So sorry, piggy, piggy.
Have someone else put some slop in your trough for once.
Because this time it’s not gonna be me.
Chapter Twelve
~Connie~
The meeting spot for the Braithreachas was on the south side of the city. Hidden away from streets was an abandoned plastics factory that Connie had purchased in his prime. Several of the red bricks on the building were cracked. Some of the windows too. And of course Connie was smart enough to put the building in someone’s name other than his own. He left no trails for the feds and according to his wingman Aidan, they were back in town.
Connie was, and had always been a man of prompt order. He liked these meetings, these sit downs, to operate on schedule and hated when that schedule became disorganized. He sat at his desk in his office, an area behind the meeting room, cutting lines of coke on a
square piece of glass. His supplier had just gifted him with a new product, and his supplier had promised him it would be even more potent than the last batch he was given. Connie’s lips turned up into a wide grin. More potent coke meant the customers would be willing to pay more money for it.
Aidan peeked his head through the door and Connie continued cutting lines, only lifting his eyes to meet Aidan’s. “Everyone is here except Sean, boss.”
“We’ll wait until he gets here then,” Connie growled then bent down, twisting a dollar bill between his fingers to do a line. He threw his head back and let the glorious stimulant cascade down the back of his throat then he rubbed his finger against the mirror, wiping away some of the excess before massaging his gums with it. “Any word on the fed situation?”
Aidan had been a police officer before he left Ireland so anytime Connie needed inside information on how the law operated he turned to his wingman to investigate. Plus, Connie had a few arrest records to be proud of himself. Of course, the charges were minor. He’d never been arrested on anything more than possession. And although the local cops could have looked into Connie’s business further, they didn’t because they were on his pay roll.
But the feds…
The feds were a different story and could not be swayed with 5k here and there. The feds simply weren’t bribe-able.
Aidan slid through the door and closed it. “Aye, boss. They’ve been sniffing,” Aidan commented, matter of factly.
Connie shoved the window of coke aside and folded his arms on top of his oak desk. “Sniffing?” He leaned back in his black leather reclining chair, forefinger and thumb on his chin. “And have you been sniffing too?”
Aidan nodded. “They haven’t got anything. But I do think it would be a smart idea to pull some of the runners back. Just for now. Until the feds ease up.”
That would be if they ever eased up.
Connie pondered the idea, but then again he like his money. And if he pulled the runners back from the streets they worked then he wouldn’t see green for a while.
There was a constant turf war that had been going on on the streets for some time now between the Italians and Puerto Ricans. Connie knew the minute he pulled his guys back would be the day one of the rivals would try and take over his turf. “I think I’ll keep the runners out there. If they’re stupid enough to get themselves arrested, that’s their own damn fault.” Aidan nodded again. To Connie, most of the members of the brotherhood were disposable. Like a piece of plastic being tossed into a wastebasket or trash bag on the curb. If one of his runners got locked up, or worse wound up dead, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he found a quick replacement.
Connie’s eyes shifted to the clock hanging on the wall. The boy-o was fifteen minutes late. He could hear a few muffled, excited voices bleed through his closed door and he knew that Sean had arrived. The members of the brotherhood looked up to him. Respected him. Connie knew as the years passed just how right he had been in going to the boy after his mother died. He was a natural leader. And eventually he’d take the organization to the next level.
With that, the leader of the Braithreachas Don Saol stood, grabbed the cocain from the edge of his desk, and walked to the door of his office. Aidan caught him by the arm before he made his exit. “Boss?”
Connie’s eyes bored into the emerald isles of Aidan’s eyes. “Yes, Aidan.”
Aidan scanned his face, a hard edge in his eyes. “Something tells me that the feds might be here because there’s a rat in our midst.”
Connie smiled. He had thought of this too. It wouldn’t be the first time. He patted Aidan’s forearm and said, “Aidan, you know what we do with rats.” Aidan gave him a slight nod then pressed his lips into a straight line.
Yes, everyone knew what Connor Doyle did with rats if he caught them. And sadly, catching rats didn’t involve putting them back in their cages.
Chapter Thirteen
~Sean~
The first time I attended a sit down, I was eight years old.
I walked in with my da and sadly, I was the only Reilly man to walk out.
Except I wasn’t a man yet, and even though I didn’t see him die I always suspected that Connie had something to do with it. I remember mentioning it to Ma and she replied with, “Don’t you go accusing anybody of anything Sean Patrick Reilly when you don’t have proof.”