Chapter 40
Killian
The cabbie drops us off at Washington Square Park as the sun is setting. I chose the southwest corner of the park where there are exits in every direction in case he decides to get cute.
Shay peels off and takes a seat in front of a chess board, where he’ll have a line of sight to the bench where we’re meeting.
I’m scrolling on my phone but watching the area behind my sunglasses. My mind drifts to the text Sam sent. I miss you. Those three little words flooded my body with heat, defrosting something that has been frozen for a long, long time. My heart. It was painful, like a limb thawing after frostbite.
Maybe I’m not as broken as I thought. I swore I’d never let anyone tear my heart open like that again. I’d gone crazy. Spent the next two years violently punishing myself and anyone else that got in my way. Eventually I’d been able to bury the memory and gone numb.
I spot Dunn coming my way, hands shoved in his slacks pockets, wearing a rain jacket and baseball hat.
No doubt he’s packing, too. He doesn’t bother to shake my hand, just lowers himself down on the bench and glances at me.
Puffy dark half-moons sit under his eyes, graying whiskers cover his jaw like he just hasn’t bothered to shave in a few days. He stinks of whiskey.
“Havin’ trouble sleepin’, Agent?”
His glare is sharp and full of venom. “None of your fucking business. What do you want? I don’t have all night.”
I chuckle, but it doesn’t hold a bit of humor. “Michael Barone. He’s point for organ traffickin’ for the Amato Family. I need to get rid of him without startin’ a mob war.”
His eyes narrow. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“I need you to leak a confidential tip or internal case note in channels the Italians monitor. Somethin’ that points to Michael Barone as a rat.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dunn shakes his head and blows out a breath. “This is the last time. You hear me? The Bureau’s sniffing around my expense reports. One wrong move…”
“Then don’t make a wrong move. I’m not asking you to bleedin’ kill the guy, for fuck’s sake. I just need somethin’ to make Barone look like he’s cozyin’ up to you lads.”
Dunn’s jaw tightens. He glances around. “If anyone connects me, my career’s gone, my pension’s gone. My kids are gone. You don’t know what you’re asking me to lose.”
My patience is wearing thin and it comes across in my deadly low tone. “You lost the moment we bailed you out of the fifty-grand mess you got in with the Cobras. You’re only breathin’ because of us.”
He stares out across the park for a long moment. Then he lets out a ragged laugh that sounds like surrender. “Christ. Fine. I know an agent owned by Amato. I’ll make it happen. Give me two days and he’ll be burned.”
I stand and clap Dunn on the shoulder, not in comfort but ownership. Because we do own this motherfucker and he knows it. “Two days. He’s a bad guy, Agent. Fuckin’ organ traffickin’. I’m doing you boys a favor.”