Page 63 of Mob Saint

Tiera tenses. She knows I want the full truth, and she knows I’m certain she didn’t mean figuratively.

“Two of his men escorted me to a town car, then drove me into the city. They made sure I walked into court.”

She lives in East Harlem like me, but in a more modest home. My place doesn’t look as large as it is or that it’d be decorated as nicely as it is. I’m a few blocks from where Sean used to live before he and Nikki got married. We’ve all preferred understated places as bachelors, and only Finn lived in the city—the part people really think of as Manhattan, even though Harlem is technically part of it. He lived in SoHo, so he was in the heart of “the city.”

That means she was being strong-armed just a few blocks from me, and I had no way of knowing. I didn’t know her, and I didn’t know it was happening. It makes my stomach clench.

“What else has Gareth made you do?”

“I’ve testified in a few other cases, but I was qualified to do it, and I told the truth. But someone better qualified should have done it. He just couldn’t guarantee they’d say what he wanted.”

“And he had men escort you then, too?”

“Yes, after Aaron died. He made sure Aaron knew he was responsible for getting me wherever Gareth wanted. His dad did the same.”

“Anything else?” I direct this at Gareth, giving him a chance to confess.

He taps his fingers on the desk before he catches himself and tries to look nonchalant as he curls his fingers into a loose fist. But he speaks, nonetheless.

“There have been some falsified reports and some planted evidence. Some evidence that went missing or was never found.”

“You made a woman do that?”

The rules are simple because they’ve been the same since all our families were still in the old country. Women don’t get involved. They don’t work for their family’s bosses, and they aren’t collateral. My family—fucking Uncle Don and Declan—broke the second part, and we’ve been paying for it ever since. But we don’t have women work for us.

At least, not like this. Our strippers report back anything they hear, but it isn’t their job to do that. Theirs is to entertain. That’s no different from the women who work in our restaurants, casinos, bars and nightclubs, stores, gas stations. Any business we own. If people hear shite, they tell us. They don’t go looking for it. Unless, of course, you’re Mair. But that’s entirely different, and it worked out for Dillan and her. And now she’s married to the mob boss.

“It’s not like I plucked some woman off the street. It was just Tiernan.”

“What did you just say?” My voice is low, and that scares most men more than if I yell.

“It was just—” Gareth realizes his fuck up. “Sorry.”

“Why Tiernan?” The name doesn’t quite feel right after only calling her Tiera, but I’ve gotten used to it. I want to discuss her parents’ reason for picking the name, but I’ll do that with her dad later.

“Because I can.” Once again, he realizes what he said. “Could.”

“And why’s that?”

It’s a cross examination, except I’m the only one asking the questions today.

“My dad used to threaten her by telling her he’d put a hit on her dad. He wasn’t full of shit.”

No, Darren wasn’t. When he said he’d have someone killed, it usually meant he’d already done it. No wonder Tiera did what she was told.

“And you? One of the lessons your daddy taught you?” I feel Tiera’s leg tense when I say daddy. It certainly has a different meaning for us now.

“Yeah, but I didn’t threaten Brant. I did it because she was useful, and I knew she was broken.”

That pisses me off. The way he says it, and its meaning.

“You took advantage of a widow who’d just lost a child. Do you know what a piece of shite that makes you? Do you know what a worthless and pathetic piece of shite you are that you had to use someone so vulnerable because you couldn’t do it yourself? Because none of your minions could do it. Because it made you feel like your dick wasn’t micro. Because you could only feel powerful by using her during the worst time of her life. You’re lucky I don’t kill you right now. Say thank you to Tiernan because she’s the only reason you’re breathing.”

He knows I’m serious. He mutters, but I’ll take it.

“Thank you.”

“Why have you kept doing it?”

---