Page 10 of Dagger in the Sea

“Go on.” My mother’s fingers ruffled quickly through my hair, but she didn’t meet my gaze. She disappeared down the long hallway that led to her bedroom.

I lumbered up to my room upstairs and fell back onto my perfectly made bed and stared at the ceiling, willing the sickening churn of my stomach to cease, for my thoughts to numb. I was good at that. Very good.

When I was in high school my mother and her new husband were featured in the pages ofTown & Country Magazinesitting in their newly purchased penthouse apartment remodeled by a top architect and interior decorator. I read the article. Even though she’d recently gotten married, the new Mrs. Cavanaugh Bradley managed to transform her father’s company and lead it to the top of the heap in Chicago. She was a businesswoman to admire, a role model for all young women, a new generation of entrepreneur. Erin Cavanaugh Bradley knew how to balance her career and personal life.

She sure did.

I wasn’t included in the photos in the magazine, nor was I mentioned in the article. Eventually my mother’s uptightness about having an illegitimate child eased, and once I got to college, she’d begun to introduce me as her son without explanation. But that day at school, I’d thrown the magazine into a trash can and lit it on fire on my way to Lacrosse practice.

That day the coach ousted me from the field for excessive aggression, and I was barred from playing in the next match. They should have ousted me for the rest of the season, but the fuckers couldn’t do that. Not only was my grandfather a star alumnus, I was the Captain of the team and we were in the playoffs for the cup; they needed me. My mother was informed, and she expressed her deep disappointment in my behavior. But it was my grandfather who flew out to see me. He always made time for me, but I knew for him to fly all the way out to Massachusetts for the day from his golf vacation in Florida was a huge deal.

“You have to learn the art of self control, Arthur,” he said. “Take this time and use it wisely. Regroup and prepare yourself, and when you have the privilege to be back out on that field, you do what needs to get done. I have every confidence that you know what that is and that you will accomplish what you set out to do. Remember, actions always speak louder than words, that’s what remains in people’s minds—what you do, how you react, the choices you make. The rest is hot air. You show them all what you’re made of. You show them who you are.”

My pulse raced at his words. “Yes sir, I will.”

“Good.” He hugged me. “Your grandmother and I will be coming to see you play in the finals.”

“You are?”

“Yes, we are. And we’re bringing your mother too. See you then.”

“See you then, Grandpa.”

In the weeks that followed, I released my steam on the track, in the swimming pool, and in the weight room every day until I was allowed to play again.

We got to the Final and we won that goddamn title.

3

Turo

I droveover to the Boss’s house in Oak Brook. I’d called ahead, of course, and he said to stop by. I wanted to discuss my mother with him right away. Alone. This could get messy very fast. It already had gotten messy, and I was the one playing fucking catch up.

The timing sucked. I had good news to share with him. News I’d been sitting on for a while now, waiting for the right time to impress the fuck out of him.

The housekeeper opened the door, and told me to go on to his office, but unfortunately, I encountered his son in the hallway.

Valerio glared at me, scaling me like a fish with a sharp scrape of his eyes. “Look who it is. I have a question for you, Turo.”

“Call me. Make an appointment.”

“Did you kill that biker?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” Of course I knew what he was talking about, because, a week ago I’d killed Med McGuire, a meth-making bike club president from Kansas. His was the type of outlaw bike club you didn’t fuck with. The Smoking Guns were a huge criminal organization that worked for the Tantucci family, our historical enemies on the landscape of Chicago and the Midwest.

I’d killed Med because he was a vital resource for the Tantuccis drug trade. But I enjoyed killing him because he deserved it for what he’d done, for his brutality. Me, the avenging angel.

Valerio leaned into me. “I’m going to feed you to the Tantuccis for this.”

“Excuse me?”

A slight smile flickered on his lips. “You used to be a useful tool, DeMarco.”

A tool. That summed it up in the Outfit, didn’t it? A network of useful tools. Actually, my parents had taught me that first. In their own ways both of them had gotten me to do their bidding, yet always kept me at arm’s length, dangling their carrots in my face to keep me at it. The rewards had once seemed so damned promising. Glittering.

Artificial starlight.

I was thirty-three, yet that lesson from some ten years back still stung fresh in my veins. Working for Mauro had given me the agency to break out of Erin’s treasured mold. But Mauro wasn’t simply the “other side” of the life that I’d been raised in. He was the underside.

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