Rain pelted Frankie Renzi’s face as he chased the councilman along the riverfront. The man ran beneath a bridge that offered temporary cover. But the fool made a classic mistake that cost him precious seconds. He looked over his shoulder. Beneath the bridge, Frankie increased his pace, driving his lean body forward. After many years of construction work his strength and stamina were unbeatable, despite the wet clothes that weighed him down. In the sideways-slashing rain, he’d almost closed the distance between them. Three steps, two, one. He grabbed the man’s shirt collar and poured all his energy into jerking the guy to the ground. Frankie kept him there with a well-placed shoe to the groin.

“Please let me go. I’ll give the money back!” the man said.

“Not my problem.” Frankie didn’t give a damn about a pathetic plea from a bribe-taker. Not at all. His Renzi blood ran hot because this man took him away from Sofia tonight, from his future. His goal was to finish this business and get to the restaurant where she waited. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Within seconds, a car pulled alongside him. A tinted window lowered.

“I can return the money,” the councilman cried again.

“Take him back under the bridge,” the driver said.

It rubbed Frankie raw, taking orders from that creep. But the tables would turn soon enough.

“I’ll give it all back,” the councilman cried again.

The driver backed the car beneath the bridge into the darkness. Frankie released a heavy sigh. Bad things happened in the dark. He ought to know. At least his part in the affair was almost done. If so, he might still salvage his evening. Get to his lover. The possibility lifted his mood, made him extend a hand to help the poor soul up.

The man rolled over and sobbed like a child. Too bad Frankie was in a hurry.

He yanked on an arm, dragged, and pulled until either common sense or excessive pain brought the guy to his feet.

Two men stepped out of the car like wraiths in the blackness beneath the bridge. Had Frankie not known them, he might have shared the councilman’s fear. Tonight though, they were two more guys who had wrecked his night with Sofia. All so they could play gangster games. Frankie’s father, Angelo, the boss who had bought the councilman’s vote, got out on the passenger side. His longtime friend and enforcer, Geno, closed the driver’s door and stood with his arms crossed.

Geno had one purpose. To harm those who went against the Renzi family. He’d been doing it for decades and was excellent at his job. He was also a mean, egotistical devil who used far more force than necessary. Frankie had lost respect for him ages ago.

Out of the picture, Frankie walked beyond the far end of the bridge. A little more rain didn’t matter at that point. He’d rather get soaked than witness Geno at his task. He lost himself in the memory of his last date with Sofia. With her dark hair thrown over her bare shoulder, she’d sat on his lap and fed him dinner by candlelight. He could almost taste the flavor of beef tips on her breasts. Almost feel her squirming on his lap while he stroked her bare legs. The vivid memory took him to another place, far away from the storm.

A crack of thunder brought him back to the present. A car door’s slam announced the end of his father’s business. In seconds, Geno picked Frankie up at the end of the bridge.

Twenty minutes later, he was home in a quiet residential neighborhood off Shady Avenue. A nice part of town without any bridges. He had been gone all day, tending to his father’s demands so home felt good. Climbing the steps, grabbing his rain-dampened mail from the box felt normal. Once inside the house, the pile of letters and a magazine, folded to fit the confines of the box, flopped open. He saw his own face on the cover of the latest edition of the Pittsburgh Buzz, a trendy magazine found most everywhere in town. He had to admit, it was a good picture. One that showed off his big brown eyes and a muscular body packed inside a well-fitted suit. The thick dark hair had caught the light as an errant lock fell onto his forehead.

He wondered if Sofia had seen it. He bet she was using it as a dartboard by now. Pittsburgh Buzz had interviewed Frankie at a recent charity event he’d attended for Angelo. He shook hands with politicians and made deals for Renzi Building, the family’s business. His father hadn’t done any real work for the company in years. Frankie ran it by himself for the most part. The less he spoke of it, the more his father forgot about it, which suited Frankie fine.

He switched on a lamp and checked the blinds before he stripped. Wet clothes landed in a heap near the door. Angelo’s demands and the memory of Geno’s fists dissolved in the puddling water at the base of the pile. The air conditioner battled with the hot July night. Cool air hit bare skin and Frankie shivered. If only a little shake could expel the evening’s disaster. Still, he believed the worst was yet to come.

He read her text messages from dinner. She asked when he would get to the restaurant. The final one had only a question mark. He let her down tonight, like he’d let her down before, always conceding to his father’s demands.

The mantel clock’s chimes bellowed through the quiet house. They told him it was too late to meet Sofia. He wondered if they announced the end of his relationship, too.

He tossed the phone on the bed and trudged toward the bathroom. During a hot shower, he tried to guess what she'd looked like tonight. She would have made herself gorgeous for him. She always did. Her long dark hair would have fallen down her back, the way he liked it. The musky scent of the designer perfume he gave her at Christmas would have drawn him in. Sky blue eyes, courtesy of her northern Italian heritage, would have promised future peace. A time when the city’s three families would forego hostility in favor of prosperity.

With a towel around his waist, he fell onto the bed and grabbed his phone, then read her text messages once more. He’d told her he needed to finish something at work before he could leave the office. It was a lie, of course. One he’d told to spare them both another argument over his father's violence. It wouldn't end until Frankie became the Renzi boss. She knew this. Phone in hand, he had no idea what to say to her. With a look at the engagement ring he should have given her tonight, he dialed and waited. Pick up, Sofia. C’mon, pick up.