Alejandro shrugs as much as he can. “I don’t know. I just wanted my money.”
“You’re not getting your money,” Da says simply, then moves on to James.
He doesn’t ask him any questions, just leans down to rest his hands on his knees and stares at him. I wonder what I would even ask. I don’t think I need to know anything except that this piece of shit sold his daughter and tortured his son from the looks of it.
We take care of our men and their families. We do damn well for ourselves and spread the money around. There’s no reason why he should’ve been in the position where he needed to sell Aurora to anyone.
So yeah, Dad doesn’t need to ask.
And I guess I should’ve known Dad was going to choose the better option ... cruelty.
“Your son is going to kill you,” he murmurs softly, and there’s only fear in James’s eyes now. “Eian, why don’t you get the boy and teach him a few tricks while you work on this piece of trash?”
“Yes, Da.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to follow an order.
1
COLBY MAJOR
New Jersey—Present Day
The gunshots have been going on for a good three minutes, and I can’t say I’m too bothered by them—haven’t been in a good decade—but I am grateful when they stop. It feels like I can see better when my ears aren’t being abused, and at two in the morning with my old binoculars, I need my damn eyes.
Less than thirty seconds later, I see a man clumsily running away from the warehouse. I take the burner phone out of my hoodie and, with the screen dimmed, type out the information just like my…benefactortold me to.Heisn’t the guy running down the street, but a “coworker” or something. I was just told to watch for his arrival and then text when he got out, and I get paid really well, so that’s what I’m doing.
From my spot on the roof of the four-story building, it’s unlikely that anyone’s paying attention to me, but you can never be too careful, so I stay crouched low as I follow him around the corner and down the long avenue.
He’s being smart, sticking close to the walls and windows of various businesses.
When he has to pass through a well-lit area in front of my favorite twenty-four-hour diner, Cara’s, he ducks his head low and slows his gait, though he’s still limping a bit.
When he’s about to be out of sight, I see the big black SUV stop just a few feet away. After a pause, the man rushes to it, opens the passenger door, and the car is speeding away before he can even close it.
And my job for the night is done.
I pack my binoculars into my backpack, shove the burner phone in there too, then slowly make my way down the fire escape. I’m no ninja, never been too athletic, but I don’t trip, so that’s something. When I make it down to the alley in one piece, I smile, satisfied. This is all I need to do my job.
Civilian informant—that’s the official title I chose, and I think it’s pretty clever, if I do say so myself. I’m still a journalist, in my heart at least, so no one should be surprised I’m still somewhat good with words.
Cops use CIs—criminal informants.
The mob uses me. Isn’t thatfun?
At least I’m pretty sure it’s the mob. Every instinct I have tells me it’s theIrishMob, but I still don’t have any solid proof.
This isn’t the career I busted my ass for for over two decades, and it’s not thelifeI dreamed I’d be living at thirty-eight years old, but it’s the only one I’ve got, and since everything went to hell a little over a year ago, I’m making the best out of a shitty situation. Dad was the first domino to fall, and after that... well, I’ve had about a dozen life-changing bombshells in thirteen months, so I think I’m entitled tosomeresentment.
I knock as quietly as I can on my neighbour’s door and it opens less than a minute later. Mr. Murphy yawns as he passes me the monitor.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No problem, she didn’t make a peep. Good night.”
“Night.” I smile back at him then turn to my door.
I’m silent as a cat as I re-enter the apartment, locking all three deadbolts super slowly so nothing can be heard. Then I take off my shoes—slowly—and make my way to the one and only bedroom.
