“Here?” I asked Stefan.
He nodded.
I pulled my gaze from him and looked around. We stood in the shadows of the old port, massive, industrial buildings rising like mountains around us in the darkness. Our elected officials liked to call this part of town a scar on the city. It was run-down, abandoned, a playground for criminals, the unhoused, and urban explorers. Huge silos crumbled into the water. Thousand-gallon diesel tanks bore the tags of a hundred graffiti artists. The concrete was buckled and broken, making driving all but impossible. We’d had to leave our cars at a nearby shipping warehouse and hoof it in on foot.
According to Stefan, somewhere amongst all this rot and decay, a nosebleed poker game was taking place, ultra-high-stakes, invite only.
I had no idea where, since the lights meant to keep this place illuminated constantly got shot out, and the city had finally given up on replacing them, effectively handing this part of the port over to the underworld. I kept looking for the outline of a doorway, or a lit-up window, anything to indicate there was life in this place besides us, but I saw nothing.
The sound of a slap had me turning my head to the five figures standing nearby, dressed in dark fatigues, enough weapons on them to take down an entire squad of soldiers. I’d worked with them before, most notably when covering up for Aly and Josh’s crimes. They weren’t associated with the mob, or anyone else in the city; they were hired muscle, glorified mercenaries, known for bouncing between one client and another depending on who was footing the bill. The reason they were so in demand was because they kept their mouths shut. That was why I’d called in a favor to get them down here with us. Out of everyone operating in the city, they were the only ones I trusted not to go running to my father afterward.
Their point man, David, a squat bald guy in his mid-forties, held his hand to his neck. “Fucking mosquitoes.”
I nodded, hearing the low whine of more bugs descending upon us. We needed to get moving or we’d be eaten alive.
“Where?” I asked Stefan.
He waved me forward and walked to the side of the building we hid behind. Together, we peered around the corner.
“There,” he said, pointing.
I followed the line of his finger. Instead of a building, I was looking at a four-hundred-foot derelict freight ship that had been rotting here since the late ’80s. It rose from the night-black water like a ghost, its once-crisp white paint weathered to a muddled gray, rust spots crawling upward from the hull all the way to the deck. The massive chains mooring it to the steel cleats on the dock flashed silver in the moonlight, groaning as the boat bobbed on the tide.
It looked like the least-inviting place for a poker game I could have imagined.
My gaze swung back to my brother. He’d never given me a reason to distrust him, at least not any more than I distrusted everyone in general, but I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect setup for an ambush if I tried.
“You trying to get me killed?” I asked.
In answer, he flipped me off and walked away, disappearing into the darkness like the phantom he was becoming.
David stepped up next to me and glanced around the side of the building, eyeing the ship. “I don’t like this.”
“Me neither,” I said, retreating into the shadows.
His four other guys ambled over, quiet, letting the boss do all the talking, their eyes constantly shifting as they looked for threats. Every single one of them came from spec ops military units, and it showed. The only time I’d seen them slip up was when Josh tagged along with them, and I blamed that on the fact that he never shut the fuck up and had driven them to distraction. Every other time I’d worked with them, they’d been flawless.
David glanced around the side of the building at the ship again and then turned back to us. “One, north silo,” he said, and a man peeled off into the darkness. “Two, south silo. Three, diesel tanks. Four, grain barge.”
The men disappeared one by one, leaving David and me behind.
He turned my way. “You good here on your own?”
I nodded. “I’ll probably find some way into the building and see if there are any windows or cracks that face the ship.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m going to take point and get as close as possible. Radios only from this point out.”
With that, he turned and melted into the night.
I adjusted the battery pack hooked to my holster and fastened the attached throat mic around my neck. A thin but ultra-strong braided fiber line led to the earbud, which I fit into place before flicking it on.
“Testing,” I said, keeping my voice at a whisper because I knew firsthand how sensitive this gear was.
The rest of the men checked in, and we went quiet as they got into position. I turned and inspected the building at my back. It was squat, constructed from concrete and metal, its bunker-like structure making me think it used to house flammable materials before it was decommissioned. The moon hung low over the harbor, out of sight on the other side of the building, casting my immediate surroundings in dense shadow. It made seeing anything difficult, and I was forced to pick my way around the perimeter slowly.
Close to the front, I found a door, its black outline the only distinguishable marker. It was wide open, a gaping maw of darkness, whatever wood or metal that had once stood sentinel in its frame lost to the elements or vandals. I paused at the sight of it. Anyone or anything could be inside—a murderer, a cannibal, thousands of tiny spiders waiting to crawl all over me. I don’t know what it said about me that the last possibility was the only one that freaked me out.
Another bonus of working with David was that he always kitted me out in their gear: mic set, night vision goggles, even a soft red flashlight that was hard to detect from more than a few feet away. I unhooked it from my holster and clicked it on, crossing over the threshold into a large, open room filled with the signs of its industrial past. Broken tables lay in pieces on the dirt-covered concrete. A row of metal cabinets lined the far wall, either too big or too heavy to be carried away by looters. Overhead, busted-out fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling.
No signs of a murderer, but I didn’t let my guard down. The spiders could be anywhere.
A narrow set of open stairs climbed the wall opposite the cabinets. I beelined toward them, watching my step, skirting all the trash on the floor. The stairs looked rickety as fuck when I got to them, but I didn’t see any other options. Moonlight filtered in from above, meaning whatever window or hole was up there faced the ship.
I ascended carefully, testing each step to see if it would hold before putting my full weight on it, and even then I was ready to leap backward at the first sign of collapse. The second floor seemed more stable than the stairs, made of poured concrete like the one below. I paced across it to the hole in the roof, a narrow gash too thin to fit through. Didn’t matter. All I needed was a line of sight to the freighter.
I slipped on my night vision goggles and peered out into the darkness. One look at the boat deck was enough to tell me we were fucked. I noted five men standing guard in the shadows, and it looked like they had—
I ducked before getting spotted. “They have goggles, too,” I warned the others.
“Roger that,” David said. Everyone else remained quiet.
The silence held for what felt like an hour but was probably no longer than twenty minutes. Finally, David’s voice came over the line. “They have half a dozen men waiting on the deck alone, and there’s no way to know how many more are below. I don’t see a way to approach the ship without getting spotted. Confirm?”
Four confirmations followed, one after another.
“I have to give it to the guy,” David said. “This is a genius location for a black-market poker game.”
Despite my annoyance, I was impressed, too. No wonder the other bookies had a hard time tracking him down and were always a step behind and a day late. The fact that Stefan had been able to do what they hadn’t was impressive as hell, and it made me wonder if maybe I’d been underestimating my quietest brother.
“Do you recognize the crew on deck?” I asked. David made it his business to know every other merc operation within the tristate area.
“Yeah, it’s Oscar’s,” he said. “They might be thugs, but they know enough to be dangerous.”
Impatience clawed at me. I wanted to get this over with and get back to Lauren. “What are you thinking?”
“We wait them out,” David said. “Eventually, they’ll have to leave, I’m guessing before dawn. By that point, they’ll have been up all night, and I’m hoping their fatigue will make them less alert. We can grab him then.”
Given the circumstances, it was probably our best option. Which meant we had a long night of waiting ahead of us. God, I loathed stakeouts, especially when I was unprepared.
Fitting the goggles to my eyes, I rose up just enough to peer out of the roof again and confirm everything David had said. The men on deck seemed mostly focused on their immediate surroundings, few looking up. As I watched, a new figure crawled out of the deck hatch. I almost discarded him as more hired muscle—he was big enough for it—but he was dressed in a suit. One of the gamblers? This could be promising. If tonight didn’t work out, maybe I could ID this guy and exploit his connection with the bookie.
He stood side-on to me, speaking to one of the guards, looking like he was issuing orders. My heartbeat picked up. What if he wasn’t a player, but the bookie himself? I rose to my feet, trying to get a better fix on him, when suddenly he turned, and recognition tore through me like a bullet.
What the fuck?
I was looking at Josh’s former roommate, Tyler. Maybe if I hadn’t just seen him a few hours ago, I wouldn’t have been so sure, but there was no mistaking his douchey face or his smarmy grin. Finance, my ass. No wonder he’d looked so smug when I told him I ran imports. The motherfucker probably knew who I was.
“Change of plan,” I told David. “I’m going to walk right up to the ship.”
“Do not recommend,” he said, as brusque as ever.
“Yeah, well, turns out I know this asshole.”
“Wait for us to get to high ground, then,” he said. “We’ll cover you from up there.”
“Roger.”
I checked my weapons while I waited: the guns in my holster, the one on my right ankle, the knife sheath tucked into my left boot. No doubt the guns would get taken the second I stepped on board, but I was hoping they’d miss the knife and I’d have something to fall back on in an emergency.
One after another, the men checked in from their new positions.
“Whatever you do,” David said as I walked back into the night, “don’t leave the deck.”
“I’ll try not to,” I told him. “I’m taking the radio off so they don’t realize I have backup until I’m on board. I’ll leave it outside the door here.”
“Roger,” David said.
I disentangled myself from the thing and set it on an overturned plastic bucket before striding around the side of the building. Instead of taking a stealthier route, I walked right into the open with my hands in the air so the men on board would see my approach and know I wasn’t a threat. Moonlight turned my surroundings into a world of grays. Gravel crunched beneath my shoes. The sound of the creaking ship echoed off the nearby buildings, almost loud enough to drown out my pulse beating in my ears.
This was probably the dumbest thing I’d done in months, but poker games like this one were prided for their discretion, and nothing would draw the cops like gunfire ringing out through the night. I was banking on that to keep them from shooting me.
As I got closer to the ship, I noticed something that had been hidden by my vantage point: a ladder strung from the deck to the pier. It was made of rope and wood, and from the way it swayed in the breeze, I knew it couldn’t have been easy to traverse. Beneath it, black water waited to swallow up anyone who fell. The people playing poker in the belly of this beast must have been deadly serious about the game.
“Stop right there,” someone called.
I did as they said, craning my head back to see three men looming over the side of the railings high above.
“Tell the blond guy up there with you that Junior Trocci is here to see him,” I yelled, withholding Tyler’s name because I wasn’t sure if he was using an alias and I didn’t want to immediately get on his bad side by doxing him.
A fourth head popped into view. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Tyler demanded.
I hated putting my business out in the open, but I doubted they’d let me up unless I gave them something. “I want to talk to you about buying a man’s debt.”
“And you couldn’t have done it earlier?” Tyler asked in a pissy tone that had me clenching my jaw.
Be nice, I told myself for the second time today. I needed something from him, and there were weapons trained on me.
“I didn’t know you were the guy I was looking for,” I said with a shrug.
“How’d you find me?” he asked, a note of suspicion joining the pissiness.
“A contact,” I called, getting impatient. “You gonna let me up, or what?”
“Fine.” He disappeared from sight.
I dropped my arms and paced over to the ladder. It looked worse than the stairs I’d taken earlier, but I didn’t see any alternatives, so I grabbed the ropes, put my foot on the bottom rung, and started up. It immediately swung right, and I had to stop and steady myself before it dumped me into the water.
Goddamn pain in the ass jungle gym fucking bullshit.
Carefully, keeping my weight centered on the rungs, I ascended. Two goons waited to search me at the top. They found all three guns and the knife.
Tyler stood several feet away, arms crossed, watching. “Lot of fucking weapons for a talk.”
“Relax,” I told him. “I didn’t know what I was walking into.”
He glanced at the surrounding darkness. “Anyone else here with you?”
“Yup,” I said, letting him know it wouldn’t be smart to try and get rid of me. “They’ll be fine as long as we stay up here.”
He gave me a discontented look and turned on his heel, waving me after him like he was calling a dog to heel. I balled my hands into fists and followed in his wake. Be nice, be nice. We strode to the back of the boat, passing shipping containers and old storage drums. A cry rose from down below, and then cheering. The game sounded like it was in full swing. How the fuck had Tyler wormed his way into this world without anyone finding out who he was? And how had he clawed his way up to this level so fast?
“Get lost,” he told the men guarding the stern.
They lumbered away without comment, but I could tell from the looks on their faces that they liked him about as much as I did.
“You should be more careful,” I said when they were gone. “Men who make enemies in this city don’t live very long.”
He waved me off. “Why should I worry about being nice when I’m paying them more than they’re worth?”
I shook my head. “I never said to be nice. But a little respect goes a long way.”
He snorted. “Sure.”
I could tell from the dismissal that there was no point in arguing, so I let it drop.
He leaned against the taffrail and eyed me. “Whose debt are you after?”
“Patrick McKinney’s,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because he pissed me off.”
“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” he asked. “Dead clients don’t bring in any more money.”
So he did know what I really did for work. “No,” I said. Not that I would tell him if I was planning to off the guy.
Tyler pulled his phone from his pocket and looked to be checking over something. “He owes me two million.”
“Bullshit,” I spat.
Tyler’s douchey expression disappeared, replaced by something far more ruthless. Great. He and Josh were more alike than I’d realized. “He’s a drunk old fuck who thinks he’s more important than he is, so he weasels his way into high roller games and then loses his ass because he’s also a goddamn idiot.”
I let my own crazy shine through, taking a step closer. Tyler might have been bigger than me, but I doubted he’d ever been in a real fight before. “If I find out you’re lying about the amount,” I said, “not even your friendship with Josh will keep you safe. I’ll tear this entire enterprise down around you and then scatter your body parts all over the city.”
“I’m not lying,” he bit out, wariness creeping into his expression for the first time since I’d met him. “McKinney owns a bunch of buildings over on the West Side. He thinks he can keep piling on the debt, because he just turns around and squeezes more out of his tenants to cover the monthly payments.”
My mind went to work. So that explained the constant upticks. How many more people besides Lauren and the other owners of Velvet was McKinney fucking over?
“That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?” Tyler said. “One of his properties.”
Goddamn it. I really wished he was as stupid as he looked. It would make dealing with him so much easier. “None of your business.”
“Are you trying to expand mob territory? Is that it?”
This nosy motherfucker was getting on my last damn nerve, and it was time to turn the tables. “Josh know about your little business venture?”
Tyler’s expression shut down, all the answer I needed.
“Tell you what, give me McKinney’s debt for a million, and I won’t say anything.” I grinned. “To Josh, or all the other bookies who are after you.”
Tyler took a menacing step toward me.
“Careful,” I said, pointing at the little red dot that suddenly bloomed on his chest.
He glanced down, saw the laser, and swore, stepping back. A calculating gleam entered his eyes as he studied me. “Your father know what you’re up to?”
“Yup,” I lied.
“Somehow I doubt that, or you would have come here with a bunch of mob thugs instead of whichever mercs you hired.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
“So, if I show up at Nico Senior’s house tomorrow to hand over McKinney’s slips, he’ll be fine?” Tyler asked.
Shit. We were at a stalemate, and I could tell from his expression that he knew it.
“I can’t let it go for a million,” he said, eyeing me. “Not unless you take me on as a partner.”
Was he serious? “Fuck, no. We don’t even get along. Why would I want to work with you?”
“Because it makes fiscal sense,” he said, like that answered everything. And maybe for him, it did, but the thought of having to deal with this asshole all the time gave me an instant headache.
“I’ll stay silent,” he went on. “Let you handle all the daily bullshit as long as I get my cut.”
“Careful,” I said. “Verbal agreements are binding in my line of work.”
“I’m serious, bro.”
I almost said no just for him calling me bro, but my curiosity won out. “What’s in it for you?”
“I’m empire building.” He gestured toward our feet and the hoots and hollers echoing through the hull. “I recognize that this might be temporary and want as many valid businesses as possible to balance it out. Plus,” he said, grinning, “I’ll always welcome another way to launder money.”
I shook my head. “It has to be legit. I’m not after McKinney’s building just to turn it criminal.”
He frowned. “So it’s really not a mob thing?”
“It’s really not.”
He eyed me, considering. “Fine. You in or not?”
The full two million would clear me out. All my savings and both stock portfolios. It was too much risk. I didn’t know much about Tyler, but it was obvious he had a brain underneath all that blond hair and understood how to be discreet. The fact that no one but Stefan could find him proved that. He also seemed to value the importance of diversification, something I couldn’t say for my father or his compatriots. As far as silent partners went, I could have done worse. Most important, I couldn’t afford to do it without him, so it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.
Praying I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life, I offered my hand to Tyler.
He grinned as we shook. “This is going to be fun.”
Somehow, I highly doubted that.
