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I took a long swig of beer and pinched the bridge of my nose. The tension headache that had been lurking all morning was building into a whopper.
Tommy was yet another problem. Sweet bleeding Jesus, when Cass had walked into that kitchen with her hair tousled, cheeks flushed, breasts threatening to spill from that loosely tied robe, I literally felt my body split into two—one half wanting to bend her over the countertop and take her right there and then, and the other half fumbling to cover her up against her brother’s seething glare. Tommy had been implicit in his threats about my dick and its proximity to his sister, but I think he would’ve been all right with it, in the end. Cassidy’s entrance yesterday morning just made it seem like I’d taken advantage of her.
Only the threat of the Italians and the question of Alfie’s whereabouts had saved me from having my teeth knocked in. Not that I would’ve backed down, but I didn’t exactly relish going several rounds with Cassidy’s brother. We had bigger things on our plate.
At the other end of the vacant bar, Sloane dried and re-dried the bar glasses. By my count, this was her third trip through the glassware. I’d expected her to call me out on my day drinking, since it wasn’t my usual M.O. but my cousin seemed to have other things on her mind than giving me the fifth degree about my troubles. And I had a pretty good idea what it was.
“You heard from Alfie?” I knew she hadn’t. I just wanted to get her take on the situation.
“Not since Thursday. That was two days ago. No answer on either of his cells, and he hasn’t been by his apartment. Grady says he’s probably holed up with some girl.” Sloane stopped polishing the glass she was holding, and the flush in her cheeks deepened. Her eyes flicked towards me. “Is that what you think?”
“I think if that is the case, I’m gonna beat the bastard bloody for leaving us high and dry—”
“You’ll have to get in line to do it.”
I tried to be as gentle as I could, and keep my own unease out of my voice. “Sloane, I don’t think Alfie’s been shacking up with a girl. It’s not like him to miss a shipment like that.”
“No. It’s not.” Sloane looked relieved, but only a little. “I checked the hospitals and his Ma’s. Tommy’s out beating the pavement right now, looking for him. Quietly, of course. After Johnny…”
Yeah. Johnny. The spark that had set this powder keg off. I’d be out there looking for Alfie right alongside Tommy if I could, because in my world, if somebody went missing for more than a couple days, you’d better start checking the Harbor. The anxiety shotgunning through my system had me feeling like a live wire. But Callum’s orders had been implicit. I was to stay put.
Sloane had her bottom lip tugged between her teeth and was working her way up to a fourth pass through the glassware. It was moments like this that she especially reminded me of Aiden. Quiet interludes where she allowed herself to drop the bravado, lay down the burden of being everyone's sounding board, and just plain worry over something. Or someone.
“We’re going to find him.” We had to. I couldn’t lose Alfie.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” The front door to Lady D’s swung shut behind Teagan as he slid into the seat next to me. "Honeymoon over already, lover-boy? She must not have been that good of a lay."
“Shut your gob, Teag.” Needling me was one of Teagan's favorite pastimes, and I wasn't in the mood for it. "We've got work to do."
Alfie usually made the rounds with me. No reason, really, it was just how we'd done it since the beginning. But times were changing—Callum and Michael weren't getting any younger, and it was clear that they were grooming either Tommy or me to take over one day, which would leave a vacancy. Alfie might have seemed like a prime candidate, but he fought with his brains more than his fists, and unfortunately, ours came home bloody more often than not. Teagan, on the other hand, had no qualms about busting a few heads, and it was clear that Callum was grooming him to become a warlord.
Reaching into my wallet, I felt the worn edges of a ten-dollar bill, pulled it out, and scribbled a twiddly little moustache on Alexander Hamilton before slipping the bill under my empty glass. I nodded to Sloane on my way out, ignoring her eye-roll. Members drank free at Lady D's, but that didn't stop me from tipping her every time. And, in return, she would later slip the bill back into my jacket pocket when I wasn't looking. Neither of us needed it, and neither of us wanted it. We'd been passing the same ten-dollar bill back and forth for the last seven years. When I looked back, I saw her smirking at the bill, and I knew I'd chosen well. The moustache went well with the monocle she'd drawn on it last week.
I didn't wait for Teagan as I rounded the corner, heading straight into the Seaport District. If he knew what was good for him, he'd keep up.
Our first stop was O'Bannon's boat, the guy Bootsie had used to take care of Gordie's body. O'Bannon had already been paid for the job, of course. We were there to make sure he was going to toe the line.
The brow creaked as we walked on board, rolling easily with the tide.Miss Guidedwas painted in rust-streaked letters across the bow. It seemed that O'Bannon had fewer scruples than his predecessor. The decks were relatively clean, but still held that telltale smell of brine, bleach, and hydraulic oil. From the back deck, the scalloper's dredge swung ominously in the breeze. I hung back and let Teagan take the lead. I wanted to see how he handled himself in the field.
O'Bannon was a small but wiry man, and the few teeth that remained in his grin were yellowed from years of tobacco use. He shifted nervously, gaze skimming across the docks before coming back to rest on Teagan.
"Good afternoon, O'Bannon," Teagan said, his voice cold and collected. "I hear you been doin' some good work for us."
O'Bannon nodded slowly, his expression closed off. Teagan's stance relaxed a little, though there was no softening of his face. "Glad to hear it," he said in a friendly tone. "But let me be clear: I know gents like you got mouths on them and can't help but talk when they shouldn't. But you need to remember that what happened here stays here, so don't get too loose-lipped or you'll find yourself tied to this dredge at the bottom of the ocean one day."
He paused for a beat before adding, with a subtle smirk, "Understood?"
The threat hit home and O'Bannon didn't hesitate to give him an affirmative nod. I was taken aback – I hadn't expected Teagan to be so professional. The guy was a hitman, for Christ's sake, putting the iron to people was like second-nature to him. But Teag handled the situation well, imparting our message without escalating. It was exactly what I would've done.
"You know the drill," Teagan said. "Just keep your mouth shut and no one will be the wiser, you got it?"
O'Bannon nodded again, visibly relieved that it was over. We were done here.
The sun had set by the time we left the Seaport District and made our way back towards D Street, stopping off here and there--welfare checks and debt collection, mostly. This was the part of the job I didn't mind much, making sure everybody in the neighborhood was taken care of and nobody was pushing in on our territory. We looked after our own, and in return, they looked the other way when it came to our less than legal activities.
Our last stop was a small convenience store a couple of blocks down from Lady D's. Old Tom O’Reilly had owned the shop for years, but everyone just called him The Skipper, or just plain Skip. Nobody could remember why. The old man himself was standing behind the counter, as he had done every day for as long as I'd known him, probably as long as Callum had known him, too. His blue eyes twinkled when he saw us come in, and he smiled a knowing smile.
"Ahh Connor," he said in his usual gruff voice. "Come to give me trouble I s'pose?"
