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It’s not long before I’m dressed again. I purposely picked something to wear this morning that I knew I had a duplicate of here. It’s a good thing we’re rich because we go through custom-tailored suits at a ridiculous rate. Our tailor is Cosa Nostra, so he asks no questions. We bring him more business than he can handle, so he stays quiet. What we don’t slip him under the table is laundered so many times you could eat dinner off the cash. It paid for his kids to go to college debt free without catching the IRS’s attention.
I drove myself today, so I head out to where we park. It’s tucked away in a separate, smaller garage. I like the SUV I drive. It’s large, which suits me. I can’t imagine trying to drive a Smart car. I’d look like a Great Dane that needs to stick its head out the window to fit. I pull out of the smaller garage and check everywhere.
We have security cameras in the main garage, so we’d know if anyone was within a mile of here. But it still pays to be cautious. I’m meeting Sinead in the Bronx. She lives— lived —on Staten Island. I live in Manhattan. My family is in Queens. It’s Brooklyn or the Bronx to avoid anywhere obvious. I don’t think anyone would believe I’d arrange a meeting in the Bronx, so it’s perfect. I make sure I’m early because I don’t want Sinead waiting for me.
I took her by her place this morning, so she could get fresh clothes and her car. She’s driving to meet me. I’m always worried someone might follow me and might photograph me. Unless they’re using a drone, they won’t be able to get close enough for clear photos where I’m meeting her. And it’s cloudy today, so a drone would have to fly low enough for me to see it while it tried to see me. I wait in the car until I see her pull into the vacant parking lot. She pulls up next to me, our cars facing opposite directions.
“I think someone followed me, Gabe.”
I’m not happy to hear that as her greeting.
“It wasn’t Giuseppe?”
I look around and spot her guard. He’s blocking one entrance, but the other is open. I watch a car pull in, and I recognize it immediately.
“What the fuck?”
“Gabe?”
“It’s all right. Stay in the car.”
“Ga—”
“Sinead, stay in the car.”
My tone tells her not to argue as I get out. I draw my gun, not taking my eyes off the new arrival.
“Roll up your window. Do not get out no matter what. If anything happens, leave. Don’t be a hero. Don’t try to avenge me. Leave.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I don’t love hearing her voice so vulnerable, but she has to listen to me. I walk around my car until I stand where the other one is pulling up. It surprises me when the engine turns off. I definitely didn’t turn off mine. Cormac O’Rourke climbs out.
“Put your gun away, Gabe. I come in peace.”
“Why’d you follow Sinead?”
“Put your gun away, and I’ll tell you.”
“Fucking tell me, then I’ll put it away, Cormac. Speak.”
I raise the gun to point at him from beside my thigh.
“Calm the feck down. I came to talk to you about O’Toole.”
I want to roll my eyes. They have no accent whatsoever except for the word fuck. Sofeckingstupid.
“Is he dead?”
“No, but we all wish he were.”
“I’ll make all our wishes come true if you can’t do it.”
“He works for a fucking newspaper, Gabe. He prints a shitty story about you and Sinead, then within days, he’s gone? That’s perfect for the headlines.”
“He’s your family. Deal with him.”
“We are. But he’s causing trouble.”
