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“Yes, that. Don’t make me fucking pistol-whip you when we get home. Or cut off your tiny pecker.”

“Christ, get it together, Cal. She’s having lunch with her dad. I’m watching. They’re on dessert. Okay? Well, her dad’s shoveling dessert into his face; I don’t think she has any. And she doesn’t look happy. Is that good or bad?”

Fuck, I don’t know, it could be either. Her father getting her to meet him and her going without telling me isn’t good.

But why is she unhappy? What did that bastard say to her?

“Don’t let them out of your sight,” I say. “And Declan?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell her I know she’s with him.” I hang up.

“What was that about?” Seamus doesn’t look up from the glassed-off area of the closed pawn shop, a nice little place we use as a holding spot and a place to make all kinds of transactions. We always keep either a For Sale or Sold sign in the window, and it changes with our mood. Businesses come and go in this part of the Lower East Side, so this fits right in.

We look after the small businesses on this street—the bodega, corner bar, dry cleaner, taco shop, and the family-run restaurant. All of it.

They pay us for protection, and that’s what we give them.

But today, we’re here for more than just protection. We sometimes use the dry cleaner to move product, but we also make sure their other enterprises are kept off radars.

Our guest in the pawn shop is the kind of rat no one wants around.

They want him gone.

And I need to know if he’s just muscling in or is part of something bigger. I’m guessing it’s the former, but anyone who’s extorting anyone under my protection is fucking with me and will be punished.

“Keep our guest unhappy and get whoever works on him to find out where the asshole’s operations might lead. I’ve had a discussion with him already.”

“We letting him go?”

“Only if he’s not tied to our friend Paddy or anyone else too nasty. I think he might just be trying to make a name for his gang. That’s on you to figure out. And if that’s the case, we let him go with the understanding that working with us is smarter than working against us.”

“Okay.” My brother nods, then looks up as I start for the door. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” I stop before I reach the door and examine an oldNintendo in a box covered in dust. “Lucie’s at lunch with her father.”

“That a problem, Cal?”

“Not sure. I still don’t trust him.”

“You never trust anyone more than the base requirements. What’s different about this?” Seamus asks quietly.

“I don’t know. It just is. Maybe…” Shit. Because it’s Lucie? Or is it the toxic fucking undercurrent I pick up from him? “He’s hungry.”

“So are we.”

“I know. But… it just feels different.” I need to change the subject because these are dangerous waters. Ones that lap up against Lucie, the tide pushing me closer to her with every fucking swell of the water. “What about Paddy?”

“Well.” Seamus stops. He taps on his laptop, then checks his iPad. “Well.”

“What the fuck about a well? Did he fall down one?”

He slants me a look. “You’re not funny, Cal. A man fitting his description has been seen here and there and it seems, at the club you’re buying. On the night you were there with Lucie. Someone we protect passed it along. He happened to be there with his girl and said he saw you, Cal, with your wife, and a man followed you.”

“Fits Paddy’s description.”

Seamus looks back at the laptop. “You didn’t see him?”