I can hear the cold rage in Da’s voice, too, when he finally speaks. “That can’t stand.” His breathing is hard against the phone. “How can I help?”
Relief unknots my neck and shoulders. “Remember that Ronnie Dunn cunt who you helped out a few years back when he got in trouble with the Cobras?”
“Aye.”
“You were right, he can be useful. I looked him up. He’s in the New York office now. TOC division. I need a sit down with him as soon as you can set it up.”
There’s silence. “I can arrange it. But Son… you have to play this smart. It can’t come back on ya.”
Having him point out the danger makes it more real, but that’s the only thing it changes. “Aye, I know.”
There’s a shuffle over the phone. “Does this mean you’ve finally taken my advice about Sam?”
I massage my pounding temples. “I guess it does, yeah.”
He laughs quietly. “She’s a good lass. Take care of her and the wee one. I’ll text you in the mornin’.”
“Grand. Night then.” I crack my neck. I’ve been sleeping in the office off the dancers’ room while Sam and Rona stay in my bedroom. The cot is leaving knots in my body the size of bleedin’ golf balls. Worth it to keep them safe, though.
I have a hundred things to do, but I go back to watching Sam on the monitor. Her chin tilts up, and she smiles into the camera like she can feel my eyes on her. Something warm stirs in my chest. Cheeky little vixen. I stand. I’ve given her enough space.
***
The next evening, my mood is deadly as I pack a small overnight bag. Sam brushes Rona’s hair and watches me with a worried gaze as I emerge from the bathroom. “You promise you’re not putting yourself in danger?” she finally asks.
My brows rise with amusement. I want to ask her if she knows what I do for a living, but I guess she just means putting myself in harm’s way for her. I pause beside her, lift her chin. “I’ll not be in danger, love. Just a meeting with a friend. And I’m takin’ Shay with me to watch my back.”
Okay,friendis a stretch. “I’ll explain everythin’ when I get back and know my plan is solid.” My plan is to make it look like Barone is cooperating with the Feds. That way, Amato won’t mind when I take him out, and I’ll avoid starting a feckin’ war. At least, that’s the hope. “You and Rona will be safe here, and I’ll be back tomorrow evenin’.”
We fly into Teterboro Airport from Davis Island on Sandro’s Cirrus, the fuckin’ Ferrari of single engine planes. One thing you have to admire about the Italians is the way they choose to move through life in style.
After we check in to the hotel, we have a few hours to kill.
“Lunch and a pint?” Shay asks.
“Why not.” We head into New York City. I haven’t been here in a few years.
The sun is fierce, glaring off the glass skyscrapers, but the fall air is cool and laced with the smell of exhaust, fried food and a faint trace of the East River. Shay and I being able to comfortably wear a suit jacket is convenient to hide the Glocks we’re carrying in shoulder holsters.
As we navigate the crowd on 3rdAvenue, I fantasize about hailing a cab and showing up at the hospital. Looking that Barone cocksucker in the eyes when I put a bullet in his skull.
The devil on my shoulder likes this idea, the devil on the other shoulder reminds me to stick to the feckin’ plan.
We reach Molly’s, an authentic Irish Pub and Restaurant that Da turned us onto when we visited a few summers ago. I can already taste their Shepherd’s Pie. Almost as good as Mam’s. I immediately relax as we step into the dim, cool pub, with its warn wood bench tables, brick walls and mouth-watering smells. We take a seat at the bar and order a Guiness, then I check in with Sam.
Me:How ya getting on
Sam:Who’s this?
I raise a brow and my nostrils flare.What the fuck?
Then…
Sam:Kidding. Calm down, Irish. All good. Lennon is here hanging in the pool with Rona while I work with the girls.
Me:Cheeky, love. Be safe. I’ll check in later
I shake my head but catch myself smiling. Picking up the Guiness, I take a sip and text Pat to make sure he’s keeping on top of the security. If Barone’s goons are watching her, they know I left this morning.
