Page 37 of Hustle

“What do you want in return?” I ask.

“Just a kiss, Evi.” He points at his cheek. He smiles at my bristling. “Come on now. Seamus won’t be mad. It’s a fair payment for your life’s work.”

I didn’t trust him, but I had no choice. I leaned over and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek.

“Just like the Virgin Mary,” He says, smiling and pressing his hands together in prayer. “We’re going to need you to sign over your shop to us too.”

Between the value of the land and the money I’m raking in? That’d be a pretty penny for the Carneys. Greedy bastards.

I straighten up. “No fucking way, Finn. The whole point is saving my shop!”

“You’ll still be a partner,” he says, waving a hand at me. “I told you long legal maneuverings will only delay the inevitable. This block is getting demolished. But you’ve been a thorn in the Stacys’ side. My brothers and I can convince them to incorporate your shop into their new condos. Even your loft. Easily.” He grins at me and it’s unsettling. “We’re just great at convincing people of things.”

“But I want the whole block to survive,” I murmur, sitting again.

“Tsk, I know, love, and I wish we could help each and every one of the sad sacks here, but they probably should take the money and run. A hip tattoo shop run by an artist featured nationally in magazines and locally in our biggest museums is a fine investment. Not a pizza joint that frankly,” he pauses and looks up at the wood beams in the ceiling, “could catch on fire any time.”

“Finn…”

“These old buildings are tinder boxes, love. Better you partner with us. We’ll keep you right safe where you are.” He pulls his legs toward him and stands up. “You have until the end of the week to decide, Evi. After that,” he pauses, and then shrugs. “Okay, darlin’, tell Seamus I said hi.” With a wink, he’s out of my shop, and heading off into the dark night.

I shut off the lights and climb upstairs to my loft, exhausted. I knew there’d be a price with the Carneys, but not like this. I was foolish to think they’d be able to kneecap the Stacys into submission.

Maybe the hit offer for my father would be redeemable on the mayor and his brother? I laugh bitterly, flopping on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I didn’t want to betray the Santuccis, or my shop. I couldn’t live with myself. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try every avenue to save my shop, either. It’s all I have.

A quiet voice in my head reminds me that I also have Seamus.

“Not after tonight,” I murmur. God, he’ll be so mad if he finds out what I’ve done. What I plan to do. The rivalry between the Carneys and the Doyles goes way back. And where the Doyles had mostly gone straight? You definitely can’t say the same about the Carneys, no matter how much they use flash and money to hide their dark shit.

Seamus would never forgive me for choosing the Carneys over his family. Especially after everything they’d done for me. After everything he’s done for me. But that’s why I need to find other ways to get my dirty work done. Seamus Doyle is no angel, but he’s a good, kind man who’d do not-so-good things to protect me.

And that’s something I could never forgive myself for.

I run my hands over the soft satin of the comforter, and Hank, deciding it’s a game, tries to attack my fingers. I pick him up and hug him to my chest. He struggles for a moment, but then begins to purr, angrily. I release him, hoping he’ll stay, but he scrambles away, running rapidly from room to room. I jump up and grab my keys, throwing them into my bag. I can’t stand feeling trapped like this. I run out of my loft and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I feel like I’m suffocating. Seamus, my shop, and now Finn. It’s all too much. I dash off toward the pub. Maybe I’ll get in a fight tonight.

12

Seamus

“We’ll find it, Seamus,” Julia says, nodding fiercely. She’s the legal librarian at the Boston Public Library, sharp as a whip and funny as hell. She’s seen through my polish and charm since day one. With anyone else it would’ve been a problem for me, but not with Julia. I have dinner with her and her wife at least twice a month, and we share stories from the trenches. Hers are nearly always more interesting, like the time someone had returned a book during final exam season with a hamburger patty in it.

“No bun, no cheese, just the meat,” she’d said, laughing. “I always wonder if they found their bookmark between the buns later and was like ‘what the fuck’?”

I knew Julia could find the records Stacy was hiding. There are always more copies. I thank her and exit the exquisite building into Copley Square. I decide to walk to my office, since it’s such a pleasant day. It’s a little over a mile, and I’m halfway there when my phone rings. It’s my brother.

“Hey, Kieran, is Dad okay?” Kieran isn’t much of a phone guy, so I’m concerned.

“Same,” Kieran answers. “But he wants me to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” I ask, stepping over a pile of trash that has accumulated in a dip in the sidewalk.

“Evi’s talking to the Carneys. She met with Finn the other night.”

I stop walking, and the person behind me swears at me, nearly bumping into my back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap. “Jesus. What a fucking stupid thing to do.”

Kieran’s quiet for a moment, as if he was going to lecture me, but hearing the anger in my voice stops him in his tracks.

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