The Marianos supposedly went after Eian’s father, Ronan Dempsey, and he retaliated with full force and zero mercy—and won. And then a few years later, the Taccones did the same thing. Ronan Dempsey died of a heart attack twenty-eight years ago, according to official records, but I’d bet half my savings that’s bullshit since the war between the Irish and the Taccones started right after, and that can’t be a coincidence.
I don’t believe in coincidences, but with the way my life works right now, I can’t afford to forget about the mafia climate in the city the way I’d vowed to do after I got fired—my new job kind of depends on that.
Ending up on Eian Dempsey’s radar for the wrong reasons would very much be deadly to a relative nobody like me. Of course, he’s never been convicted of anything, but I’mpretty sure that’s why there’s always been a high-ranking official in the NYPD in the Irish Mob’s pocket. The rumors about him don’t stop at how he eradicated two Italian families either, there are plenty more about how he deals with his own men. In my humble opinion, those are even more terrifying.
Killing men who are your enemies makes sense, really, but slowly cutting up your men piece by piece—even if they have stolen from you, which is what the rumors say—seems extreme to me.
I know there are worse things happening in the world, way worse, but knowing that Eian Dempsey lives practically only a few blocks away and that I might be working for him, no matter how good a job I’m doing, is the only thing that truly makes me nervous these days.
The smart thing to do would be to give investigating a rest and just do as I’m told, get paid, and keep living my life, keep Maggie safe.
But I can’t do that.
I’ve never been able to do that.
Ineedto know.
Maggie’s soft burp brings me back to the present.
“All done, dimples?” I ask her quietly, then lean down to press a kiss to her soft forehead.
She doesn’t answer of course, except with a cute little whine that melts my heart.
She’s why.
She’s the answer for me.
If it weren’t for her, I’d probably have given up on this city, on my dreams, maybe even on my life.
I don’t have any other family. When Dad adopted me he was also single, and he said he didn’t need anyone but me. There were never any grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, or siblings, and I never really felt like I needed them, but now with Maggie in my life... I have to make sure she never wants for anything, the way my dad did for me.
So I watch her eyes slowly drift shut and then lay her back down in her crib, and when I’m back in my own bed, I can only wish that no more dreams come tonight.
It’s beena freaking month sincehetexted, since my last... assignment, and I can’t keep ignoring this feeling in my gut that he’s in trouble, that for whatever reason, he didn’t ask me to be there one night and he got shot or killed because of it.
I know I’m exaggerating my importance,I know.
But after days on end where I’ve been resisting this impulse, I finally have to give in. There’s also the fact that I need the income. I have the earnings from the apartment’s sale, but I’m saving most of that for Maggie’s future.
When I got the call that a woman had chosen me to adopt her baby, I put my apartment up for sale immediately. I decided to give myself six months with her, then I’d look for a job. But I didn’t have to do that because, surprise surprise, I haven’t needed it—and because I know my old network blackballed me in the industry—but if I can’t findhim, then I’m going to need to figure things out. Find a daycare, or a nanny I can trust... and about a million more things that I really don’t want to do.
Who has the energy for that?
I’ve gotten used to this life—almost criminal life—and after everything I’ve been through, I doubt the way back to upstanding citizenship will be as easy.
So I put a plan into place, and at seven, I roll Maggie’s crib into the Murphys’ apartment and smile gratefully at Mrs. Murphy.
“I really appreciate this.”
“Not to worry,” she says, her soft smile aimed at Maggie’s sleeping form. “She’s such a sweet angel.”
“Yeah,” I can’t help but chuckle. She sure is an angel,but... “I’m hoping she’ll sleep through the night, but if she doesn’t, here’s everything you’ll need.”
I go through all the essentials I brought her—the only teething toy she’s tolerated so far, the soft, stuffed elephant I always keep in the freezer so she can bite on it if she prefers, and of course about a million diapers, three changes of clothes, and four different blankets.
Mrs. Murphy chuckles softly at the spread.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Colby.”
