Page 156 of Handsome Devil

“We both know that he is.” I peered around, taking in the old, scruffy crowd. A mix of retired alcoholics and transients. “And I’d absolutely hate to shut down this place too. You’d be strapped for cash in no time.”

“Liar. You’d love it.” A smoke-strained voice, highly entertained by the sound of it, chuckled from behind me. I swiveled to find Tiernan sitting at a rickety wooden table, nursing a half-finished pint of Guinness. Splayed in front of him were various old-school maps. A joint hung from the side of hismouth. “What brings a pretty, spoiled boy like you to this kip of mine?”

“You know damn well the answer to that question.” I slid off the stool and took the seat opposite him. A waitress rushed to place a freshly poured Guinness in front of me. I pushed it aside. “Thank you, but I’d rather lick the inside of a toilet at Penn Station than put my lips on anything here.”

She recoiled, tossing her hair back as she tromped away. Tiernan laughed quietly.

“The Ferrantes are pissed at you,” I said.

Tiernan’s eyes lit with amusement. “Fuck me, and I haven’t even given them a good reason yet.”

Yet. The man had a death wish. I’d be doing him a favor by finishing him off before those evil fuckers got their hands on him. The only thing stopping me was the knowledge he fully deserved to die at the hands of the Camorra.

“We need to end this feud.” I sat with my legs spread open, hands balled into the pockets of my peacoat. I did not tap my numbers. Dr. Patel had prescribed me antidepressants and an antipsychotic to help relieve my symptoms. He also referred me to a shrink I was to start seeing twice a week.

“Do we now?” Tiernan lit his joint, contemplating my words. “Bit convenient, wouldn’t you say? Ending this feud after you destroyed my six-figure-a-day fight club,” he said around the weed stick, dropping his lighter into his coat’s pocket.

“I’m willing to make concessions.”

“What’s changed?”

I finally pulled my head out of my ass and admitted to myself that I’m in love with my wife.

Of course, giving him this type of leverage would be the height of idiocy.

I shrugged. “Not a fan of having my place crawling with bodyguards. I prefer to leave my roommate days in college.”

“You lived in a seventeen-million-dollar mansion in Wellesley while attending Harvard.” Tiernan took a sip of his pint. He did his homework. I wasn’t surprised. He had more ambition in his fingernail than most businessmen I knew had in their entire bodies. “Tired of bodyguards? That’s your excuse?” His green eyes gleamed like a silver blade. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Should I insult your personality instead?”

“Not helping your cause, lover boy.”

“Name your price.”

He tapped his chin, making a show of mulling it over. “Janey Mack, but I genuinely can’t think of anything I want more than seeing you on your knees, begging for mercy.”

I cracked a wry smile. “Lesson number one, boy. Don’t let your enemies get that deep under your skin. Feelings are a weakness in your line of work.”

“Just because you’re old doesn’t mean that you’re smart.” He downed the rest of his Guinness, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, offer me something interesting.”

“The vessels your father was after,” I said. “They’re yours if the feud ends here.”

A hostile smile slashed his face. “Nice try. That was just my old man punching under his weight. Not me. I have standards, you see.” He put out his joint on a spot on the map that was circled. “And that wasbeforeyou killed my main source of income.”

I knew the art of negotiation. Nothing I’d offer would please this motherfucker. His empire was built on the skeletons of his enemies. He wasn’t an arbitrary creature.

“However…” He rolled his tongue over his teeth. “I’m willing to let you retain your miserable lifeif…”

I arched an eyebrow.

“You convince your little friends to give me their territory north of the park.”

I simply stared.

He continued, mistaking my disbelief for attention. “I want Harlem, Spanish Harlem, and the Heights. Everything north of 110th Street.”

“That’s not mine to give.” I stared at him incredulously. He wanted the Ferrante territory? That was stunningly ambitious. Not to mention dumb. They owned everything from Philly to Boston on the East Coast, with the exception of a few shitholes like this one.