Dark Road Home

Jersey City, New Jersey

When Ethan McBain woke that morning, he smiled. Today was going to be a turning point in his life, both in a personal sense and in his career.

He glanced at his watch. Already two hours had gone by since he started going over the case. Clocks had been set back three days ago for Daylight Savings Time, and as the time neared six o’clock, the sky retained a hint of light as dusk settled in. His staff had left well over an hour ago, and the lack of noise and interruptions made him lose track of time. He’d been absorbed in paper work, happily preparing for a case involving a new client. Finally he was representing someone other than the notorious killer Victor Simone or any one of his accomplices, a case that didn’t involve charges for first-degree murder. Ethan welcomed the hit-and-run case, relieved he would be defending a client he wasn’t setting up for the FBI.

Six months before, another of Ethan’s clients and Victor Simone’s right-hand man, Anthony “The Accountant” Carzozza, was acquitted on all counts of first-degree murder. Of course, Carzozza was guilty of murdering the CEO of a bank, a hit his boss had ordered. But thanks to those inside the justice system on Victor Simone’s payroll, Carzozza again dodged seeing the inside of a six-by-eight cinderblock prison cell.

It was Carzozza Ethan feared the most. He despised the arrogant and cavalier criminal, a highly intellectual man who was a certifiable head case. Beneath his good looks and flaring charm, Anthony Carzozza was one man anyone in his or her right mind would be scared of. Unfortunately, Ethan was in no position to deny the man his services. After almost two decades of being Victor Simone’s legal counsel and hating every moment he had to stand before the courts in his client’s defense, Ethan hadn’t been able to relieve himself from being the criminal defense attorney for an organization of hit men. Risking his career and life, he had to continue to be the eyes and ears into Victor Simone’s business.

He closed the file and scooted back his chair. You need to get going if you’re going to get everything done that has to be done. He stood, tossing the file into his open briefcase on the corner of his desk. Tonight was about his daughter and their plans for a Broadway show and afterward, dinner at a three-star restaurant in Manhattan. And if he didn’t get a move on, he would have to contend with her unhappy mood because he was again, as usual, late. Her face would be tight with anger as she remained silent, lifting a cold shoulder at him in the car while he repeatedly apologized with the broken-record promise that he would try better next time.

Not tonight. There would be no apologies. He wasn’t going to disappoint his daughter. He tossed a few more files and a legal pad full of scribbled notes into the briefcase, and before snapping it shut, he glanced at the small blue Tiffany & Co. box inside. He smiled, already seeing the joy on his daughter’s face as she opened the gift and held the diamond-looped earrings she’d been dying to have.

He unrolled the sleeves of his white shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He was about to work on his tie but decided he’d deal with it in the car. He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair, and as he slid it on, a single hard rap on the office door, followed by its opening, startled him.

Taken aback, he looked twice at the three men who entered his office. In front was Victor Simone, followed by his son, Joseph Simone; and stationed over the door’s threshold was Anthony Carzozza. Because Victor Simone was smart, cautious, and untrustworthy of anyone, not even his attorney, the leader of the pack had never stepped foot inside his office. Their client/attorney meetings were always held on the hit man’s turf.

So the unnatural and unexpected visit meant only one thing. Ethan took a deep breath and held it. So the day had come. It was the risk he’d been willing to take, but why today of all days? He thought he’d been careful. He’d believed Victor Simone would be apprehended before this day arrived. How wrong he had been.

Ethan stepped from behind his desk, his gaze flicking to each man until settling on Victor Simone’s eyes. They were icier than ever. The man’s grin was smug and tight, sending a shiver down Ethan’s spine.

“What’s going on, Victor?” he asked as calmly as he could, standing at the side of his desk. Victor Simone stood behind the two chairs in front of the desk, both hands pocketed in his dark designer slacks. His grin didn’t falter. “Personal delivery. A birthday gift for your daughter.” He paused, a sick twinkle in his eyes. “A gift she’ll never forget where it came from,” he said, his voice strong with malice.

Ethan’s gaze slid left of Victor to his son, Joseph Simone, and quickly his eyes rounded into saucers as Joseph raised the Beretta from his side, aiming high at his trademark shot, one bullet between the eyes. Ethan’s head spun as his panic rose. His breathing came fast and shallow, his heart beating rapidly as a sudden jolt of phantom pain rose in his chest. He prayed for a heart attack. Oh, to be that lucky. Fear consumed him. Not because he feared death. But because he now realized, as his life flashed before him, that he’d failed his daughter. Her mother had died from childbirth, and his deeds had caused him to abandon her, now to be left all alone in the world. All because of his selfish quest to be close to and protect someone who didn’t need protecting.

Victor Simone’s grin disappeared. An evil presence broke out across his face. “Eye for an eye, Counselor,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “You take from me, I take from you.”