I’m not eighteen anymore.
I’m not fragile.
I’m not blindly in love with him.
And I will not break the way he wants me to.
Not now.
Not ever.
Let him wage his war.
I’ll quietly start mine.
40
Lorenzo
Steel screeches against stone.
The knife doesn’t need sharpening, but it always relaxes me to do it. Something about the sound scrapes my brain and halts all my thoughts.
I love it.
Rafe stands across the table, arms folded, watching the blade. Vin’s to my left, flipping through a folder thick enough to qualify as a novel.
“Again, from the top.” I drag the knife along the whetstone.
Vin taps the photo clipped to the front page. “We still can’t get a location on the nephew. Connor Gallagher stays hidden behind other idiots.” He flips the page with a crisp snap. “But we have a friend.”
“Everyone does.” I test the edge with my thumb. Sharp. Already was. “Who’s his?”
“Patrick Murphy.” Vin slides the photo to the center of the table. “Mid-level out of Southie. Bookies. Small-time loansharking. He’s been taking bigger risks for the past six months. Lines up with when the money went missing on our end.”
Rafe leans forward, squinting at the picture. “He looks like a douche.”
Vin doesn’t even blink. “Murphy’s our bridge. He’s handling local recruitment for Connor’s expansion. He’s the one funneling the skimming. Launders through three bars and an import business.”
I pick up the photo and study Murphy’s face. Average. Forgettable.
“What about routes?” I ask. “How are they moving what they stole from us?”
Vin flips to a rough map, finger stabbing inked lines. “Two corridors. One: Providence, reroute near the docks. Two: private trucks, fed into legitimate shipments that end up through Boston Harbor.”
“Any overlap with our people?” I ask.
“Not direct,” Vin answers, jaw tightening. “They’re avoiding our main lines like they know them.”
My knife pauses mid-stroke.
“Someone is feeding them our secrets,” I growl. “Fantastic. They have someone on the inside.”
Rafe drags a chair out with his boot and drops into it. “Yeah. This isn’t some kid screwing around with a side hustle. This feels very coordinated. We need to find the rat.”
“Agree. But in the meantime, let’s concentrate on closing ranks, so no information slips through the cracks, and then find the nephew. He’s going to get reckless. He’s trying to prove he’s a man.” I set the blade flat on the stone.
Vin flips another page. “Murphy likes to go to a bar on the edge of Dorchester. The Rusted Crown. Maybe we can find him there.”
