Page 43 of Demise

After breakfast is cleared and Ma retreats into the living room to watch her stories, Paul and I get to more pressing matters.

Paul drums his fingers against the table, swiping at a crumb Ma missed while wiping it.

“The day after you were found, Henry approached me with the information regarding John and Carson.”

“Sweep informed me. They want me to rat.”

“And would you not to keep him out of prison?” he asks me.

“I’m not a rat, Paul.”

“Pride shouldn’t get in the way of protecting the ones we love.”

I don’t respond.

“He would do it for you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I say, linking my fingers as I rest my elbows on the table.

“So, you don’t feel the same.”

I exhale. “You know I’d do anything for Johnny. It’s about the code. The law.”

Paul laughs. “The law? You’ve been breaking that your whole life.” He sits up. “John is one of the most feared men in Postings. They’ll beat him in there, Danny.”

I rub my chin. “I’m puzzled. How is it we can get Bryce Grant, the former owner of Red in Atlanta, out of the shit storm he was in, and yet, we can’t save ourselves?”

Paul tilts his head, exhaling. “Well, there’s a new director at the bureau. Name’s Ron Calvin. He’s got a hard-on for Moretti. He wants him out of here and he can’t be bought.”

I narrow my eyes. I wasn’t aware of this new boss. How much longer can we keep our heroin business running with someone at the head of the bureau who can’t be bought?

“Surely everyone’s got a price. Have we tried?” I ask.

“Why do you think you’re sitting here now? Why do you think Carson and John are out walking around?”

I lift a brow. “You’ve been busy.”

He smiles, but there’s stress there. “I went to Ron as soon as Henry told me they had John for first degree. He’s the real deal, Danny.” He shifts in his seat. “He’s in there to clean up the south side of Postings, but I’d heard that before I went. I already knew what he wanted.

“I was prepared. He drank water, I had a whiskey, and I told him if he agreed to only a little jail time for John, and to let you walk, you would help him take down Moretti.”

“Wow,” I mutter, shaking my head, sitting back. My eyes go to the table. Now my brother has put his own neck on the line.

Fuck.

I bite my inner cheek. Sweep would do this for me, no matter the backlash. But I also know the truth of what this means. It’s a death sentence. I look to Paul. “Do you know what they’ll do to me if word gets around I’ve ratted on Moretti Galo?”

“You’ll be protected.”

“Oh, fuck that, Paul. Protected?” I stand up, pacing the room. “Those motherfuckers couldn’t even find Bexley and me. We were in a cabin in the Pine Barrens. They didn’t even look. We had no one coming, and you know that. Who are they going to protect? Me?” I laugh. “Yeah, sure.” I ruck my sleeves, running a frustrated hand through my hair.

Paul places a tape recorder on the table.

“The fuck is that?” I ask.

“There’s more to this story than you know.”

I look down at it with a furrowed brow. He presses play.

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