City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)(95)

Cousineau’s head explodes in a blossom of red.

Ned stands in the doorway and lowers his gun. Then he goes and steps on the smoldering blanket, grinding his foot to put out the last of the flames. He walks over to Scalese, who sits slumped against the wall, grabs him by the chin and the back of his head, and twists, snapping his neck.

Then he helps Marty up.

“You took your goddamn time,” Marty says.

“Sorry, Mr. Ryan.”

Then headlights flash across the window.



“Where’s Ian?” Danny asks.

“Asleep in the car,” Ned says. “I didn’t want to wake him up.”

Danny recognizes the bodies, two of Moretti’s people.

Used to be, anyway.

“They wanted to know where the dope was,” Marty says.

“They what?”

“Are you deaf?” Marty says. “They wanted to know where the dope was, or where you were.”

But Peter Moretti already knows where the dope is, Danny thinks, because Jardine would have told him.

Or not.

Jesus, is Jardine ripping Peter off, too? Used him to bring in forty kilos of heroin, get it stolen with the promise that he’d get it back, and then ultimately steals it himself?

Almost, Danny thinks, but not quite.

There’s a piece missing.

It was Vecchio who came to you about the heroin, who set you up. But Frankie V was Chris’s guy, he wouldn’t blow his nose without getting the okay from Chris. So it’s Chris who put this together, who’s partnered up with Jardine.

This is Chris Palumbo’s move to shove Peter off the throne and take it himself.

It’s freakin’ genius.

The Altar Boys show up a minute later. Kevin looks at the bodies and says, “Party time.”

“You want us to take out the garbage, boss?” Sean asks.

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ll come back and clean the place up,” Sean says.

“Don’t bother,” Danny says. “We’re leaving.”

They’re all looking at him, waiting for orders.

Because you’re the leader now, Danny thinks. Everything is fucked, everything is gone, everyone’s lost, and they’re looking to you to save them.

So save them.





Thirty-Three


Danny sits in the stash house.

Headlights flash outside. More than one set.

Car engines stop.

He calls Bernie Hughes. “Start the clock.”

Then he hangs up.

The door opens.

It’s Chris.

Danny doesn’t get out of his chair, just points the gun at Chris’s chest and gestures for him to sit down.

Chris sits, a broad smile on his face.

“You won the war,” Danny says. “I’m taking what’s left of my people and leaving for good.”

“You’re not leaving with the dope,” Chris says. “Is it still here?”

Danny gestures to the ceiling.

“I’ve always liked you,” Chris says, “so I’m going to give you a break here. I’m going to let you walk away. Without the dope, but with your life.”

Two years ago, two months ago—hell, two hours ago—Danny would have taken the deal.

But that was a different Danny.

This one has a father to take care of, a kid to raise, people to look after. And a promise he made to his wife. So he says, “No.”

Chris says, “You think I came alone? I got five guys outside. You pull that trigger, you’re dead. You step outside without me giving the green light, you’re dead. So come on, let’s be adults here, let’s be men.”

“Let me ask you something, Chris,” Danny says. “You love your wife and kids? You love your family?”

“What the fuck, Danny?”

“Because right now,” Danny says, “Sean South is in a phone booth near your brother’s house in Cranston. Kevin Coombs is in one across the street from your son’s apartment on Federal Hill. Ned Egan is by your house, where your wife and daughter are. If I don’t call Bernie Hughes in fifteen minutes telling him I’m safe—using certain words you won’t know—he’ll call them and they will each go into those houses and kill everyone inside. The men, the women, the kids, the cats, the dogs. Hell, they’ll even kill the tropical fish.”

Chris goes pale. But he keeps the smile on his face and says, “You wouldn’t do that. We don’t touch families.”

“You want to bet their lives on that?” Danny asks.

“No, not Danny Ryan,” Chris says. “You’re a good guy. You’re too soft.”

“But it won’t be me,” Danny says. “Kevin and Sean would kill their own mothers. And Ned Egan? He won’t think twice.”

Danny sees it in Chris’s eyes. He knows it’s true. But Chris, being Chris, tries another tack. “I got this fed Jardine to take care of. What am I gonna do?”

“Leave him to me,” Danny says. “But you took a swing at Peter and missed. If I was you, I’d run.”

Danny sees Chris thinking about it, really thinking about it. Trying to weigh up if Danny’s bluffing, or if he can get guys to his family’s houses in time. He needs a little nudge, so Danny says, “You’d better get going. Clock’s running. And Chris? If I see you, if I see any of your people, your family’s dead. Every one of them. Please don’t test me on this.”