He started to say something else, but I disconnected. Almost immediately, the cell phone began to chime. Freddy calling back.
The bastard must really be desperate to off me. Wasn’t he going to be pissed when it got out that I hadn’t killed Sofia? Guess he could keep his fucking money.
I sent the call to voice mail, then dialed my brother Declan’s number from memory. Declan was a year and a half younger than me but definitely a middle child, just like I was. Smart, though. Tough, too. He got his start running illegal street fights and boxing matches in Queens and did some bookie stuff, running numbers. But he’d moved out of those rackets eventually. Now he was into high-tech stuff, cyber crime, identity theft, corporate malware and espionage, and shit like that. He claimed it was safer because no one got hurt on a computer.
Declan answered after the first ring. “Who is this?”
His rough, gravelly voice made me grin. “It’s your fucking brother, you ugly son of a bitch.”
“Which brother? I’ve got two, and both of them are idiots.”
“The good-looking one. Does that clear it up?”
“Nope. And someday that big head of yours is going to tip you off your horse and onto your ass, big bro.”
“For once in your life, you might be right.” Damn, it was good to talk to him. I hadn’t seen him in almost a month—not since the last time we’d all gone over to Mom’s place in Clark. But I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “I have a little problem.”
“Howlittle?”
“Fucking huge little.”
“Beautiful, Leon. No wonder I drink. So, can we talk about it over the phone?”
“No. And I need somewhere safe to lie low. With a plus one.”
“JaysusJacob Christ on a xylophone,” Declan said, playing up the Irish accent we didn’t have. We were born in the Bronx. “Is it a girl problem?”
“You could say that.”
“Pregnant?”
“Not exactly.”
“Is she crazy? Like, did you stick your dick in crazy and now crazy wants to kill you?”
“Classy as ever, Declan.”
“Avoiding the question is never a good sign.”
“No, she’s not crazy.” She seemed pretty well put together, in fact. Even I had to admit that it had been a rough night for her. She was terrified of me, and who the hell could blame her? I’d shoved a gun in her face and kidnapped her. Then there was my winning personality. No wonder she hated my guts.
The weird thing about it was that I struggled to hate her back. I should. Sofia was the daughter of a man I would’ve happily murdered, so I should be perfectly fine hating her and her damn luxury penthouse and college life and all kinds of shit I’d never had.
But I was done bitching about that. Giovanni Accardo was untouchable, even for a talented guy like me. I was never going to get revenge for my brother’s murder. I hated that, but I’d had to live with it for years. I’d come to terms with it. Until I looked into Sofia’s eyes and it dredged up all the old feelings, the old pain.
“Is this serious, man?” Declan asked, dropping the usual hard time we gave each other.
“I’m in trouble. I don’t want to say more.” What would he say if I told him I’d kidnapped the daughter of Giovanni Accardo so that I didn’t have to kill her? Did that make me a hero, a monster, or a coward for not avenging Cal?
“All right,” Declan said, blowing out a long breath. “If it’s really that bad, why don’t you hide out at Mom’s place? I’ll call Ryan and we can meet you there. Sort out your next move.”
“I don’t want to drag Mum into this shit.”
Us three remaining MacCarrick brothers had been careful to keep our mother insulated from our criminal life. Mama MacCarrick was not a dumb woman. She knew her boys were involved in shady things. She understood that being involved in the game was the reason Cal had been killed. All three of us knew she was afraid something bad would happen to another of her boys.
As a good Catholic, she didn’t approve, of course. But she was also a pragmatist. Times had always been hard. Especially on her. Our father died in a drunk driving accident when we were kids. And by “accident,” I meant that our drunk dad rammed his Buick LeSabre into the support pillar of a bridge while sporting a blood alcohol level so high it would’ve pickled a frog.
“All right,” Declan replied. “But even if you don’t stay, why don’t you meet me at Mom’s tomorrow. Trouble from New York isn’t going to chase you into New Jersey.”
