Chapter 4 - THE MOB BOSS AT THE BORDER
The private Gulfstream jet touched down on the tarmac of Toronto Pearson International Airport at 3:15 AM under a shroud of heavy fog.
Alexander Hayes did not wait for the stairs to be properly secured.
He descended the metal steps into the freezing rain, his dark wool overcoat billowing behind him like the wings of a predatory bird.
Marcus followed closely behind, holding an umbrella over his boss’s head.
“Where is she?” Alexander demanded, his breath pluming white in the chill air.
“We traced the signature on the apartment lease to a rental broker in the Annex district, Boss,” Marcus reported, checking his tablet.
“She’s living on Dupont Street.”
“Move the cars,” Alexander ordered, his jaw set so hard muscles ticked in his cheek.
“We’re going right now.”
“Alexander, listen to me,” Marcus grabbed his arm.
“We are on Canadian soil. If the local authorities catch wind that a Chicago syndicate boss is moving armed enforcers through Toronto, there will be an international incident.”
“Let them try to stop me,” Alexander snarled, shaking Marcus off.
“She has my daughter’s ashes.”
“She has every right to have them, Boss,” Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of genuine reproof.
“You forgot Grace on the sidewalk.”
“You traded her life for an hour of your first love’s birthday party.”
“Do not lecture me, Marcus!” Alexander roared, spinning around with such ferocity that Marcus took a step back.
“You think I don't know what I did?!”
“You think I haven't lived in hell every single second since I saw her under that white sheet?!”
“Then don't go terrorize her apartment like a common thug,” Marcus urged softly.
“If you want her back, you have to earn her forgiveness. You can’t bully her into it.”
Alexander stood in the freezing rain, his chest heaving, the harsh lights of the airfield reflecting in his bloodshot eyes.
For the first time in his life, violence was useless.
Threats were meaningless.
His power stopped at the water’s edge.
May you like
“Get in the car,” Alexander finally whispered, staring down at his leather-gloved hands.
“We wait until morning.”
