He frowned down into his empty glass and shifted on the uncomfortable piece of furniture. He found it hard to stay in the present conversation when there were so many more daunting things to worry about. Barry had phoned earlier with more news of Gino Gallo strong-arming Moloney’s clients into doing business. As if the Italians weren’t enough, Tristan and Josie were longtime thorns in his side.
The girl knew secrets that could surely bring down his whole operation. Her father, Earl, had been stupid enough to go to the feds, and now she would pay for his mistake. When Moloney’s men had kidnapped and held the chief and his daughter, she’d been a witness to their rather archaic torture methods. For days, they poked, prodded, burned, and bled that man, asking questions about what he’d told the feds. Josie had screamed and begged them to stop, but they were machines, immune to a child’s pleas. Eventually, they got all the information they needed. Moloney shot and killed Earl Delaune himself, in front of his daughter. With a quick warning that she was next and instructions to his men to finish her off, he’d left the Brooklyn warehouse and boarded a plane for home.
It wasn’t until eight years later that Moloney found out his men had failed in New York. One of those bastards had drunkenly confessed to Barry that the girl had escaped. Even though there was an official report from the NYPD that the girl’s body was recovered three days later in a subway terminal, he knew better. His gut told him so. He suspected that the FBI connected her to him and hid her away. He’d never been so angry to be right.
Once he was rid of Tristan and the girl, there would be nothing stopping him from crushing the Italians and solidifying his reign in New Orleans. He would not be run out of town by these greasy Wops, he thought.
“And then Myrtle confessed to sabotaging Sally’s flowerbeds!” his mother-in-law exclaimed.
Moloney smirked, knowing it was time for such insincere actions.
“We really should be going,” he announced.
There were hugs all around as he nodded for Frank to fetch the car. Moloney held Jane’s coat as she slid her arms inside. She kissed her mother’s cheek with a smile and promised to return soon.
As the couple stepped outside into the cold air, Frank pressed the automatic start on the car. The heater would warm the interior before they’d even entered. It was the small luxuries that Moloney appreciated, things his poor and meager parents never knew.
When the electronic signal left Frank’s hand and reached the car, a spark shot through a device attached to the undercarriage. A loud explosion rang in their ears as fire and smoke engulfed the car.
Moloney hovered over his wife, protecting her from debris, as she screamed into his shoulder.
“I’ll call the police,” his mother-in-law shouted.
“No,” Moloney answered.
The harshness of his retort left her frozen on the front stoop. Though she was not used to taking orders, she knew not to disregard this man. He was dangerous. If it were not for his undeniable love for her daughter, she would have turned him over long ago.
“What happened?” Jane asked, panic making her voice falter.
The red-orange flames reflected in his eyes and he could utter only two words.
“Gino Gallo.”
16. Far Side
The side of the moon that is not visible.
Mort sat on his front stoop, staring up at the few stars visible above the nighttime city lights. His leg bounced nervously as he flipped his cell phone over in his hands, staring at it for the answers to silent questions. He remembered when he was a kid, he’d had a Magic 8 Ball. All you had to do was ask a question, shake it up, and wait for your answer to appear in the small liquid-filled window. If only life were still that simple.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he decided to suck it up and make the call. Mort knew that when it came to Dean Moloney, if your information was important enough, it didn’t matter the time.
“Moloney.”
“I’ll have the girl within the week.”
“Excellent,” Moloney answered firmly.
“When this job’s done, I’m out. Retired.”
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
Mort gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed.
“I’d like this to be my last job.”
“Are you joining Gallo’s crew?” Moloney asked.
“No. I wouldn’t betray you like that. I just want out.”
“I’m not sure that’s in our best interest,” Moloney answered.
“I just want to disappear,” Mort begged.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
The line went dead before Mort could continue. You don’t just declare yourself out of the business. You either die or you run. Mort wanted to avoid both. He couldn’t imagine living the rest of his existence in fear or servitude. He knew to remain cautious.
Some guys were meant for this life. They were born into it and trained to succeed. Mort had just been good at it. He was young when one of Moloney’s men had recruited him straight out of high school. Frustrated by living under the same roof as his abusive parents, he’d hauled ass and never looked back. Living on the street wasn’t easy, but it was better than living with their tyrannical rules and severe punishments. Barry had taken him in and shown him how life could be sweeter if he just pledged his allegiance to Moloney. Mort hadn’t thought twice about it. He was in.
All the promises of fat living and easy money were fulfilled, but he hadn’t been prepared for living for the job. He soon realized that his life was not his own. He was owned by Moloney and was reminded of that on a daily basis. Eventually, Earl Delaune had wangled up charges against six of Moloney’s men, Mort included, landing him in prison for a short time. He served his time quietly, fueled by anger and plans for retribution.
Years went by in the blink of an eye, and he found himself with the reputation of a heartless killer. Mort didn’t mind, though; it secured the respect of his associates and kept his enemies in check. When this job was thrown at him, he was only too happy to oblige. Not only would it supply enough money to retire with, it would allow him to carry out his vengeance on a dead man. After almost a year of digging and chasing and loathing the idea of this girl, he’d finally found her. Despite all records, McKenzi Delaune lived and breathed. Not for much longer.
17. Earthshine
Sunlight that is reflected back from Earth onto the moon.
Tristan lay in his childhood bed, his phone trapped between his cheek and pillow. Josie’s purple diary sat propped open before him.
“‘August 3, 2002. New York is like so chaotic I sometimes feel like I can’t breathe.’”
Tristan read aloud. He could hear Josie’s anxious breath over the phone.
“‘I’ve never met our neighbors, but I do know that they have a loud dog that lives there. Dad and I have made the trip to my new school a few times so that I could get comfortable with the bus and the walk. It’s a big brick building that looks nothing like Gretna High School.
“‘I probably won’t be able to make friends here. But who cares. Just three years and then I’ll head back home. I miss all the green and the trees. Central Park is the closest thing I have to home and I find myself wanting to go there all the time. I miss Tristan so much. Talking on the phone just depresses me because I can’t see him or kiss him. God, I miss kissing him. Plus, we’ve got a ten-minute time limit, so I barely have time to tell him anything! Daddy says I’ll get over it, but he’s wrong.
“‘August 8, 2002. Dad and I got into a huge fight yesterday. I cried and screamed at him and blamed him for making me miserable. I hate this city. He held me while I cried and tried to explain his reasons. He said that we’d had to move because we were in danger from a powerful man because of a case he worked on. He said that he was trying to make it all better. Later, I heard him on the phone telling someone he thinks this man was responsible for my mother’s death. I don’t understand how that’s possible when she died in a car accident. I miss her so much.