Chapter 17
17
MICKEY
I used to love my house. Even before the decorator got done fixing it up. The location’s good, the brewery down the street has great takeout, and most importantly I like the view. I loved the roof deck until Katie fucking ruined it. The house, the deck, the steam shower. All ruined.
Katie fucking left me. Walked out and didn’t look back. She still comes to work, does her job, and sits in our scheduled meetings with the most closed-off and all-business demeanor I’ve ever seen. Her face is shuttered and her eyes don’t have the expressions I know, nothing to give me a clue about what she’s thinking.
It’s quite possible she hates me. I refuse to broach any personal topic with her now. She made herself clear. I don’t have anything new to say on the subject, and going over the same tired reasons would only hurt more. I don’t text or call. I keep it as professional as she does and I fucking hate it.
It's a desolate wasteland here, like Siberia or something. My nice house feels like it’s haunted now. Every day I run across something that guts me. Her hair tie in my bathroom. Her music on my Spotify. Her voice on my phone—that one’s my fault because I torture myself by listening to her voicemails from a few weeks ago.
I visit Benny at the swanky inpatient rehab. He’s in good spirits but he looks like he lost about thirty pounds and his skin looks ashy and pale. I hear that he’s making good progress, but it’ll be a few weeks before he’s cleared to work. I make sure he knows he’s irreplaceable but that he can retire with full pension and my gratitude if he wants to. Good old Benny at least resists this idea and says he’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time, that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he retired. He puts in another good word for his nephew and I act like I respect that suggestion.
Rory calls while I’m leaving rehab to tell me the bad news.
“You’re gonna want to sit down.”
“I’m in the car. I’m sitting down. Just tell me.”
“They found a kid outside the Oyster, in back by the dumpster.”
“Shit. What happened?”
“OD. So far all we know is he was sixteen, from Southie, and his girlfriend says he scores pills there all the time.”
“Jesus. Somebody’s dealing behind the Oyster and our security didn’t clock it? I want every team member in a meeting in half an hour.”
“I’m a step ahead of you, Mick. We’re gonna be waiting in the conference room when you get here. I’ve debriefed the guys and I’m gonna send you the info.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. Before I open the voice memo he sends me I know what it’ll say. Somebody isn’t dealing behind the Oyster. They’re dealing from the Oyster. An inside job. That’s why security isn’t seeing a bunch of shady exchanges on their rounds or the cameras. Because it’s one of mine, someone that knows the workings of the joint and how to capitalize on the location and avoid detection. I crack my knuckles in anticipation.
The room is full when I walk in, standing room only. The beefy bouncers are what you’d expect, but half my team is plainclothes, lots of them are women, average size, and dressed to appear unremarkable. The best kind of security to have is the kind that blends in. Right now, I wonder which ones of them know who’s behind this, and if the drug ring begins and ends with my own men. Or if the Oyster is just one location on their route.
I give them the lowdown to start with and inform them that I respect their loyalty to everyone in our ranks but that I am a far more dangerous enemy than a drug dealer and they would do well to provide Rory or myself with any information that leads to the uncovering of all members of the drug ring, and intel will be rewarded. I meet with Rory in my office afterward.
“What’s your read?” I ask.
“Castleton was shitting bricks in there. I want ten minutes with him in the basement.”
“You gonna try and talk to him?”
“Talk?” he scoffs. “Yeah. Talk.” His tone is sarcastic.
“If he knows something, find out. Don’t warn him. Just take him for a walk.”
“Will do. You okay? You been lookin’ tired the last week or so.”
“Thanks, bro. You look like shit, too,” I deadpan. I know why I look like hell but I’m not gonna tell him his baby sister walked out on me.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know what Castleton says.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Then I do what I’ve been avoiding. I call Katie.
“There’s been an incident. We need to meet,” I say, my tone clipped and cool.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes. Crow’s nest.”
“Fine.”
She hangs up and I get a car to the Pearl. I’m waiting when she arrives all buttoned up and neatly pressed, that riot of hair tamed into a ponytail. It’s a physical blow to my chest to see her. She puts her laptop down and take a seat.
“Was there an incident?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Why would you think there wasn’t?”
“It’s Wednesday, Mick,” she says. The way she says my name undoes me. God, I miss her. The sick swoop in my gut of loneliness, the way I feel her say my name in my teeth, in my bones. Her eyes flick to mine and for an instant I see it like a mirror. She let her cover slip and I saw that she’s hurting too. It’s all I need. I take her hand. She shuts her eyes and I watch her throat work as she swallows hard, squeezes my hand. She rolls her lips under and her shoulders sag for an instant.
“It wasn’t to buy you off or make you shut up,” I say out of nowhere like my brain is hijacked. “The necklace was because I wanted to give you something nice, that you’d like. It had you written all over it. It’s in the drawer.”
“What?”
“You got a drawer at my house, in my dresser. I had it ready to surprise you that night, when you came home with me. When I thought you would come back home with me. There’s pajamas and—” I stop myself. My pride finally kicks in.
She blinks fast and looks away. She’s about to cry. I see it and I want to punch myself in the face for it. Nothing I said matters. It’s still the same crappy stalemate. I take the hand she hasn’t pulled away and I hold it in both of mine.
“Come back to me, Kate,” I say in the lowest voice, it’s barely words at all, more like a growl.
She dips her head and kisses my knuckles. My whole body tightens like a fist at her gentle kiss. My chest feels fit to just open with whatever swells inside it. She looks up at me still silent and shakes her head. I know she can’t, that’s what she’s telling me. I have to make myself withdraw my hands from the table and release her.
I grit my teeth with the force of it. I’m disobeying every instinct when I let go of her. My whole body feels like a prison riot broke out when I let go of her hand. Like alarms go off and locks slam shut.
Katie goes to the bar cart and gets a water, drinking part of it before she returns to the table. I wait, not speaking. The least I can do is give her a minute to collect herself. I can’t begin to get myself under control beyond the tightly leashed, white-knuckle grip I have holding myself right at the edge.
“A kid OD’d behind the Oyster.”
“I heard, she says.
“I should’ve had you come to my office. I forgot where you were working,” I admit. “I think of you here.”
“Don’t,” she says and her voice rises a little.
“Somebody inside is working with the drug ring or running it. I need you to investigate and I don’t mean our books. I want the security team checked out first because somebody’s on the take at the very least. I want their personal bank records, transactions, any big purchases or new lines of credit.”
“I’ll have it for you by the end of the day tomorrow.”
“I thought you’d object. It’s unethical.”
“Nothing new. I work for the Mob, Mick,” she says dryly. “I didn’t think you called me up here to the soundproof top security room because you wanted me to go to Mass and say a rosary for the kid.”
“That’s fair,” I say.
“Anything else?” she asks.
“My secretary is gonna send you their HR info. The names, the accounts where we direct deposit. I’ve got Sal running credit reports now. There’s about thirty people I want you to look into and that’s just the start.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks. I went to see Benny this afternoon,” I say.
“How’s he doing?” Her tone is even and neutral, using as few words as she can like they cost her a thousand dollars each and she’s on a budget.
“Says he’s doing better. Looks like crap. They’re saying another four or five weeks to clear him. That okay?”
“I guess. I said I’d stay on till he’s back.”
“If you can’t, I get it. Just say so. I’ll—”
“What? Promote the gallon bottle of hair gel?” She scoffs. “He can’t do this work. No fuckin’ way.”
I hear the trace of Southie creep back in her voice and it warms me. She doesn’t want to give up the job or the investigation into who’s running drugs. She’s got her teeth in this case like the bulldog I knew she was. I want to kiss her like a fever’s seized me.
“You need to go,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Why?” she says and I know she’s teasing me. That she knows.
“You fuckin’ know why,” I manage, and I sound pissed off at her. She cracks a smile but it’s joyless.
“I know why,” she says. “And I’m sorry.”
“So am I. You don’t know how goddamn sorry.” I grind the words out. When she stands, I get to my feet automatically.
“Thanks,” she says. “For looping me in so I can help. I’m sure you would’ve rather had Sal do it.”
“He’s not as good as you. I need the best. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, Katie, it’s that you’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll get you the info as soon as I can,” she says curtly and I walk her to the door. I can’t help it. When I reach around her to put my hand on the knob, I lean in and kiss her cheek. I feel her gasp. I expect her to step back, self-protective and reproach me with her eyes. Instead, she lays her hand on my forearm for just a second and I’m suspended in time. It’s agony. Heaven and hell and no way to pick just one.
“You were right,” she says, barely audible. “I need to go.”