Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
CONNOR
When we reach Coynston after picking up Trick and Laurelyn at the airport, she goes over to Anvil and Rachel’s for a visit, while he comes to the castle to meet with me.
We drop our phones on the kitchen counter and head to the basement where we’ve had hundreds of meetings.
It’s the one place in the house that no craftsman or contractor has ever been since the original build.
Anvil, Trick and I carried all furniture and the rugs down ourselves.
No electronics that are linked to the internet come down with us.
In the inner sanctum, Trick drops onto the couch as I make us drinks.
When I hand him a Jack and Coke, he says, “My first one in a week.”
“Clean living hasn’t done you any harm.” I take a drink and lean back against the table. “That’s some suntan you’re sporting.”
“The beach is all there is there. That and a big house.”
“Surprised you stayed the whole time. Thought you might hit Europe like you planned?”
“C,” Trick says, holding up a hand. “Let’s table the vacation talk and get to what we’re here to discuss.”
I give him the full report, including that I had Anvil try to bait Miller into complaining about body-guarding duty. Miller was circumspect, but said nothing concerning. Apparently though, that tactic rubbed him the wrong way because Miller’s been quiet ever since, which I also mention.
“He didn’t even crack a smile when I paid him his bonus,” I add.
“Hmm.”
I don’t say more about Miller because I know I’ve already said enough. One of Trick’s talents in opening people up, and he’s been training Miller since the guy came on board. If there’s reason for concern with Miller, Trick will find it.
“So what’s up with your little sister grabbing a downed gun? I didn’t realize you were training her.”
He downs his drink, stretching out his legs. “Guess I’m gonna have to call her Baby G from here on out.”
“Where the G stands for?”
He flashes a smile. “Gangster. Gunslinger. Girl with gun?” He tips his head back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, and chuckles.
“There are two guns in my mom’s house that I put there for emergencies.
I showed all of them the basics a couple of times.
Ash didn’t seem interested. Then she turns sixteen and decides she wants to learn.
She swore there was no trouble in her life, just got the urge from watching a T.V.
show.” He rises and pours himself another drink.
“I took her to a local range near my ma’s.
Ash watched and listened for about ten minutes and then said, ‘Okay, let me try.’” He swirls the glass and shrugs.
“I knew even before she pulled the trigger. It was the way she handled the gun.”
My brows rise. “Like you?”
“Exactly like me.” He rubs a hand over the couch cushion. “From then on I took her practice shooting in private. The woods. Some of our crue training courses.”
“How good is she?”
“Not as good as me yet.” A beat passes. “But better than anyone else you know.” He smiles, and there’s an unmistakable look of pride.
“It was just hitting targets though. She didn’t want to hurt anything living, not even birds, so hunting was out.
I wondered if she’d falter in a real situation.
I thought she might not have the nerve to shoot a human being.
I warned her never to pull a gun she wasn’t prepared to fire. She said she understood.”
“She’s got nerves of steel when it counts.”
“Maybe that’s inborn, too. We did skeet and moved on to other moving targets.
I tested her in high wind on some tough courses.
Small targets, at a distance, shifting winds.
She can feel how much to correct. That’s not something someone can teach you.
Or at least no one taught me. I originally tried to explain how I compensate for wind, and she just looked at me blankly.
I was trying to use physics and math to explain and she finally said, “I haven’t had those classes yet, Scotty.
’ And then after a beat, she says, ‘Is that really how somebody taught you?’ I laughed because no, of course not.
So I told her, ‘Just fire the gun for a while and see if it comes to you.’ She practiced.
I showed her a few things about how I assess drift based on the way things move in the distance. After a few hours, she had it.”
“What’s she going to do with this talent?”
Trick shakes his head. “Nothing. Except fuck-up would be kidnappings, I guess.”
“You were right not to tell anyone. Don’t. Tell her not to either.”
His head turns, and his eyes study me. “I’ve already told her. But why do you want it kept secret?”
“You never know.” I lean forward. “No one would ever see it coming.”
“You heard me, right, C? She can’t fire on a bird.”
“Sure, but birds are innocent, Trick. You’ve got a soft spot for dogs. No one would ever convince you to kill a dog for sport. Doesn’t mean an enemy gets a pass.”
He’s silent a moment, then he says, “She’s like my kid, C.
I helped raise her. I sent her to art camp when she was little, and every year she draws me a birthday card.
They’re good. I’ve got them all framed, waiting for the right wall.
Now I’m building a house, and I’ve got a spot picked out. You feel where I’m coming from?”
Getting married seems to have turned him more sentimental than he’s ever been. Not sure if that’s a good thing and if it’ll last, but for now I just nod. Then I say lightly, “If she’s like you, man, don’t you think it’ll play out eventually? Exactly the way it did on the street with the Sosa gang?”
“She’s not like me in everything. I had no choice. The baby does. Right now, college after a gap year is the plan.” He pauses and then shakes his head. “Shit, I called her the baby. I’m trying to break the habit. It’s tough. Deep down, she’s still a baby to me.”
I’m silent because I can’t tell if his mind’s really made up about her future or not.
“You don’t have kids, C. When you have a little girl, you’ll understand.”
Oh boy. “Okay. I won’t bring it up again unless you do.”
“That’ll work.”
“So Miller? You’ll talk with him and see where his head is at?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“About the Sosa gang, I said we’d lend the Sullivans a hand in dealing with them. Joe Sullivan’s putting together a plan.”
Trick rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to play around. We don’t know his guys. If we’re on this, let’s do it ourselves. Zoe and my sisters are the ones they tried to take. C Crue women. What’s that got to do with Joe Sullivan? If he wanted to take a run at the Sosas, he should’ve done it already.”
I nod and, after a moment, add, “Sullivan might be glad if C Crue takes this alone. He’s got a lot of fires burning these days.”
“Does ‘Vil have a list of how many Sosa gang members are in Massachusetts and roughly where they?”
“Sure, we’ve had a week. Vil’s ready to lay it out.”
“Good. When we hit, I’m going to bring the younger Callahan along. He needs some skin in the game on this one.”
“How pissed are you at him?”
“I don’t know. On the one hand, I’d be a pretty big fucking hypocrite if I gave anyone a hard time about wanting to shut a loudmouth asshole down for talking shit.
You know me. I’ll be trying to get the last word in with my dying breath.
On the other hand, I warned people about taking pictures.
I promised everyone professional print photos in gold-leaf fucking albums. It’s gonna cost a goddamned fortune. ”
I smirk. “Spare no expense, that’s the Trick motto.”
Trick stands. “Yeah, that’s why it’s good to be home. I gotta get to work to earn back all the money I’m spending these days. Getting married is expensive.”
“Especially the way you do it.”
“True statement.” He grins. “It’s good to see you, C.”
“Did you miss us?” I joke.
“I did.” The corner of his mouth quirks.
“But not too much. My wife’s so fucking beautiful, and she was really sweet to me.
” He runs a hand through his hair. “It was a great week.” Trick sets the glass down on the bar cart.
“Speaking of which, I need to collect my wife and take her home.” When he gets to the door, he says, “I’ll be here tomorrow at nine thirty. ”
“Nine thirty, huh? Like an office worker?”
He flashes me another grin. “If you say so, C.”
That makes me laugh. It’s good to have him back.