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“I’m scared I want it too much.”
I reach for the buttons of her pants and unfasten them before pulling down the zipper. I pull her blouse out and am about to slip my fingers down her panties when we hear voices. I yank her into a stall and lift her until she’s standing on the toilet seat. I press down on her shoulder with one hand while reaching back to lock the door with the other. I’m crouching on the toilet seat with her a moment later. When we hear the door open, I pray whoever the woman is doesn’t try our stall. It’s the disabled one, so maybe she’ll choose the other from habit, assuming her habit isn’t to use the wider stall.
We squat together, my legs bracketing hers until the woman flushes then washes her hands. Sinead looks down at the floor and lifts her foot to get down when we hear the door close. I shake my head and press her thigh with my knee. I’m ready to reach to my lower back any second. My gun is holstered there. The door opens again.
“I thought I smelled men’s cologne. It was faint, but I thought I did.”
We hear a woman’s voice followed by a deeper one.
“I don’t smell it. Maybe some guy didn’t read the bathroom sign. We’ve got that guy at the bar who’s hammered. He broke the seal and has been going to the restroom between rounds.”
I spotted him on my way in. I know who the man is talking about. I don’t wear a heavy cologne, so the scent should be faint. This woman must have a nose like a bloodhound. We listen to the door close, but I still make us wait at least two minutes before I step down. Sinead cups my ear as she leans forward.
“How’d you know to wait?”
“Because we heard two voices. There was the chance that person might come in, too. The only other reason for a woman to be in this hallway— if she isn’t spying —is to deliver food to the brothers.”
I help her down from the toilet seat. That clearly killed the mood from earlier, which is just as well. I was seconds away from fucking her in the last place either of us should be. But we’re here now. I take her hand and guide her to the wall I know separates this restroom from the secret meeting spot. I know about it because I’ve been in there. I forced my way in about a year ago and beat the shit out of a couple guys who were late paying us. The Nowakowski brothers didn’t do shit to stop me. It pissed them off, but they knew I’d show up somewhere. I’m certain they preferred I kept the beating private.
I pull out my phone and turn it so Sinead can see the screen, too. I pull up a translation app that runs in real time, giving me subtitles to whatever it hears. I turn the mic all the way up. I’m just in time to hear the start of a conversation. I recognize the first voice is Jacek’s.
“This Cohenour fucker is threatening to tell some bullshit story about overhearing two of our guys talking about that shit bag.”
I’ve been called way worse. I don’t know who the second person is.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Visit him. I called in a favor from Sergei Andreyev that’s cost me at least seven favors in return. He scanned the video footage since it’s one of their casinos. No one in the garage or the casino was one of us. He’s lying. Make sure he understands honesty is the best policy.”
I glance over at Sinead who also has her phone out and is furiously typing in a notes app.
Are they going to kill him?
I shrug. At some point, they will.
The next voice I hear is Jacek’s uncle. The man is practically prehistoric. He’s been shot at least eight times, knifed on the street, and shanked in jail. The man is immortal.
“Don’t kill him until you find out who put him up to pulling us in. He isn’t smart enough to come up with this on his own. He owes us for paying for that lawyer he hired. The only reason that’s still a sound investment is because he’ll be our bitch on the inside. The man can’t shut up to save his life.”
My gaze keeps jumping between my phone and Sinead. She points to her screen.
Do they mean he’s going to be a mole or something in prison?
I nod. That’s exactly what they want. They’ll pay for his protection in prison, but they’ll tell him nothing he can repeat. They’ll expect him to tell them everything. I need to find out if Sinead knows Cohenour is a lackey for the Valentzas— Greek organized crime. We purposely keep them at arm’s length, even though back in the day they were connected to the Lucchese family. That fell apart when someone in that oldCosa Nostrafamily turned on them and narced.
They have problems with the Albanians that go back generations. While the Greeks sided with the Lucchese, the Albanians sided with the Gambinos. Clearly, the good relations between their mother countries don’t extend across the Atlantic. We’ve squashed our inner squabbling and don’t need them reignited, especially after the recent issues we had with Carmine’s dad’s side of the family. Distantly related, the only partly Ciccones tried to resurrect their family’s influence.
And being attached to the Greeks would have been one more reason for the FBI to look at us. Agents busted them right around the time Uncle Salvatore became our don. There was too much backstabbing between the Greeks and Albanians because of theCosta Nostra’stangled alliances in the past. He demands we stay away now and not instigate trouble. He’s right since taking sides only invites people to think they can divide us again. It’s none of our business. Those without sin can cast the first stone. We can’t even pick up a pebble.
Cohenour’s connection to what some call the Greek Crew is what makes me question what the fuck he’s doing.
There’s a lull in the conversation, or the voices are too low for us to hear. I take Sinead’s phone and type in a message.
Do you know Cohenour is linked to the Greek Crew?
She shakes her head. I share a few things I learned from the guy who ratted out Cohenour.
He was an errand boy when he was a teenager. His family is still connected. He never officially left. Money he extorted went back to them.
