“Is this how it’s gonna be every decade?” I asked. “Think about it, we’re not even thirty, and we’ve already fought two wars.”
I hadn’t been initiated during the first shitshow, though I’d still been active, running errands, raising hell with Finn and a bunch of others. Then Ronan, our boss at the time, had been assassinated. Finn’s grandfather. And before then…
“Ronan fought Jersey in ’92,” I added.
Finn took a drag from his smoke, thinking. “There was the shit in Vegas in the sixties too, but we ended up becoming associates.”
Because we’d shared a common enemy.
Then Finn shook his head. “There won’t be another goddamn war as long as I’m alive, I’ll make sure of it.”
I hoped he was right.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat and flicked some ashes into an old coffee mug. “You’ll get your vacation. But as soon as you return, we gotta come up with something for Pop. He’s kinda your dad too, you know.”
No, he wasn’t. God, he really wasn’t. That would be so wrong.
“I’ll put a babysitter on him while I’m gone,” I replied. “Max is looking for a way in.”
Finn grimaced. “Are we thinking about the same Max?”
“Your cousin, dude.”
“He’s a scrawny little kid!”
“He’s almost eighteen.” I shook my head at him. “We were fourteen when we were slinging cheap vodka in expensive bottles.”
He smirked at that. “Good times.”
They’d certainly been simpler times if nothing else.
“He’s gotta start somewhere,” I said. “All he has to do is follow Shan around and report to you if things turn outta hand.”
He sighed and checked his watch. “Fine. I gotta get home. I promised Emilia I’d be home with lunch and ice cream before two. Then I’m picking up Autumn from school and meeting with the contractor.”
“Oh, right. You’re moving while I’m away. I’m so sorry I can’t help out.” I smiled.
He chuckled. “Yeah, you look it.” Then he jerked his chin at the door and stood up. “Go see Eric on your way out. He might have some cleanup for you.”
For fuck’s sake. “More Italians?” We’d been fishing a few stray ones out of the gutters for weeks.
“I didn’t ask, but I think so.”
All right. I’d look into it.
Chapter 1
One month and six days later
So far, so good. Possibly because I hadn’t turned on my phones yet.
I tapped my fingers along my knee as the cab driver made his way through rush-hour traffic. People were itching to go home.
Despite the city noise, the honking, and the radio chatter, my mind was at peace and filtered it all out, giving me a rare moment of silence in which Philly was just my home. Not my office. Right now, I had no appointments. No one I had to track down or call.
My only plan for tonight involved pizza and cracking open the giant Toblerone I’d bought at Heathrow.
Peering between the front seats, I tried to see how far the traffic was backed up. That I wasn’t able to see where it ended didn’t bode well for me. I suppressed a sigh and figured I might as well turn on my private phone. Maybe a dozen or so people had the number, but most were related to work, and when Finn couldn’t reach me on one of the other two, he didn’t hesitate to go this route. He wasn’t alone either.
“Christ,” I muttered under my breath. My phone buzzed nonstop for several seconds as the messages poured in.
My sister was a few weeks away from giving birth to my first nephew and thought it was all my fault that she was alone. She couldn’t very well blame the father because we’d lost him in the war everyone was trying to forget now.
We’d lost too many good men.
My chest constricted every time my mind went there.
In many ways, our entire syndicate was in mourning, all while we were trying to kick-start business with new regulations, new rituals…a new boss.
I texted Luna back, saying I was stateside again and that I’d bought everything on her list. Mainly her favorite perfume and a few bags of Spanish candy.
I scrolled past the messages from Finn and Emilia. I’d see them first thing in the morning for breakfast at their new house out in Villanova.
To my surprise, there was a message from Shan.
I can’t help but worry about you, son. I hope you’re having a dreadful time and come home early.
My mouth twitched.
Nope, my vacation had been everything I’d needed. It didn’t even make me cringe when he called me son—as he often did. Maybe, just maybe, I could let go of all that once and for all.
Maybe.
I couldn’t say I was confident. I’d failed before. Perhaps Shannon was destined to be the one man who tortured me sporadically throughout my whole life. Without even knowing it. I mean, I gave no fucks about childhood crushes. The man was smoking hot and equal parts humble, assertive, and intimidating. Of-fucking-course I’d had stars in my eyes. But then the infatuation had taken on a life of its own, sometimes intensifying to the point where I felt miserable and was certain it was pure love. Sometimes waning and fading until it was barely noticeable.