He scurried away like a rat being chased by a mouse.
Silence bounced around the table once all of us were seated.
Denim, the only blond and blue-eyed sibling who resembled our old man, took a swig of his beer. “Well, where do we start?”
I was trying to soften the blow, but there was no way to do that in my line of work.
“We’re in danger,” Dillon said. “Start there.”
I dealt with lethal individuals. I brokered illegal weapons deals. Yet I was having a difficult time talking to my brothers and sister. I’d practically raised them. I loved them and put food on the table by any means I knew how. I fought off assholes who fucked with them, stayed up with Grace when she had nightmares, and acted as my old man’s punching bag so he wouldn’t beat Denim and Dillon to a pulp.
“You’re going to jail, aren’t you?” Grace’s voice pitched.
I reached over and grabbed her hand. “While that could happen, it’s not why I called you here.”
As if the light bulb came on for Dillon, he flinched. “This is about the dead cartel guys they found last night by Pitt’s warehouse.”
The media had been reporting it. In fact, Dillon’s wife, Maggie, was a popular TV reporter for a Boston news station.
“I’ve always been reluctant to share my business with you. One, it's dangerous. Two, the more you know, the more you’re in it. But it’s time.”
Our waiter returned with my drink then flew out as if he knew I would bite off his head if he said the weather was cold.
I tossed a look over my shoulder to be sure the door was closed. “What went down last night at the container yard could have bloody repercussions that might blow back on all of us.”
“You mean me,” Grace said. “Your enemies always use me as a way to force you into deals. I’m not stupid. Anytime you warn us, it’s always the same thing. But, Duke, I can handle myself. No one will ever touch me in a vulgar or dangerous way again.”
I gave her a sad smile. “I would like to believe that, but there are men five times your size that you don’t stand a chance against, no matter how skilled you are in kickboxing, boxing, or self-defense.”
“Or one shot from a drug to knock you out,” Denim said. “That’s all it would take.”
“Let’s not forget what happened when Maggie was kidnapped,” Dillon added. “They shot her up good.”
Grace crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, as if she knew they were right.
I rested my forearms on the table. “Rosario Mendoza, the woman I work for, had her gun shipment stolen last night, and two of her men were killed. We don’t know who’s behind the ambush. Vince and I suspect it might be the Mexican cartel. My point is things could get bloody, and I need you to be on high alert.”
“What about the gangs? Could any of them be involved in the ambush?” Denim asked.
Dillon harrumphed. “You mean like Mateo Alvarez?”
I shrugged. “Possible. The Alvarezes want us dead. That was the last thing Tito said to Denim and me before the cops carted him off in handcuffs, but this isn’t about us. Someone is fucking with the Colombian cartel. I’m just a soldier in the game.”
“I’ll swing by and see the Southside Creepers and talk to Chris,” Denim said, referring to Chris Vargas, the leader of the organization. “If any of the gangs are involved, he would know.”
“I prefer you not to.” I narrowed my gaze at Denim. “But you’re going to anyway.”
He nodded with a cheeky grin. “I still have street cred, even more so now that the gangs know I didn’t kill Hector Alvarez.”
“I’ll see if Mags has any insight,” Dillon said. “She comes across all kinds of information and has several informants she works with for the inside scoop.”
I hung my head, feeling a sense of déjà vu that the three of us brothers were teenagers again in a gang in which we had one another’s backs. But the work I was in wasn’t child’s play like our gang days.
I gulped down a mouthful of bourbon. “I can’t tell you what to do anymore. Hell, I’m tired of trying to keep all of you at a distance. Please, please be careful. I might not have said this before, but I can’t lose any of you.”
Quiet dropped over us like a thick coat of paint. Each of them looked at me as if they didn’t know who I was, but what had my heart about to stop were the tears in Grace’s eyes.
She grasped my hand. “We can’t lose you either. Please, Duke, start a new life. We want you to be part of our Sunday dinners. We want to see you fall in love. We want you to really find something that will make you happy.”
