A sister.

  He used the word.

  I shrugged. “I’ve never been a sister before or had a brother,” I added.

  “I’m very sorry about what happened to you, what you said on the plane.”

  “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “In a way it does. From what we’ve been able to determine, you were targeted and spared—if that’s what you want to call it—because of your lineage to me.”

  “Spared is an interesting word,” I said. “But Ruby was spared and for that I’m grateful.”

  “I’m going to tell you something that I don’t say to many people.”

  I sat taller.

  “My father…our father…was a horrible man. My mother also isn’t what I’d consider good. She’s still alive and he isn’t. I’m responsible for his death and don’t regret it.”

  My eyes opened wider. “Why would you tell me that?”

  “You were honest with me and Mason on the plane. I’m being honest with you now.”

  “Is that common knowledge about his death?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t certain what to say.

  “There’s more that I want to say, to offer, that also isn’t common knowledge. No one, not even your husband, knows what I’m about to say.”

  “He knows about your father?”

  “Ours, and he does.”

  “Okay, I’m listening,” I said, holding my own hands upon my lap.

  “I’m not going to ask you to leave. My wife…and well, I also…we have in a short time come to care for Ruby quite a bit.”

  “Thank you, I’m grateful, but I feel like there’s more.”

  “I recently learned how you ended up where you did.”

  I nodded. “Yes, Roberto and Kristine Ortiz. Patrick said they targeted us. I’d never thought of it like that, but it makes sense.”

  Mr. Sparrow shook his head. “Before that, Madeline.”

  Before?

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I learned the cause of the car crash that took your parents—who you thought were your parents. I learned it wasn’t accidental but also targeted.”

  I recalled Andros and Marion telling me the same thing. “I was told that men like your father—”

  “Our,” Mr. Sparrow corrected.

  “Men like him didn’t want bastard children around. Andros made it sound like our…” I emphasized the word. “…father wanted me removed. I was supposed to be in the car.”

  “Ivanov was wrong.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Men like our father didn’t give a fuck about anything outside their bubble. They paid people or dismissed them. They were too concerned about their next deal, conquest, or acquisition to give one baby who had made it through the cracks much thought.”

  “So you’re saying he didn’t even care enough about my existence to have me killed?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Sparrow said, leaning forward. “That sounds crass, and that wasn’t my intention. My intention was to be honest with you. As I said, our father was a terrible man. If it makes you feel any better, while he shaped me into who I am, he didn’t give a shit about me either. There is someone else who cared enough to keep track and hunt down anyone who would potentially jeopardize her son’s future.”

  Sitting was no longer an option as I sprang to my feet. “You called me in here to tell me that it was your mother who called for my death?”

  “I asked you in here to try to show you that I’m not our father or my mother. Our connection is insignificant in the grand scheme because being Patrick’s wife makes you part of this group of people. You would remain here because of him even if we didn’t share our father’s blood.

  “However, as it turns out, there is more. We are related and as such, after much deliberation, I’m offering you what I took the night my father fell to his death.”

  I took a step back. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve tried to ignore it, but my mother isn’t a good woman—”

  My hands came up. “Wait,” I interrupted. “No, absolutely not. Do not say you’re offering your mother’s life for my parents or in retaliation for the life I have led. I have had some difficult times.”

  Mr. Sparrow scoffed. “Difficult times?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “But without those times, I wouldn’t have met Patrick or given birth to Ruby or…” I lifted my hands and spun around. “…ended up here. Mr. Sparrow, I have done some terrible things and some bad things have been done to me, but never have I taken or asked for another person’s life. Yes, I know the crusade Patrick has been on, and I can justify it in my mind knowing I wasn’t their only victim. I will not ask for nor accept your mother’s life.”

  Mr. Sparrow stood, his smile broadening. In a surprise measure, he lifted his hand to me as if to shake. “Madeline, I’m your brother, Sterling. Please address me as such. No more Mr. Sparrow. There is one more thing I need to say.”

  I reached out and we shook. “Sterling.”

  Once our handshake ended, he went on, “Everything Patrick has said is true. I’m warning you that my mother will loathe your existence. I’m also telling you that it doesn’t mean a fucking thing. My mother controls nothing when it comes to all things Sparrow. Her livelihood is at my disposal.” He nodded. “Her life was at yours, and you showed in a matter of minutes that you’re more of a decent human being than she has ever been. It will be my immense pleasure to introduce the two of you.”

  Introduce?

  “Can that wait?” I asked.

  “It can wait until you’re ready, but she should know that you not only exist but have been welcomed into the Sparrow fold.”

  “I have?”

  He nodded.

  “But you know about me. I’m not—”

  “A bitch like my mother and other women like her who have never imagined nor considered the difficulties you’ve survived. I know enough about you to be proud to introduce you as my sister.” He gestured toward the doorway. “Come, Madeline, let’s finish breakfast?”

  “That sounds like a good plan, Sterling.”

  He smiled. “See, my name wasn’t that hard to say.”

  It was, but hopefully with time it would get easier. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for not accepting my offer. As I’ve mentioned, my mother is a bitch. Nevertheless, I wasn’t looking forward to her demise.”

  “Yet you offered it?”

  “Sincerely.”<
br />
  We were on our way back to the kitchen when Sterling stopped. “Recalling what you said earlier, if I’d wanted you gone, you would have left all of us before asking Patrick to choose?”

  “Sincerely, but like you, I didn’t want to do it.”

  “He’s lucky I like him,” Sterling said with a smile, “or I might decide my sister deserves someone better.”

  “No,” I replied with a shake of my head, “there’s no one better.”

  As we entered the kitchen, Patrick’s blue gaze came my way with the other six sets of eyes. “May I get my own coffee?”

  The room remained still until Patrick asked, “Is everything all right?”

  I turned to Sterling. His dark eyes opened wide as he nodded.

  “Yeah, everything is good,” I replied.

  “Madeline,” Laurel said, “your coffee is over here.”

  Sterling spoke, “I’m thinking we should invite Genevieve here for a family get-together.”

  “What?” Araneae said, her light brown eyes staring down her husband.

  “Please, no,” I responded.

  As the room erupted in opinions, I noticed Reid wasn’t part of our conversation. With his dark eyes staring down at his phone, it was as if he wasn’t hearing the commotion.

  “Reid?” Sparrow asked.

  Standing, Reid shook his head. “We should all go downstairs.”

  “Oh,” Lorna said to me, “welcome to the secret Sparrow world. That means they’re going to disappear for a while.”

  Patrick came my way and reached for my hand. “Will you be okay?”

  I looked around the room, seeing the other three men standing near the farther archway and all the women gathered around, including Ruby. “You know what? I think I will.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Not for a while,” Lorna said.

  Once they were gone, Araneae came up to me. “I know Sterling can be intimidating. I hope your talk went well.”

  I nodded. “It did.”

  She reached out and took my hand. “I’ve never had a sister.”

  “Me either.”

  Patrick

  Not a word was spoken as all four of us entered the elevator. While I was curious about whatever Reid had learned, I had a more pressing concern. As we all stepped into the concrete hallway on 2, I stopped, reaching for Sparrow’s arm.

  Reid activated the sensor and the steel door began to move.

  Sparrow turned my way. “We have business in there.”

  The other two entered our secure command center, but I didn’t move. “What did you say?”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “To my sister in private?”

  “To my wife.”

  “I told her to cut the Mr. Sparrow bullshit and call me Sterling. I gave her some family history.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “I also welcomed her to our home, as your wife and my sister.”

  “That’s all?” I asked, not unhappy with his answer.

  “No, I informed her that Genevieve would loathe her existence and that it didn’t matter. I thought she should be prepared.”

  “So there’s no family reunion planned?”

  Sparrow scoffed. “Didn’t you see the daggers my wife sent my way? I would be sleeping in a spare room if I pushed for that.”

  I grinned. “Right, and there’s no going over your head.”

  “Fucking right there isn’t.”

  Being on a timer, the steel door was again closed, leaving us in the hallway between the elevator and entrance. I lifted my hand to the scanner and it once again opened. We both stepped in and halted, taking in the image on one of the screens high above. The picture was that of a crime scene, complete with the yellow police tape. The body wasn’t covered, so we could see blood pooled around a dead man.

  “He looks vaguely familiar,” I said, taking a few steps closer and zeroing in on his face. The reality was that no one looked the same in death. Television and movies made it appear as if they did, as if they were sleeping. The reality was much harsher. While the heart immediately ceased pumping blood throughout the circulations, and in the case we were seeing, the victim obviously shot, the blood remaining in the tissues over time settled, making the tissues swell and flesh discolor, usually to deep shades of purple.

  “Nikita Gorky,” Reid said. “This and other crime scene photos were sent to us from one of our capos in Detroit. According to him and his men, it’s getting heated.”

  “I guess that answered our question of Gorky or Bykov,” Sparrow said. “Interesting that someone would be so sloppy, leaving his corpse out to be found.”

  “It’s a warning,” Mason said. “I’d bet Ivanov ordered the hit or did it himself. He’s telling the rank and file he will kill anyone who tries to make his bratva their own.”

  “Can we find any evidence of Gorky working with Hillman?” I asked, finally able to fully concentrate on what was happening around us.

  Mason shook his head. “Fuck, when Club Regal reopens there need to be cameras. I think I recall seeing the two of them in an in-depth conversation before the final round of the tournament. Was Hillman recruiting Gorky for his side, or was Gorky staying true to Ivanov?”

  “Had to be recruiting,” I said. “If Gorky had tipped off Ivanov, Hillman and Ivanov wouldn’t have traveled together to Elliott’s ranch. Ivanov sure as shit wouldn’t have sent Hillman to gather Ruby. I want the man dead, but I have a difficult time believing that even he would set Ruby up to be taken by Hillman.”

  Reid nodded. “So Ivanov is down to one trusted man.”

  “Looks that way,” Sparrow said. “Have our capo set up a meeting with Ivanov and another with Bykov. The fucking city of Detroit is going to implode over this if we don’t step in. We’ll offer Sparrows for the takeover.”

  “Ivanov?” Mason asked.

  “Yes,” Sparrow said. “I’m going to offer him a truce.”

  My head snapped toward him. “You’re going to do what?”

  “Offer a truce.”

  “But you said you want him dead. Do you have any idea what he’s put—”

  Sparrow lifted his hand. “I said I’d offer him one. He’ll take it or he won’t. If he does, moving our men into Detroit will be easier. If he doesn’t, we’ll cross that bridge. I said I’d offer it; I don’t plan on delivering it. The real offer is going to Bykov.”

  I took a deep breath. “What if Bykov doesn’t take the bait?”

  “Ivanov is still going down. With no leadership in place, the bratva folds, and it’s a damn crapshoot,” Sparrow said, “on who takes over. In that scenario, there will be more casualties and those will include civilians. I sure as fuck don’t want it making its way to my city.” He looked at Reid. “Have we heard from our men in the region?”

  The region was the term for the northwest part of Indiana right outside of Chicago, including Gary, Hobart, Merrillville, and the like. It was comprised of the cities that worked as the land-based gateway from Detroit to Chicago—hell, from all points east. The outfit in charge of the region was second generation. Their longevity was due to their willingness to comply with different leadership. Whether it was McFadden or Allister Sparrow, they’d accepted the boundaries and regulations placed on them. When Sparrow succeeded his father, the old man in the region wavered, unsure if a young buck like Sparrow could keep the reins.

  His son had no issue and was itching to move their outfit into more modern and efficient means of income. We sent men and worked with them after the untimely demise of the older leader. He owes us and has been loyal to a fault.

  “They’re watching,” Reid said. “It seems that the flow of individuals associated with Hillman and Ivanov that had come our way around the time of the tournament and Ivanov’s declaration has reversed. The fires in Detroit are taking their attention away from here.”

  “So basically, the bratva retreated before an all-out war,” Mason said.

  Sparrow’s hand fell u
pon my shoulder. “Taking out Hillman was more advantageous than we planned.”

  My head shook. “While I’ll take the praise, I don’t agree. Ivanov wants Chicago. He screwed up by trusting Hillman for the McFadden backup, but he still wants it. He has to go.”

  “He’ll go,” Sparrow said. He turned to Mason. “What have you learned about the poker tournament in New Orleans?”

  “It’s smaller than the one at Club Regal. Million-dollar buy-in and Madeline is prepaid.”

  I let out a sigh. “Why the fuck would Ivanov do that if he planned on selling her to Elliott?”

  Reid tilted his head. “He didn’t. It was Elliott.”

  “Fucker,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Ivanov seemed the obvious choice. The interesting piece to this puzzle is that Elliott paid her entry fee over a month ago,” Reid said.

  “Before the Chicago tournament? Before he’d been introduced to her?” I ran my hand over my short hair as I turned in a circle. “Fucking hell. Ivanov had planned to sell her and Ruby over a month ago.”

  “He was gaining financial support for his war and securing an ally,” Mason said. “He had Hillman doing legwork for him and recruiting. He had Elliott primed to win the tournament and leave Madeline without recourse but to leave with Elliott.”

  The muscles in my arms flexed as I placed my hands behind my head. “Why steal the money at the club? Why kill Standish and Beckman?”

  “To make me look bad,” Sparrow said. “Ivanov had the tournament set, believing that Elliott would win the jackpot, if not him he also had Hillman and Madeline. When the safe was opened, the payout wouldn’t be there. Club Regal would be in an uproar and since the club was protected by Sparrows we’d look like failures.”

  Mason stood and paced a small track upon the concrete, his cowboy boots tapping with each step. “I am still wondering what role Beckman and Standish played and why they had to be eliminated.”