Page 26 of Dark Secrets

When James nodded, they made for the front of the deli. The smell of cured meat and sweat was overwhelming. Aidan scanned the cramped space with its single row of booths pressed against dirty windows. There was only one customer in the entire place.

The man had a gut that hung over his belt buckle when he stood and waved them over. His hairline was receding, and when he sat, James glimpsed a thinning patch of hair at the back of his head. He smelled like the pastrami sandwich he was eating.

Aidan took a seat, and James did the same, eyes scanning the restaurant and the parking lot beyond while Aidan patiently waited for the man across from them to speak. Finally, the man broke.

“I heard what happened to your brother.”

James felt Aidan tense beside him.

“Lots of people heard what happened to my brother.”

“Of course,” the man drawled around a bite of pastrami. His accent placed him as a southerner, somewhere in the Deep South if James had to guess. “That is, I mean to say he was a fair man, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sure you didn’t ask me here just to extend your condolences, Ralphie. We haven't done business in a long time. So what do you want?”

“Right down to the point.” Ralphie gave a curt nod. “Just like your brother. I like that about the Callahans. I’ve been out of the game for a while,” he continued when Aidan only stared, uninterested in the small talk. “I’m looking to get back in.”

So that was why Brogan couldn’t find anything on the guy.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I want to start small. A few hundred handguns I can run south.”

“And why are you buying in Philly?” Aidan leaned back in his chair. He looked relaxed, but his gaze was sharp. “You sound like you’re a long way from home.”

“Mississippi. We can’t get the same kind of quality down there. You can mostly buy from local gangs and street thugs. Get something that hasn’t been reported stolen if you’re lucky. I’d rather travel where the quality is.”

Aidan shot James a look, and James lifted a shoulder. Sounded legit enough. They didn’t tend to care where the weapons ended up. Only that they didn’t get screwed in the process. Nothing could be traced back to the syndicate unless a buyer squealed, and it had been a long time since that happened. People feared Declan more than they feared the cops.

“When?”

Ralphie leaned forward. “How soon can you get them?”

“How many and what type?” Aidan asked.

“9mm. Hundred fifty of them.”

James ran through his mental files when Aidan looked to him for confirmation. “Forty-eight hours.”

“That’s one oh five in cash,” Aidan said. “We get the cash before you get your product. I’ll be in touch with details for pickup.” Aidan pushed to his feet. “If you aren’t good for it, you won’t make it to the edge of the parking lot.”

Ralphie paled but nodded. “I appreciate you doing business and meeting me out here. The pastrami is the best I’ve ever had outside New York.”

Aidan’s lip curled in disgust, and James bit back a smile as light glinted off the windshield of a dark sedan pulling into the lot.

“Aidan,” James said, drawing his cousin’s attention. “Time to go.”

“Anything you want to tell me, old man?” Aidan wondered, hand moving to the waistband of his jeans as two men emerged from the car and advanced on the building.

Something told James they were here to cause trouble. He clocked a shoulder holster on one of the men and assumed the other one had it tucked into his jeans. The restaurant had gone eerily quiet.

Aidan rounded on Ralphie and yanked him out of his seat. “You son of a bitch. Tell me why I don’t just shoot you myself?”

“If you kill me, you don’t get your sale.”

Aidan barked out a laugh, spinning Ralphie so he acted as a shield between him and the two guys who burst through the door, guns drawn. “A hundred five is a slow Tuesday in my world. Who are they?”

James moved to flank his cousin, gun aimed at the chest of the man closest to them.

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