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“Good,” he says. “I’ll send a car?—”

“Mikey?”

“Mikey’s busy. Be outside your place in five minutes. They’ll take you to Greyson’s on Forty-Seventh Street, you know the place I took you and your sister to years ago in the Diamond District? Ask for Rosenbaum, tell him you’re my daughter. He’ll have a package. It’s small. The car will take the package to me,” Dad says. “But I need someone to pick it up. You.”

Before I can say anything else, Dad hangs up.

I leave the house, leaving a barking Arnold behind me. A car pulls right up to the curb. I’m typing a text when someone jumps out of the back seat.

I’ve seen the man before.

At the restaurant.

“D-did my dad send you?”

I quickly press send just before he smiles, showing me way too many crooked teeth. He reaches into his waistband, pulls a gun, and points it at me.

“No. You’re the cocksucker’s slut. Just who I need. Get in.”

Irish.

And it hits me.

I think this is O’Sullivan.

Fuck.

TWENTY-NINE

callahan

Lucie is gone.

Fucking gone.

I can’t breathe. Every time I try to get air, pain flares, like I got kicked in the chest and my ribs have punctured my lungs.

We’d been gone twenty minutes when I got her text, and by the time we returned home… it was too late.

Arnold’s going crazy, and there’s a dead man sprawled in the seat of one of our cars across the street. A good man, a good guard, shot in the head twice, a signature of fucking O’Sullivan.

“Everyone, and I mean everyone, is on this. Every fucking haunt he might be at. Every fucking lowlife needs to be dragged out, every fucking place he’s been seen at turned inside out.”

I load up on rounds and make sure I’m armed to the fucking teeth. And then I snatch the keys from Clive’s hand. “Get another car.”

“Where the fuck are you going?” Torin asks.

“To find my wife.”

I stalk out of the house, footstepsthumping on the ground behind me. Just as I get in the car, Seamus jumps into the passenger seat.

“Get the fuck out.”

“It’s me or Declan, and you’re not letting Declan get killed.”

I glare at my brother as he sets a clinking bag down at his feet. I shove a cigarette in my mouth and light it. Then I click the ignition button, put the car in drive, and peel away from the curb. “I don’t want you killed, either, yougobshite.”

“What did her father say?”