…who I truly crave.
Our eyes lock, and the rest of the party falls away.
TWENTY-NINE
Killian
Another day,another asshole who thought the rules didn’t apply to him.
Dale Qualley, the New York State Gaming Commissioner, learned a hard lesson today about what happens when you owe the Callahan clan money and think you can simply… not pay it.
The man blubbered like a baby the moment my fist connected with his jaw, and by the time we were done with him, he was promising to pay double in penalties just to keep all his fingers and toes.
I crack my knuckles as I climb out of the SUV, the ache in my hands a familiar comfort after a job well done.
The Red Hook warehouse looms ahead of us, the headquarters of our operation.
I lead the boys inside without a word because there’s nothing left to say. We did what needed doing. That’s all there is to it.
The last two and a half months have been like this—one job after another, keeping myself busy with boneman work and boxer training ’til I’m too exhausted to think.
It’s the only way I know how to cope with the gaping hole Jhene left in my life when she walked away.
…not that it’s working.
I still think about her constantly. When I’m pounding the heavy bag at Malone’s Gym, I’m really thinking about the times she sat nearby with her puzzle books pretending not to watch me.
Most nights as I try to fall asleep in my studio, memories of her soft, pliant body next to mine return. I’m left moodily getting up and heading for a two a.m. showing ofTaxi Driverat the Rialto.
There’s no escaping Jhene. She looms in my head and heart no matter how busy I am. That’s what happens when you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with a woman.
At least the boxing side of things is looking up. Ivan Sharapova abruptly retired a few weeks after our showdown at Fedorov’s estate, citing “personal reasons” that everyone in the fighting world knows is code for “I got my ass handed to me so badly I’m in no shape to fight again anytime soon, maybe ever.”
His sudden exit left the entire weight class in disarray. With his belt now up for grabs, every heavyweight in the country’s vying for a shot.
My next opponent is a bruiser named Big Eddie Nowak, a Polish kid from Chicago who’s got a decent record and fights a little smarter than some of the other big names.
He’s tough, but I’ve been training hard. I’m confident I can take him when the time comes.
If nothing else, it’s still a distraction from thinking about Jhene every few minutes.
“How’d it go?” Ronan asks. He’s with a different group of buttonmen, going over our weapons inventory. We’ve received another shipment from LDS.
I step away from the other guys and answer, “As good as itcould go. Qualley’s handled. Cried for his mommy and agreed to pay double. Shouldn’t be any more trouble from him.”
Ronan nods his approval. “Good work, Kill. As always.”
“All in a day’s work. Might stop by the Banshee later to drink in Qualley’s honor. Promised him we’d have a good laugh about his cries at the pub.”
“Sounds deserved,” Ronan says with a low chuckle. “Listen, Kill. I’ve been thinking lately. You’ve thrown yourself back into your work for the clan. You’re doing a lot of the heavy lifting now that my father’s gone and I’ve officially taken over.”
“It’s my job as boneman.”
“True. Which is why it might be time to upgrade your role.”
My brow furrows and I’m blunt as can be. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve been in need of a new Warlord ever since I took on Clan Chief. You would make for a pretty damn good pick.”
