Page 134 of Velvet Chains
I didn’t breathe until it turned the corner.
I stayed parked until the sun crested fully over the buildings, then drove off without turning on my headlights. I had work to do.
I followed the sedan until he parallel parked—a sloppy job, he wasn’t good at it—right in front of a big block of buildings. The moment he got out of the car, the more I realized I was right. He definitely wasn’t one of ours.
That much was abundantly clear the moment I saw him—tallish, nervous, hanging around the Shawmut bakery delivery alley like he was pretending to wait for someone who wasn’t coming. Too clean for a local. Too soft for a soldier. Maybe twenty-seven, baby face trying to grow stubble. Hoodie zipped to the neck. Hands twitchy. Eyes wrong.
I didn’t move at first. Just watched him from across the street. Let him settle into his lie.
He tried leaning against the wall like he belonged there, then pulled out a phone and tapped aimlessly. Like a man with nowhere else to be.
That’s what gave him away. No one in Dorchester wastes a cigarette.
Eventually, he ducked behind the dumpster.
I followed.
He didn’t hear me until I was close.
When he turned, his hand jerked toward his waistband—quick, like maybe he had a weapon. Like maybe he didn’t. It didn’t matter. I already had him by the collar, slammed him against the wall hard enough to make the dumpster rattle.
“Who are you watching?”
He didn’t answer.
I pressed my forearm into his chest, searched his pockets one-handed. Found a burner. Nothing else.
No badge. No ID.
Sloppy.
“Fed?” I asked, voice low.
Still nothing.
“Tell me who you’re watching or I swear to God I will fucking kill you right here and now.”
“They just told me to keep an eye on the DA. I’m not here to hurt her. I’m just trying to do my job, man.”
“Callahan?” I added, quieter.
That made him flinch. Just a little. But it was enough.
“Tell Tristan--”
“Fuck, I hope it’s not the Callahans. I’m greedy, not suicidal,” he said.
I grabbed his chin hard, looking right into his eyes. “I will find out if you’re lying. And if you are, I will find you. And I will fucking kill you. Who are you working for?”
“Man, I don’t really know. I just get assigned jobs like this every day. Through, like, an app. I swear. I can show it to you if you want.”
I loosened my grip on his neck. A little.
“What’s the name?”
“The Crew. No one knows where it comes from. Jobs just pop up and someone’s always desperate enough to take ‘em. But it’s usually pretty safe, you know?”
A thread of pity wound its way through my fury. He looked so fucking hopeful about it.
