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There was only one Erion in our world as far as we were concerned.
Erion Kadare.
The half-brother to the former leader of the Albanian mob.
The Albanian mob family that Judge used to enforce for.
That used to run shit in our town.
Before the Novikoff brothers took over.
Which meant that pretty much all of the Albanian family died, went to prison, or scattered, never to be heard from in our area again.
The thing was, Erion went away a solid six or seven years before all that shit went down. He caught a voluntary manslaughter charge after beating a guy to death during a “bar fight.”
Thing was, it was more than just a bar fight. It was personal. But no one in town was willing to open their mouths about the truth when Erion’s brother was around to keep everyone quiet.
So when all the shit was going down between the Albanians and the Russians, Erion had to sit his ass behind bars, unable to do anything about it.
“Shit,” I said, raking a hand down my face.
“Yeah,” Cillian agreed.
A lot had changed since Erion had gone away.
“How long has he been out?”
“Jack over at the motel said he saw him walking down the street last night.”
“But he’s not renting a room at the motel?” I asked. That was always where the newly released guys ended up. At least until they figured out their next move.
“No.”
So who the fuck was putting him up, that was the question?
And, of course, what the hell kind of trouble was he going to stir up now that he was free?
Did he want revenge for his family? Were the Novikoff brothers preparing for war?
“Do they know?” I asked, nodding over toward the pool hall, the only other hopping place in town on any given night of the week.
“I’m sure as shit not telling them,” Cillian said.
The balance in the town between the organizations was a careful one.
We all, for the most part, got along. Minded our business. We dove into different shit when it came to how we made money, so there was no reason for any real animosity.
But we didn’t, as a whole, work together.
Sure, the Murphys and I might share some information now and again, but we weren’t exactly allies. And none of us really brushed shoulders personally or professionally with the Russians.
We went to their pool hall, of course. But that was about it.
That said, this was some big shit.
Shit that could blow back on all of us if a war broke out between the Novikoffs and whatever was left of the Albanian mob.
Especially if Erion took it personally that none of us had stood up to fight the Russians with his family.
