The Untouchables (42 page)

I didn’t even have time to blink. She threw herself off the platform, and her body disappeared as the train swept it down the tunnel, screeching as it tried to stop.

“Fuck.”

THIRTY-SIX

“Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.”

—
William Shakespeare

OLIVIA

There were certain guidelines that all politicians and their families followed. It only had three basic rules:

First: at some point there will be a chance to get ahead. Take it and never look back.

Second: people will talk, make sure you control what they talk about.

Third: always be willing to cut off the head of your enemies, especially when they’re on their knees.

“Neal,” I whispered, walking up behind him.

He didn’t look at me, he didn’t even speak. He just drank, as he stared at the sun as it set over the tree line in his brother’s office.

“Adriana committed suicide. Liam went to see her, and she just jumped. No one knows who she is though, so she only got a few minutes of air time before they went back to covering Saint Melody—”

“Olivia, our sister-in-law was kidnapped,” Neal said. “You can hold your vitriol for when she comes back.”

“Neal, the shit has already hit the fan and Liam is too blind to see it.” When would he start being the man I knew he was? “They are calling in the fucking FBI. In a few hours, some of the baddest Italian bosses are meeting to bring down this family. What were you saying about Roy? He’s not paying full price anymore? Neal, step up. If not for me, then for Liam. He needs you to have his back. We don’t know who to trust, but we’re family, and until Mel gets back, we can’t just wait to be moved around like chess pieces. Get in the chair and lead, or we will be pushed off the cliff.”

I could see it in his eyes: that willingness to die for his brother. But there was also that hunger to lead, to be the Ceann Na Conairte.

“How did you know about the meeting?”

“Nobody pays any attention to Malibu Barbie,” I said, sitting on the desk. “The question is, what are you going to do?”

He eyed me carefully.

“Neal.”

“I’ll let him deal with that. The very first thing we need to worry about is keeping Roy and the rest of the small fish in line. The election is in a few days. How’s your father doing in the polls?”

And just like that, he was a whole different person.

“His win will cast a small shadow on Melody. We’re thinking if she isn’t found by then, we will make an announcement.”

“Hopefully, she’ll be back by then. This much attention on the family isn’t good.”

“Hopefully.” Or not. “Do you have a distraction in mind?”

He sat down, relaxing into
his
chair. “No. But I’m forming one.”

“Well,” I jumped off the desk, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. If you need me, I’m going to go spend time with Ethan.”

“How is he?”

“Perfect in every way. He doesn’t know anything is wrong, and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t miss any maternal love.”

He kissed my palm. “Don’t get too attached, baby. Liam’s going to keep him all to himself, and when Mel gets back, I wouldn’t be surprised if they took off for a while after all this shit.”

No. No one was taking Ethan from me. He was happy and I was going to make sure he stayed that way.

“Of course. Now get to work. I’m serious. I’m sure we’re bleeding money. At least this is one thing Liam will be happy to get off his plate.” Kissing his cheek, I left him. Stepping out of the office, I called the only person I knew would take the bait…after all, he’d taken it once before.

“Hello, Officer Scooter speaking.”

“Liam Callahan killed his wife.”

“I’m sorry, what? Hello? How did you know? Hello? Please, repeat that?”

Hanging up, I pulled the sim card out of the phone before snapping it in half. I walked into the blue and green nursery, and there he was, in his little white crib reaching up for the star mobile.

“There’s my boy. Who woke you up, huh?”

He spit up bubbles, as he looked up at me. It was amazing how much love was in his tiny body. Lifting him into my arms, I found myself drifting towards the window. Liam had been so paranoid he had placed bars on it.

“Your daddy is crazy. But don’t worry, he’s going to go away for a while, I promise.”

Neal was going to be Ceann Na Conairte.

My father was going to be president.

And I would take care of him.

Of all of them.

THIRTY-SEVEN

“Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life.”

—
J.R.R. Tolkien

SCOOTER

I didn’t understand why everyone was so damn scared. We got him. We fuck’en got him. I knew something wasn’t right. The man was hiding something and now I knew what it was. He was a bigger monster than I thought. I knew he was behind countless murders, but to kill his own fucking wife?

“It’s not enough,” The Captain said. I threw the folder on his desk, the document I had spent hours building.

“Sir—”

“It ain’t enough, Scooter.”

“Bullshit!”

“Officer…”

“No! I’m tired of this shit. Everyone is so fucking scared of these assholes that they turn a blind eye.” Pulling off my badge, I threw it onto his desk. “Take it. Are you in their pockets too? Or are you like the rest of these moral-lacking pieces of shit scattered in this city?”

He rose from his chair so quickly it crashed into the blinds behind him. “Have you lost your damn mind? Do you hear yourself? I have half a mind to kick you off this force anyway.”

“Go ahead! It ain’t like we do shit. I just told you two of his previous girlfriends ended up dead. Natasha Briar’s body was found naked in a ditch. Now his wife is missing and the man has been hiding something from day one! We got a call, a recorded call saying Liam Callahan killed his wife.”

“Scooter, all you have is circumstantial evidence.”

“Since when did we fucking need more? We’ve been trying for years to get this fucker and now here’s our chance. Be the man this city needs. Step up, for the love of God. Make those bastards pay!” He looked at me before looking at the folder on his desk. Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head and turned back to the window.

“Sir.”

“Get some rest, Scooter. We go after him in the morning. I’ll get the warrant. It’s going to take a while to find a judge that will willingly get in on this.”

I wanted to go now, but I knew he was right. The last judge that spoke out against the Callahans ended up hanging from a bridge. Although, once again, no one could pin it on them.

“This is right, Captain. We’re doin’ the right thing. I know it.”

He didn’t look at me. “Be here by 7:00 a.m. Go home, kiss your wife, and prepare yourself.”

He made it seem as if we were going to a war, an all-out battle. But I had studied the Callahans for years. They were all about their public image; they wouldn’t do anything that would cause them to look anything less than perfect. They worked in the shadows and now they were about to meet the sun. Walking out of his office, I didn’t bother making eye contact with anyone.

That didn’t stop my partner from coming up to me. “What was that about?” Beau asked, grabbing the file off his desk.

I wanted to trust him, but I didn’t know if I could. “Nothing, the boss man was just laying one into me again for talking to the Callahans.”

“I told you.” He sighed. “Just keep your head up, okay? Don’t let it get to you.”

“Yea, thanks. I’m going to head out.” I didn’t wait. Grabbing my keys, I left the station as more officers came in. Everyone had been working around the clock to find Mrs. Callahan. It felt like there were more people searching for her than there were looking for the President’s killer. If she had only listened to me. I had thought she was in on it, in whatever operation they had going. But she was nothing but another victim. So many casualties, all so they could make money—blood money. The moment I sat in my pickup, my phone rang and I already knew who it was.

“Scooter.”

“Hey,” she whispered, “are you coming home soon?”

Sighing, I brushed my hair back, staring at the phone in my hand. “I’m sorry, the Captain’s making us work late on the Callahan case. I’m going to sleep at the station if I get a chance. It’s crazy here.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m just heading to bed. I just wanted to make sure. I love you.”

“Yeah, goodnight. Lock the door,” I replied before hanging up. I sat there for a moment then threw the phone against the dashboard.

“Fuck!” Even knowing I was wrong, I couldn’t stop myself. I still drove to Englewood to see her.

The city was bad, but there was no place that was worse than Englewood. The moment I crossed the bridge, all I could see were run-down apartments with boarded windows and stripped cars. If you left your car for too long, you wouldn’t be able to find it when you needed to. I parked in front the liquor store before walking down to her apartment with my head held high. The men sitting on the stoops didn’t bother with me. They knew I was a cop, but they also knew I had grown up here.

Apartment B-24. My childhood home, and even though my mother was gone, I couldn’t just let it go.

“Coming, baby!” a voice yelled through the door after I knocked.

When she opened it, her red hair was dripping from the shower she must have just taken. She smiled at me. “Well, look who it is.”

“Do you have a client tonight?”

“I thought you got me the place so I ain’t have to work so much.”

“Good, cuz I feel like celebrating. I’m finally taking those fuckers down.”

Her eyes widened as she opened the door from me. “Then let’s celebrate, baby.”

Part of me felt bad, but that was eclipsed by the thought of getting Callahan.

Finally.

THIRTY-EIGHT

“Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.”

—
Isaiah Berlin

LIAM

I needed to see my son. I hated being away from him for so long. It had only been two hours, but a lot can happen in that short amount of time…like your wife could be kidnapped from her hospital room. I had to make it fucking clear that this was not the time for people to be plotting against me in Italian restaurants. In fact, there was never a fucking time for that shit. Declan opened the door for me and the wind blew harshly around us. I knew he was ready to back me up, but I neither needed nor wanted him to.

“Declan, wait out back in case someone decides to run,” I told him before walking in.

Just as I thought; the place was packed, and when I entered the hostess froze. She must have been the one who answered the phone earlier. Without a word, she pointed to the double doors that led to the kitchen.

“Clear this place out, now,” I said. She gave a quick nod as she followed me.

Some of them seemed to get it, and abandoned their meals and threw their bills onto their tables before exiting.

“Excuse me, you can’t be in here, Sir,” a young boy yelled, lifting his hands from the dishwater. The chef came over quickly, smacking him over the head and nodding towards the last pair of double doors. On the ground was a man choking for air, spitting up blood. The three men dressed in black suits and shiny shoes jumped at my entrance, guns pointed and ready in my direction.

Lifting my wrist, I glanced at my watch.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Pull the trigger.”

I could see it in their eyes that they really wanted to kill me but were physically incapable of doing so. The guns fell from their hands and I simply walked over to the empty chair the now dead man had knocked over. Stepping over him and lifting his cards, I leaned back.

“It’s a pity,” I said. “I was hoping the pancuronium bromide wouldn’t have kicked in so soon. I told her to put it in your drinks after an hour, she seemed a bit eager.” Throwing a pair of threes into the center of the poker table, I looked into all of their dark eyes. “It’s getting harder to find good help these day. Your friend here might have had a bad reaction.”

“You poisoned us,” one of them said.

“No, I
paralyzed
you so that we can all have this conversation. Who the fuck do you think I am?” Taking a gun from the table, I shot the fucker in the gut. I watched as the blood pooled into his shirt and bled onto his tie before he rolled to the ground.

“I don’t fucking understand,” I said. “The point of my and Melody’s marriage was to stop the bloodshed between my people and yours. Yet, here I am.”

The oldest man with his hair slicked back grimaced as much as the drug would allow.

“Stop acting,” he said. “We know you killed her. You fucking Irish can’t ever be trusted.”

Something in me snapped, and before he took a breath, I stood. Taking the chair I had just been sitting in, I broke it against his face. It collapsed as I hammered the broken pieces into his body as he lay helplessly on the floor, screaming but incapable of doing anything else.

“You don’t fucking know shit!” I roared down at him, as my blood boiled over. My hands were shaking with so much rage that what was left of the chair slipped out of my grasp. But I didn’t stop; I lifted my foot and slammed it into his head.

“You aren’t shit,” I said. “You are the scum on the bottom of my feet. Not fucking worthy to wipe my ass. How fucking dare you accuse me!”

CRACK.

His face tore open and I could see bits of his brain pouring out. Wiping the blood off my face, I turned to the two sitting at the table. The man I shot was still taking deep breaths while the other stared wide-eyed at the old man, trying his best take in what just happened.

“You all disgust me. You came to my wedding, promised loyalty to my wife, and by relation to me as well. Yet, here you are, like roaches in a dark room plotting against me. You all hurt me, and when I hurt, so does everyone else.”

“Callahan, what were we supposed to think?” one of them asked.