City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)(87)

They put it out too soon, everyone is going to know where it came from and who did the hijack.

“You worry too much,” Liam says.

“Yeah, I worry, Liam.”

“But that’s you, Danny,” Liam says. “You worry. Fucking Irish—always looking forward to our next defeat.”

“What’s the big hurry?” Danny asks.

“Because we got millions of dollars sitting down in the basement,” Liam says, “and the sooner we convert it to cash, the better.”

Yeah, Danny thinks, Liam likes his cash. But the last thing we need is Liam flashing a roll, going out and buying a new car, watches, jewelry for Pam. Or a freakin’ house on the beach, which would be just like him. The only thing worse than Liam with coke up his nose is Liam with money in his pocket. They both burn a hole.

People would notice and start asking questions. Like, where did Liam get money all of a sudden? They’d notice the coincidence between the hijacking and Liam playing the big shot.

It wouldn’t be good.

Especially when some of the people doing the wondering will be the Morettis and the feds, and he tells Liam this.

“So what if the Morettis connect us to the hijacking?” Liam asks. “What are they going to do? Kill us? They’re trying to do that already.”

“They’ll try to get their dope back.”

“Which is why we should move it now,” Liam says. “Don’t you want to get to California?”

“What’s this?” John asks.

Danny shoots Liam a look, like Why can’t you keep your stupid mouth shut, then he turns to John and says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, the right moment never came up, but yeah, I’m going to use this money to move out to the West Coast. I’m thinking maybe San Diego.”

“Does Terri know about this?”

“We’ve talked about it,” Danny says. “I think the sunshine and the warmth would be good for her.”

“What about the business?” John asks.

Danny feels himself getting pissed off. “What about it?”

“Don’t you think you have responsibilities here?”

Danny looks at Liam again, like Say something.

“Dad,” Liam says, “you’ve been talking about retirement for a long time. Danny wants to go to California, I’ve been thinking about moving down to Florida—”

“Oh, you have, have you?” John’s face gets red.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Liam says.

“I’m not.”

“Well, maybe you should be,” Liam says. “Get out, get a nice new house down by the shore, sit out on the patio, play with your grandkids.”

John points at Danny. “He’s taking my only grandchild to California.”

“So go with him,” Liam says.

Thanks, Liam, Danny thinks.

“Spend winters out there,” Liam says. “Or down in Florida. Or both. Whatever. You’ll have the money to be wherever you want. Mom would love it, not worrying about slipping on the ice, breaking a hip.”

“And the docks, the unions?”

“Let the Morettis have them,” Liam says.

“We just fought a war—”

“For what?” Liam asks. “A dying business? Fewer ships come in here every day. The factories are all in North Carolina or somewhere. Even if we hold on to it, it’s going to go away.”

“Your brother gave his life protecting Dogtown.”

“Dogtown doesn’t exist!” Liam says. “Jesus, old man, look around you, what do you see? Irish families walking to church Sunday mornings? Céilís, hurley games in the park? That’s in the past. It’s over. And my brother is dead.”

John goes into a sulk.

Liam turns back to Danny. “You do what you want with yours. I’m putting my dope out on the fucking street.”

“It’s a mistake, Liam,” Danny says.

Bobby Bangs pokes his head through the door. “Danny—”

“The fuck you want?” Liam asks. “Can’t you see we’re having a meeting in here?”

“It’s Cassie on the phone,” Bobby says. “She’s taking Terri to the hospital. She says it’s bad, Danny.”





Thirty-Two


Danny sloshes through the long walk from the back of the hospital lot, like he’s been doing the last three weeks. Seems like the lot is always full, day or night, it’s always hard to find a spot.

He’s tired as hell. Only left here a few hours ago to check on Ian and try to grab a little sleep.

Ned drove him back and waited in the car.

Catherine was at the apartment, the doting grandmother. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Danny said.

He looked in on Ian, sleeping peacefully, then went into his and Terri’s bedroom and lay down. He mostly tossed and turned, and when he did sleep his dreams were troubled and strange. The doctors said there was nothing more they could do for her except try to make her comfortable. He thanked them in that way you always thank doctors, even when they tell you they’re giving up.

Now Danny’s work boots sink into the slush. Ned slogs dutifully beside him. Dirty piles of snow, topped with soot left from car exhaust, have been stacked at the corners of the parking lot.