with Burke.
“Don’t be. It’s been tried before.” He fingered the scar that bisected his throat. “We’ll track him down, and when we do, we’ll get some answers. Until then you have enough on your plate.” With the help of his cane, he got to his feet. Even with the prop, few would make the mistake of considering the man disabled. Not with the edge that showed beneath the polish, the shrewdness apparent in his eye.
“You’ve got plenty to keep you occupied. Three torched cops, remember?” He surprised her by heading to the kitchen. In the next moment she realized he was planning to leave by the back door. Which meant he’d be cutting across two yards to meet his car on the other side of the block.
He was varying his routines. The realization had her breathing a bit more easily. So despite his nonchalant words, he was taking the threats seriously. She supposed having an incendiary device shot through the window of his home to blow it up—fortunately without him in residence—had made a believer out of him.
He paused in the doorway, looked back at her. “You’re wasting your time worrying. I look forward to facing whomever, whatever is intent on destroying me. You concern yourself with facing your own demons.”
The door closed behind him, and she was left to stare at it, his words ringing in her ears. Raiker’s penchant for having the last word wasn’t his most infuriating trait.
Being right was.
“Jonas. Over here.” Johnny waved the last of their group to arrive over to the corner booth where the rest of them waited. Casting a suspicious eye around the gloomy interior of the bar, he was satisfied there was no one within earshot. The spot had changed ownership several times in the nearly twenty years they’d been using it, but efforts at updating had been halfhearted. The clientele was sparse and desperate, usually satisfied to huddle over their beers on cracked stools at the bar. Since the place didn’t run to waitstaff, they didn’t have to worry about anyone showing up to take or deliver orders.
Not that he’d turn down a drink right about now. But he’d wait until he was home. From the looks of his companions, it wasn’t liquor they needed, it was leadership. No matter what Sean and Hans had liked to believe, Johnny had always been the true leader of the group.
“Is it true what Juan said?” Jonas slid into the booth. “They found Giovanni this morning, fried like the others?”
Johnny sent a look at Juan, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Is that what he said? Because I fucking told him to set up a meet and we’d discuss the topic once we were all together.”
“You’re not the only one that hears things.” Juan wiped at the sweat beaded on his broad forehead. The years had cost him his first wife and house, then his hair. From what he knew of the man, Johnny figured he missed the hair the most. “I got a buddy in the seventh district. A couple coworkers caught the call and ran the canvass. Someone’s lighting up cops, think the details don’t get around?”
“This is getting out of hand.” Jack looked like ten years had settled on him over the last few weeks. “Three dead cops, there’s certain to be a task force, right? How long’s it gonna take to connect the victims? And then link them to us?”
“I knew it’d come to this.”
Johnny jerked around to glare at Jonas. He’d never fully trusted the prick. Always whining about right and wrong and consequences. Fuck consequences. A real man shaped his life to suit himself. He didn’t wait for whatever crumbs life left him. “The last thing we need right now is for you to go weak on this, Jonas,” he said meaningfully. “You’ve gotten rich along with the rest of us over the years. You wanna clear your conscience, see a fucking priest. We hang together, same as always, and cover our asses. A task force might keep the rest of us alive, ever think of that? Every cop in the city is going to be looking for this
“Don’t be. It’s been tried before.” He fingered the scar that bisected his throat. “We’ll track him down, and when we do, we’ll get some answers. Until then you have enough on your plate.” With the help of his cane, he got to his feet. Even with the prop, few would make the mistake of considering the man disabled. Not with the edge that showed beneath the polish, the shrewdness apparent in his eye.
“You’ve got plenty to keep you occupied. Three torched cops, remember?” He surprised her by heading to the kitchen. In the next moment she realized he was planning to leave by the back door. Which meant he’d be cutting across two yards to meet his car on the other side of the block.
He was varying his routines. The realization had her breathing a bit more easily. So despite his nonchalant words, he was taking the threats seriously. She supposed having an incendiary device shot through the window of his home to blow it up—fortunately without him in residence—had made a believer out of him.
He paused in the doorway, looked back at her. “You’re wasting your time worrying. I look forward to facing whomever, whatever is intent on destroying me. You concern yourself with facing your own demons.”
The door closed behind him, and she was left to stare at it, his words ringing in her ears. Raiker’s penchant for having the last word wasn’t his most infuriating trait.
Being right was.
“Jonas. Over here.” Johnny waved the last of their group to arrive over to the corner booth where the rest of them waited. Casting a suspicious eye around the gloomy interior of the bar, he was satisfied there was no one within earshot. The spot had changed ownership several times in the nearly twenty years they’d been using it, but efforts at updating had been halfhearted. The clientele was sparse and desperate, usually satisfied to huddle over their beers on cracked stools at the bar. Since the place didn’t run to waitstaff, they didn’t have to worry about anyone showing up to take or deliver orders.
Not that he’d turn down a drink right about now. But he’d wait until he was home. From the looks of his companions, it wasn’t liquor they needed, it was leadership. No matter what Sean and Hans had liked to believe, Johnny had always been the true leader of the group.
“Is it true what Juan said?” Jonas slid into the booth. “They found Giovanni this morning, fried like the others?”
Johnny sent a look at Juan, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Is that what he said? Because I fucking told him to set up a meet and we’d discuss the topic once we were all together.”
“You’re not the only one that hears things.” Juan wiped at the sweat beaded on his broad forehead. The years had cost him his first wife and house, then his hair. From what he knew of the man, Johnny figured he missed the hair the most. “I got a buddy in the seventh district. A couple coworkers caught the call and ran the canvass. Someone’s lighting up cops, think the details don’t get around?”
“This is getting out of hand.” Jack looked like ten years had settled on him over the last few weeks. “Three dead cops, there’s certain to be a task force, right? How long’s it gonna take to connect the victims? And then link them to us?”
“I knew it’d come to this.”
Johnny jerked around to glare at Jonas. He’d never fully trusted the prick. Always whining about right and wrong and consequences. Fuck consequences. A real man shaped his life to suit himself. He didn’t wait for whatever crumbs life left him. “The last thing we need right now is for you to go weak on this, Jonas,” he said meaningfully. “You’ve gotten rich along with the rest of us over the years. You wanna clear your conscience, see a fucking priest. We hang together, same as always, and cover our asses. A task force might keep the rest of us alive, ever think of that? Every cop in the city is going to be looking for this
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