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“What’s done is done.”

“No more of this getting out talk?” he asks me.

“Nah,” I reply, lighting my smoke. I leave out everything that just happened back there and they don’t ask about what I said to Nugget. “I belong here with you idiots.” I lift my smoke as if it’s a drink. “May the hinges of our friendship never grow rusty.”

Trig laughs and hits the back of the seat. “We need a drink.”

“I need a goddamn shower first. Take me to Ma’s and then let’s head to that little bar on the corner of Wimbish,” I say to Sweep. “I think I saw a for sale sign. I might buy it.”

Sweep starts the car, and we head down the road. Trig chatters about our future from the backseat, and Sweep looks ahead. I run my hand over my knotted necklace and remind myself that it’s over and it’s the best thing for both of us.

And maybe one day I’ll believe it.

And maybe one day I’ll take down Moretti because fuck him. I’ll play this game for a while because I’m good at it. Because Bex is better off. But it won’t always be like this.

One day I’ll be free and I’m coming for her, and I’m going to end him.

Chapter Thirteen

Bones

2015

Yaps sits in the front seat of the car as Sweep drives us to the port. He’s going on about some girl he was about to get with before Sweep asked him to come with us back at my bar a few hours after he was stuffing his face with olives.

“I appreciate you giving me this opportunity,” he says, twisting back and looking at me.

“No problem,” I reply with an easy shrug, looking over at Trig who shows no expression.

“Money’s been tight lately and I’ve wanted to be in with you boys for a long time. So, what’s the job, anyway?” Yaps asks. “What do you need me to do?”

“Relax. You’ll see when we get there,” I tell him.

He nods, but he’s fidgety. He does too much cocaine and it makes me uneasy. Sweep pulls into the parking lot near the Hudson.

It’s empty. Like always.

What was once supposed to be a nice place to take your family has been overrun by bums and monsters like me.

“What are we here for?” Yaps asks.

“You ask too many questions,” I reply. “Let’s go for a walk. The ship hasn’t come in yet. I’ll let you know the whole ins and outs of the business.”

“Okay, sure. Sorry,” he says, opening the car door as he sniffs, seeming a little less drunk than he was earlier. Cocaine will sober the drunkest motherfucker up. Sweep gets out and so do Trig and I. The river runs beside us as we walk. I look around again, making sure we are, in fact, alone. Most of the bums are probably standing in line to get in the shelter for the night.

“Our heroin business has grown tremendously over the last nine years. We’re working with a Latin American by the name of Miguel, who works on a cargo ship transporting pure uncut China White from Latin America to the Jersey port near Postings.

“Sometimes we trade it for guns, so the insurgency can protect the farmers. Sometimes we pay money. It all depends on what we got and what they need.”

Yaps nods excitedly. “Damn. This sounds like money.”

I smile.

“Listen, Bones. I’m sorry about earlier. I crossed the line talking to you like that,” he says.

“Sure, man,” I reply, sliding my hand into my jacket’s pocket as he and Sweep walk in front of us.

“I was out of line,” Yaps says, sniffing, rubbing his fat stumpy fingers under his filthy nose. He looks back in front of him. I signal for Trig to back off.