The Hand That Takes by Taylor O'Connell

Author:Taylor O'Connell [O'Connell, Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07VZ7VRG9
Publisher: Taylor O'Connell
Published: 2019-08-08T23:00:00+00:00

13

A Bold Request

Interlude, Eight Years Earlier

T he dark stone walls of the hallway seemed to close in around him as he stood looking at the brass handle of the door. Without giving thought to caution, Sal put a hand on the door handle and turned. He barged in, bold as a king entering his sleeping chambers. Resplendent light shone through the bay windows like the very image of Solus himself, reflecting from the thousands of crystals on the golden chandelier that hung at the ceiling’s center.

Sal stepped onto the elaborately patterned Miniian rug and froze.

Three men were in Uncle Stefano’s solar.

The look Uncle Stefano fixed on Sal could have spoiled salt. It made him want to turn tail and run, as fast and far as his feet would take him. Still, he had no choice. He would do it for Mother. He swallowed, steeled his nerve, and approached his uncle’s high-backed armchair.

A glance at the two men standing behind Uncle Stefano set his entire body to shaking: Benito and Hamish, a pair of thugs that were as ugly as they were mean. Hamish, a red-haired Kirkundan, looked the more formidable of the pair with his toned muscular build, but Sal knew that beneath the sagging fat and flesh, Benito Rici was the more dangerous of the two. Nearly twice the age of Hamish, Benito had been in his uncle’s service as long as Sal could remember. Fat and balding and with a goiter to boot, Benito was nothing to look at, but in a scrap he was one of the best men in the city to have at your side.

“What do you want, boy?” Uncle Stefano asked, removing his reading lenses.

“I—I’m sorry, Uncle. I hadn’t realized—”

“Did you barge in here only to stammer like a jackanapes? Out with it.”

Benito and Hamish made low chuckling noises.

Sal clenched his hands into tight fists. It was now or never. “Uncle, I believe I’m ready.”

Lines formed at the corners of his uncle’s eyes as his frown deepened.

“I’m ready to earn my keep,” Sal said, hoping the clarification might spark a different response.

“Oh?” said Uncle Stefano, arching an eyebrow.

The ugly brutes behind his uncle exchanged a look. Benito cleared his throat, and Hamish smiled a big, dumb smile.

“And how is it you propose to earn your keep, boy?”

“I can work for you.”

“Work for me? Just what is it you think you would do for me?”

“I could earn.”

Benito scoffed, while Hamish laughed aloud.

Uncle Stefano didn’t laugh. He didn’t even give Sal his usual frown. Instead, he stroked his chin. He sat that way for a moment, silent, thoughtful. But eventually the frown formed, and Uncle Stefano shook his head. “What would your mother say?”

“She would be proud,” Sal said.

“Proud?” asked Stefano, then understanding seemed to come over him.

“Yes, proud,” Sal said defiantly. “She would know that—that no matter what—what happens, she would know that I can earn my keep.”

After an instant that seemed to stretch for a turn, Stefano gave a curt nod toward the door.

“I’ll think on it.

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