I exited the car as quietly as I could, double-checking that I hadn’t disturbed Sofia before walking over to where Preacher and Dutch waited for me. Gabe had brought me along on his last meet to introduce me, and I’d been relieved to find the bikers intelligible, grounded guys as far as I could tell. These situations could be dangerous, so I appreciated having reliable contacts.

The two men stood in their leather cuts leaning against a brick building not far from their bikes. No matter how cold it was outside, you could always count on bikers to display their colors where they could be seen—even if that meant over a jacket or ten different layers. Their culture wasn’t for me. I preferred our more understated existence, but I found it intriguing.

“Preacher, Dutch, it’s good to see you.” I held out my hand as I approached, shaking with Preacher whereas Dutch opted for a casual fist bump.

“What’s happenin’, Nico?” replied Preacher, the spokesman for the twosome.

“Not much. Wanted to know how things were looking in waste management.”

The Five Families each specialized in a distinct field. In some areas, they overlapped, but for the most part, lines were drawn so that boundaries were clear. The Luccianos ruled the construction industry in the city. Early on, the Gallos had cornered the market on concrete, but their main gig was waste management. If you didn’t want your dumpsters overflowing, you needed to play nice with the Gallos.

“It’s been quiet; almost unusually so,” the older man offered in a gravelly voice that could only be achieved with a lifetime of hard living.

“Any word from the old man?” It was no secret that the Gallo boss was a lunatic. He’d been quiet in recent months, but his years of erratic behavior kept everyone wary.

“Not a sound.”

“What about Sal?”

“He’s in the wind. Don’t know what hole he’s crawled in, but it’s deep.” He paused for a second, eyes peering around. “Rumor is the Russians are lookin’ for him too. Sounds like they ain’t too happy with you neither.”

“We’re aware.” I nodded. “Appreciate the information. You hear anything else, you know the drill.”

“Always a pleasure doin’ business with you fellas.”

I could see a smile peeking through his heavy goatee as we shook one more time. As I walked back to the car, my mind was busy calculating the mounting dangers and how to keep Sofia safe. It was a small relief that she would let me near her, but to do a thorough job, I was going to need to stay by her side, and that would not go over well.

When I slid into the driver’s seat, Sofia was no longer asleep. What I found turned my stomach in a way I hadn’t experienced since my sixteenth birthday.

Sofia sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, eyes wide as saucers, and her skin completely drained of blood. She didn’t acknowledge me when I got in the car. Her terrified stare was glued to where Preacher and Dutch were mounting their bikes.