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“Where is he?” the Don rasped.
“Ewan’s here.” Dean shifted aside and let Ewan kneel down next to him.
“I’m here, Don,” Ewan said.
The Don’s eyes fell on Ewan, and the old man tried to sit up. Dean stopped him, soothing him softly, and got him settled back on the pillows again. “Easy, Dad,” Dean said, “save your strength.”
“Ewan,” the Don grunted. “I want Colm Healy.”
The words struck silence into the boys. It felt like a thick blanket was dropped down from the ceiling, and the tension ratcheted up wildly.
“Dad,” Dean said slowly. “You can’t ask him to—”
“I want Colm,” the Don said. “Kill him for me, boy.”
Ewan didn’t move. His body was statue still, every muscle flexed. I wished I could see his face, but the back of him was a storybook of anxiety. I wanted to go over and kiss his neck and rub his shoulders, if only to help relieve some of that pain.
“You don’t know it was them yet,” Dean said. “We’re not sure—”
“Become sure,” the Don said. “Then Ewan, you will kill Colm.”
“Dad,” Dean said, exasperated.
But Ewan spoke up.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Ewan,” Dean said. “He’s well-guarded. Come on, you won’t get close.”
“They got close to us,” Ewan said, his voice on the edge of pure rage. “If they can hit the Don, then I can hit them harder.” Ewan stood up.
“Colm,” the Don growled.
“I’ll do it,” Ewan said, and turned away.
His face was a twisted mask of pain and rage. I walked toward him, holding my hands out, and he took them. I led him away from the bed as Dean leaned forward and spoke quietly to his father. I couldn’t hear him, but I assumed it was soothing, or maybe arguing for him to drop this idea and leave Ewan alone.
But Ewan wouldn’t leave it alone. I could see it in his eyes, could see the determination and hate. It was cold and horrible, and reminded me what he was, deep down inside, the killer, the monster. I took his hands in mine and went to the door, and together we left, back out into the hall.
“You don’t have to,” I said weakly.
He shook his head. “Yes, I do,” he said, and we left the hospital without another word.
15
Ewan
Tara kicked her feet up on the dash of my car and leaned back in her seat. “How long are we doing this again?” she asked.
“Until we spot a Healy,” I said, and peered through a pair of binoculars toward the club at the end of the block. It was a short building, lower down than all the row homes around it, with a dark green metal door, windows covered over by white wood, and no signs out front. A big guy in a black jacket sat on a stool outside, arms crossed over his barrel chest, and glared around at the otherwise empty street.
“I don’t know why I agreed to do this with you,” Tara said, groaning.
“It’s been twenty minutes.” I put the binoculars down and smirked at her, leaning over to put my hand on her thigh. “Come on, darling. The party just started.”
She pushed my hand away. “Twenty long, torturous minutes,” she said. “Are you sure we’re in the right spot?”
“I’m sure,” I said and handed her the binoculars for the tenth time. She took them and leaned forward, staring down the street. We were parked a block down, on the opposite side, far enough that we wouldn’t be easily spotted, but there was a clear enough view of the door. It was early, around ten in the morning, and I didn’t expect any important Healy guys to show up anytime soon.
The place was called Heaven’s End and it was one of the filthiest strip clubs in the city. They barely pretended to be a gentleman’s club—the private dances inevitably had a happy ending, and the girls were all trafficked from some Third World country. Healy money must’ve continually flowed into police coffers, otherwise the place should’ve been shut down already.
“Just looks like a door and a tired old fat guy to me,” she grumbled and handed the binoculars back.
“What did you expect?” I asked. “Big neon signs that said, ‘come have sex with hookers here’ or something?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I just mean, there’s nothing at all. It’s totally barren.”
“That’s the point,” I said. “They want to be nondescript.”
“And yet you know about it.”
I sighed and rubbed my face. “Everyone in my business knows Heaven’s End, okay? Everyone knows the Healy family runs it, and everyone knows it’s a real piece of shit.”
“You ever been inside?” She glanced at me with a curious frown.
“No,” I said, glaring at her. “What do you think?”
“Just asking.” She stretched her legs with a groan. “I don’t like stakeouts.”
“They’re boring,” I said.
“Can we at least have music?”
