Page 64

A knock at the front door rattles Michael’s nerves. He’s not expecting anyone.

He moves stealthily to the entryway. There’s no peephole in the old wooden door, but maybe he can see who it is through the side window.

Before he can look, the door bursts open, the frame splintering. The man standing there is large, beefy, like a boxer past his prime. He holds a handgun at his side. Michael has a vague recollection of the man sitting in the back of O’Leary’s Tavern.

Michael turns, dashes to his bedroom to retrieve his own handgun. He hears the man say, “Jesus Christ,” as he follows after him. There’s no urgency to it. He doesn’t take a shot.

In the bedroom, they each aim a gun at the other. The guy shakes his head, exasperated.

The man then does something unexpected: He lowers his gun, places it on the dresser. He reaches to his front pocket until Michael says, “Don’t do it.”

The man shakes his head again. “It’s my phone. I need to show you something.”

“Who are you?” Michael keeps his weapon trained at center mass.

“My name’s Brian O’Leary,” he says calmly. “May I?” He gestures to his pocket.

Michael thinks about this. Brian O’Leary. Deadly Shane O’Leary’s brother. The man’s gun is on the dresser. He didn’t need to surrender it. Michael nods for Brian to pull out his phone.

“Slow.”

Brian takes his time, makes a show of removing the phone from his pocket. He seeks approval with his eyes to pull up something on the device and Michael nods again. Then Brian flips around the screen to show him.

Michael nearly vomits from the shock. The photo is of his daughter. She’s wearing the clothes she had on this morning. There’s an arm wrapped around her neck, a gun with a long barrel pressed to her temple.

“Put the gun down,” Brian O’Leary says.

“Your brother sent you?”

“Ya think?”

“Do what you need to do with me, but leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Shane sees it differently.”

“What do you want?”

“For starters, our money.”

Acid crawls up Michael’s throat. For starters.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

“I don’t want to hurt a kid in her twenties,” Brian O’Leary says. “I’ve got one of my own.”

“So don’t.”

“Here’s the thing. My brother is a prideful man. This isn’t only about the money for him. He needs to talk to you in person. To come home to Philly.”

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll come without a problem. But please leave her out of this.”

“I don’t have any say in whether he’ll leave her out of it. I’m just supposed to bring you home.”

Michael slowly places his own gun on the dresser. “She was a middle-school kid. She didn’t know Shane’s son would—”

“I get it. I do. But you don’t know my brother. Or his wife.” Brian shakes his head.

Michael is sweating but he feels cold.

“But maybe there’s a deal to be made here,” Brian says. “Maybe your daughter escapes.”

Michael examines the man. He has full cheeks and a gut that hangs over his belt. He’s not fit and menacing like his brother. Though they have the same dead eyes.

“How much of the money is left?” Brian O’Leary asks.

“Double.”

“Twenty mil?” He nods, like he’s impressed.

Michael nods back. “It’s all yours if you let her go.”

The man bunches his lips, thinking. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna transfer fifteen of the twenty into my brother’s accounts. The other five to a different account.”

It takes a moment, but Michael understands. Shane O’Leary’s brother is redirecting a portion of the funds to himself. It’s smart. Shane doesn’t know how much Michael’s investments made on the principal. With five mil in profit, Shane’s unlikely to suspect his brother is skimming.

There is indeed no honor among thieves. Even if they’re family, apparently.

“If I do that, you’ll let us go?” Michael says.

“Let’s not get carried away. I said maybe your daughter escapes…”

Michael’s mouth is bone-dry, it hurts to swallow. But he has no choice.

“How do I know you’ll let her go?”

“I give you my word. Transfer the money and my guy can give her an opening to escape. Shane’s gonna be pissed, but he’s been pissed at me before.”

Michael resists the urge to roll his eyes. The word of a guy who betrays his own brother isn’t exactly an ironclad oath.

“I need proof my daughter is still alive.”

Brian shakes his head. “She’s alive unless I don’t report that I have the money by the time my brother wakes up back in Philly.” He looks at his watch. “And Shane’s an extremely early riser, so get your laptop and let’s get this done.”

Michael’s heartbeat is thumping in his ears. He’s not transferring anything until he knows his daughter is okay.

“The accounts don’t allow electronic transfer. It has to be in-person at the bank.”

“Don’t fuck around. Just get your—”

“I’m not fucking around. You think I didn’t plan for this day? I made sure there’s no way to move the money unless I appear in person with identification and three passwords.”

It wouldn’t take more than a few internet searches to know that Michael’s bluffing. But this guy’s no graduate of Harvard Business School.

“So, let’s get going.”

“To the bank?”

“No, to the goddamn strip club. Yeah, to the bank.”

Michael offers a resigned nod. “I’ll drive.”