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“Not for me. I liked where your face was.” I grinned as she made a face at me. Pulling her closer to me, she put her arms around my neck. “Let me guess...my wife wants to know what my brother and I were being civil over.”
She nodded.
“Drugs.”
“What?” she asked, surprised by the answer.
Nodding, I repeated it again. “Apparently the doctor didn’t like that his drug dealer brother had a bad batch of drugs on the street causing people to OD before reaching his hospital.”
“He can’t blame you for every drug dealer on the street,” she said as if that was obvious, and it proved how innocent she was to this.
“Yesterday he could,” I told her honestly. “Because yesterday I supplied every drug dealer on the street. But not anymore. I told Cillian the Callahans pulled out of Boston, which means he’s now the supplier. However, over the years more and more people in the Northeast have become addicted to heroin. The demand is high and because my family also controls 99 percent of the heroin coming into the port here that means the Finnegan brothers don’t have enough and they’re mixing anything they can to sell. The money will rain on them for a little bit and they’re going to think they are kings, but the demand will only worsen as people’s highs are cut short and they come looking for more.”
“And I doubt the Callahan family will give up their 99 percent,” she said, connecting the dots. “Which means they’ll have to mix more and more and people will start to die faster and faster.”
“Also causing the government to have to step in and face that ugly secret no one wants to admit…there is a drug problem in Massachusetts. The druggies don’t give a fuck where their high comes from as long as they get their fix. The government can ignore it if there isn’t a high death toll. People don’t complain if they get rich. It’s a system that has been perfectly regulated by us to give them all what they wanted and now we’re gone.”
Her eyes widened as she realized the logical conclusion. “It’s going to be like the old days! Like in the movies with gangs at war trying to get the best dr
ugs. The cops on a chase. People dying with needles in their arms. It will be chaos.”
“Keep going. Think what happens when most of those inner city hospitals no longer get those mysterious donations?”
The smile that crossed her face gave me chills. “You’re evil, Mr. Callahan.”
“I’m just getting started, Ivy,” I told her, the plan in my head coming together. “Everyone needs to remember their roles. This city. Those who hurt you. The Finnegan brothers. Wyatt—”
“Wyatt?” Her eyes widened. “What do you plan to do to your brother?”
“How much do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she said, staring deep into my eyes. “Tell me everything. You promised not to use me without my permission.”
I placed my hand on her cheek, stroking softly. “Once you get into my mind, Ivy, there is no escaping.”
“I know.”
I smirked…then I told her.
My family revolutionized organized crime. We created a balance. We made them need us, and they became so comfortable they forgot what it was like without us…what a bunch of ungrateful little bastards. I wondered if this was what God thought about the Israelites.
If so they were going to need to repent.
To repent they must be sorry.
To be sorry they must feel pain.
So let there be pain.
TWENTY-ONE
“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.”
~ Jack Kerouac
TWO DAYS LATER
ETHAN
