Declan tilted his head.
“What?” I said.
He eyed me. “Scary shit, that’s all.”
I started to walk backwards. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Using his hand as a visor, he shaded his eyes. “You have a plan?”
When I reached the Rover, I hopped in. “Yes. See you in an hour.”
Elle had driven the Rover once but after the first time she drove in my old man’s beat-up Porsche 964, she fell in love with it. Why, I have no idea. The black 1989 Porsche looked like it needed a shower even after it rained—the paint had no gleam left. But like my old man, something about it charmed her.
Either way, she had two options, and it hadn’t gotten by me that she was still borrowing Peyton’s car when she visited Clementine, which means she hadn’t told O’Shea about us yet. I hadn’t pressed the issue, either. And now in light of the fact that Tommy might not have been yanking my chain after all, it was probably best she didn’t tell him about me.
For now.
It would more than likely just piss him off.
But Elle had a point. She didn’t see O’Shea as a killer, so if Tommy was right, there had to be more to all of this.
I put the car in drive and took off.
The house in Dorchester Heights had belonged to my grandfather for more years than I’d been alive. With its small front porch, narrow driveway, detached garage, and side door that got used more than the front, I wondered if my old man would keep it now that Gramps wasn’t around, or sell it and move somewhere else.
Maybe even out of this godforsaken town.
Something felt different when I walked into my old man’s kitchen. The memories of what had happened here would never truly fade from my memory, but with Tommy gone, I felt like I could breathe.
A huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Not only was Elle no longer in danger—from Tommy, anyway—but my old man was free. No more mob ties that bound him.
“Pop!” I yelled, walking toward the family room, where I expected to see him horizontal on the couch watching sports highlights.
Perfectly groomed hair, wearing a pair of jeans and a Red Sox T-shirt, my old man appeared on the landing of the stairs. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
Freedom seemed to be good for him.
I raised a brow. “Came to bend your ear. Where are you going?”
His grin was wide. “At the last minute your uncle Hunter somehow snagged two tickets to opening day at Fenway.”
“Is he here? I didn’t see his car.”
My father looked at his watch. “Should be here any minute.”
“That’s awesome,” I beamed.
He was tucking in his shirt as he came down. “Do you want to come? I’m sure we can get you a ticket. The scalpers will be out in full force today.”
I plopped down on the couch. “No, I’m good. But is it okay if I hang out here?”
“Yeah, no problem. What did you want to talk about?”
Everything about him was so calm, I didn’t want to ruin that by bringing up Tommy or the threat of a possible underground gang. “Cars. I wanted to discuss cars. Elle needs to get one soon. You get your license reinstated in a couple of weeks, right?”
The smile on his face made me feel like he was going to be okay. “That’s right. May first, and you no longer have to be my driver.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s about fucking time,” I joked.
“What are you thinking?”
My brow creased.
“About a car for Elle. Any thoughts on make or model?” he asked.
Beep. Beep.
He grabbed his wallet. “That’s Hunter.”
“Go, we can talk about this later.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, there’s no rush.”
“Do you want to run out and say hi to your uncle?”
I shook my head. “No, you guys go on. I’ll catch him next time.”
My father looked at me as if he knew I was lying about something. “How about dinner tomorrow?”
“Can’t, I’m taking Elle to New York for the weekend. We won’t be back until Monday night.”
Beep. Beep.
“I think that’s a great idea. The last couple of weeks have been difficult on us all. Relax, son, and try to have fun. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”
I gave him a nod. “Oh, hey, one more thing. What’s that guy’s name over at Tobey’s Automotive you use to tune up the Porsche?”
“Dwayne. Why, is something wrong with it?”
Beep. Beep.
“There’s a hum in the engine that sounds off. I want to see if he can look at it today before I leave.”
He was halfway out the door. “I’ll give him a call.” He glanced toward the driveway. “Where’s it at?”
“Elle’s. I drove her to work.”
His spare set of keys to the car was on the hook near the door and he grabbed it. “I’ll stop by the garage now. I’m sure he’ll be able to send someone over to her place to pick it up this morning and have it done by the end of the day.”
“That would be great.”
Beep. Beep.
“He’s an impatient motherfucker.”
“Like his younger brother.” I grinned.
My old man gave me a shake of his head and then he was out the door.
It was strange not telling him about Tommy, but there was time. I would call him once the news was released, which depending on the circumstances could be as late as next week. But for now, he could use the peace and quiet. For the first time in over twelve years he wasn’t bogged down with the life of the Blue Hill Gang, and I just wasn’t going to pull him back into all the shit. Especially with my uncle Hunter in town. He had kept his distance from that life and preferred to be kept completely out of the loop.
The remote was beside me. I clicked the television on and turned the channel to World News. Stretching my feet out on the coffee table as I caught up on what was happening in the world outside of Boston, my mind started to free itself of everything that was threatening to swallow me whole.
Just as the haze of mindlessness settled in, there was a knock on the kitchen door.
“Come in,” I called.
Keys hit the counter. “Where are you?”
“Family room.”
Miles strode in and Declan right behind him.
Declan, wearing torn jeans and leather braided bracelets, waited for me to move my feet to let him pass.
“Finally ready to do this as a team?” Miles asked, taking a seat in the chair my father always sat in.
I sat up straight. “Yeah, I am, but why do you want to help me?” I asked them both.
“That’s what friends do,” Declan said.
“I want to see justice served,” Miles replied.
“Right. A little too emotional,” I joked, then laughed.
“So what’s the plan?” Declan asked.
“Flush the Priest out.”
“How?”
I looked toward Miles. “You must know some cops looking for him.”
The grin on Miles’s face was wide. “Oh, they’re looking for him. The guys on the beat tell me they’ve definitely been hearing rumblings of emerging underground activity and they’re looking to squash it. It seems Blue Hill’s downfall is leaving the city wide open and they’re worried.”
My brows popped. “Any of them say whether it’s coming from the men in Patrick’s old crowd? The former Dorchester Heights Gang members?”
Miles crossed his leg over his knee. “Nope. The gang was small and no one has names. The only name they’ve heard on the streets is the Priest.”
Declan kicked back and put his arms behind his neck. “Let me ask my old man. He’ll remember who was involved.”
“You sure he’ll tell you?” I asked as I stood. “He’s been out of it for so long.”
“He’ll tell me.”
I gave him a nod.
“Get me the names, I’ll slide them over to the BPD and let them look into it.”
We all nodded.
Declan shifted in his seat. “Moving forward. I just don’t get why Patrick would have his own son killed unless he stood to benefit somehow. I mean, I know he’s a heartless bastard, but he kept Tommy as his number two for all this time, even through all of his fuck-ups. So why now?”