Private (Private 1)

“You have the money to pay off your debt? Because what I hear is the Mob is going to start breaking bones, your bones, Tom. That’s just before they wire up your ignition and take over your business.”

“If they kill me, they won’t get paid, will they?” Tommy said with a smirk. “Stay out of it, Jack. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“As much fun as this is, I’m butting in because of what this is going to do to Annie and Ned.”

“Yeah, I see your halo twinkling now. Doesn’t that get a little old?”

“So rather than let me help you, you’d rather be a selfish, out-of-control son of a bitch with a colossal death wish, and destroy your family in the process. That’s it, right?”

Tommy gave me a sour grin. “So what are you offering? A bridge loan if I never call my bookie again? You’re out of your mind.”

He turned and strode away from me, but I caught up with him and put my hand on his shoulder.

I had fought with Tommy so many times that I saw the roundhouse punch coming almost before he threw it.

I ducked, put my shoulder into his gut, and knocked him down. We both hit the pavement, but my fall was cushioned by the paunchy body of my well-fed twin.

He got an arm free and tried to get me into a headlock, but I rolled him over and hiked his right arm behind his back. Then I got his wrist up between his shoulder blades.

“Owww. Listen, stupid,” he grunted. “Any of my guys see you doing this, they’ll pound your head to a pulp. I won’t stop ’em either.”

“I’m taking you somewhere,” I said. “And you’re going to come with me and be a good sport about it.”

“You’re crazy. Owww.”

“I’m the best chance you have, asshole. Always have been.”

“Bastard,” he grunted. “I wish you were dead.”

It came to me in a flash. How had I not seen this—or had I just blocked out the obvious? “You’ve been calling me, haven’t you, Tommy? Day and night, calling me and wishing me dead.”

“What? Ow, damn it. Never. I never fucking call you, you fuck.” And then the starch went out of him and he started to cry. “The bastards killed my dog.”

“Who? Who did that? Your dog? Ned’s dog?”

“Boys from the Mob.”

I said, “Okay. I’m sorry, Tom. I’m letting you up now. Don’t fight me, okay?”

“You want me to say thank you? Don’t hold your breath.”

“I want you to come with me—and don’t give me any trouble.”

“Fine. Whatever you want.”

I didn’t let him up just yet.

“Pinkie swear?” I said, looping my left pinkie around his. It took a couple of seconds, but then he squeezed my finger.

“Pinkie fucking swear,” he said.

Chapter 35

MARGUERITE ESPERANZA TOLD her grandmama she’d be back in a few minutes, all right? She let the screen door slam behind her as she left the small brown stucco house with the red tile roof on St. George Street, a five-minute walk to the video store, where she’d gone a hundred thousand times before.

She was listening to her iPod as she turned onto Rowena. The four-laner was bright with storefronts: Pizza Hut, Blockbuster, Sushi-to-Go. Busy and totally safe.

No problems