Page 65 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
“I asked about the Lev group. He mentioned he has a photo on his phone of a friend with Lev at a prime titty bar.” Declan sips his drink, looking at us all. “I told you all this. It’s why he’s coming here.”
Prime and titty bar don’t tend to go together and what kind of careless gangster poses for photos?
But this is a world where everyone documents even the smallest thing, and a group outing might garner a photo, especially if it was an up-and-up evening. Still…
“Lev just posed, and this Mitchell just happens to have a photo of him?” I ask, staring at the wedding band that both melds into my finger and stands out—at least in my mind—among my other rings. “Sounds convenient to me.”
Dec glares. “I don’t know if it’stheLev oraLev, but there’s a Lev. He did say he knew some people who’d joined the Lev group, but it wasn’t like they had a base.”
“Rebels, meeting in basements and the backs of bars or wherever they can.” Torin frowns. “Homegrown rebels sounds grassroots. The type not to have Semtex.”
“If they’re made up of lots of different people who want changes, then…” I shrug. “They could have an expert.”
“One who’d cover their tracks a little better. Didn’t you say the build was Irish?” Cal asks, leaning against the wall.
“I’ve seen things like that before. The heavy hitters, professional shit at home. It’s like… homegrown got a college degree but wanted to pay homage to their roots. There’s always a tell,” I say, stretching my hand where I grazed my knuckles on someone’s teeth earlier.
It was a run-of-the-mill altercation, a gang pressuring a small family-run business that operates on our land. They didn’t call, mind you. They pay us, but for some reason, didn’t call us.
It took a criminal who ran drugs in another nearby store to make the call.
And it pissed us off.
The family didn’t call because people like them don’t. They pay on time for protection, because it’s how things are done, and they don’t cause trouble. Nice people, small and easily picked on.
They get a discount. We don’t need the money, but we also don’t do shit for free. That gets out and encourages asshole behavior.
The gang won’t be back but this guy, Mitchell, mentioned Lev, just like Dec said. And then he went on to say a Hank Kerry came in to get some merchandise and mentioned he was meeting someone named Lev at Camilla Fine Italian while he was on the phone.
And he apparently has a picture.
He told Declan all of that. And said he’d give us the picture of this Lev, too.
If he could find it.
Mitchell is a dude who knows people. The low-life criminals always do.
Which is why I want him to hurry up, so I have an idea of who to look for at Camilla’s with my hateful wife in… I look at my watch… twenty minutes.
“So you think whoever built the bomb’s Irish?” Torin asks.
“Or learned from someone Irish.” I take a swallow of my drink as Dec crashes down on the sofa.
Cal raises an eyebrow at me. “A specific kind of Irish, you mean.”
“Da’s friends had a certain way of building, you know that. I was young, but I saw them work. I watched and learned. I might not be able to build some of them, but I know each maker has a quirk, a tell. Sort of like a signature. Like I can tell if someone’s learned to make bombs like me or like Liam back home.”
“Or Paddy,” he says.
I nod. “Or Paddy.”
He sighs, then rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “This isn’t our fight,” he warns.
“But it could be.” I slap a hand on my thigh. “It’s worth looking into who’s who. And I think we should have done it from the start.”
Cal’s look is sharp. “Do you now? We poke too hard and things awaken.”
“Walk carefully and carry a big stick,” I mutter.
