Page 47

I walk into the office hub and wave hello at the vegan truck ladies sipping coffee in the corner. They smile and wave back as I pass by. One moment down. I glide down the hall toward the office. Hopefully, he’s not too chatty tonight.

I poke my head inside. “Hey, Dan⁠—”

A fist slams into my face. Spots fill my vision, and I lose my balance between two men in black suits.

“What the⁠—”

They jerk me down to my knees and yank my arms behind my back. I feel the cold clink of handcuffs locking my wrists together as I force my eyes up.

Daniel Quinn comes into view behind his desk as my vision returns, sucking on a thick cigarette. His other hand lays in his lap beneath the desk.

“Evening, Milo,” he says.

I try to push up onto my knee, but one of the suits forces me back down. “Hey. So, Daniel… What’s up?”

He takes the cigarette from his mouth. “I told Ma I’d quit,” he mutters, staring at it. “But it’s been… a rough week.”

My eyes twitch from him to the men behind me and back again. “I understand completely.” He glares at me behind the gentle, gray wisps of smoke. “You’ve got a lot going on and I sympathize… but why am I in handcuffs? What, uh… what’s going on?”

Daniel pushes a photo forward, and it falls off his desk. It slips down to the floor in front of me and lands near my knees.

It’s from last night. Me and Anna on her porch. It feels nice for a brief second until the horror sets in.

“Okay, hold on,” I say.

“After our last conversation, I figured I’d have you followed for a while,” Daniel says. “Just to be sure you were still on the up-and-up after your brief stint behind bars.”

I deflate. “Daniel…”

“You went from my office…” he points at the photo, “straight to her house.”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you having an intimate, private chat with a fucking cop.”

“Okay. Yes,” I say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it is… but it had nothing to do with you or this business. It was a private matter.”

“About what?”

I hesitate for a moment too long. “It’s private.”

He slams his cigarette out on his desk, completely missing the ashtray by several inches. “I never thought you’d betray me like this, Milo. I trusted you.”

“I didn’t betray you!” I tug at my cuffs behind me. “No betrayal. That was a betrayal-free private matter.”

He raises his hand from beneath the desk and sets it on top, along with the Beretta clutched in his fingers.

“Ah, crap,” I mutter.

“People under my employ don’t have betrayal-free private matters with cops,” he growls. “First Doogan. Now you.”

“No, not me. He was a cop. I’m not a cop!”

“When my people talk to cops, that’s crossing a line. When cops talk to my people, that’s crossing a line.” He gestures to the men behind me. “Go back to her house, drag her out onto the front lawn, and blow her brains out.”

My chest clenches. “Wait, wait. Hey. Come on…” I say. “She has a kid. Be reasonable, man.”

“Is that right?” He lays his palm on his chest and looks at his men again. “Kill the fucking brat, too.”