“What do you want, Tank?” Logan growled into the phone.
Tank sounded offended. “Good to talk to you too, Logan. The, uh, ‘profits’ from our activities last week … they safe?”
Logan hesitated. “Who wants to know?”
“Carlo. He told me to ask you about it.”
“Carlo has nothing to worry about. I know how to take care of profits.”
Tank blurted, “You know how to lose it all in a poker game, too.”
“Fuck you, Tank.” Logan’s hands itched with the desire to punch him again. Apparently he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time.
Tank backpedaled. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You know how Carlo can get. He was having a hissy-fit about the cashish—you know what he’s like.”
“Yeah, I know,” Logan said, nodding. “Look, you can trust me. It’s safe. I’ve got someone on the side, taking care of things.”
“Who?” His voice was insistent.
“None of your fucking business. She’s fine—she won’t talk. And she’s got a real nice office. Nobody will find the money.”
Tank sounded impressed. “You getting yourself a little tail, Logan? Nice … very nice.”
Logan said nothing.
“Just watch out,” Tank warned. “Girls can weaken guys like us.”
“Logan, you still there? When’re you coming back?”
Angelo’s voice in his ear returned Logan to the present.
“How can I come home? It’s too soon, too dangerous.”
“Maybe,” Angelo acquiesced. “But I’m not calling about just business woes.” He took a dramatic pause, and Logan’s heart rate increased. “Your brother is out,” he finally said.
“Grant?” Logan’s voice rose. “He’s out? I thought he had another nine months.”
“According to Enzo, he got released with good behavior. Your brother was always a goody two-shoes, Logan.”
“How long has he been out?”
“About two weeks.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”Logan practically shouted into the phone.
“Relax! It took me a while to secure a safe phone. The fucking feds have been riding our asses since Blackfoot.”
Logan sighed, recalling the botched delivery of stolen goods to the Blackfoot casino in Gary, Indiana. Several of their men had been arrested in the melee, though none of them had turned on the Barberi family. Yet. Carlo had arranged the delivery, and Carlo had fucked up once again.
Biting his lip, Logan inquired, “Does Carlo know Grant’s out?”
Angelo was silent, and Logan’s heart sank. “Yeah, he just found out. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Damn straight I want to know. Can’t you do anything? Can’t you contain Carlo?”
It was a familiar argument: Logan urging Angelo to cut loose the one man who seemed to destroy all their plans, and Angelo balking. “He’s my son,” Angelo said, his voice breaking.
Logan sighed. “Yes, Godfather.”
“I’m trying to keep Carlo away from the books, Logan. But someday he’s going to find out I’ve been bankrolling your little getaway to the tropics, and he’s not going to like it. Someday you’re going to have to start contributing more to the business. Wanted man or not.”
“I know. Just leave Grant out of it. I’ve already involved him way too much as it is.”
“I hear you, Godson. But as you know, Carlo disagrees. He talks nonstop about the money you lost, and if you don’t pay it back soon, he’s going to try to get it any way he can.”
“Shit,” Logan muttered. “Do you know where Grant is?”
“No, no one knows. We don’t think he’d be stupid enough to return to Chicago.”
“You’re probably right,” Logan lied, trying to sound convincing. He could just about guarantee his brother was somewhere in Chicago. That was where their mother was buried.
Suddenly rushed, Angelo whispered, “I gotta go. Take care of yourself. Ciao.”
Logan closed his phone, continuing to gaze at the sea. His regret regarding Sophie was a single drop of saltwater compared to the ocean of remorse he felt about Grant.
It was a little over two years ago, a couple of weeks before the court ordered Logan into therapy with Sophie. One week before his actions sent Grant to prison.
This time Grant saw Logan coming. This time Grant was not surprised by his brother approaching the grave. This time it was their mother’s birthday, and Logan had known his brother would be here.
As Logan sidled up to his brother, Grant continued staring at the headstone. They stood wordlessly side by side, roughly the same height, with the same closely cropped midnight-black hair. Finally, Grant said, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Logan responded. After waiting a beat, he added, “I heard you were back in town.”
“How the hell did you know?”
The muscles lining Logan’s jaw flexed. “Carlo found out. I don’t know how. He hears everything.”
“I told you to stay away from him.”
The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched, amused by his little brother trying to tell him what to do. The half-smile quickly faded, however, when he remembered the recruitment task ahead of him. Staring sadly at the bare ground in the headstone’s shadow, Logan asked, “What, no flowers this time?”
Grant sniffed. “I didn’t have time. I have a flight to Norfolk in a couple of hours.”
“To visit Joe?”
“Yeah.”
They stood in silence once again, and Grant shivered slightly in the cool March breeze. His eyes did not move from the grave. “I wonder what she would think of me now,” he murmured.
Logan’s lips tightened. He knew their mother would be very proud of the man Grant had become, in contrast to her feelings for Logan. Her older son was now a no-good crook.
Wincing, Logan realized he was about to let down his dead mother yet again. But it had to be done. He had no choice.
“Your trip to see Joe might have to be delayed. I’ve got something for you to do before you leave,” Logan told Grant.
“No,” Grant responded immediately, vehemently.
Logan swallowed hard. “I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”
Slowly turning to face his brother, Grant’s crystal eyes clouded over. “What does that mean?”
Unable to hold his brother’s intense gaze, Logan cleared his throat uncomfortably, hating himself. “It means that unless you help us, we’re going to hurt Joe. You do a job for us, or Uncle Joe will die.”
Grant gasped at the hideous threat. It was preposterous for Logan to threaten the life of their own mother’s brother. Part of him wanted to laugh—a sick, harsh chuckle at the cruelty of his own family. But it was no laughing matter. Closing his eyes and scraping his hands across his buzzed hair, Grant knew the truth: This was a lethal and imminent threat. They had killed before, and they would kill again. They would take away the only remaining person he loved in this world, unless he did their bidding. He had no choice.
Grant heard a numb voice that had to be his own. “What do I have to do?”
“The bar near Great Lakes,” Logan replied evenly. “We’re going to take something back from there that belongs to us. And we need your help, Lieutenant Madsen.”