 
## **Contents**

Bound- Smashwords Edition

Preface

Part I

Chapter 1: Tom Seeks, Ginger Fines

Chapter 2: Twice Set Straight

Chapter 3: Luck of the Draw

Chapter 4: Stella Puts Two and Two Together

Chapter 5: "Please Don't Stop Me..."

Chapter 6: Up the Junction

Chapter 7: Deep Enough

Chapter 8: Because He Said So

Chapter 9: His Work Is Never Done

Chapter 10: "Same as the Old Boss"

Part II

Chapter 11: Reckoning

Chapter 12: Out to Brunch

Chapter 13: Unskilled Labor

Chapter 14: Kill New Hampshire 43 Heavy

Chapter 15: Twofer

Chapter 16: Gone To Ground

Chapter 17: End Game

Chapter 18: Sticky Situation

Chapter 19: Q is for Quartermaster

Chapter 20: Phony Talks

Chapter 21: As Suspected

Chapter 22: Box of Rocks

Chapter 23: Found Wanting

Chapter 24: Unhinged

Chapter 25: No Plan, Just Execution

Chapter 26: Getting Away From It All

Chapter 27: One Big Happy

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Bound

Wicked Dark Boston Thrillers Series, Book 1

Michael Campbell

Copyright 2018 Michael Campbell

Smashwords Edition
Preface (Warning!)

You will read about (in no particular order, not in much depth, and without any filter of political correctness): misogynists, racists, rapists, drug addicts, patriots, traitors, the cognitively challenged, the Karmically challenged, prostitutes, gangsters, current and former NCAA athletes, vice cops (crooked and kind), hetero-/bi-/homo-/hyper-sexuals, homophobes, a debt, a dude, a wingnut, and a widow.

Please be forewarned:

IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ANY OF THE ABOVE, BOUND WILL OFFEND YOU. QUICKLY.

While kinky adult themes are in your face from page one, there is very little sex in Bound. If you are looking for erotica, you won't find it here. Bound is a dark, psychological thriller with a cast of twisted characters all looking for a sense of home and family in non-traditional relationships. With a few murders and a wrongful death thrown in for good measure.

Michael Campbell

Part I
Chapter 1: Tom Seeks, Ginger Fines

"Boy, you go all the way, huh? Even rockin' the plumber's crack. Ooh, and those welts!" Ginger said.

Tom turned and smiled at her but didn't do anything about his pants.

"Get over here," she said.

He stood from in front of the toilet and walked to the beautiful woman, wiping his hands on his jeans and being careful to step on the exposed floor joists.

She kept him guessing. "You're so sexy when you're working like this."

Tom looked dubious.

"No, I mean it, pet! And you smell good. If I didn't have to work, I'd fuck Handyman Tom right here on what's left of the bathroom floor!"

He rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss her.

She gave him a cheek for a quick one and roughly grabbed at his crotch. "How the fuck are you hard already?"

He shrugged. "I heard the Goddess coming."

Ginger laughed and shook her head. "I swear there should be like a Six-million Dollar Man sound effect, ta ta ta ta ta ta ta..." But... "Go shower and tell Stella you're ready. I've given you to her for the afternoon. I know I don't have to tell you what that means."

"No, Master."

"Just for fun, why don't you tell me what it means?" She flirted and teased with her eyes while she stroked him.

He enjoyed it. "It means I'm to fucking serve and please Ms. Stella."

"Huh?" She squeezed. "Careful, mister! But, hmm, what's so hot about that?" Ginger opened her blouse and allowed him to kiss the bare skin beneath as she again relaxed her grip. Tom indulged himself for a moment before responding.

"It means my master pimped me out. Because I'm property."

"You are and she did! But only because she knows her boy needs to be used and she can't do it herself!"

"Well, Master's boy will be thinking of her the entire time. He kinda has to."

Ginger gave him another scolding look but let it soften. "Made you cry this morning. Just like old times. How ya feeling?"

"Stiff and sore, Master."

"I bet. Poor baby!" She stuck her bottom lip out. "Been awhile since I've let you cum, too, huh?" Ginger laughed again.

"Eight days, Master."

"Ha! But who's counting? Jeez, I've had like 40 orgasms in the last eight days. Sucks to be a slave!"

"Indentured servant, Master."

"I guess. If you believe there's going to be anything left of you by the time I'm done, peg boy."

"Master!" he said.

"But, ya know, I'll probably need to be punished again, soon. You'll do that for Master, won't you? Do me angry and treat me like your whore? Slap my ass and pull my hair? 'Oh, fuck, Tom, it's so big! Not my bum! Oh! Oh! Oh!'" Now he blushed and laughed, which wasn't lost on her. "And of course I expect you to be thinking of Master and Kitty until then. All the time."

"I love Kitty, Master."

"Yeah, you do. Very well." Ginger smiled and gave him a final squeeze. Then, she seemed to shake the mood off and re-buttoned her shirt. "Dinner at seven and then you have the weekend to work on this. You have everything you need?"

"I'll get the tile tomorrow morning. You can shower here on Tuesday definitely, maybe Monday."

"Nice work, Tom. Jax is going to be psyched. She and I will be back Sunday afternoon. It's gonna be shitty, so, something hot for dinner, please. What time the Pats playing?"

"Vikings at one. You'll watch with dinner?"

"Yes, please. Think you can make it two more days, Blue Balls?"

"Yes, Master."

"Well, if you can do two, you can do 20. Loser."

###

Six hours and no orgasms later, the houseboy was stiffer and sorer. Stella didn't usually take the belt to him. She was too small to do much damage usually but the angry MBA had focused her efforts on his ass and thighs, exactly where Ginger had worked this morning. His master wouldn't like that, it interfered with his healing. But he wouldn't tell. Nothing good could come of that. So, he schemed while grilling salmon and tossing a salad.

After dinner, the women chatted as he cleaned the kitchen. When Ginger asked Stella upstairs to the office, Tom slowly re-washed the dishes to delay his departure, daring to dream about a hot shower. Maybe next month.

Ginger didn't want a ride to the airport. She gave him an unnecessary pair of $20 bills to "have fun" and then, he and Stella walked out the front door together. It was almost eight and Tom had his plan together. He would follow Stella, make a night of it if he had to. And if—when—he saw her do something suspicious, he'd document it.

Tom knew where he stood with Ginger. She abused him, physically and emotionally, for about an hour every day. The rest of the time, however, she built him up. Pushed him to improve himself. Patiently taught him and encouraged his questions about feminism, sex, and life. She made him laugh. And his favorite Ginger-isms: she valued effort over outcomes and always said "please" and "thank you." Theirs was an asymmetric relationship, dysfunctional, too. But to him, she was a goddess who, inexplicably, chose to spend hours a day in his company.

###

Because the houseboy offered her something no one else could. Not just a great dick, but a partner with whom the good-natured sadist didn't have to hold back. He was hard to hurt physically and didn't take the abuse personally. Tom worked hard to please and care for his masters out of respect and affection for the couple as much as his own sense of honor as the recipient of a $217,000 education. Ginger had promised Jacqueline that she would make their indentured servant into "everything they wanted in a man and none of the bullshit." Mission accomplished.

###

Stella was only cruel to Tom when there wasn't anyone else around, he noticed. She knew that Ginger had given him a "few-days'-worth" beating this morning in advance of her travels, which meant that his master probably wouldn't see his skin again until after the weekend. So Stella was bending the rules if not breaking them. And there was something else going on. She did weird shit. What the fuck was she doing at a random warehouse in Southie at 7:30 on a Sunday morning? And who were those made-for-TV criminal types she met up with in Chinatown? Tom was three for three in both getting away with following Stella and in seeing her do something that seemed sketchy. But he didn't have anything solid on her yet.

By now he realized that they had nothing to hold over his head. He served Ginger and her partner, Jacqueline, because he wanted to. Because he loved them and they loved him back. He'd never really had a family—his was broken long before it was destroyed in the middle of the night—and was honored to be such an integral part of this one. Tom hadn't paid a bill or seen the news in months. This was the cushiest gig he'd ever had.

Since August, though, the older women had been struggling as a couple. They were now both spending more of their waking hours with their "pets" than each other. But meals still brought them all together in good spirits and that was Tom's department. Stella, who rarely bothered with "Ps" or "Qs," and, as Jacqueline's "employee with benefits," got to go and come and play as she pleased, was the only source of ill will. Getting rid of her was worth taking some risks.

They walked side by side to Boylston station while Stella listened to her voicemail. She might be tiny, but that strap-on and his belt weren't. She hurt him today and he was angry at himself for giving her the satisfaction of almost making him cry for a second time. He didn't mind doing that in front of Ginger. It was during those moments that they lost themselves and communed, tough-loving domme and devoted sub, smacked out of their minds on endorphins. They were each other's addiction. With Jacqueline's assistant, however, being abused like that just made him feel worthless and weak. Like a fool. She put the phone in her bag and took the escalator. Tom chose the stairs and before rushing ahead, wished her a nice weekend. She didn't reciprocate.

Down on the platform, a B-line train pulled into the station. If she was watching him, she'd wonder why he didn't try to get on it. Stella might make it herself if she hustled, but he didn't know where she was and had to be careful about turning around to look.

The packed train gave him time to go to the back and wait by the doors for a few people to exit. There, he could figure out whether Stella would get on for an uncomfortable ride or wait for the next one.

Sure enough, he saw her queuing at the first car's door, ignorant of him. They stepped onto the train, 50 feet apart. Tom pushed his way through the crowd to get a spot by a right-side window, where he'd be most likely to see if she got off at an earlier stop to hit a liquor store.

And that's what she did. Tom took advantage of there being two on opposing corners and went into the other to buy two forties of malt liquor. Drinking was a new privilege and Ginger had said to have fun. Who knew how long he'd have to wait? He lingered inside until Stella reappeared with a six-pack and then took off after her once she turned out of sight.

Tom was able to follow at about 30 yards without the bottles clinking. At the bottom of what he assumed must be Stella's street, he loitered in front of a convenience store and then popped his head around the corner. She was hard to spot behind the cars, but he soon saw her walk up a flight of stairs into a three-family home. On a hunch, he went behind the store and laughed at what he found. There was a space, mulched and concealed by bushes, for the transformer or whatever the hell that big gray metal box that hummed was. Tom could sit and discreetly keep an eye on Stella's place until she left. A hot and hip 27-year-old woman in Boston on a lovely Friday night was almost certainly going out and she'd have to walk right by him to get anywhere. He cracked the first beer and got comfortable.

###

Back at the house, Ginger had also just opened a beer. She stared at her laptop on the kitchen island. Jacqueline had hurt her feelings, springing a third "go-fuck-my-ex, Damita" trip on her this morning. She had no plans to travel tonight. A frustrated Ginger just wanted her boy and Stella to think they were free so she could figure out what was going on between them.

Judging by the amount of pain he seemed to be in, Stella had disobeyed her and given Tom a rough time. She had also ceased to entertain Ginger. Now the MBA was just Jacqueline's marital aid and the financial brains behind the Arch Nathan Foundation's philanthropy. Ginger didn't care much about either but she did care about good manners. You do not abuse other people's property, especially after agreeing not to. Hurting a defenseless submissive on the sly didn't say much about her character, either.

Equally concerning was that Tom may have lied to her two weeks ago, not mentioning that little trip his phone took to Chinatown. Could he, too, be stepping out on his master? No way. Maybe trying to have a life beyond her grip, though. Unacceptable. Ginger had lost control of her possessions. No one would pay for that more than the humble houseboy.

But Tom had passed every test of his honesty this summer. The guy just wasn't sneaky. He didn't have any reason to be, he was happy and comfortable in his place and head-over-heels in love with Ginger. No doubt about either. Maybe he had just wanted a kick-ass egg roll or three and didn't think it qualified as "something fun after 'work.'" But why would he go to a sex shop? Her birthday had come and gone since, no material gifts. There was $50 missing from his pockets, though, so he had bought something more than a snack.

"What'cha up to, Tommy boy?" she asked the screen. He didn't get out much and Ginger never had reason to doubt him, so this was only the third time she had bothered to check on his location when he was out in the world. But it was also the third time she had seen him do something unusual.

As far as she could tell looking at the pushpin that represented him on the map, Tom was sitting still, just off the sidewalk. Hiding, perhaps. Ginger was ready to test out her latest hypothesis. Because the software was wonky—it was only better than the standard "find-my-phone" apps in that it couldn't be disabled—she opened the tracking program on the other laptop and got a read on Stella's phone. It was about 75 yards down the street from Tom.

"No shit! What are you up to, boy?"

She'd only checked on Stella's location once before, six months ago when they hired her just to verify that everything worked. Ginger knew that the woman who put the discomfort in Tom's walk that afternoon wasn't home, but she wasn't far from it. Why would Tom be following her?

###

He was getting bored and lonely. 78 ounces of beer later, it occurred to Tom that he might be too loaded to do anything "sneaky." But he was also drunk and angry enough to ignore common sense.

Stella and another small woman left the house with two huge men and walked back toward him and the local nightlife. They stayed on the other side of the street, so Tom didn't have to hide like a rat. He made it a full 80 ounces, burped, and emerged from the bushes feeling guilty about littering.

###

Ginger had used the half-hour to install the tracking software on an iPad, which she was now charging from zero. She was going to need to be able to follow them—him, at least—on 4G and her cell phone's screen was just too small. Ginger guessed that Tom was trying to figure out where Stella was going. He was erratic. She laughed, imagining him tiptoeing from behind a mailbox here, a telephone pole there, right out of a cartoon. Dumbass.

At around ten, Stella went into a big bar on Commonwealth. Tom and his phone waited half a block away.

Ginger grabbed the keys to get a look in person. When she found a decent place to idle, she refreshed the iPad's display. After 90 seconds of cursing, the app started working and Ginger was surprised to see that they were now both in the bar, about as far as they could be from each other. Tom was on the move. To the bathroom, she guessed. Now she caught herself smiling at the image of him in front of a urinal thinking he was the world's greatest spy.

###

Once he confirmed that there was no one else in the bar who he recognized, Tom committed to another beer. It seemed like a good idea. Stella was on the dance floor with her man, who must have been a football player. They were having fun like normal people while Tom the creep hung out by himself, watching from the shadows, with a sore ass inside and out. This was not a proud moment, even by indentured-servant standards.

He was about to pull the plug when the dude picked Stella up like a doll and kissed her. They looked like college kids making out. Tom pounded the rest of his beer, left it on the bar, and walked toward the couple, phone in hand. They moved off to the side and kissing became intimate talking. That the guy was going to fuck Stella tonight after what she had done to Tom made him feel sick.

He couldn't get a photo of them without a flash. Tom thanked God the dance floor was full of women and he was feeling no pain. He fought the need to show the world his white man's overbite but had to at least put his arms up so that he could approach Stella "accidentally." Right? Hiccup.

His heart was pounding. Maybe he should call it quits right now while he still could. Stella would give him another chance to catch her.

But he was here and she was being an asshole, making out with what looked like a college-aged boyfriend at a college bar without a care in the world. Ginger and Jacqueline might be OK with Stella hurting him but they were zero-tolerance when it came to safety. If Stella was going to potentially expose them all to cooties, his masters needed to know.

He didn't want this game to go on forever, either. If he bumped into her now, Tom could still pass it off as a coincidence. She might not even think to be more careful in the future. Maybe he should give it a few more minutes, to see if he could catch her in the act...

No! Fuck her. And, fuck. Busted.

Stella was looking right at him. And then, so was Beef.

Tom raised his chin to say "hi" from a few feet away and stepped closer.

"Hey Stella, what's up?" he yelled like a harmless acquaintance. She didn't respond but said something to her man instead.

"Get lost, dude," Tom thought the guy said.

Tom shrugged and turned to leave. He acted like he was looking for friends but gave that up and exited the bar. He walked off to the side and took a moment to calm down. Stella wouldn't know whether he saw her kissing the guy, so she wasn't going to narc back to her boss or Ginger. Fuck it. Nothing to worry about. Now, what to do for the rest of his night off?

###

"OK, Tom gets within a few feet and then he makes a slow beeline for the door. And now he's just standing there," Ginger explained to herself. There was a few-second delay between what was happening in real life and in the two windows on the iPad's screen.

Ginger was having fun watching Tom's foolishness. She was having more fun thinking about what she was going to do to him for being creepy.

"What are you waiting for, boy?"

Almost on cue, a six and a half-foot tall answer came charging out of the bar. He went right to Tom...

"Oh, buddy!"

The huge guy reached back and swung a ham-sized fist at his head. Tom stayed on his feet, though, maybe throwing punches at his attacker's midsection—it was hard to tell from her angle. The bruiser didn't follow up with another right for whatever reason. Scrappy Tom actually seemed to be holding his own.

Takes a frickin' lickin', she thought for the thousandth time, shaking her head.

Stella burst out of the door yelling and then three bouncers were all over the monster. Someone pushed her out of the way. Was she looking to see if Tom was OK?

The average-sized knucklehead emerged from the confusion and started walking away like nothing had happened. He even put his hands in his pockets.

Ginger saw one of the bouncers call him to stop, at which point he sprinted off. The guy didn't give chase but Tom kept going. Run, Forrest! Ginger lost him in person at the same time the app was refreshing...

"Ah, there you are. Or were." She tried to anticipate where he was heading and then, looked up to see him crossing the notoriously dangerous four lanes of traffic and two of trolley. "Are you going to walk right by me?"

###

If he had looked, Tom would have seen his master sitting in the green Cherokee 50 feet to his left before he jogged down a side street perpendicular to Commonwealth Ave. Ginger made note of this and then watched Stella, the big guy, his big friend, and another Stella-sized woman walk back toward their evening's starting point.

###

He wended his way about a half-mile closer to home on the B-line and caught the first train. As a former EMT and card-carrying member of the double-digit concussion club, Tom recognized that it was a bad sign that all he wanted to do was sleep. But it was going to feel great. First, though, he had to pass off the fact that he was bleeding and drunk in a train car unless he wanted to walk the two miles.

###

She thought she knew where he was heading, so Ginger waited long enough to see the foursome back into the house. Now she had to know what was going on. Tom was not someone who waited around for punches to the head by guys that size. Maybe something real was happening. She doubted it, but these hunches of hers had preceded serious events in the past. Ginger unconsciously squeezed her reconstructed knee.

She made good time back to the house, double checked that the derringer was in the center console, and then ran inside to put on darker clothes and grab the dart gun. That big guy might need a double dose. Ginger laughed because this was all silliness. She, like Jacqueline's late husband before her, was just looking for an excuse to tranquilize a grizzly-sized man. She put her hair in a ponytail and grabbed a Red Sox hat and Tom's black fleece jacket. When she got in the car and checked the iPad, Ginger was surprised. Tom hadn't gone to that Brookline apartment that was some sort of girlfriend but was now six blocks down Marlborough Street at his former home.

###

He walked in through the front door wondering why the fraternity house was so deserted on a Friday night in mid-September. There were lights and noise upstairs but the first floor was dark except for the TV in what they referred to as "the lounge." He poked his head in there and saw Vince sitting on the couch drinking a beer, by himself, watching some director's cut of a blockbuster on the big screen. Tom stretched out on the other couch and accepted the offered bottle. Besides a "S'up," "Hey buddy," and a fraternity handshake, they barely interacted. A thirsty Brother 76 chugged the heavy microbrew, put it on the table, and reclined again.

"Hey, Tom, how is Kate doing with all this stuff with her father?" Vince asked, not two minutes later. Tom snored.

###

Ginger walked through the front door and went to where she guessed he was.

"Tom! Hey, Tom! Come on, buddy. Wake up!" she said.

He was groggy. "Ginger! Are you OK? I thought you went to..."

"...I'm fine, buddy. Come on, I need you to come with me."

"Uh uh, Ginger I'm taking it easy. Got the night off."

"Boy, get up and come with me."

Vince looked like he was about to say something when her voice spurred Tom into action.

She helped him up and then said, "Oh." She spoke more gently. "Come on. Up. That a boy. Let's go." Ginger fixed her gaze on Vince. "Hey, dude," she said, "Look!" She gestured with her head to the pillow Tom had been lying on. There was a baseball-sized spot of sticky blood. "Fuck's the matter with you?"

"Easy, Ginger. We're cool." Tom had no idea what she was talking about or to whom.

"He just came in and laid down," Vince said.

"D'you talk to him?"

"Ginger, I'm fine. Oh! That's from my head!" Tom reached up to touch his injury. "Ow."

"Is he all right? What happened?" Vince asked.

Master was at the end of her patience. "Give me your shirt," she said and then turned back to Tom. "Buddy, you're coming with me." She led him out to her double-parked car. Before leaving the room, however, she gave bare-chested Vince an evil look as she snatched the shirt from his hand.

Ginger helped Tom into the passenger seat, reclined it slightly, and placed the white t-shirt behind his head.

"Tom! Hold up!" called a guy walking toward the house with a pretty, dark-haired woman. Ginger stared at the couple as she got into the driver's seat before speeding right past them. Tom turned his head to see out the window, waving like an idiot.

"Pete! V! Hey! Ow."

"Shut the fuck up!" Ginger said. She took the first right, and then another quick one into the alley where she pulled the car over. "You motherfucker! Why are you following Stella?"

"First of all, please stop yelling."

Ginger grabbed his mouth with one hand and squeezed. "Why were you following Stella?"

Tom wavered. He wasn't in obedient mode.

"Damn it, Tom."

"Second, I'm sorry, but Stella's a bitch. You know she stuck it in my ass again? I thought that was behind me." He laughed at the pun and made eyes like he was waiting for her to do the same.

Ginger let go of his mouth long enough to knock a knuckle on his forehead. Then she tried to take hold of his face again.

"I'm not kid-"

"Cut the shit, asshole!" Tom pushed her hand away and punched her in the ribs with his left. "You want me to bang on your head?" he said, squinting from the pain.

She recalculated. Tom's bell was well-rung. He was more incoherent than the time she had given him a concussion and probably needed medical attention. There was an easier way to get what she wanted.

"OK, Tom. OK. I'm sorry. That actually hurt!"

"Sorry, Master. Please don't hit my head."

"I won't do that again. I'm sorry. But you need to answer my questions. Don't you, boy?"

"Of course, Master, but why are you mad at me? Stella kissed some guy tonight."

"Why'd you follow her home?"

"...Chinese guys..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I followed her to Chinatown a few weeks ago. Did you know she does weird things to me when you guys aren't around? Is that why you let her have me today? So she could do that? Why's she gotta be so angry?"

"What Chinese guys? Don't make me ask again," Ginger said.

He laughed. "Yes, please."

"Chinatown?"

"Fuckin'... These guys were waiting for her on the street. She went upstairs with them, one hot little chick and three dudes. Very suspicious!"

"So?" Ginger asked though she was curious. "Stella's not property."

"Oh, for God's sake! 'Stella's not property.' We'll let her do whatever she wants to you."

"OK, all right, mother-"

"Get off my back, man!" he yelled and then winced. "Ow, fuck."

Ginger kept her head by trying to remind herself what it felt like to be in his shoes. And, who she was talking to. If Tom wasn't giving her what she wanted, maybe the problem was with her approach, not his integrity. Stella was a bitch.

"Why do you think that's important? Stella and those guys?"

"'Cause it didn't look right! Like she's fuckin' them in the ass, too." He sighed. "She was up to something. Bet she's fuckin' that big asshole right now." Tom thought about his words. "Ya think, like, she's fucking him? He's huge. That'd be great."

"I told you not to put me in this spot, Tom."

"Master, she keeps raping my face and butt and I think she's fucking other guys! And then she goes to Southie, to some, like, warehouse? All I get is shit on. I don't need the herpes, too! Isn't that one of the promises you made me?"

Somewhere in there was a reasonable argument, but... "How dare..."

"...Blow it out your ass, Ginger! You gonna beat me up again? Knock yourself out. I don't care anymore!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not fucking kidding you. Hit me all you want, asshole. I'm sick of this shit! You pass me off to Stella so she can pound my ass—without lube," Tom said. Ginger winced. "Yeah! Bitch. And, whip me right on top of this morning's. Did you... Did you tell her to do that to me today? Since you couldn't use me? Have her do it?"

"Tom, you're fucking drunk and you got bonked on the head, but you need to calm down. Now! Do you understand me?"

He tried to settle. "I'm sorry, Ginger. Master."

"I know. You're frustrated, I get it. I told her not to do that to you today, specifically. You shouldn't have put up with that. Not my boy. I'm sorry."

"Master!" Tom said and bunched his lips, seemingly overwhelmed by his feelings for her. "You can have anything! I mean, I love giving you shitty things! I mean..."

"...I know that, too," she said, interrupting him. "Thank you. Answer my questions, though. You've followed Stella before? How many times?"

"I don't know, like, tonight was the fourth time?" He looked at her and had a thought. "She put her phone in a locker at South Station and picked up another one! We're both supposed to keep them on us, right? That's when she went to that warehouse. Huh?"

"She put her phone in a locker?"

"Uh huh! And then she went to some random warehouse on a Sunday morning. Didn't seem like there was anyone there. But, why would she do that?"

"When was that?"

"The first time she face-raped me. She said I was blowing Marcus and Theo by proxy!" He chuckled.

Ginger thought it was a funny line, too. And even funnier that Tom believed either of those boys was going anywhere near a pussy. Another mission accomplished.

"After she and Jax got back from Colorado?"

"Yeah, your little mushroom/knock Tom out party." Just mentioning the summer solstice caused both of them to pause. It had marked the end of the "total obedience and complete devotion" phase of Tom's training. It was the night Ginger finally accepted—and told him—that he was a keeper, that she wouldn't let him leave or be taken from her. And, by not forcing him to explain the false tooth that went flying from his mouth when his face hit the floor, he knew that her warning never to think of her as a friend was bullshit.

Stella had left Jacqueline's early the following day to spend a few nights back home in Connecticut, Ginger remembered. If the iPad felt like cooperating, she could determine if that part of his story was true.

"Lie down and talk to me. Tell me everything you did after dinner."

She didn't need a play by play, Ginger just wanted him to stay awake and focus on something while she waited for the 4G signal. She searched Stella's history for June 22nd. While it loaded, Tom was rambling on about V and wondering why Pete was in town. And then he started talking about a "Kate." He loved her so much. But, he loved V, too. It was confusing. And futile because it was all just memories now. Suddenly, laconic Tom was babbling away. But Ginger was only half paying attention.

On June 22nd, Stella's phone left the house, spent twelve hours at South Station, and then traveled back to Brookline—home, Ginger knew. But then, it over-nighted a half-mile away in Brighton at the same place Tom had followed her to tonight. She'd been in hotels for two weeks but didn't want to sleep in her own bed? That could be a boyfriend. And Stella lied for no apparent reason. She had crossed county lines, not state.

"When did you follow her to Chinatown?"

He interrupted his discourse on love and trust and knowing "the one" when you meet her.

"Ginger, I don't know what day of the week it is sometimes anymore. Oh! No! It was August 15th, when you gave me the day off to move."

"That was the only time?"

"Uh huh."

Good. "Show me on the map. Where'd you go?" Ginger asked.

He was puzzled. Then he gasped.

"Oh, my God! You follow our phones? But I leave GPS off!"

"Don't need it," she said. "It's hardware."

"That's why we have to keep them on us? That's pretty frickin' weird, Ginger. Where the fuck am I gonna go?"

"Shush, boy. Are you still bleeding?"

"Worried about these fine Corinthian leather seats?"

"Don't be shitty, Archer. Are you bleeding?"

"I think it's OK. Our phones? Really?"

"Yes. V is Victoria Díaz?"

Tom's head was too fuzzy to guess how she knew that, so he didn't try for long. "I miss V. Miss V, not Miz." He laughed. "The Winnah!"

"Focus!"

"All right! And, please, don't yell." He worked to still the image on her iPad screen, oriented himself, and pointed. "This is where I was watching. This or this one is the building she went up to. Holy shit! Can you switch that to satellite view?" It was where Ginger remembered seeing his pushpin.

"No. But it does feel like we should be able to see you sitting there. Gotta wait for this to refresh... There you are. Drinking a beer?"

"Like I had cash. And I didn't stick around."

"What'd you buy at the sex shop, Tom?"

His jaw dropped. "Holy shit, that's scary, Big Sister!"

"So you did buy something. Spill it, boy."

"A humbler."

"What?" she asked. "Where is it?"

"Under my sink. I was going to give it to you for your birthday but then I tried it and it sucked," he said. "Oh, fuck, you're gonna hurt me."

"Goes without saying, slave. You're gonna be able to throw your balls 'over your shoulder like a Continental soldier' when I'm done with you! Happy belated to me," she sang.

Rather than laugh, though, Tom got serious. "Master, did you tell her to do that to me?"

Ginger wasn't pleased with him tracking Stella, but he wasn't obsessed with it or anything. He wanted to make sure he was safe and couldn't ask for help. She had promised that he would never have to worry about getting sick but was falling down on the job. Fair enough. A case of buyer's remorse after purchasing a testicular torture device was a relatively innocent reason to have withheld some details about his wanderings. It's not as though she had asked him directly and he wasn't holding anything back now. Her boy was true.

None of this meant that Stella was up to no good, though the circumstantial evidence was mounting and that was beginning to excite her.

"I already told you that. No. I told her not to," Ginger said. "August 15th. Where was Stella that day? Got to put the number in every fucking time when you're in history. So annoying!" Refreshing...

Her phone never left Jacqueline's.

Ginger had to think. Stella must not know her phone could or would be tracked. Otherwise, why would she leave it at South Station for most of a day or in her desk over a weekend? Unless that was better than where she was really going. But then, why go out of her way to leave it at the train station at all? Why not just leave it at Jacqueline's every time? Oh! So she could get it without going back to the house and assuming that I'd say something the first time I caught her without it.

Still, there could be an innocent explanation. Like she just forgot it. But Stella was cheap as hell. She had eagerly transferred her number to the ANF phone and used it for personal stuff all the time. No one gave a shit. Tightwad Stella would have to have a good reason to maintain a second line.

"What did she do at the locker? She picked up another phone and what?"

"Oh! Another bag," he said.

"Like a purse?"

"No bigger. Well, it could have been, I guess. Closer to a beach bag."

"Big enough for a change of clothes?" Ginger also remembered wondering why Stella left her suitcase at the house after their trip.

"Sure. It was heavy. She kept switching shoulders the whole walk."

"What was the other time you followed her?" Last test.

Tom had to think a moment. "She went to Lechmere!"

"The mall? Why was that so weird?"

"'Cause all she did was sit there. She just sat and waited on a bench for like, 40 minutes, checking her phone constantly. Looked like she got stood up. And then she left and I didn't follow her."

"Why'd that guy punch you?" Ginger asked.

"How'd you know I got punched?"

"I saw it happen."

"Sneaky Master! Thought you were going away this weekend! Hmm? Fuck, why tell Tom the truth about anything? Wait, you're not supposed to rough me up when I've got a concussion. Remember? A nice mouse once told me that. And I've already suffered indignities today."

Ginger laughed. "She was a nice mouse. This one doesn't fuck around though! Why'd the guy hit you? Were you waiting for him? Meeting him at the old flagpole?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I guess I thought I could get a picture of them making out. But I got busted so I played it off like a coincidence. The dude told me to beat it, so I did. And then I went outside and, 'just for fun, why don't you tell me' what happened next?" Tom laid his head down and blinked up at her.

"I saw a big guy go outside and punch you. Didn't knock you down though. I couldn't see, but it looked like you got some shots in?"

Tom popped up, excited, and then winced again.

"He broke a knuckle on my head, I think! I can barely feel where he hit me, it was like the thickest part of the dome. But my head hit the wall behind me. That hurts. My whole brain does."

"I bet."

"I thought the cracking sound was my skull! I think I just ran away. I don't remember throwing any punches." He looked at his knuckles. "No punches, I don't think. Then, I took the T and came home. Hey! This is my block! Master, can I go home, please? Please? You gave me the night off."

"Home is with us now, Tom."

"Fuck! Your home, not mine! Scam this all is."

She refreshed the screen and waited. "Stop it," she said. He did. And sulked. It was like opposite-day in Tom world.

Stella was still at the last place she had been. Tom wasn't lying, but there was something fishy going on with Jacqueline's assistant. Ginger couldn't think of a reason why Stella's buddy would punch Tom unless he was a jealous boyfriend or she told him to. Their family may be non-traditional, but that's not how a family worked. Ginger hoped Stella was up to something bad enough to get rid of her for good. Jacqueline would just have to deal with it. All part of the relationship reset the widow had made necessary.

"Why is she such a bitch to me, Master? I try really hard."

"You want to ask her yourself?" She put the car in drive. "Let's go find out."

Tom looked sad as they passed the back of his former home. They pulled onto Mass Ave, took a left onto Beacon, and headed west.

"I'd rather just go home, Ginger. Please?"

"Not gonna happen. Stop asking."

"But you trust me, right? You know I would never lie to you, Master?"

"I know."

"Do you really? Master?"

"Probably. But maybe not. I don't know. Something's pissing me off. We'll just assume it's you until I determine otherwise."

To doubt his honesty or devotion at this point was just mean. Before she could worry about whether he was as forlorn as that question made him sound, however, Tom was pawing at Ginger's jeans. Her boy knew she wasn't really mad at him.

"You're crazy. How about some shugar, Shugar?"

"Easy, boy. You're not off the hook yet! Hey! Hands to yourself!" She laughed at him. It was funny the things Ginger had patience for. "Tell me more about V. Was she your girlfriend?"

Tom started rambling again and Ginger, who was trying to critically assess all of the assumptions she was making, had a hard time tuning him out. Why hadn't she ever thought of getting him drunk before?

"Master, can we get me a beer or something? You know, keep the party rolling?"

"Yeah, right."

"There's a bunch of packies right by her house. Please? It's on me." Tom cracked himself up.

She ignored him and he seemed to forget about it. And then his head was bobbing as though he were fighting to stay awake. She thought of the last time she'd seen him after a concussion. He perked right up when she blew him. He wasn't drunk that night, though. That couldn't be helping even if it was entertaining.

"Hey! Tom! Up! Wake up!" She shoved him, concerned that he had fallen so deeply asleep in three minutes. But once he was awake again, he picked up right where he left off, trying to get a hand on her. This time she let him. Maybe some action, even if only a tease, would keep him alert. At a red light, she stole a look at the back of his head while he fumbled with her jeans and jacket—not noticing it was his or that she was wearing a holster under her arm. The t-shirt hadn't stuck to the wound. But he still might need stitches. "Ooh! You got right in there, didn't you? All right, easy! Be respectful, slave."

Tom moaned at the word but stopped his busy hands before she got rough.

"I fucking love Kitty, Master!" he announced for the second time today.

"Ha! Kitty's fond of you, too, boy." She found a parking spot near the convenience store, but out of the light. "Hey, listen to me. Listen! Stay right here. I'm going to pop in. Have to do my jeans up, you weirdo! Do not get out of the car. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am! Nothing in a green bottle, please!"

It took three minutes for Ginger to buy two concentrated ounces of caffeine and other assorted OTC stimulants. When she got back in the car, Tom looked like he was wide awake and in a good mood.

"Drink this."

"Right on, Alice." As soon as he cracked it open and swallowed the contents, the whole car smelled like a grape's asshole. "Blah! That's fucking horrible! Are you sure that's good for me?"

"You'll be fine. Smells awful, though," Ginger said.

She got lucky and parallel parked about a hundred feet from the house and checked on Tom. He was awake but looking stupid. Still drunk.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes. Stay in the car and stay awake! Think about what she did to you this afternoon!" Ginger put her Red Sox hat on the seat, shook out her curls, and primped without a mirror.

"God, you're beautiful, Ginger!" Tom said. "Hey! That's my jacket!" She could see how happy that made him.

Every woman should own a Tom, she thought and winked at him before upping the ante: "Mmm. Smells like you. Afraid I'm gonna have to commandeer it, boy. Stay put."

###

Ginger approached the door. It was three apartments. She guessed it must be "D. Sullivan/M. Driscoll." That sounded right for those two big guys. Top floor. The street entrance was unlocked. She padded up the outsides of the steps and got close to the door where a light was on and she could hear deep male voices, but not what they were saying. Ginger called Stella's number. She didn't hear a ring inside because it went right to voicemail. She knew the phone was here. Was Stella?

Ginger was looking to settle a score with that meathead for punching Tom. She smiled at the lopsided calculation in her mind: Hurt my boy, I end your football career. Ginger didn't abide bullies of any size or shape.

She knocked on the door and whispered loudly as a drunk would, "Stella!" She laughed. "Stellahhh!" More laughter. The door opened. Tom was right. The guy was icing his hand. One hard head.

"Oh! Look at you! Is Stella here?" Ginger was wasted.

"No, she took off. Who are you?"

Unless Stella had described Ginger to this guy, which was possible if he was a boyfriend, she looked too good to put him on alert.

"I'm Victoria. You're Pete?"

"Dan." He was annoyed...

"Oh! Hi, Dan! She's not answering her phone! Did she go back to her place?"

"No. You want to come in for a drink?"...but not that annoyed.

"Aww, no. I'd love to, but, hey, what happened to your hand?"

"I punched some guy."

"Oh! Bet he's not looking so good! Can you tell her Victoria was looking for her?"

"Sure. How do you know where I live?"

"She pointed it out to me once. She said you were cute!" Ginger looked him up and down while he busied himself doing the same thing.

"Umm, do you have any idea where she is? She asked me to pick something up for her? And I kinda have to get it to her soon." Ginger wasn't sure she agreed with Tom's suspicions about the guys in Chinatown.

Dan looked like that didn't make any sense to him, she thought.

"No, I don't know where she goes. But she'll be back," he said. "I could, uh, hold on to it, give it to her for you."

"Hmm. No. That's OK. I gotta go. Bye!" Ginger scampered down the steps and down the street to her car.

Tom was out cold, looking comfortable.

"Damn it, dude."

###

Ginger put her hat back on and looked at the iPad. The battery was low and she was only getting a 3G signal for some reason. Sure that she remembered Stella's address, she powered down. That might buy her a few minutes of use later. Ginger drove back through residential neighborhoods and let Tom sleep. She parked and, as expected, saw that the second floor belonged to S. Jones. But this time, the front door was locked. Ginger didn't have anything on her for picking it, and, anyway, it wasn't something she was good at. It could take her 15 minutes or more and it was still early enough that there would be people walking down the street. She thought of breaking the glass to get into the vestibule, but that would attract attention from inside the building. Stella wasn't home unless she ran straight to bed after leaving Dan Sullivan's, so this was just to "leave a message." Ginger looked for a hidden key. Nothing...but a fist-sized rock. That'll do!

There was a shadow in which only a few determined people could possibly see her if she crouched.

By the size and shape of the building, as well as what she could see of the first-floor apartment, Ginger was confident that she put the rock into Stella's bedroom, maybe even got some glass on her bed as a bonus. She hid. Lights went on in a few windows, but not at Stella's. She waited for people to settle and then walked back to the car.

"Hey, Tom! Wake up, buddy! Come on!" She didn't want to hurt him, but man, was he sleeping hard.

Ginger whispered into his ear and ran a hand over his chest.

"Tom. Tom! I'm sorry I was rough before, baby. You're so patient with me," she said. He was fighting to open his eyes wider and get into the game. "That a boy. I'm such a demanding master, but you always give me just what I want, don't you, slave?" Ginger reached down to find that Tom's usual freakishly instant hard-on was running late. Maybe he was in bad shape.

"...Fuck with me... Love Kitty," he mumbled.

"Fuck, Tom! I want you inside me! Show me you can do it. Come on, wake up."

Tom pushed his dick into her hand. It was getting there, just a delayed response, what would be normal for most men, she thought.

"That a boy! Mmm, I want you to do what Stella did to you today. Make me your bitch!"

Tom laughed. "So full of shit, Master."

"There he is! No, I'm not, baby. I promise! Later, though! You think you could get me back to that warehouse in Southie?"

"Pff. Knew it."

She might be able to figure it out without his help but wanted to keep him from getting too deep into a hole.

"I want both. For real! Just get me there, please. And tomorrow morning, you just turn over when you're ready and force me again. Punish me for being such a tease. OK?"

Ginger didn't wait. She started driving and got back onto main roads, heading for South Station.

"Why don't you pull that big dick out and jerk off for me, slave?" Go with what's working.

###

"Oh, shit!" Tom threw his door open and sprayed a thick stream of beer and energy drink onto the passing pavement. Ginger caught hold of his arm and may have saved him from following his puke out of the car.

Throwing up was a bad sign. Then again, he would be better off getting the alcohol and aldehyde out of his system.

"You OK?"

"Holy shit. My head is killing me."

"Oh, God!" Ginger used the buttons to open their windows, gagging. "Should I be worried?"

"No, it was that cough medicine crap. But water and a bed would be nice."

She got him an energy drink but didn't think to rehydrate him? Duh.

Ginger looked at her boy. Tom's dick was out, limp. His eyes were teary. But he seemed like the guy she had blown the night of the solstice. The guy who had knocked both Marcus and her on their asses when they assumed he was down for the count.

"OK, soon, I promise. Put your dick away and buckle up. You're a frickin' disaster, dude!" They both laughed. This little adventure had distracted Ginger from what should have been a bad mood. "Try to get the next one all the way out of the car, please."

She had gotten turned around in the South Station area, which hadn't helped Tom's nausea. But at least he was now alert and trying to figure out where they were. With a minimum of attitude, he guided her back onto Summer Street through a tricky series of turns that might have taken a few attempts to figure out without a navigator.

"I'm fine. No more throwing up," he said. "OK, we don't have to turn until after that bridge over the Reserve Channel."

"Huh?"

"Where the Boston Edison plant is. Like a mile. Straight. You'll see it in a minute. It's pink?"

"How close can we get in the car? You're not tired and sloppy all of a sudden?"

"Nope! We can get right up to the door. It's totally run down. I think there's a Fed Ex building maybe a half mile away, but you can't see it. There were a few cars parked on the side street, but nothing after the last turn except two in the big parking lot."

"Let me see it from a distance first."

"Right up there, then that first left, and it's 50 yards in front of us." Tom cocked his head and looked at her. "What are you, Ginger?"

"Your fucking owner, bitch."

He laughed. "Seriously."

"A Leo. Seriously. You knew that."

"You're playing, so, therefore, I'm going to keep asking."

"If I told you..."

"...Oh, God, you'd have to kill me. Still just one way, huh? You can't answer a simple question? Tracking our phones? Up there. I think. Pull over about 20 feet past the turn, kill the lights, and roll until we can see the building."

Ginger did as instructed and realized that she did so because it may as well have been Marcus telling her what to do. Tom suddenly didn't sound like an angry drunk with a concussion. Rather, he prioritized critical information because—she believed—he shared her increasing concern that they might not be playing games.

There weren't any cars around, which made them stand out. It felt post-apocalyptic for being not far off Summer Street.

"There's not an easy answer to that question, Tom. I'm sure you have a few ideas. But all you need to know right now is that I'm your master and all the rules still apply. I don't want any more attitude. Understood?"

"...She did go upstairs. I couldn't tell from over there," he said, pointing to where he had watched Stella disappear. The dimmed lights above and to the left of the door were bright enough to outline an open, two-story loft on the second and third floors. He leaned over and lay his head on her shoulder. "Understood, Master. I'm sorry."

Without thinking, she gave his head a quick kiss. "My good boy. Let's watch it for a few minutes," Ginger said.

No sooner did the words leave her mouth than she regretted them. He must have forgotten his place. Lucky for Tom, Ginger was feeling indulgent because she had distrusted the one person who had never given her a real reason to. And getting angrier by the minute at Stella.

"How about you keep watch and I'll..."

"...Eww, Ralph. Get off me!" she said.

"Come on! Can I finish jerking off at least?"

"No, ass! I'm letting you get away with murder because you're injured. But I will hurt you! I can't see any good reason for her to be here. Something's funny. Still could be nothing and you're just fucked. Would you stop?"

"You got me all turned on! You were like, 'I want you inside me.' That's just mean, Master."

"Heaven forfend, slave! You got fucked with... Just stop or I'm knocking you out," she said.

"...Bone breaker..." he grumbled.

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes looking for signs of life. Tom yawned a lot. By the time Ginger spoke again, his eyes were half-open.

"OK. Listen. Hey! Are you listening to me?"

"Mmm hmm..."

"Try to stay awake, Tom. I'm going to go have a look around. This feels weird. Just stay put, I'll be back in five," she said, confident that Tom didn't hear her. Cycling between jokey and dopey in under three minutes meant Ginger was being irresponsible, again. But now she needed questions answered. As soon as she collected Stella, she would tend to her boy. Reluctantly, she added, One way or another.

Ginger switched off the overhead light and reached back to get the rear one. She had to get halfway out of her seat and Tom was pleased to feel her leaning on him to steady herself, more than was necessary. Then she quietly opened and closed the door and crept toward the building, looking for cameras or anything else that might alert the owners to her presence.

###

Tom tried to keep watching the windows, still hoping to see some movement inside, but soon lost focus. He started moving every part of his body in the seat. He had to shake this off. Had it been five minutes? Maybe. He hadn't looked at his watch when she left but it was ten of one now. It was about 12:30 when they were driving around South Station. And they had sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching. Tom faded...

...No! Wake up! He tapped on his head wound through the t-shirt, hoping a sharp pain might jolt him into coherence. But it was less painful than nauseating. Before long, his stomach settled and he slipped into the comfort of...

...Wake up! Ginger was out of sight. Tom was cold. He opened the glove box. The light startled him so he closed it immediately. No use giving away his position if someone was watching. Good. Thinking logically again. He laughed at himself.

Tom started bouncing his feet, shaking the whole car. He opened the center console just enough to reach in and push the button that turned the light off, in the process bumping his hand into cold metal. What was that? He closed the lid on his arm to contain the light and tried to work it free. It was a gun. Was it the one Ginger had on her thigh that night back in June? That was fucking great! Tom studied it in the darkness but couldn't remember. Did it have a safety? Yes, it did. He toggled the switch and saw the little orange dot in the dim. He put the safety back on. How could he tell if it was loaded? It didn't weigh much and ammunition was heavy. Anyway, where would it even go? He fingered the end of the barrel. There were two identical holes, one on top of the other, not much bigger than an air rifle. Two shots, like in the Old West? What good was a gun like this if it wasn't loaded?

It felt right in his hand, though it was toy-sized. Hard to believe something so tiny could be lethal. Why would Ginger need a gun in the car? Why would she have had it strapped to the inside of her thigh, for that matter? 'Cause it was fucking sexy. God, she was sexy.

Tom looked at his watch. 1:30? Ginger!

###

No security at all. A big, open, fenced parking lot with one car in it, a dark green Crown Victoria from the millennium. It was about 50 feet from the door that had to belong to the lights. Ginger thought she would have a closer look and hugged the inside of the chain link fence before coming to the passenger side. She placed the back of her hand just above the dewy hood. Cool. She noted the plugged hole on the driver's side where the post-mount spotlight used to be and took a look at the plate. It no longer belonged to a government.

Could it be just Stella up there? It wasn't a group, that seemed certain. Ginger hurried down the front of the building. With her sleeve over her hand, she tried the knob. The door was installed in the last year or two. The magnetized weather stripping made a little noise as she pulled it open, but new-age music playing upstairs was loud enough to cover that. To her immediate left was a set of stairs going up to an open door from which the light and music emanated. Dead ahead was another, flimsier door that she found to be locked. She reconsidered Tom's suspicions and an image formed in her mind: This was Stella's workspace. The music—no one listened to that by themselves—was to set the mood. Ginger was interrupting a date. The paid kind.

OK, two people, hopefully, one is Stella. Be ready for two men. No talking. Did she hear activity? No. But Stella was light on her feet and didn't make much noise when she screwed. Unless Ginger gave her something to scream about.

The stairs were as new as the door so she was again able to walk up the outsides of them without a sound. Ginger paused on the third to last, turned the baseball cap backward, and poked her head around the door jamb, just a few inches from the floor. She couldn't see anyone but felt that there was at least one body in the blind spot to her right. If there were people up there, they were on the other side of the wall that she was leaning against. They didn't seem to be alert and ready for action.

She crept back to the top step and debated a quick peek from her full height. It was worth the risk to see over that partial, half-wall immediately to her left. She pushed her head against the door frame and tried to see as far that way as possible. Nothing but a nice big loft, almost empty of furniture. The owner of which must have had family on the zoning board. This floor was divided into equal thirds by identical half walls and exposed I-beams. There was a second floor that was half as deep as the first and overhung the center and far thirds. Opposite her position, it looked like there was another set of stairs going up and maybe down to the shop floor. To the right, she saw part of a sectional couch. It was oriented toward a TV on the opposite wall.

Fuck it.

Ginger whipped around the corner with the dart gun drawn. Stella jumped up from the couch and turned to face her, dropping an iPhone 5—Ginger recognized the Otterbox case—in the process. The look on the little woman's face told Ginger that she had been expecting someone she wanted to see. The negligee confirmed it. Not something you would wear to bed by yourself. But Stella was alone at the moment.

Inertia prevailed. In two steps, Ginger had closed the distance between them and smashed her fist into Stella's face. The flyweight went down, but stayed conscious, blood pouring from her nose.

"Ginger! What..." Stella yelled as she struggled up off her knees with both hands to her face.

The ass kicker gave her an appreciative look as she holstered the gun—that nose was very broken—and stepped over the couch.

"You tell me," Ginger said as she helped Stella to her feet by her hair.

"Why... Thomas stalked me!"

Ginger yanked her head back. "Who are you waiting for right now in your little nightie? Ya whoring Stell? Huh?"

"No."

Slap!

"Who's coming? You got a boyfriend we don't know about? Or is it a fuckin' trick?"

"No, stop Ginger. It's not like that. Just listen!"

"How many dicks, you little cunt? Huh? How many dicks you expose us to?"

"It's not like that," Stella said.

"Bullshit. You're coming with me," Ginger said, using the handful of hair to make Stella's head mirror hers as she scanned the huge room for shoes. She didn't see any but realized that she had failed to verify that it was just the two of them in the loft. Fuck, Ginger, how many times? The several blind spots would conceal someone who was trying to hide, but the space felt empty.

The other mistake Ginger made, however, was the one that almost cost her. She underestimated Stella. The fact that the size-two was still on her feet after that shot to the face should have given Ginger pause.

Stella struck Ginger's windpipe with the side of her hand as she freed herself, hopped the couch, and ran to the open kitchen.

Ginger recovered and, with her long strides, closed the distance before Stella could get what she was going for...a snub-nosed .38?

The taller woman's reach and strategic use of her hip assured that not only did she put a hand on the gun first, but Stella went sprawling. Her blood now boiling, Ginger continued the motion and put a Nike Swoosh imprint on the back of Stella's head, ending the game.

She noted the lack of serial number, verified that the small revolver was loaded, and made sure the safety was on before putting it in her back pocket. Then she helped a wobbly Stella to her feet and forced her back toward their starting point.

Ginger looked out the window and then popped her head into the stairwell. Nothing. The angry blond then shoved Stella so that she almost flipped over the back of the couch, but stopped short of that, and wound up looking like she was in the same position Tom must have been in that afternoon. Stella had lost a lot of blood. It was hard to avoid.

Fuck shoes. They had to get out of there before whoever Stella was expecting arrived. Ginger still didn't figure her for the owner of the handgun. He was on his way. Ginger grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around Stella's shoulders, allowing her to keep her hands on her face.

Keeping a distance, Ginger walked Stella to the stairs, gripping the back of her neck. She didn't need either of the weapons she was carrying, the traitor was barefoot and out of surprises. It was just going to be an anxious 100 feet to the car.

"You're making a mistake, Ginger. I'm..."

"...Save it. What did I tell you? 'Don't fuck him.' Was I unclear?"

"I'm sorry.

"Sorry you got caught. Payback's gonna be a bitch."

Now came the tricky part. At the bottom of the stairs, she pushed Stella's face into the wall and held her there, leaving a bloody smudge. With her free hand, she patted her back pocket looking for her cell phone. Tom might be able to pull the car up if he was awake. But she didn't have it on her. Damn it!

Keeping Stella in place, Ginger opened the door and stuck her head out into the cool night. Again, all clear. She pulled it closed and was preparing to get a better grip on Stella for the walk when she heard a noise behind her. Before she could react, a man's hand was over her nose and mouth and she was being pulled backward through the other door.

"Christ, Jimmy. Cuttin' it awful close," Stella said in a genuine Irish brogue.
Chapter 2: Twice Set Straight

Brooklyn

"I should have been to see you sooner," Jacqueline said as Sal released her from their first hug since Michael's funeral. "I may have waited too long."

"What's going on?" he asked as they settled into their seats on either side of his desk.

"Sal, I'm equally hoping and dreading that you can explain it to me. Either way, it's trouble."

"Tell me."

"Do you know Jimmy Connelly, Sal?"

"Oh, boy."

"Did you know Michael worked with this guy? Sal?"

"For years. We know him well."

"Sal, he's telling me that he and Michael had a deal with the IRA! Michael dropped some ball and now I have to put in his half of the 'investment' or Jimmy and I are in danger?"

"Oh, Jimmy," he said, shaking his head. "Son of a bitch."

"Sal! Michael worked with the IRA? But you didn't know about it?"

He sighed. "Of course I knew about it!"

"What am I missing here, Sal? What were we doing?"

"Making money. A lot of it."

"So, it's not a scam? Daddy always said... I can't have been this wrong about both of them, Sal. Daddy knew?"

"No, sweetheart. No way. It all started after Charley died. And Michael got backed into it," he said. "Once they put their hooks in, and the money kept coming, we held our noses and made it work."

"50 percent returns?"

"Almost. But if Jimmy's coming to you now, with Michael out of the picture, he's not looking to make you money. How much?"

"Two million. Every year."

"Madone! Go big or go home, I guess." Sal shook his head again and laughed. "He knows you have it."

"But it has to be through the Foundation and you can't be involved. He said he's afraid of involving you, Sal."

"Not afraid enough."

"What am I going to do, Sal? I've pushed him off for a month. Last week he was talking about Michael being disinterred from Arlington, Sal."

He already knew that there was just one option for the woman who as a girl had happily occupied his lap.

"You fold, kiddo! Screw it. It's two million dollars. We'll call it three. Not a problem. He won't be coming back for more. The Irish are fucking animals—excuse me—but Aidan isn't going to chase down Michael's widow. No way. He's an honorable man and we did right by them. This is just Jimmy, which is why he didn't want me involved. Michael gave him two and a half-million to buy his way out of the deal as we did. He obviously didn't. Now, they're putting the screws to him, I'm sure, and the dumbfuck—excuse me again."

"Please. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm fine, Sal."

He smirked. "Jimmy's coming to you because he's afraid. He's not going to give you any money back, so he can't come asking for more. Two million's a nice haul. He's on a beach in the South Pacific this time next year."

"Why will we 'call it three?'" she asked.

"I'm rounding up, but, as I'm sure you know, it costs money to move that much money discreetly, and, well..." He looked at her with unease.

"Sal, I was a defense attorney. I'm a big girl. I've got this asshole coming to my house. Out with it!" the widow said.

"Couple hundred grand to free up the cash. Another couple to make sure Jimmy never asks anyone for money again."

"Really? That easy? You could set that up, Sal?"

"Jesus! Slow down! Are you kidding me?" he asked and then sighed. "Yes. You'd be horrified by how easy it is, even for that slippery fuck." He laughed. "'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' Oh, Jacqueline. I remember thinking you were all Charley when you still had a mouth full of baby teeth."

"Ginger teases me all the time that I sound just like him."

"You really do, Jacqueline," he said and then switched back to serious. "Unfortunately, we can't deal with Jimmy until after we lose the money. But don't worry. We don't have a real problem here."

"If you say so, Sal," she said. "I'd like to keep my father's image intact if possible. But Michael's left a legacy. He seems crazy to me now and he became really scary in the end. Would you tell me a little more about him, please, Sal? I think I'm ready to hear it."

Her godfather took a deep breath and sighed.

"He was something else, Jacqueline. My God. Your father and I really weighed that decision, bringing him in." He thought about it. She had no background. "Michael came home in '97. He did what Michael did until '99 when he suddenly became available, for cheap. We knew what he was capable of, but also thought that he might be ready to lower his sights, settle down. You only get so many of those 'get out of a lot worse than jail free' cards and he'd been fighting his whole life. If anyone could make Michael into a 'more money by pen than sword' guy, it was your father."

"Money, Sal? Not duty, or honor, or..."

"...Not once we got out of the government's direct employ. Sweetheart, we're nothing more than better-organized crime now. Not what any of us wanted, but honor and patriotism became liabilities. If you wanted to survive, you had to do things your father and I couldn't have imagined in our time. But Michael didn't just survive that world, he thrived in it! He taught the fucking Colombians a thing or two! And there's still some honor. You do not go after innocent family. Jimmy's dug his own grave. How he thought I wasn't going to find out..."

"...So why are we talking about throwing away a few million dollars, Sal?"

"Don't worry about the money! Michael made sure that you've got more than you'll ever need. This is just a personal thing because Jimmy was always in Michael's shadow, like Batman and Robin. And, your husband didn't do partnerships well."

"It was never more than half a marriage, Sal. We were roommates. He tried. And kept trying, but I don't think he could. He wasn't a bad partner, though."

"He loved you. You made him a better man. He knew that. It was exactly what your father wanted. He had just hoped it would be someone else's daughter! But he couldn't stop you. Maybe June could have, but..."

"I wish he had tried, Sal. I wish she had been alive to."

"Too young, both of them," he said.

Jacqueline sighed. "The most emotional I ever saw Michael was when he practically begged me to give up on having children. He never said it, but I think he didn't want his kids in the world, Sal. And then, at the end, he hurt me," she said, holding back her emotions. "His tumor did, anyway. He took that worse than I did. But it ruined everything. I never let him touch me again, Sal."

"I'm sorry, Jacqueline. He was a good man. This life, though, it catches up with you. And they say 'the higher you get, the lower you can go.'"

"How did he 'come cheap? It sounds like trading a baseball player, Sal."

"If there's a league or two above the majors." He took another deep breath. "...Michael spent about 15 years in South America, as you know. Against the communists, the cartels, whoever. It was always changing. But as good as Michael was, cocaine was currency. He fought it, used it to fund whatever team he was supporting at the time. Finally, after all those years, it did what hundreds of killers couldn't: It caught him. Then he brought his problem home and did what his government trained him to do. Jacqueline, sweetheart, the men at his funeral... Retired generals, an admiral, a former AG? These aren't people who make a habit of being seen together. But they do for one of their own... Michael came home and within a year, a lot of bad guys disappeared. Even with the addiction, he was productive."

"But then, he screwed up," Sal continued. "Killed a civilian. A 'bad guy,' but not bad enough. Lot of favors had to be called in. Of course, Michael managed not only to cover his tracks but claim a prize for his government. Regardless, you just don't kill a guy cartel-style on Long Island. Your father and I still had enough pull that we could save Michael's life. That's how he 'came cheap.' We called the dogs off and made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The first thing Charley had him do when he got clean was try to fix that."

"Thomas?"

Sal nodded. "Officially, Tom Amore. No middle name. His father was George, mother Linda. There was a brother... Jack. Also, Jack, not John, no middle name. I always thought that was funny, Italian kids with no middle names. You ask anyone who was suspicious, Jack killed his stepfather. But not really. No one was suspicious because there was no body. Jack disappeared into the same program all of those men from the funeral came from. No idea what became of him."

"Michael sent Thomas to college?"

"You know, Michael always called him Thomas no matter how many times I reminded him, it's just Tom. We also set his mother up. The kid needed purpose, it was provided. Hence Arch Nathan sending him to Boston and running him all over town. He settled at, well, you must know the rest."

Jacqueline nodded. "Michael was the only person who called me Jackie as an adult even after I asked him not to. Annoyed the hell out of me!" She shook her head. "You know, Tom lives with me, Sal?"

"Are you for real?" Sal blew hard through puffed cheeks. "Jesus! Michael had said he might have to go on your payroll, but that never happened and Ginger never mentioned him, so I just figured he moved on. I was happy to get out of his life and let him be. Is that who the other phone was for?" She nodded. "Jesus, Jacqueline, what did Michael tell you about him?"

"He introduced us, Sal! Didn't say much, just that he owed me a lot of money and Ginger would handle him."

"So, now he's living in your house? With Ginger, too?" he asked. Jacqueline nodded again. "Oh, boy." He allowed his imagination to wander briefly and furrowed his brow. "You and Ginger?"

"Partners, yes. Lovers."

He tried to act nonchalant. "And the kid? That's also how Michael referred to him. Do you charge him rent?"

"Oh, no. He helps out, Sal. He's like a member of the family."

He searched a drawer, eventually removing a sealed envelope which he held close.

"Unbelievable. I understand it with Ginger and your father. You know?" he asked. She nodded. Sal let it pass. She obviously didn't know as much as she thought or was about to figure out. Damn it, Michael! "But, Tom owing you? Michael turned the kid's world upside down!"

Sal continued since she looked queasy. "The tumor. He told me he was making mistakes," he said, explaining it to himself and shaking his head. "He's a good kid? I know him on paper. I always thought he must be. He 'helps out?'"

"My goodness, Sal! He's sweet. Yes. He runs the house. He works really hard!"

"What does he do? He took all those vocational courses before college."

"I'm feeling a bit sick to my stomach, Sal. But, yes, he's wonderful. He cooks, and cleans, takes care of us and our—Stella! Sal! She's working with Jimmy! Obviously, I've been naive, but he practically spelled it out for me! Only she could help me move the money through the Foundation. He tried to make it sound like I couldn't involve you because it would start a war, and Ginger because she owed the IRA somehow?"

"Fuckin' Jimmy. You gotta be kidding me! Ginger has nothing to do with this. He knows she's there to protect you. And I'm not starting any wars."

"Is she, Sal? Protection against someone like him?"

"No, sweetheart. She's NYPD. To serve and protect. Jimmy's one of the thugs who made Colombia the most dangerous place on the planet. What's her take on this?"

"Whoa. NYPD, Sal? Ginger?"

"I see." He sighed again. "It's not my story to tell. Jacqueline, keeping secrets is how these people survive. I can only assume that the reason you're still with her is that you believe she's capable of what Michael wasn't. I'd bet you're right, too, from what I know. Give her time and be proud of her."

"Already am, Sal. And I can't complain because I haven't told her anything about Jimmy. She met him the first time he showed up but I said it was no big deal."

"She smelled trouble," he said.

"She did. But I assured her—I mean I lied to her, Sal. But, you know, I didn't really believe him, it's just that...she and I have other things going on right now. She's got to be furious with me. And I needed to be sure about Stella before I told Ginger anything. For her safety, Sal! What about...Jimmy said Ginger was either 'the weapon or the target.'"

"Ginger is who you think she is and you need her involved! For that, my dear, shame on you. 'Cause if Jimmy knows she's your partner, that's who he would hurt. He can't touch you," he said. "I'm worried about two things right now." He held out one finger. "This seems sloppy for someone of Jimmy's talents."

"What? Do you think this is a distraction or something, Sal?"

"Maybe. Let me work on that for a while." Sal added a digit. "Tom is actually my immediate concern. He's in your home."

"Is that crazy or something, Sal? Michael gave Ginger mixed messages, but we agreed, we were supposed to worry about him. He's redoing a second bathroom. The first one took two weeks, a total renovation, It's gorgeous. He drove me to the airport this morning, Sal!"

"And you take care of him?"

"Sure. Ginger loves him, not that she'd ever admit to caring about another person."

"Tell me, is he, normal? Stable?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"I think so, Sal, he's kind, considerate..."

"Everything I just told you is a complete surprise? You had no idea?"

"None, Sal."

"Just give me a minute. You care about him?"

"Of course, Sal! Ginger really does. He's part of our lives. What am I missing here?"

"Does he have a temper, or..."

"Sal! Enough! You obviously know something I don't. What?"

"Do you know about the trouble he got in a few years ago?"

"No, Sal. What kind of trouble?"

"Jacqueline, he put someone in the hospital. Beat the hell out of him."

"Really, Sal? Why?"

"You almost look proud."

"I'm sure I am, Sal. What did he do?"

"It's not a secret, Ginger must know," he said.

"She keeps a lot of things to herself. And she adores him, Sal. He's like her partner-in-crime. And he can't beat her up, I know that for a fact! Although, he did catch her once. What happened, Sal?" she asked with a smile and then frowned. "Are you purposely not answering me?"

"No," he said with a curious look on his face, no doubt because of the grin on hers. "There was a girl. This hockey player... Mike Brown, he hit her. Tom got wind of it—it happened at his house—and he attacked the guy. Tony White, you remember, you met his father at Michael's funeral?"

"No."

"Black man in Navy formals? Admiral White?"

"Yeah, OK, Sal."

"Well, his boys, Marvin and Tony were Michael's eyes and ears on Tom. Mine, really. According to Tony and everything I got from the police, the guy had it coming. But if a handful of young men hadn't intervened, Tom would have killed him. That's concerning. I didn't tell Michael that story, because, by all accounts, Tom was acting honorably and the situation resolved itself. I was afraid that Michael would... I didn't know. He was funny about Tom."

"He was all over the road about what he told Ginger, Sal. But he introduced me to Thomas—Tom—as 'my guy' up in Boston, but he didn't tell Tom that. Or her. He seemed proud of him, Sal. Then, a week later, he told Ginger that Tom was 'not worthy of our sympathy.' That's what he said."

"Jesus, Michael," he said and sighed again. "Tom had something to do with why he jumped the gun on the whole situation, why it became personal with the father. Charley made Michael take care of the family. He set the mother up, but by the time Tom was ready to leave home, Michael was no longer paying attention. So, I stepped in to make sure there was some structure to his life, set him up in Boston where we had friends. His mother couldn't do that. I still can't explain why Michael resented Tom."

"Sal, you're worried about nothing. He would never hurt me. No way. And there's nothing he wouldn't do for her."

"Sure. Fine. The choices he's made, he's a good person. But think about this: His father used to hit them, he thinks his brother killed his old man. He has no relationship with his mother. She doesn't leave the house. No family. Six years at the same address. He..."

"...Didn't get to go on spring breaks and he worked all the time. You sound like Ginger trying to convince me that we needed to pay attention to him. The more I resisted, the more she insisted. And she was right, Sal! It's through him that I've seen who Ginger can be. I can't even begin to explain their relationship, Sal. Not without giving you chest pains. I've been jealous of it. I am jealous of it. But, it makes me realize what she's capable of and why I want her to be part of my life forever. You're still worried, Sal?"

He smiled at the hundredth use of his name. It really was like having a conversation with Charley Hale.

"I don't know, sweetheart. But you're right, your family does have an obligation to Tom. You care about him and he you. The problem is that your husband killed his father and pinned it on his brother. You say he's sweet and kind, but he's capable of real violence. See where I'm headed here?"

"He finds out Michael killed his father and then he's a danger to me."

"Probably not. You didn't kill the man. And I don't see how he could find out, either," Sal said. "But, I don't want to worry about that! We..."

"...What's in the envelope, Sal? That's the same kind Michael and Ginger used with him."

"Oh. Michael told me to get this to Tom when he was up on his own two feet. If it was safe to do so. My gut says throw this away."

"Sal, we have to see what it says first! May I?" she asked and surprised him by lunging to pluck it from his hand before he could react.

"Sure."

###

Jacqueline got a chill seeing Michael's neat hand. She read it to herself and took a deep breath before passing it back to her godfather:

"Thomas:

Jack was killed in Afghanistan on May 30, 2004. I was proud to know him. He had nothing to do with your stepfather's death.

Your father's name is Joseph Neri. His address is enclosed. He did not know you were born.

You are an impressive young man. You should be proud of yourself and set your sights high.

With respect,

Col. Michael Turner"

Sal spoke first. "I guess that's as close as Michael gets to an apology. And now we know what happened to the brother. And maybe why they didn't have middle names."

She shook her head and sighed. "How old was Tom when all this happened, Sal?"

"He was about ten."

"Who is his mother? Does she know any of this? How does Michael know about Tom's real father, Sal? That could only come from her, right?"

"Jacqueline, I have no idea. Linda is a simple lady. A looker in her day. She hasn't worked since. Hasn't had to, which may not have been the best thing for her. Doesn't see Tom that I know of. I've had David doing their taxes ever since but she has no idea who any of us are. She doesn't ask questions."

"That runs in the family, I guess. How is David, Sal?"

"Great. His little girl just turned 18 and started at Hofstra this semester. Playing field hockey."

"Oh, good for them," Jacqueline said. "Give him my best. What else do you know about Tom, Sal?"

He nodded. "Not much more than I've told you. He always did what we asked. Just that one bit of trouble. From what I've heard from the different people who helped us with him in Boston, he's a good kid."

"He's a great kid, Sal! I'm not sure he has as high an opinion of himself as I do. But, he's sweet and loving. He'll be a wonderful father." Jacqueline reached toward Sal. "May I see that again?" she asked and then reread the note. "I don't know if we've got more of these hideous envelopes at home, do you have any, Sal?"

He didn't budge.

"Sweetheart, listen to me. It sounds like he's important to you and that makes me happy. But, if I'm acting in loco parentis, I have to advise you to drop it. The safest thing to do is give him a pile of money and end the relationship. He's better off not seeing this. He'll get by. Of that I'm sure."

Jacqueline sighed. "You're probably right, Sal. But that's going to come at a cost: Ginger."

"You think she'd leave you over a 24-year-old?"

"She should have left me already, Sal! I've been cruel to her. I broke her heart this morning. And she's been convinced for a while that he's just like her, her logic being, 'Why else do you give someone $200,000 and pull all sorts of strings for him?' That was you, huh, Sal?"

"Michael inconsistently meddled. So, mostly, yes."

"Well, it all makes perfect sense now! Ginger doesn't believe he owes us anything, Sal. So, if there hasn't yet been a last straw, getting rid of her friend Tom would be it. I'd have to explain why. There is no way Ginger would let him keep believing his brother killed his father. My God, is that what he thinks, Sal?"

###

He clung to the slimmest hope that her lawyer brain wouldn't connect the dots.

"Jacqueline, sweetheart, angina aside, I think I need to understand this better. Starting with, does Tom think he owes you money?"

"He does. We presented him with a bill for $217,000, which is what we figured the foundation had given him altogether. Michael told Ginger to 'get our money's worth' out of him. He's been working off his debt since June, Sal."

He was perplexed and then, certain.

"Enough. He's gone. End of discussion. This is a disaster waiting to happen. I'm not knocking what you and Ginger did, but, he's got motive, Jacqueline!"

She was pale.

Sal continued. "There's more to it, I see. But I don't need to know. This is going to be the best thing for him. We'll make sure he has what he needs and then Tom will be fine. I'm sorry that he won't know the truth and that it's going to be painful for you and Ginger, but, be the grown-up here! Sounds like you have some regrets about your choices with her, but, that's how it is sometimes. It doesn't always work out."

###

She looked at him with tears brimming as a thought slowly formed in her mind.

"Jacqueline, the one thing we know for sure is that you have to end your relationship with Tom. He'll go on to have his life, you'll have yours. Ginger loves you. You've made mistakes. I'm sure she has, too. Work through it. Admit your wrongs, tell her how you feel, and hope for the best."

She heard the advice, nodded, and then froze with wide eyes.

Jacqueline gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, Sal!"

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

"I'm sorry, Jacqueline."

###

She repeated herself a few times as she understood one after another the ways that this realization changed her life. She had been feeling nauseated before. Now Jacqueline thought it would be wise to know the location of the nearest wastebasket.

"Would you have let me leave here without knowing that, Sal?" she asked.

"What's the benefit?"

"There is none! But, my God, Sal! You were giving me relationship advice!"

"What else could I do? Ginger was supposed to help you close up shop and move to Boston. I find out today she's your partner. She loves you, you love her. That's good. That's beautiful. The past is what it is."

"Well, so, what? What else is there, Sal? What are you going to hit me with next?"

"There is nothing else. Nothing that touches you close to home like this. Jacqueline, we've all done things. Sometimes for the right reasons. Often, not. Michael wasn't sorry about killing the guy. He believed it was the right thing to do. He was sorry that he made a mess of it, but something about a man hitting a kid..."

Jacqueline cringed thinking about being turned on by watching Ginger beat and demean Tom.

"...Sal! Why are you fucking talking about Tom and Michael? Ginger's mother?"

"Got in the way. It couldn't be avoided. She was loyal to the wrong people."

"She said he was like a father to her, Sal!"

"You knew the man, Jacqueline! He loved her. He tried to give her back as much as he could. He didn't want to kill her mother! Of course not! But he had a job to do. And I know, his biggest regret—maybe in his life!—was that he wasn't watching Ginger closely enough. When she ran away, he didn't know for a couple of weeks. He even knew where to look but by the time he got to her, it was done. He was one day too late. I know that because he told me a dozen times over the years. Thought about it all the time. He wanted her to have a good life, but she was never going to be a normal person. Not after that."

"It's sick that Michael tells her she has to pay me back, Sal!"

"At a quarter-million a year, to be fair. But, yeah. And, then, I can't even begin to understand why he puts the two of them together. As though he wanted her to figure it out."

"What am I going to do, Sal? My father killed my partner's mother."

"You start by forgetting this conversation! Deal with the immediate concern first. You have to get Ginger in the loop on Jimmy. She and I need to talk. Tom is gone. You agree with me now, that's for the best?"

"Yes."

"Good. Assuming you can patch things up with Ginger, she's happy? She likes her life?"

"Yes, Sal."

"You can't change what happened. But you can protect that happiness. She doesn't need to know. She's 30...?"

"Four."

"She's 34, in a relationship with someone who cares about her. Someone who cares enough to..."

"...Lie to her, Sal? Again?"

"To make sacrifices for her happiness. Let her settle down. That's what you want, right? This is serious? You said you are thinking 'forever' with her?"

"I was."

"You still are. I've known you your whole life, Jacqueline. You don't throw words like that around. Go home. Be the partner she deserves. I know it doesn't feel right but when you see a carefree smile on her face, that's why you're doing this. You didn't hurt these people. And you don't need to hurt them now."

"OK. How does that work, Sal? I just say, 'He's gotta go, Ginger?' She's going to need a reason. Tom is close to her in a way that no one else is, Sal. And he certainly doesn't shit on her like I have."

"I'm sure there's a way to do this," he said. "If it makes you feel better, I can find something for him down here."

She barely noticed what he said as she thought through her situation and feelings. The best of times with Michael didn't top the worst with Ginger. "Forever." Jacqueline didn't throw words like that around.

"No, Sal. I'm sorry. I'm not going to lie to her, carefree smile or not."

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself when Jacqueline shook her head.

"I'm not sure what you're worried about, either, Sal. Ginger's not going to hold these things against me. She might even agree that Tom should be kept in the dark. But, she's the one who should make that call," Jacqueline said and paused to think. "You know, Sal, she told me, a long time ago—the day of Michael's funeral, actually—she told me what those men did and how Daddy helped her. She said that she had been wondering about how he just happened to be there."

"Did she come up with an answer?"

"We never talked about it further. She was busy taking care of me. Oh, God, Sal! I love her and I've been so petty and now, this, this is going to..."

"...You have to think about what is the best thing for her! The same with Tom. Sounds to me like they've both managed to put a lot behind them. Why open old wounds? You can't bring her mother back, or his brother. And then, if she loves you, where does she turn when she's devastated? Where does either go?"

"Tom goes to her. But, Ginger, I don't know."

"Sweetheart, listen to me. Please. I know I have about as much chance of changing your mind as I do..."

"...What about when she figures it out on her own, Sal? She's asked herself the question, 'How did he know to be there?' She's not..."

"...She's had 20 years to think about it. Again, maybe that tells you something."

She stared at him and shook her head. "God damn it, Sal. This is sickening," she said. "All right, enough! What do I have to do about Jimmy?"

"Stella's in on it?"

"I'm sure she is now, Sal. After Jimmy's first visit, I met with her and she said we'd have to renege on some handshake commitments, but it would be fairly straightforward to do it through the foundation 'as long as the recipient appeared legitimate.' Last week, Jimmy hands me a business card—damn, I left that in Boston. I'll send the particulars. Anyway, Sal, he says, 'Here's who you're sending the money to, they look legit.' God, this is too obvious, isn't it?"

"It does seem that way. You're not exposed, though. There could be trouble with the IRS but that doesn't help them any. And then I'm involved. He can't get more of your money without going through me and he won't hurt you..."

"...You just said he might hurt Ginger or Tom, these people we've already screwed over, Sal!"

"That's not an immediate concern. Jimmy knows you can do it, now he just needs to believe you are willing. Where did you leave it with Stella?"

She sighed again. "We've had two meetings on the subject. As far as she's concerned, I'm just figuring out how to do it, Sal. And Ginger is definitely out of the loop."

"That's perfect, Jacqueline. Good. No deadline?"

"By the end of the year, I'd guess. He hasn't said, Sal."

"All right, we'll count on sooner, like October/November. That's still plenty of time. Get Ginger in the loop. And Marcus, too."

"Wait! You know Marcus, Sal?"

"Of course. And he's a resource. Ginger knows that. You knew he had done work for us, no?" he asked. She nodded. "I need to speak with both of them. I'll get cracking on this end, see what I can find out. Just sit tight and be careful."

"My God, Sal, I say for the tenth time! Is everyone in my life a plant or employee?"

"You're an innocent widow and you're safe. But Michael needed to know that if anything like this happened, you wouldn't be alone. Jimmy waited long enough for us to lower our guard."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don't know who I'm angriest at right now, Sal," she said.

"Hey. Your father and I, Michael, too. All we ever wanted was to keep you and Jane innocent of our world. Let you live your own lives. I'm sure Michael knew you'd be better off staying away from him. But, he loved you, Jacqueline, and he couldn't stay away from you. You might call that selfish. But his intentions were good."

"OK. So meet with Stella again?"

"Yes, if that makes sense."

"It will. And I heard you, Sal."

"Jacqueline, whatever you are going to do about Tom and Ginger, please wait until this is sorted out."

"Damn it, Sal."

"In loco parentis, sweetheart. We're in a bind. Nothing we can't handle, though," he said. "You've referred to them as your family a few times today. You're the leader of that family and that means making tough choices. You have to know what matters most."

###

Once in the backseat of a Town Car not much different than her own, she dialed Ginger. It went to voicemail after two rings. She didn't leave a message with a stranger driving.

Jacqueline checked into her W hotel. She was disappointed that Damita had yet to arrive but took the time to lie down and search her soul. It didn't take long. Tom and Ginger were her family and she was hurting them. No more.

Again the call went to voicemail, this time after four rings.

"Ginger, honey, I'm sorry. You are everything to me and I'm done denying that. I'll be home tonight. I love you."

When Damita opened the door half an hour later and didn't find Jacqueline undressed, she knew something was up. She left her small suitcase in the foyer and approached her lover for what turned out to be a penultimate kiss. This was followed by a long hug and tears. After some explanation, Damita understood and agreed. Jacqueline's place was with her family.

They ate a room service dinner and then Jacqueline left a broken-hearted student-athlete knowing that they would never see each other again. Four hours later, she walked into the kitchen of her lifeless home and saw a half-full beer and Ginger's cell phone on the kitchen island between two open laptops. 
Chapter 3: Luck of the Draw

South Boston

"Ah now, there she is! Come on, Ginger, open up those pretty eyes!" Jimmy said. "She's a beauty, eh, Stella? A shame..."

Ginger could hear that he was standing in front of her. Where was Stella?

She fought to do as he asked. As the fog lifted, Ginger pieced her situation together. She was in the loft. The side with no furniture. Judging by the sound of his retreating voice and the pain in her cuffed wrists, he had just withdrawn his support and left her hanging by a chain from one of the I-beams. The whole place had new bamboo flooring but she was standing on a clear plastic sheet. The home was still under construction but Ginger had to assume the worst. She was clothed and uninjured. The .38 and dart gun were on a table in front of her and behind Jimmy.

Ginger couldn't speak.

"Oh, yes, let me get that for you." He ripped the strip of duct tape off her mouth.

She fixed her eyes on his.

"I don't know anything about what you've got going on with Jacqueline. She didn't tell me a thing."

Jimmy looked disappointed. "But you're the bodyguard, aren't you?"

"Not at all. I just..."

"...Dropped by to say 'hello' with Michael's dart gun? You sleep on his side of the bed, too, I imagine."

Where was the little shit? Were they working together? The baby doll...

"Stella's been fucking her way around town. I needed to know what risks she was exposing us to."

"Oh, yes. Ginger the whore. The family that lays together and all that." He was leaning against the table, looking pleased with himself, she thought, in that way men do when they think they've got you bested.

"I thought Stella only had eyes for Jacqueline. She sure got jealous of anyone who came between them. Anyone with a real dick, anyway."

"You're trying to get a rise out of me," Jimmy said.

There was a Stella-sized noise behind her.

"I'm a whore," Ginger said. "Not a liar. Getting rises out of men is part of the job."

"Oh, Ginger. Is that all you think about, then? Sex? There are far more important things for you to concern yourself with. Things Jackie needs to start taking seriously," he said. "Michael understood that. And if Jackie's smart, she'll listen to you. But she's kept you in the dark, hasn't she? Maybe you're not Michael's replacement."

Stella emerged from behind Ginger. The bleeding had stopped and she had cleaned and dressed but it was going to be weeks before people didn't do a double take at that face.

Ginger laughed. "Oh, Stella, that was the most pleasure you ever gave me!" Something occurred to her. Of course it was sex. "Wait, Stella Strap-on, is that what you do with all your dates? Jimmy! Really? The Rucky Rady's correagues in Chinatown?"

He gave her enough time to brace herself but it didn't matter. It was her wrists that made Ginger rethink her smart-ass strategy when Jimmy put his fist in the center of her chest. She caught her breath and got back on her feet.

Stella removed the washcloth from her face.

"You disgust me, Ginger." The accent surprised the blond, she had forgotten about that.

She scoffed. "What, did I get too close to your pot of gold? Hmm. Stella McDildacuddy and Jimmy McConnelly are scamming Jacqueline. For what? Money, obviously, but, what for?"

"More important things, Ginger," Jimmy said.

"Oh, for... Really? Shit, Stella, I liked it better when I thought you were just a confused little girl who wanted to be a boy... This is so Crying Game!"

This time it was Stella who approached to deliver the disciplinary blow. Ginger had hoped.

When she stepped into range it was only Jimmy's grabbing her that saved Stella from receiving a matching Swoosh on her forehead.

Again, he hurt Ginger when he could have killed her. Jimmy jabbed her nose.

No blood, she just waited for the tears and sting to fade.

"Enough of this foolishness!" Jimmy yelled at both women. "Ginger, it is too bad that we couldn't have spent some quality time under different circumstances. You are something. So beautiful. But we've all got a problem now, don't we? Her name is Jackie Hale. I say "Hale" because Michael Turner's wife wouldn't be so ignorant in the truest sense of the word. She is ignoring you, screwing her Negress while you're here answering for her arrogance. She is ignoring me, and that puts us in a precarious situation. Well, now, Jackie's not going to ignore me anymore, is she? You'll have to thank her for this, whore. Better hur-..."

Ginger startled at the gunshot. Jimmy went down, the finger he had been poking at her still extended, but his face lifeless. Tom was frozen in place with the gun held high. Two seconds later, Stella took off for the stairs.

Tom turned and, with his arm still straight, took aim at her destination, Ginger noticed. Rather than hesitating, he was trying to make his one shot count despite the increasing distance and small caliber.

"Don't," she said.

He winced as though her voice hurt his ears and dropped his arm.

"Hold on," he said and took off after Stella. He didn't follow her down the stairs, but watched from the window and nodded at what he saw. He flipped the safety, stuck the gun in his back pocket, and walked back toward Ginger. With a swagger? As he approached her, he smiled.

"Tom! What just happened?"

"She didn't fuck with the car! It's parked right outside the door. I got to hot-wire it!" he said. "Can't do that with new cars." Tom looked at the body. "That's Jimmy Connelly! Was he fucking Stella?" He was excited and curious like he was in on some good gossip.

"No, Tom! Stella isn't who we think she is. Can you help me, please? The keys?"

"Oh!" He bent to search Jimmy's pockets. Ginger saw the back of his head in the light again and cursed her evening's priorities. More immediate concerns drew her attention, though. Tom almost looked like he'd done this before. Could Ginger have misjudged both of her underlings? Was this his Mr. Hale-walking-up-the-driveway-after-I-killed-two-men moment?

The instant before Tom put his hands on the body, though, Ginger saw his expression change.

"I thought he was going to hurt you."

"He was, Tom. You saved my life. Everything is going to be fine but we have to move. Forget the keys. Just lift me up." He was still looking at Jimmy. "Tom! Pick me up. My wrists are...hurt." Her boy turned, wrapped his arms around her hips, and lifted with his knees. Ginger had to mess around with some chain and a locking D-ring. She could feel the side of his head pressed against her belly and realized he was both helping her and helping himself to some contact comfort. "Hold me still, buddy, my hands are numb. Watch your head. OK, put me down." Ginger rechecked the pockets she could reach with her fumble fingers. He was right, no keys. "We have to roll him over. Further onto the plastic."

Competent Tom was back. He helped her do it, moving around the small pool of blood and stabilizing Jimmy's neck.

"Oh, my God, I'm trying to keep his spine straight! Duh!" He jerked the body over without apprehension and pulled the single key out of Jimmy's pocket along with a set of them on a ring. Ginger held her wrists out to him to unlock the cuffs.

"Listen to me, Tom. Look at me!" He did, with no readable expression on his face. "Boy! I am your master and you will obey. Right?"

Tom nodded and then looked down at her wrists. "Are you OK, Ginger?"

"I'm fine," she said as she wiped the handcuffs clean and picked up Jimmy's hip to put them in his back pocket. "And so are you. The car's downstairs?"

"Yeah, facing the wrong way. Just roll him up in the plastic? Like Dexter?"

"Yes." Ginger looked at him, saw stability in his eyes, and continued her appraisal of the room and their situation. She had two unhappy realizations: There were indeed cans of paint to be removed from the plastic before it could be rolled, so the sheet was here before there was a nefarious need for it. They hadn't found anything weapon-like on Jimmy's person and the mustached villain had referred to Ginger being alive in the future. She hoped that Tom wasn't as sharp as he seemed to be. She also had a happy thought: Cleanup was going to be quick as long as they avoided the pint of blood Stella had...started to clean for us! They could be out the door in minutes and she already knew where the body was going.

As they rolled Jimmy up, Ginger could see spurts of blood inside the plastic with each 180 of the package. It wouldn't be a problem as long as they made sure to prevent any juice from leaking out of the burrito.

"Did you touch anything? Are your fingerprints anywhere?" she asked.

"They must be on the downstairs doors but, I think that's it."

"Shit!" Ginger said. "We'll take both guns—all three—but I'm missing my holster. My prints are all over it." Ginger thought a second. "We have to get in the door downstairs. What'd you do with that set of keys?"

He held them up to her. "Got 'em.

"Good work. OK, let's be careful here. Listen to me: It just takes one mistake. You're either helping me or standing still with your hands in your pockets. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Let's get him to the door and then I'll do a sweep. Tom, you're OK, right?"

"I'm fine, Master. On my three." He waited for her to nod, counted, and they picked Jimmy up. It wasn't bad with two people.

If anything, Stella's DNA all over the place was a help. Ginger warned him about stepping in it.

But Stella and Jimmy's DNA on their persons couldn't possibly help. She had a little on her (his) jacket but it toweled clean. The bathroom on this floor was the one Stella used regularly and tonight to clean herself up. Ginger brushed the little blood from her hair and they both washed their faces and hands before inspecting each other.

Meanwhile, Ginger told Tom her plan: He was to go downstairs and get the car turned around so that they could put the body straight in. She would search the shop floor for her holster, wipe down the doorknobs (and anything else a somewhat sobered head-trauma victim might have touched), and do a final once over. They'd load the body and she would drive.

Luck seemed to be with them. Ginger found the holster and a cheap calendar on a push pin. That went right inside the front door to cover Stella's bloody face print.

Tom had the car waiting. The tight wrapping made bending the tall body difficult, but they managed to stuff him into the back of the Jeep in seconds. They bundled Vince's t-shirt, the three weapons, the holster, and everything else that might have some trace of them on it, and stowed it with Jimmy. She pulled the screen over the compartment behind the back seats. Ginger gave Tom her Sox hat and told him to put it on backward. He did so but looked like a moron because he had to wear it like a mullet to avoid putting pressure on the wound. Tom had reassembled the ignition and steering column so Ginger could use the key to start it. The last worry was driving the wrong way down a one-way street but no one noticed. It was after 2:30 when they crossed the Zakim bridge and headed north, traveling with traffic just below the posted speed limit.
Chapter 4: Stella Puts Two and Two Together

South Boston, back in August.

It couldn't be. This Trevor Daley has a daughter and Thomas was her boyfriend?

The story made the news not because of the scale of the crime. What made it interesting was that the guy was born into the point-one percent. He had hundreds of millions of his own money. He swindled all those people for tens of millions just because he could. Like it was fun.

The tabloids did what they do and now the world knew that he had two daughters. One of them was quite pretty. The other, though, not so much. All that money and they couldn't fix that nose?

Figures that's who Thomas would date.

"Jimmy! I think I have something." He looked up from the Sunday paper. "How much do you love me?" she asked.

Jimmy laughed. "To the moon and back. What is it?"

"Ya shite! We have another option."

He had to think about it. "For the money?"

"Yes! And it involves Jacqueline only because that's how I met him. Their little houseboy, Thomas? His girlfriend is Kate Daley," she said. He wasn't impressed. "Christ, Jimmy, you probably just read about the guy, her father? Trevor Daley?"

"The crook?"

"Yes, the crook! She lived at St. Mary's, remember? I told you that was where Thomas went after the ladies had their way with him?" she asked. He didn't remember. "The girl's got money. Her father is worth much more than he stole, and lord knows how much is in the daughters' names. There's another one, but I don't know where she is. I don't know where this Kate is, either. London, I think. But, her name is still on the mailbox in Brookline. And they were quite the couple, I understand. His friend said he expected a wedding."

"You're so clever, tell me what you've worked out," Jimmy said.

"We take Thomas. No one will miss him. The Daley girl pays to get him back. And Jacqueline might, too. She's fond of him, like a dog. Maybe not two-million fond, but maybe. We could just leave Jacqueline out of it. Aidan will be happy..."

"If Aidan finds the two million in the account on the 15th, he's happy. I know you have your heart set on not going to Jackie. But this is a Hail Mary, Stella. You think the girl has the money and might pay for some guy who used to be her boyfriend. But that family has the SEC, FBI, and who knows who else up their ass right now. Maybe we get stuck having to get rid of some useless guy. Some useless guy that no one will miss, but because of his connection to the Daley girl he might become interesting. Conversely, I know Jackie has the money—because it's my fucking money!—and she keeps it all quiet."

"Jimmy, you're awful cavalier given that Aidan told me specifically..."

"...Enough Stella! You don't spill blood unless you need to. We get the money from Jackie and no one gets hurt. I want her to have the chance to do the right thing. It goes through the Foundation, she can worry about the IRS. Worst case, I'll move on Ginger and just go direct through her guy in Brooklyn. The Feds are all over the daughter. Forget her. And I don't know what you've got against this Thomas. He seemed like a polite young man to me. Taking him off the street is a foolish risk. What if she drags her feet? Start cutting fingers off? And, if he's worthless? Are you going to put the bullet in his head?"

Stella delighted in the image. But no, she could never.

"We wouldn't have to be involved with either."

"You don't just delegate something like this. Anyone competent enough not to fuck it up is going to want a big piece of the pie. There's media attention on the Daley family. For the last time, Jackie will give the money over quietly. Now we're done with this conversation."

She wouldn't risk raising his ire. Why was Jimmy not as scared of Aidan as she was?

Stella got it. Both their necks were on the line. He could get away, though. And he didn't care if his blood paid the price. Stella's only hope was that he would take her with him. Pissing him off wasn't going to make that more likely. Jimmy went back a long way with Jacqueline's husband. Why he needed her to hand it over voluntarily was still a mystery. But he could be persuasive and Jacqueline didn't worry about money. Stella decided that she would put her faith in Jimmy and follow the plan.
Chapter 5: "Please Don't Stop Me..."

"How we doing, Tom?" she asked, noting that he was alert but quiet. She could imagine the thoughts that must be preoccupying him.

"Not feeling so great."

"How so? Are you nauseous?" He didn't answer. "Tom, you did the right thing." She took his hand. "Thank you."

He didn't seem to hear her. "How could she?" he asked himself. There was significant meaning there, but Ginger couldn't find it. "I just made that guy coffee."

"He wanted to hurt us. And he could have. You did the right thing. Tell me you understand that."

He didn't answer.

"Oh, shit!" Tom opened his door and threw up again. At 60 miles an hour, it created a moment's chaos in the passenger cabin but resolved quickly. But Tom had just violated the Cardinal rule: He'd just "given 'em a reason."

The blue lights started about 50 yards behind them and caught up quickly.

"Fuck."

"Sorry, Ginger."

"We're OK. Just be polite and quiet. He's going to be worried about me being drunk, maybe possession, or something stupid. We'll have to fuck up pretty badly for him to want to get into the back. Just forget about it," she said. "Put your hands on your head and keep still. Show respect."

Ginger took a calming breath, covered the cuff marks on her wrists with her sleeves, and put her hands at 11 and one on the wheel. The cop—fuck! A Statey—scanned the interior of the car with his flashlight. Tom and Ginger held their breath.

The curtain rose as the window came down.

"You're paying this ticket, ass!" Ginger said.

"Sorry, baby," Tom said, laughing. Of course he cast himself in the role of her boyfriend. It enabled Ginger to turn toward the bright light with a dazzling smile.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's the second time tonight."

"License and registration, please." Ginger thanked herself for remembering to check the glove box before they left. She opened it, sorted through all the mundane crap that was there, got what she needed, and left it open.

"You can put your hands in your lap, Tom."

Ginger passed the registration and reached into her pocket for the ID she knew was there. She handed it to the blinding light, hoping Tom's sleeves would continue to cover her injuries. The officer walked back to his vehicle.

The long five minutes he was back there didn't worry Ginger. That was part of the game they played. The car was in Jacqueline's name, but it was the same address listed on her license. And "Ginger Andersen" was clean as a whistle. She wasn't relaxed but knew that her comportment was the only thing in her control now. She had to be Tom's Mr. Hale.

"If you are going to puke again, do it before he gets back," Ginger said, joking to gauge his mental state.

Tom laughed. Not ten seconds later, though, he opened his door and left another puddle on Route 128. Ginger rubbed his back so that the trooper could see it from his car. She pulled her sleeve down again. Tom closed his door and they both looked at each other in the cruiser's headlights. Bonnie and Clive.

"I was kidding!" she said. Ginger's cheer was practiced skill but Tom's antics were helping. Head injury or not, he managed to do the one thing they needed: act like he had nothing to hide. He even seemed to be having fun.

The Statey reappeared with his flashlight and returned her documentation. A good sign. They were almost home free.

"What's going on here?"

"Tom drank too much and I made him have one of those energy drinks," she said and then added that he would be scrubbing the car clean tomorrow. Tom mumbled and amused himself.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, sir."

"Where are you headed at this hour?"

"We have a place near Annisquam."

The cop took a long last look at both faces. Ginger held on, knowing that they were seconds away from freedom. Then she practically heard the trooper's bullshit detector go off.

"He's just been drinking?"

"I'm sure. Tom?"

"Yeah, just drinking."

Ginger took a look at his face in the Maglite's beam. No way a cop was going to let that slide. There was no white in his eyes, just red and black under half-closed lids.

"Oh, my God, Tom!"

"What? Officer, can I close my eyes?"

The trooper told Ginger not to move, walked around the back of the car, and stood in Tom's blind spot with his lightsaber.

"Sir, please step out of the vehicle."

Tom obeyed and planted a foot in what had been the contents of his stomach.

"Oh, mannnn!" He looked at the State Trooper and chuckled, which then turned into church giggles. The little wobble as he stood wasn't acting. The officer proved to be both patient and persistent, bombarding him with questions, probing for some hint that there might be a Schedule One or Two substance on his person, but not being antagonistic. Ginger looked on, mentally shaking her head at the performance.

Tom was compliant, polite, and carefree. Finally, after apologizing that he might throw up again, he said the magic words: "terrible headache."

"Did you hit your head tonight, son?" Ginger noticed how quickly the trooper switched from predator to server/protector.

Tom laughed. "I got hit in the head."

"What?" Ginger asked from the car.

"Stella's boyfriend."

"I'm going to remove your hat and take a look," the officer said.

Tom lowered his head to show the cop the mess of dried blood and hair that looked worse than it was.

"Sir, is he OK? Tom, what happened?"

"All right, get back in the vehicle, please."

Tom stamped his foot on the clean pavement and avoided the mess as he climbed back into the car. Ginger got her "first" look at his head and freaked.

"Oh, my God, Tom! Why did he hit you?"

He mumbled and she continued to fuss until the trooper reappeared at her window.

"Lahey is closer than Beverly. You'll make sure he gets immediate attention. Right?"

"Yes, sir. I know where it is. I can't..." she interrupted herself and turned to Tom, "That's why you stole my hat, you sneak! Did you get it all gunked up? Why didn't you tell me?" Ginger was going to send this instrument of the Commonwealth on his way feeling just right about the entire encounter. "I'll take him right to the Clinic, sir."

"You do that. He'll be all right. Have a good night."

"Thank you, sir. You, too," she said as she put her window up. "Well, Jimmy, good thing you're not in any hurry." Ginger knew how cops thought. If she didn't go straight to the ER, there was a chance they were going to have a second, much less pleasant, encounter with their new friend.

###

3:30 a.m. is a good time to hit an emergency room. Tom was again fighting to keep himself awake, more due to the hour than anything else, but he managed to entertain everyone he encountered. Rather than suffering under the weight of what he had done, "the kid" seemed to be enjoying a high from the close call they had just survived.

Once Ginger convinced herself that her phone was in the kitchen back home and not waiting to be found near a lot of blood in Southie, she plotted the rest of their morning. They would be to the house by 4:30, Tom could help her dig, and she was sure that there were two spades in the shed.

He was exhausted and dehydrated, but sober enough and IV fluids weren't necessary. His wound required the complete removal of a patch of hair, cleaning (which he did not enjoy), and five stitches.

Once the curtain was drawn and it was just the three of them, Tom had playfully badgered, and then not-so-playfully threatened the young doctor until the easiest course of action was to allow Ginger to do the sewing. Tom needed rest, but keeping him up all night wasn't necessary. She just had to wake him every few hours to check that he wasn't getting worse.

They left at almost 4:30 and made it to the house by five, just a half-hour behind schedule. It was a clear night with a huge moon, casting enough light for the task at hand. They needed to hurry. Sunrise would be around 6:30, Ginger figured. As for witnesses, she was sure they had nothing to worry about. But she hadn't exactly scouted the property with discreet grave sites in mind. Jacqueline had stretched the money from the Tenleytown house by not purchasing a piece of property with proximity to water. Surely there was a good spot in ten acres of woods, one of the largest residential properties in Gloucester.

He didn't talk for most of the digging. Since physical work was a self-soothing mechanism for Tom, Ginger pretended it was a fine to let him exert himself. From three feet below soft ground, Tom told Ginger he was sorry again.

"For what?"

"For getting us pulled over."

"I'm not mad. And you did a great job getting us out of that in one piece. Hey, listen to me: You didn't make a mistake when it counted. I'm proud of you." She squatted at the edge of the hole and looked at the growing light. "Want me to finish?"

"I got it, thanks," Tom said.

"You OK?"

"Fine."

Ginger sighed as she tried to think of the right words.

"This isn't the first time I've had to dig a hole like this, Tom." He didn't acknowledge her but she knew he was listening. "That's where Ginny went. But Ginger's right here with you. We'll get through this."

She weighed the trade-off between depth of the hole and the increasing ambient lighting. This was temporary, so it was deep enough. Ginger offered him a hand and he climbed out.

Tired and sore after long nights, Jimmy's body seemed to have doubled in weight. They halted graveside.

"OK, on three?"

"No. We're unwrapping him," Ginger said.

"You think we should? That'll get messy."

"We have to get into his pockets."

It was easy. They gave themselves enough room so that they could unroll the package one turn, and then drag it back, roll up the loose plastic, and repeat. It did get messy toward the end, though, the blood now tacky. They were ready for the last double unroll that would deposit Jimmy McFuck a few feet closer to Hell. As he spilled into the pit, they both thought of concentration camp footage they had seen in high school. Apart from a wet spot in his crotch and blood all around his collar, he looked remarkably clean.

Ginger folded the rolled sheet into a small package and threw it in the hole along with Jimmy's .38 after she wiped it clean. She decided to keep Vince's t-shirt, the dart gun, and the murder weapon. Tom wondered about the wisdom of that but kept it to himself. What the hell did he know?

"The handcuffs, there, in his back pocket. Grab them for me?" Ginger asked.

Tom looked at her like he was trying to figure out the joke but couldn't. Then a look of comprehension came over his face just as she realized her own intentions. No!

"Yeah, Ginger."

He hopped into the hole with his back to her and looked at the body between his feet, but didn't reach for the handcuffs. Tom just waited. Then, Ginger realized that he was crying with his eyes closed. Her mind was racing. She'd been working toward this moment since Jimmy was killed. Out of what? Professional habit? Ginger wondered how the fuck it was possible that she'd get two men to jump into a grave to retrieve handcuffs from a dead guy's back pocket in one lifetime. It hadn't worked out so well for Uncle Ted. She always believed that he knew what was coming and made it easy for her. Now Tom was doing the same thing and it broke her heart.

"Dude, I was kidding!" Ginger told both of them.

He shook his head. "They were right."

"No! Nuh uh. They are never right! You hear me? Never!" she said.

"I know you have to, Ginger."

She threw the shovel off to the side and crouched again.

"Never in a fucking million years, asshole! What are you talking about? Get out of there right now!" she said. Tom stood in the pit, head down, defeated. "Boy, get up here, now! Let's finish this and go to bed."

Still, Tom didn't move. She changed tactics, once more.

"Honey, Ginny belongs down there and a part of you does, too. But the rest of you, the sweet boy who makes me laugh every day, you come to me. Please?" She reached a hand to him. "Come on. Up and out. Come to me, boy. Where you belong."

"How could she?"

It was the second time he had asked the question. She was ready with an answer, though not sure if it was Kate or V he had referred to.

"Because she knows who you are. Just like I do. She needs you up here. Just like I do. Come back to us." He laughed. "Yeah, Tom. Don't be silly! You belong up here. Jimmy doesn't. Come on!" He reached a hand to his master. "That's it! You sure do know how to make me happy, baby! You always do. My boy. Mine, mine, mine."

That made him laugh. He climbed out with her help. Ginger hugged him, carrying most of his weight for a few seconds.

"We can handle this. It's gonna be OK," she said. "Just sit. I'll finish. But this is where you belong. Say it, boy." Ginger said. "Please."

"I know."

"Like you mean it."

"I know!"

"You saved my life," Ginger said as she started to scoop the damp earth back into the hole. Tom rallied in time to help and then to cover the spot with detritus from the area. In a few weeks, Jimmy's grave would be invisible, sooner with a good rain.

She broke the small window next to the back door to get in the house. They stripped most of their clothes in the laundry room and walked upstairs to the master bath. Ginger showered first and then helped Tom rinse off without getting his head wet. Master didn't do anything about the boner he had the whole time but she did let him have hot water.

"I'm gonna kill her," she said when she saw his naked back. "I don't have anything to put on it, either. I'm sorry."

"All better now, Master. Thank you."

Ginger knew he'd slept with worse, so she pulled all the blinds down and they climbed into bed. Though exhausted, she tickled an uninjured part of his shoulder as he nuzzled into her and waited the ten minutes it took him to fall asleep before carefully untangling them. Her last thought wasn't about her doubtfully near-death experience or that she had narrowly avoided spending the rest of her life in prison—again—or even how sickening it was to watch a corpse tumble into a hole in the moonlight. Tom worried her. At all the right times, he had been brilliant tonight. In hindsight, she wasn't surprised by how steady he was in a pinch but she was by how much he knew. He put a tiny bullet into the one place it would have done any good and then kept his nerve talking to a state trooper with a body in the trunk. But then, her sensitive and gentle boy acknowledged that she "had to" kill him and tried to make it easy for her, as though he had given up. Which Tom did they leave in that hole? 
Chapter 6: Up the Junction

She ran out the door and kept going until reason took over. Tom wasn't following her. He had other things to worry about. But she had to get off the street. A woman with a busted nose running around in the industrial fringes of South Boston at two in the morning couldn't afford to meet anybody, even if she was Jimmy Connelly's girlfriend. She tossed the box cutter into a storm drain, found an alcove, and sat for a few minutes.

Stella was dead no matter which way she went.

Aidan would have tolerated that she was sleeping with Jimmy if he hadn't expected it. He might even have looked the other way about her running the operative-turned-gangster's drugs around town. There was no pretending that Jimmy took off. This close to a deadline, that would be a death sentence for a few people with the last name Connelly. Since they were all still where they should be, he wasn't on the run. Jimmy was dead. Aidan didn't authorize it and he would be sure that no one in Boston did, either. Stella would be the obvious suspect, as improbable as that was. And if she explained what really happened, that Michael Turner's widow was involved, Aidan would know that Jimmy had been putting the screws to her. And, worse, that Stella not only hid this fact from him for months but that she had set it up. Loyalty was everything to Aidan.

A more immediate concern was that Ginger and her little bitch, Thomas, could now describe Stella in one word: witness. They needed her dead. And, Stella now knew, either one of them could do it.

She had one chance to save her life. If she could get Aidan his two million in the next 30 days, and stay out of Ginger's cross hairs, she could disappear. It couldn't last forever, but it was better than throwing in the towel now.

That was the first time she'd ever seen someone killed. Knowing the next bullet had her name on it made it possible to act without thinking. But—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!—that was horrible. The man for whom she had betrayed everyone was here one moment, gone the next.

Fuck Thomas. Stella was screwed and it was his fault. Fitting, then, that her last hope hinged on him. Either Jacqueline or the Daley girl would pay for his life. If not, Stella may as well take him down with her.

###

Stella was just in time to see the Cherokee pulling out of the parking lot, Ginger at the wheel. After two minutes, she ran back to Jimmy's door but it was locked. Ginger!

Everything she needed was in there. Along with a pint of her blood, lord knew how much of Jimmy's, and maybe Jimmy, too? Would they have left him?

It took a while to find a rock big enough to do some damage. Stella was banging the doorknob, trying to break it off until she used her head for the first time. This was Southie and Jimmy was a king. He never locked doors because he didn't have to. She walked to the car and, sure enough, it was open. But there were no keys inside, not to the car or house.

Stella tried to think. There must be something she could do besides spend the night in a cold metal box.

The trunk release! She felt brilliant. In the boot, she found a whole bunch of things better than a rock. There was a complete toolbox!

Selecting the biggest screwdriver she had ever seen and a rubber mallet, Stella set upon the door with a fury that lasted more than ten minutes but ended in success. Now the door wouldn't stay closed, but that was a problem for another time.

Upstairs she was surprised to find that, except for the blood she had yet to clean up and the cattywampus sofa, it looked like nothing had happened. She went to the bathroom and cursed the blond again. Ginger even took her hairbrush, for whatever reason.

Stella looked in the mirror and the second decent idea of the night hit her. Before she wasted any more time on it though, she ran to get the car keys and—thank heaven!—found them right where they should have been. Now she had wheels. Next stop, home. And then Dan Sullivan's.

###

Her address wasn't a secret, so it was no surprise that Ginger had been there. She hadn't been in the apartment but wanted to remind Stella that home was no longer safe.

Stella found a good bag and packed what she needed: clothes for a few days, half of her cash, a gram of H, about four of Danny-grade coke, and 14 OxyContin, the big 80-mg tablets. She'd siphoned all of this over the past year keeping Dan and his small circle supplied. When money didn't work, the drugs might. She'd learned a few things from Jimmy. And her face hurt like a motherfucker.

Stella tried to minimize the long-term repercussions of having a broken window in September in Boston with some clear packing tape. There'd be rain and bugs and she had to imagine she'd be back here at some point. One had to be optimistic, so she decided to leave the special reserve coke and another grand in cash in the freezer.

The parking spot she found was almost halfway to Dan's, so she just kept it and walked, hoping she didn't run into any law enforcement. It was four in the morning when she got him to answer his phone and let her in. The Friday bender had ended earlier than usual. His hand was wrapped in an ACE bandage.

Once inside, she verified that Mike was asleep and sat her stupid client on the couch.

"What happened to you, Stell?"

"That little shite you punched," she said. His face was all questions. "Settle yourself. Are you awake enough to hear me?"

"Wait, what?"

Stella pulled out an eight ball and dumped him enough for two lines.

"On the house. Get straight and pay attention, Danny. You're going to work for us." If she was supplying and told him to tune up, he was going to listen.

Dan squinted and enjoyed the peculiar taste and associated sensations of the vice dearest to him. Then he turned his attention back to the hot little alien with the busted face.

"Right. Now. You've been asking for an opportunity and here it is," she said.

He started to ask the still unanswered questions: The accent? Her nose? Four in the morning?

"Shut up, Danny, and listen. You're deep in the hole to us but now you can make that go away. Jimmy doesn't give second chances and your options are few. The boy you punched did this to me. You remember him?"

"Sure."

"We need to get our hands on him."

"I thought he was just some guy you worked with."

"I just told you what he is: someone you need to get. I want him alive and well. He has to answer to Jimmy."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I'll get you where you need to be. You just bring him to me. You can handle that?"

"Sure. Can I bring Mike in on it?"

"No, you'll use one of our guys. You do what we're asking and there will be more opportunities for you."

"Really?"

She gestured at the remainder of the powder on the table. Dan "the Hoovah" Driscoll partook.

"Really." Stella wondered if he was smart enough to know what happened if he screwed up. Then she remembered that with Jimmy dead, she didn't have a thing over this lummox.

###

If you wanted to have one of the only consistently competitive college football teams in New England and limited yourself disproportionately to Irish-Catholic (white) kids, you were bound to get a few duds. Relative duds. Dan Sullivan would have been right at home at some football-first state school, but his scholarship—or seeming disdain for it—was an affront to every kid who had studied hard to earn a place on a college campus nine miles west of Boston. To emphasize this point, two years after graduating, he still lived in a student neighborhood, had replaced steroids with multiple drug problems, gambled, and had what seemed to be an addiction to getting into fights that the cops had to stop. But saddest of all for him was that the only way he could get off just wasn't something you got from regular women. Moderately priced Stella was either heaven- or hell-sent. Whatever itch he had, she scratched it just right. He even thought she liked him.

###

"I'll fuckin' kill him."

"No, you won't, Danny. That's not your job. Jimmy will take care of him. You just need to collect him."

"I'll get a few shots in, though?"

"Break his nose. But make sure he's on his own two feet when you deliver him to us. You think your hand is up to it?"

"I broke it. Stell, how come you never had a Irish accent before? You sound like my grandmother."

"It was important that I fit in here. Not that an Irish accent stands out in Boston, but, it was part of my assignment... There's something else." Stella showed him a photo on her phone. "This girl is even more important. You probably won't, but if you see her first, let me know immediately. There is another girl, too. I don't know what she looks like, but she's Latina," she said. Dan looked puzzled. "Mexican, whatever. She's got dark hair. You'll definitely see her, but let her be for now. Just figure out her patterns in case..." He wasn't following. "Like, when she leaves and returns, who she's with. You might see Thomas with her, but don't go near him unless he's alone." Jimmy was right: anything to do with Trevor Daley's daughter's roommate could be far more trouble than it was worth, an "if all else fails" scenario. Tom was who she needed.

"I still get to break his nose?"

"Danny, listen to me. If you can get him alone without attracting attention, just make sure he can walk and talk. You can finish him off when we're done with him. Would you like that?"

###

It had been a long night for Stella. In the blink of an eye, she went from confident and excited to on the run and short of options. And even if she could have rested, giving Dan a boost at this hour had guaranteed that it wouldn't happen. But then she was glad that she was awake listening to him ramble.

"Oh, hey. Your friend Victoria stopped by. Said she had something for you."

"Victoria?" Stella asked.

"Hot blond?"

A chill ran down Stella's spine. She wasn't safe here either. The phone!

"Big?"

"Tall. Hot as fuck!"

"What happened? What did she say?"

"She said you weren't answering your phone. Sounded like she had a bag for you or something."

"She is very dangerous, Danny. You stay away from her. And her name isn't Victoria. It's Ginger."

Interesting choice of name, though, thought Stella. What did it mean? That Ginger knew who Victoria Díaz was, and therefore, so did Jacqueline? Should Dan be looking to get her? At least she was in town.

No. Jimmy was right. Jacqueline was the one source of a quiet two million. The girlfriend's roommate was an even longer shot than Kate. Involving an innocent would be too dangerous.

Jacqueline wouldn't just abandon Thomas. He lived in her home! And she had the money to spare. If she didn't care—and even if she did—Danny would take care of him and pay the price if need be. It wouldn't leave Stella in a better spot, but it wouldn't make things worse. After all, you avenged your lover.

###

"You can have this car until you get this taken care of. You need to be patient and use your head. If you see him during the day, just sit tight until you can do it quietly. Listen to me: Don't rush it. Do you understand me?"

"No cops."

"No, Danny. No one. Clean and quiet. Don't forget that you are fucking stupid! Thomas is half your size and you're the one who's hurt? You have to be smarter than that."

"He had a hard head."

Stella almost laughed. "And there were many witnesses. You did it right on Comm Ave after I told you to let it be! You have to control yourself. I'm going to get one of Jimmy's boys to help you. Sean Donovan. You're in charge, Danny. But do me a favor: Listen to him. He's not stupid."

Stella cursed her situation. Dan Sullivan was the only person she could control but he couldn't do this on his own.
Chapter 7: Deep Enough

It was after 11 a.m. when neither could sleep any longer. The Tom that she first encountered was one who had at least partial recollection of the prior evening, one of the promises made, at least. He pushed Ginger onto her back and stared until she gave the go-ahead smile and put her arms around him. There was no dominance or submission, just tender affection as a worried master tried to remind her boy how much he had to live for.

Afterward, they put off disengaging while they caught their breath.

"You hungry?"

Tom laughed. "Are you ever not?"

"I'm sure. Sometimes. But starving now. Aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'll see what's downstairs. You going to shower?" he asked, wondering if she had the same urge/compulsion to wash again.

"Yeah. Hey, where's your phone? I gotta check messages."

"I'll bring it up to you." A thought occurred to him. "Good morning, Master."

"Good morning, pet! Is your head OK?"

"I don't think the headache will ever go away, but I'll get used to it. Can you hear the ringing in my ears?"

"Nope." She thanked God. He seemed like regular old Tom, the trust-worthy man. Her prized possession.

Tom went in for another kiss. He pulled away looking like he might be ready for a second round but surprised her instead.

"I'm OK, Ginger."

She believed him. The guy who thought he belonged in the ground with Jimmy this morning was in shock with a brain injury and fatigued. Ginger didn't fully remember her own rebirth, but she knew it was painful and confusing. The poor soul she saw hours ago now lay with Jimmy, Ginny, Rex, and Uncle Ted. But the good and strong part was right where he belonged.

She nodded. "Yeah, you are."

Rather than worry about the fact that her humble servant looked like a killer last night and now seemed almost carefree, Ginger decided she would take advantage of the stability for as long as it lasted.

###

"Jax called. She's home." Ginger was in a robe with her hair up in a towel. Tom was in his boxer briefs.

He placed a bowl of spaghetti with jarred sauce in front of her.

"You gonna call her?"

"Thank you. Yeah, but she can wait," she said.

Tom sat and offered her Parmesan cheese. "We have to stay here for a few days, huh?"

"Thanks. Let's get a look in the light and keep an eye on it for a day or two. Animals, whatever..."

"You can go, I'll stay," Tom said.

"Ain't gonna happen, Butter Cup."

###

"Jax. You're home?"

"Yes, honey. I'm sorry I was such a turkey! Are you willing to let me apologize and make it up to you? Please, Ginger? I'll never do anything like that again."

"We have to talk," Ginger said.

"Ginger, please, I'm so sorry."

"About something else."

"Is everything OK, honey?"

Enough with the 'honey!' "Can you come up?"

"Sure, Ginger. Everything's OK?"

"Great. Bring us clothes and a few days of food. For the three of us."

"Oh. OK. I'll be there by five. Any requests?"

"No. Just get here, please."

"Ginger, I have a lot to tell you. But, you're both all right?"

"Yes. Everything's fine, Jax. Bring some Advil and a burner."

###

It was 3:30 by the time the laundry was done. Tom and Ginger took a hike in the woods, walking the perimeter of the property, coming to Jimmy's resting place on the way back to the house. The site itself was clean. It was obvious only because they knew what to look for and where. The Jeep had left a trail from the driveway to the entrance of the woods but that would be gone in a few days, maybe even before the lawn guys came for the final cut of the season. Tom and Ginger were impressed with their handiwork and agreed that there was nothing to worry about.

"Jax will be here soon. I have to tell her everything. You get that?" she asked.

"Of course. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess. She doesn't need details."

"You said Stella had an Irish accent?"

"You didn't hear it?"

He shook his head. It still hurt. "You don't suppose Stella'd, I don't know, go after Jax?" Tom asked.

Ginger furrowed her brow. "I don't know why I'm sure that she won't. I think she's gonzo."

###

Jacqueline was too cheery. Not even she bought it. Faced with the prospect of losing her partner and dismissing the young man her husband had ruined, she was nervous. But lies on top of more lies wasn't a solution.

Sal had made a good point, however. Ginger was holding onto the version of events that helped her. Jacqueline wouldn't burst that bubble. Rather, the kind thing to do was to give her the necessary data and let her come to the conclusion on her own. And hope that Ginger would understand and reach to Charley Hale's daughter for comfort.

"Gin and Thomas! My two loves!" she said as she walked in the back door with a bag of groceries.

Tom headed toward her on his way to the car to get the rest of the bags. Jacqueline startled when she saw his bandaged head.

"Thomas! What happened, honey?"

He walked right past her and out the door.

"I hit a wall. It's OK." He descended off the deck. Jacqueline turned to her partner with a question in her eyes.

"He's all right. You cut your trip short?" She stayed on the couch. Jacqueline would have to come to her. And did, after putting the bag on the counter.

"I was a fool, Ginger. Please. I'm so sorry. I've been kicking myself for a day and a half. You were right: I wasn't trying to hurt you, but of course I did, Ginger. And that's not how you treat the person you love. No more. I'm yours and that is all I ever want to be. Please forgive me!" She extended her hand. Ginger looked at it and then used it to pull Jacqueline to her.

Tom entered carrying a suitcase on wheels and another bag full of groceries. Ginger tipped her head his way and said, "We have to talk," before pushing Jacqueline back up off her lap and standing. "We'll be down in a few, Tom," Ginger said.

Jacqueline followed her to the master bedroom. She deduced that Tom and Ginger had spent the night together but didn't say anything. Not that it was a problem or even surprising. It was just something she couldn't help but notice.

"Ginger, I need to get something off my..."

"...Sit," Ginger said as she pushed her partner onto the bed. Before she spoke she gave Jacqueline a look that said, "This is serious and my patience is short."

The widow nodded and settled.

"I thought Tom was up to something and Stella's just been pissing me off. I let her have him all yesterday afternoon. She disobeyed me, gave him a rough time. Turns out, that's like her thing and he never told us because he's Tom and we never asked. But he followed her a few times over the summer. I didn't know what he was doing since I was just watching his phone. My mistake. Stella was fucking around."

"Oh, my God! Ginger, I knew..."

"...Shush. Your little cunt was screwing around but we stumbled onto something much worse. Stella is Irish. And all this time, she was working with..."

"...Jimmy!"

Ginger glared at her but seemed oblivious to the woman's two prior statements.

"So, some big meathead punched Tom, gave him another concussion. I grabbed him and made him tell me everything. We followed a hunch to this warehouse in South Boston and there's Stella inside, wearing a fucking baby doll, waiting for Jimmy. I busted her nose and almost had her out the door and then he took me down."

"Honey! Are you all right?"

"Fine. Thanks to Tom. Listen," Ginger said and slowed down. "Jimmy was going to kill me, so Tom killed Jimmy. Stella got away."

"Oh, my God, Ginger, no!"

"Yes. Everything is dealt with."

Jacqueline was shaking her head. "This is unbelievable."

"Get over it, Jax. That's what you need to know. This is what happens when you try to do my job. Everyone's fine but no more of this bullshit. There're going to be some changes in our relationship. D'you understand me?"

"I understand you, Ginger. He's OK, though? Ginger, he killed him?"

"I was trying to use simple words and..."

"...OK, OK, Ginger! I'm sorry! My God, that's just..." She reached for Ginger, who stood. "Please, honey!" She relented and sat next to Jacqueline who hugged her. "I'm so sorry. I screwed up, Ginger!"

"Whatever. You thought you were doing me a favor. That's what I'll tell myself."

"Please stop! I'm an asshole, I know, Ginger! I'm sorry I kept you out. I thought I knew how to handle Jimmy. And I was on to Stella! But I wanted to be sure before I told you. Oh, God, Ginger. Sal told me some things..." Jacqueline tried to find the right words, again shaking her head. "I had no idea how dangerous Jimmy was. You were right." She lowered her voice even further. "About Tom, too, Ginger! He isn't ours to mess with, just like you said."

"You were 'on to Stella?'"

"Yes, Ginger! Jimmy played me but I thought I saw the game. I just wanted to make sure. And... I'm such a fool, Ginger! I should have come to you right away, but I'm arrogant. And stupid. And a shitty person!" She paused a moment, disappointed that there were no objections to those characterizations. "But, it gets worse." It was now or never. She steeled herself, determined to do the right thing. "Honey, Michael killed Tom's father and framed his brother for it. So Tom thinks his brother killed his father and he doesn't have anyone. No family. No one! Can you imagine, Ginger?"

"That's why he gave him the money? Are you kidding me? Fucking Michael. Sal couldn't have told me this? Wait, how much of this does Tom know?"

"I don't know, Ginger. I don't think any. Apparently, Michael resented Tom. Sal was the one who kept an eye on him. And his mother, too, I guess. But he stopped paying attention when you took over, Ginger."

"When I fucking 'took over?' They couldn't tell me who I was dealing with? Michael called the kid a fucking brat! This is..."

"...Ginger, listen to me. Sal thinks it's better if Tom never knows that the reason he got that money was that Michael hurt him." Jacqueline looked into her lover's eyes. "But Michael wrote him a letter. Tom. Sal was just going to throw it away, but he gave it to me yesterday and filled in all the other pieces. He couldn't believe that Tom was living with us. He thinks he's dangerous, Ginger!"

"Oh, Tom!"

"Sal's right, Ginger. He can't know about this. It'll kill him, Ginger!"

The blond thought about it for a while. "Where's the letter?"

"Back home, under my pillow."

"Fuck that! Tom is going to be fine. He wasn't some deer in the headlights last night, Jax. A couple times I wondered if he had done something like this before. You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to un-hear that. Fuck's the matter with you?"

A tear ran down Jacqueline's cheek. Then the water works really started.

"But he is dangerous, Ginger! He put someone in the hospital!"

"Get a fucking grip! You don't think I know that? He is not. Tom saved my life. And you're the one who put us in that shit."

"How could I have known, Ginger? I didn't... God, what do we do?"

Ginger took a deep breath and encouraged Jacqueline to do the same with a gentle look. They stared at each other a moment and calmed.

"It's all right. Everything is going to be fine, but we need to think about the real victim here. He seems all right but it obviously hasn't really hit him yet. We need to be there when it does. Now let's go. Pottery Barn, remember? Girlfriend, we just bought it."

"He just killed the guy? Shot him?" Jacqueline whispered.

Ginger was done being mad. "Underestimate that boy's hard head at your peril! It was one of the craziest nights of my life, Jax. Total frickin' comedian the whole time. Kind of adorable."

"He saved you, Ginger?"

"That he did. Tried to take care of Stella, too, but, lucky for her, he listens!"

"You could have died last night? But he saved you, Ginger."

"Jesus, Jax. What the fuck? Yes. Out of nowhere. I know it's crazy, but thank God for him. Frickin' Tom. My boy," Ginger said.

"Our boy. And his name is Tom. Just Tom, like he said. Oh, but maybe a piece of good news: The guy who Michael killed wasn't Tom's real father, Ginger. He is alive and well, I guess, in San Diego, and doesn't know that he has a son, or that Tom is his son, I mean."

Ginger shook her head in disbelief and then got to her feet. "What the fuck? Is there any other insanity before we go downstairs?"

"Just one more thing, Ginger. It's bad," Jacqueline said and took a deep breath. "Did you know Tom had a brother?"

"No."

"Well, he did. Jack was his name. He died in Afghanistan ten years ago, Ginger."

"Jesus, fuck!" Ginger looked to the heavens for strength. "OK, you have to explain all the Jimmy crap to me, but later. I can't think straight right now. Let's deal with one thing at a time. Tom is downstairs making our dinner. Let's go be with him. He knows I'm telling you everything but he's not ready to hear what you just told me so forget it for now. He will be, though. So get that thought out of your head."

Jacqueline stood. "The bandage, Ginger. You know what it made me think of?"

"Get over it. At least this one's not a fucking liar. Go!" the blond said, holding the door open.

"No, not Michael. That was the night I met you, Ginger. When we came home from the hospital."

###

"Tom, honey! Come here!" Jacqueline interrupted his work in the kitchen. He turned to her and saw the mix of happiness and grief in her tear-filled eyes. He put down the knife and garlic he was chopping and hugged her, holding his hands like a surgeon would in between scrubbing and putting on gloves.

Jacqueline squeezed him and kissed his cheek, lingering in close.

"Thank you so much, Tom. I don't know what to say. Just, thank you, honey."

Tom had been fine minding his own business and didn't need Jacqueline's gratitude. But, then the feel of her body against his and her smell had their usual, instant effect. She pulled away and looked at him with mock surprise.

"My goodness, Tom! You don't mind cooking? Can I make you a gin and tonic, honey?"

"Yes, please!"

Jacqueline pressed against him—it—again and asked Ginger if she would like one, too. Before she parted, she repeated her thanks.

As she handed Tom the drink her eyes strayed to the bandage.

"Is this OK for your head?"

Tom spoke like he was wearing headphones: "Let me know if the ringing in my ears gets too loud..."

"I brought the Advil. Oh!" She turned to her partner. "Good call on the burner, honey. I can probably catch Sal." Jacqueline looked at her watch. "I should get on that right now." She handed Ginger her cocktail and went upstairs saying, "Better call Sal."

###

"Pronto."

"You are not going to believe this," Jacqueline said, cringing because she couldn't say his name.

"Oh, hello. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Be careful, please. What's up?"

"Umm...that problem with the robin is solved. Completely," she said.

"Is that so? Reason prevailed?"

"No. The roommates did. Completely."

"Oh! That's good?"

"You tell me. It was the kid. Saved partner. And now partner insists story has to be told but not right away. I don't know. 'Adore' now includes gratitude. Could that be OK?"

"Mmm. Any lingering concerns?"

"No, I don't think so."

"OK, listen. Maybe the first problem has only changed. It might be much worse. It might be OK, though! Let's hope. Second problem: Partner needs to talk to me. Now?"

"Not now," Jacqueline said. "Can you give it a few days?"

"Monday is OK. That will give me some time to put my ear to the ground. You say all the necessary information is out? It's just a matter of time then, right?"

"I guess so," Jacqueline said.

"That worries me. But there's nothing to be done. You chose this path, so we'll figure it out. You should enjoy the weekend. Work on what matters."

Jacqueline once again sighed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. OK. I love you. Thanks."

The old man laughed at his goddaughter. "Love you, too. Monday."

###

The women took care of the dishes while Tom tried to relax on the couch and make his third double gin and tonic last. He could feel dark thoughts looming, but for now, was only focused on how last night's events changed their already unusual relationships. There was comfort in knowing your place, and all of a sudden, he didn't.

###

Tom was in a bad spot and his master wasn't feeling great about her situation, either. Jacqueline, on the other hand, wasn't just to blame, but the one person who ended yesterday on surer footing than she started it. Her Jimmy problem was solved.

There was a lot to be processed but nothing had to happen immediately. For now, they were all glad to be together with full bellies and an empty bottle of gin.

"Boy and girl, Ginger is ready to head upstairs. And she wants company."

"What did you have in mind, honey?" Jacqueline asked.

"Fulfilling a promise. And restoring the natural order of things," Ginger said.

###

Three people climbed the stairs to the master bedroom with three different visions of what awaited. Tom and Jacqueline looked to Ginger for direction when they got there.

"Undress Master Jacqueline, slave. Make sure she knows how much boy loves his master," Ginger said.

As Tom helped Jacqueline out of her clothes, he kissed each new patch of exposed skin. He ended up on his knees, pulling her underwear down. Jacqueline closed her eyes and sighed. Her hand found its way to the back of his head causing both of them to jump as she hit the sore spot.

"Sorry, honey!"

"No problem."

"Oh, that's cute," Ginger said. "Good boy. She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She looks amazing, Master."

"Yeah, not bad," Ginger said, removing her shirt.

"Oh, Ginger, what happened?" Jacqueline asked as she noticed the bruise on Ginger's flank.

The domme broke character for a moment.

"No big deal. Tom! That was quite a shot!" She looked at the soon-to-be black-and-blue. "You don't remember?" she asked. He shook his head. "Oh, buddy. That'll teach me to knock your noggin when you have an owie... Now, girl, undress my fuck slave."

Jacqueline inspired boners just by proximity, so Tom was about to explode as she kissed him in places she had never touched before. When she finished, she leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Girl loves her boy." She stood back to wait for the blush.

"Hand me his belt, please," Ginger said, smiling at her partner's teasing. "All right, girl. Go lie on the bed and masturbate. Two hands. Do a good job of it or we're going to have a little time with the belt. What do you say?"

"Yes, Master."

"Come, boy, let her watch you serve me," Ginger said as she led Tom to the side of the bed and pushed him back down to his knees. He undid her pants, helped her out of them, and dived right in. She put both hands on the back of his head and then apologized. "Oh, that's good, boy! Girl? I want to hear it!"

Jacqueline looked uncomfortable.

"Huh. This doesn't do it for you? You don't like to watch your master get licked? I suppose you want to be in there?"

"Yes, please, Gin-. Master."

"Nope. Up, boy, let's see if we can inspire her." Tom stood and turned so that Ginger was behind him with her arm around his throat. "Master made boy some promises, didn't she?"

"Yes, Master."

"What did she promise? Tell her. Use her words. Whisper it."

"Master said she wanted to fuck Handyman Tom on the bathroom floor. And that she wanted to be forced again."

Ginger pulled away and smiled. "Master is such a tease, isn't she?"

"Sometimes."

"Not tonight, though!" She kissed him. "You ready to work for me, boy?"

"Please, Master."

"This is what Master wants..." Ginger leaned in to give him instructions, whispering so that Jacqueline couldn't hear though she was looking right at them: "I want you to fucking own me, Tom. Hurt me. Punish me. Will you do that?" She pulled away again to look at his face from over his shoulder. He looked unsure. She said out loud, "You can do it." Ginger leaned back in. "You won't hurt me, baby, don't worry. OK?" He nodded and smiled. "Good pet."

Jacqueline was surprised when her partner put the belt around her own neck and handed the end to Tom.

"Get on the bed, bitch!" he said.

Headlights raced around the walls. Someone had just pulled into the driveway.

###

Ginger went to the window.

"Shit. Tom, grab your clothes and go lock yourself in the other bathroom. Now, please," she said. He hopped to it, but then slowed, waiting to see if he could be of any assistance before going to his assigned place.

Jacqueline recognized fear in the domme's voice and started to dress. "Who is it, Ginger?"

"It's Theo's car, so, Marcus. Tom, just go. Everything's fine."

"Why is he... What, Ginger?" Jacqueline asked. And then she realized: Marcus worked for Sal.

Ginger threw her jeans on and went to "her" bedside table where she retrieved a 1911 Colt. She pulled the slide, inspected it, and popped a magazine in before leaving the room with the gun in hand.

"You stay right here," she said to Jacqueline.

###

The big man took his time coming to the back deck. He tried the locked door and then started messing with the tape Tom had used to temporarily seal the broken window. He froze. Topless and barefoot with her hand behind her back, Ginger appeared at the other end of the back hall. The two friends stared at each other.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. Why are you here?"

"To help. Do you have a gun in your hand?"

"I do."

He scowled. "You don't need that."

"Why are you here, Marcus?" she asked again. The pistol stayed out of sight.

"To get some more information and to see if there is anything I can do to help. I'm not armed," he said. Jacqueline quietly crept into the space behind her partner. "Jacqueline, it's OK."

"Did Sal know that Ginger was my partner before yesterday, Marcus?" the widow asked.

"Yes."

"And he knew that Tom was living with us, too, didn't he? Because you told him, Marcus."

"Yes."

"So, my father, my godfather, Michael, and now you, too, huh, Marcus? All liars. Don't tell me Theo, too? Shoot him, Ginger."

The other big man came up the deck stairs with a box from Mike's Pastry in hand. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the standoff.

"Please don't shoot my man, Ginger," Theo said. After a tense moment, a few tentative smiles appeared.

"Marcus," Jacqueline said, "do you promise that everyone is safe?"

"That's why I'm here. To make sure it stays that way. Please."

She nudged Ginger out of the way and opened the door. "Lucky you have good taste in men, Marcus."

"And cannolis!" Ginger said.

###

Marcus was, indeed, ordered up to Gloucester minutes after Jacqueline hung up with Sal. Not to liquidate Tom, but to debrief the two accomplices individually and then together. A phone call would have been too risky. The two men were headed back to Boston by 11.

She knew Marcus was an acquaintance of Michael's and was working for him when Ginger took over to close Hale Innovations after his death. But Jacqueline had wanted to believe that the two couples had become so close for the "right" reasons, not because Marcus was paid to get close. It had taken some effort to get over that fact with Ginger, but the women were attracted to each other from the moment they met and there was no denying that spark. And while Ginger wasn't hired to be Michael's—and his wife's—nurse, she went so far and quickly "above and beyond," that Jacqueline never doubted the love behind the woman's actions, even if Ginger still wouldn't say the words.

Jacqueline also knew that this was no moment to dwell on those childish emotions. There were much bigger things to worry about. Tom had saved Ginger's life—allegedly—and, as a cosmic "thank you," his life was now in danger. They all knew it. And, while Jacqueline still believed she was number one, she had to contend with the fact that Ginger's gut reaction to a threat to her boy was to draw a .45 on their mutual friend and her colleague.

Ginger—now fully dressed—was being Ginger and the widow silently thanked her for it. That she and Marcus had laughed about the tragedy averted only underscored the point that now, everyone near and dear to Jacqueline was a killer. Theo might be nagging Marcus to retire, but Uncle Sam didn't train him to be sweet, either.

But the thing that would keep her awake for the foreseeable future was that the person she loved most was bound to realize why Charley Hale had just happened to come to her rescue, one day too late.

###

"What kind of questions did Marcus have for you?" Ginger asked when it was just the three of them again and Jacqueline had gone upstairs for a bath.

"He wanted details about how it all went down."

"How much do you remember?"

"Just the stuff with a strong emotional valence," Tom said.

"Dork."

"No, I remember that guy punching me and going home. You not answering my very reasonable question. Not much at Stella's."

"Jimmy's," Ginger said.

"Jimmy's. Umm... Hot-wiring the Jeep, but then nothing until I shot him," Tom said. "The cop. And how beautiful you looked when you were putting the stitches in."

"Weird that that's one of the most intimate things we've ever done, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah. Way more romantic than staples would have been. And then Jimmy going into the hole." Funny Tom's voice was getting shaky.

"You were in rough shape. Then what?"

He shook his head slowly, searching with his eyes. "That's it. Marcus kept asking how I felt about it all. I think he's worried I'm going to lose my shit."

"I'm not worried about that," Ginger said. What was concerning her was whether his memory or just his mouth stopped at that point. "Are you?"

"No. That's it, though. I think he was frustrated that I couldn't remember more."

"That's it? You talked for over an hour, Tom. Did he ask about anything else?"

She could tell he was trying to read her.

"No. You were really worried when he showed up, huh?"

"It was nothing. I overreacted. You don't have to be scared, OK?"

"OK... But, fuck..." His hand went to his mouth. "I can't... I'm afraid to be alone, Ginger. Master. I'm sorry."

"You're not alone! Come here!" she said, putting down the Brita pitcher she had just retrieved from the refrigerator. Ginger pulled him into a hug in the middle of the kitchen. He relaxed in her grip and started to sob. She held his head to her shoulder and squeezed, letting him have a few moments to get it out of his system.

"I know, buddy. We'll get through this. Everything's gonna be OK, I promise."

"I didn't need to. I fucked everything up!"

Ginger made sense of his words from the bottom of Jimmy's grave in light of what she'd finally learned about his past. Now she understood the sensitivity and humility, why he craved her firm hand as much as her affection. This had to be nipped in the bud before it hurt him.

"No, you didn't. Listen to me, Tom. You were drunk with a concussion. You're not remembering clearly. I was handcuffed over a plastic drop cloth! You think there was a happy ending to that? I was so scared!" Ginger pushed him free and looked into his eyes, making sure he could see that hers were moist, too. "I was cracking jokes, trying to go out with my chin up, Tom. The game was over. But then you were there and you saved my life. You understand me?"

"But why? Why would they kill you? It doesn't make any sense!"

She was rough because Tom was on to something he couldn't afford to be right about. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have heard any of what Jimmy had said. Ginger wasn't going to lose a minute's sleep over that scumbag. She'd be damned if Tom did.

"Because he was a fucking terrorist! The IRA, Tom!" Ginger said in a harsh whisper and pushed him again. "They weaseled Stella into our home for six months! Jax wasn't taking him seriously, so he was going to show her how serious he was by offing me. Could have just as easily been you, buddy. You did the world a favor. And you saved my ass. So, really, you did the world two favors."

He smiled and tried to act as though he wasn't crying. Ginger allowed him the dignity and hoped he'd be satisfied with such a stupid explanation. It didn't make any sense for Jimmy to kill her, not before they got their money.

"Remember what I told you last night?" she asked.

"No."

"Who's the master?"

"You are."

"Right! And what does my boy do?"

Tom laughed and sniffled. "Whatever you tell me to," he said. "It's usually fun."

"Always! Listen. Neither of us should have been in that situation. You did the right thing and I'm proud of you. OK? It's normal that you're scared. But you weren't wrong. And I owe you, big time. We'll get through this."

"OK."

"And I won't just leave you alone! You can ask me for help. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. Got it?" Ginger asked.

Tom nodded and fought back another round of tears. "Now I'm more scared that you're being so nice to me."

"I fucking love you, asshole! You haven't figured that out by now, Slave Boy? Now, come on, let's go to bed," she said.

Tom's jaw dropped. Ginger aped his expression and then tried to push him out of the kitchen. It had slipped, she appreciated that he wouldn't make too big a deal of it but he could use the boost.

"You know I..."

Ginger rolled her eyes and laughed. "...Puh-lease! I know! Now, get!"

###

Jacqueline beat a path up the stairs before they realized that she had listened to the whole conversation. At first, she was angry at Ginger for so casually saying to Tom what the distant blond had never said to her in the first person. Then at herself for being jealous. Wasn't that what got them into this mess in the first place? Running back to Damita because she wasn't getting enough of Ginger's attention?

She settled on worried. Ginger was trying to manipulate Tom's memory, telling him what he wanted to hear. He didn't have to kill Jimmy. His master might not think so, but he was dangerous. If Sal believed that, the kid had about as bright a future as an unclaimed dog at an Alabama pound.
Chapter 8: Because He Said So

"Hello, Sean."

"Jesus, Stella. What happened?" he asked as he climbed into Jimmy's car.

"Long story. We have some work for you, starting today."

"Are you Irish?"

"Yes. But I've been here since I was twelve. That's another long story. We need you to get your hands on the guy who broke my nose."

"OK."

"Or his girlfriend. Jimmy doesn't care which, just get the first one you see and bring them to us, unharmed. Simple enough?"

"Sure."

"You're going to work with another associate of ours. He's a dullard who has no business wagering money. He's getting square with Jimmy. We'll get a lot more out of him if he thinks he's in charge. Just don't let him do anything stupid and humor him, please."

Sean agreed.

Unlike Dan, he knew to do what he was told without a bunch of questions. Sean was clever, too. He could give her good advice about how to go about acquiring fucking Thomas. Stella had to be careful, though. He wouldn't just buy whatever she told him. Sean would be polite and respectful to her until he realized that Jimmy wasn't around.

"That envelope is for you," she said, indicating blindly with her hand as she drove. "I'll get you more in a few days. Danny's not being paid, so don't wave it in his face."

"Thank you," Sean said as he looked inside to find five $50 bills.

"You're welcome."

He sat and minded his own business while Stella drove the big car from Southie to Brighton where she picked up Dan who filled the back seat.

"Danny, this is Sean. He'll be helping you."

They awkwardly shook left hands over the seat.

Stella drove down Dan's one-way street and then turned two corners to go further into Brighton. She stopped in a cul-de-sac and pointed through an alley. "OK, boys, this is where I'll be. Right through there. I'm on the top floor of the blue building."

Dan didn't think anything of the squalor. Sean did. Stella had class. She dressed well and seemed to have plenty of money. Now she had a busted face and lived in a dump.

No one spoke for the next ten minutes as they drove over to the Díaz/Daley apartment. Stella parked the car.

"OK. Danny, you've heard all this before. You're looking for a guy named Thomas. This is his girlfriend's apartment. You probably won't see her..." Stella pulled up Kate's picture on her phone. "...but she might be coming back to Boston soon. You've heard of Trevor Daley, Sean?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, this girl and her nose are his daughter. I guess I'm not in a position to make fun of other people's noses," she said. Dan laughed. "She has a roommate who owns the apartment. She's got long dark hair and she's pretty. Leave her alone, but pay attention to her routines. She's the one you'll see most often, but, for now, she has nothing to do with this. She's who Thomas would be coming to see." Stella swiped across the screen of her iPhone. "This is Thomas, Sean. He's about your size but in much better shape and he wrestled in college. Don't be offended, but you do not want to get into it with him by yourself. Danny here broke a bone punching this arsehole's hard head."

Stella continued speaking as she put the car into drive. Sean didn't need to know much more, but repeating herself to Dan was wise. A short while later they drove past Jacqueline's house and around the back.

"Oh, now both cars are gone. Interesting. All right, just forget about this place. It's where Thomas lives but stay away from it. It's never safe for you to be here. But, you might see one of their cars: a beat-up old forest green Jeep Cherokee or a black Lincoln Town Car, also old, but well kept."

Sean was now getting uneasy. Don't go to the kid's house? How dangerous could it be? Something didn't feel right. But $250 was enough to allow him to hold his nose until Jimmy provided some clarity. 
Chapter 9: His Work Is Never Done

Once "home" on Marlborough, Tom was surprised that after she whipped him and he made her orgasm, Ginger had no problem with him taking off for the day and night to go spend some time with his friends.

"Hey. I'm free 'til tomorrow," he said when Marcus answered the phone.

"Good. I'll get you at eight. Eat before."

"OK. Thanks. See ya."

###

"You sure about this, boy?"

"I'm fine," Tom said.

Marcus thought his shaky voice belied that statement as the young man looked back and forth between the hole and the barrel that would be Jimmy's tomb at the bottom of Ipswich Bay. It had only been three days at a cool 55-degrees but the smell of decay was already strong enough to make Tom doubt the efficacy of the respirator mask he wore.

"I can handle this part. I want you to think about whether you really want to go down this path. I believe you can do better than this."

Tom looked at him. Suddenly, the guy who seemed to believe his name was "Motherfucker" was almost sweet.

"You either brought me up here to help you or kill me or both. That would be extremely uncool, so, just don't. OK?"

"Stop screwing around. Take this decision seriously," Marcus said.

"I am. I have to see him disappear with my own eyes. So I can stop thinking about it. I don't know why Ginger's not..."

"...She knows what has to happen. That's why we're doing this now. This is going to upset her, you know. Both of them. They think you can do better than this, too."

"She just wants to protect me. They both do. But, I made this mess, I gotta clean it up. Thank you for helping me."

"You did the right thing, Thomas. You protected your friends."

"You're gonna love this. He was wrapped in plastic but Ginger's like, 'we have to unwrap him, you gotta get something out of his pocket for me. And I just do what I'm told, so, this is gonna be worse than it needs to be."

"I know you're hearing me, Thomas," Marcus said and then paused, thinking about the kid's words almost long enough to tip Tom off. "I have to report back. Maybe this is one test you don't want to pass."

"What am I doing, Marcus? I don't have a job. I don't have any friends anymore. Eventually, the ladies will realize I'm the odd man out. I'm not making a life-altering decision right now. I'm dealing with the one I made the other night. So I can put this behind me and do whatever I have to do without worrying about Jimmy Connelly."

Marcus nodded, resting with both his hands on the shovel's handle like they had all the time in the world. "I take your point. I'm offering..."

"...Totally appreciated, as is the fact that you're helping me at all. But, you know I'm an EMT, right? You ride a donor-cycle, you know. I almost had to carry a dude's head once. My boss did, thank God. The guy's eyes were wide open."

"Seeing a fresh one and handling one you dig up are very different. Or so I've been told."

Tom guffawed which created a gap between his face and the—he now knew—very effective mask. He twisted away and vomited several times in and out of the respirator, making enough of a mess of it that Marcus was concerned until he realized that part of the problem was that Tom couldn't stop laughing. 
Chapter 10: "Same as the Old Boss"

Sal answered his office phone. "Good morning! You'll have to bear with me. Party line."

"Got it," Ginger said.

"Your boss has caught you up?" he asked.

Boss? "Yes."

"How's by you?"

"Can't complain," Ginger said. "Just one little thing."

"If you're wrong, your problems are just beginning," Sal said. "But I'm reachable and I'm not hearing anything."

"I was inclined to leave well enough alone," Ginger said. "Got some work to take care of, but..."

"...That's done. Forget about it. All you have to do now is keep your eyes open."

"Understood. Thank you," she said. "So, 'my boss' tells me we disagree about a letter?"

"You're not concerned?"

"No. Do the right thing, finally. Heads-up would have been appreciated. How do I get left in the dark on that?"

"You seemed to have the situation under control. You made the right call. But maybe you're letting feelings..."

"...Don't you fucking dare. No shit I made the right call. No thanks to you."

Sal sighed, took a moment, and then said, "I'm sorry."

She didn't see that coming. Ginger laughed. "I'm over it. I'm sorry. Just a lot of surprises lately. Can we make sure that's the last of them?"

"We can."

"Thank you. You know, my boss noticed some discrepancies between a conversation she had last week and another we had with a mutual friend."

"I'm aware."

"You think I'm crabby?"

"I can imagine," he said. "You know, I care about that letter? There's another party who doesn't want to know what they don't know."

"That's not what we're deciding. This is about him."

"You feel obligated," the old man said.

"Yes. I should think you do, as well."

"I do. And I'm being protective. Maybe overly so. Just get rid of it. You can't change the past."

"You want me to help you be 'overly protective' after 'my boss' benched me and put us in this? No."

The handful of times they had spoken in the past, Ginger was friendly. Charming. She was all attitude today, though. Sal indulged her out of practical necessity. He also recognized that Ginger was projecting. Better the woman worry about Tom's truth than her own, at least until this mess was cleaned up.

"OK."

"Unfortunately, I need consensus on this side, too," Ginger said. "I'd appreciate if you stayed out of it from here on. You probably want to give my boss a little time, too."

"Probably. Listen, we've all made mistakes. I know mine."

She understood. Stella had duped Ginger for half a year. "I know mine, too. Next step on that other problem?" Ginger asked.

"Just be cautious. I'll be in touch," Sal said. "Hey. You did good."

"Just trying to keep it on the road, man! I'll let you know if anything changes. Thank you."

"Thank you. Take care."

###

Ginger hadn't forgiven her. Now that they were all back home, she was busy nursing Tom in a strange, tough-love way. It seemed to be working but it meant that Jacqueline was left out. The blond was angry but she was keeping it bottled up, which was unlike her. That was scarier than her temper. What if she just snapped? A controlled burn now might prevent a firestorm later. Of course, that meant provoking the domme. When was that ever a good idea?

"We're still not there yet, are we, Ginger?"

"Sorry, babe. Not even close."

"But we're going to keep working at it, honey? I'm willing to do whatever I have to, to rebuild that trust. But, you haven't already made up your mind, have you, Ginger?"

"I have. I've made up my mind to do my job until I'm sure it's not necessary."

"Ginger, don't do it if it's just a job! Don't put yourself at risk for me and my mistakes. I mean, I want to work this out with you. But, if there's not a chance, just go."

"I didn't say there wasn't a chance. And it's not just a job, but there's still a job to do! Stella is still out there and if her pals are looking to settle a score, we're all in danger."

"So, just worry about yourself and fucking Thomas! You don't owe me anything, Ginger."

"Would you relax? And watch your tone? I'm not walking away from you. I just need to focus on this. And what's with the hostility toward 'fucking Thomas?' Feeling guilty much?"

"How many times do I need to apologize, Ginger? I screwed up! Are you just going to keep throwing it in my face forever?"

The blond pushed her up against the wall. Progress.

"You want to call him 'fucking Thomas' and act like I'm giving you a hard time? How do you walk with balls that big? You know what, Jax? You want to have this out now? Fine. Tell me. How did you screw up? Hmm? You've apologized so many times. But, what is it, exactly, that you have to be sorry for?"

"Ginger, you're much stronger than I am. Please don't intimidate me."

"Answer the fucking question, Cupcake. What do you have to apologize for?"

"I shut you out with Jimmy and acted like I could do your job, Ginger, and then, Damita..."

"Stupid, stupid, and mean. Go deeper."

"Ginger..."

"...I don't want to play this emotional game with you so I'll just tell you why I'm mad! You said you wanted our relationship to be honest. You come to me and ask permission to go fuck your ex. A nice gesture. And what did I tell you? 'Sure, but just a fling.' Right? Jimmy shows up, you shut me out, and then, you decide to go see her a second time. 'Oh, Tom, finish the bathroom. Ginger will help!' You fucking kidding me? We're the fucking help? I'm the fucking help, boss?"

"Ginger..."

"...I'm just getting started. What a happy coincidence that you need to see Sal the same weekend Damita just happened to be in the City. You need to see Sal because you're over your head but too arrogant to admit it. But you put the trip off for a whole week because the flight had been booked before Jimmy made his second visit. Woman, that's enough right there. But there's more! The thing that hurts me the most. I said it. You hurt me, Jacqueline. Like you have no regard for my feelings. You're over your head, no idea what to do, but you still don't talk to me, not until Sal tells you how fucked you are, and Tom and I are a hundred times as fucked. So, I'm asking myself, 'Why would she do that?' Care to guess what I've concluded?"

"I doubted you, Ginger."

"After all this time! Oh, 'Damita ran away but you ran to me, Ginger.' You would never forget that! Your asshole husband gives me an assignment and I muck through how many miles of shit holding your hand? But you can't trust me? What did he..."

Tom walked into the kitchen wearing Ginger's iPod and rocking out to find her yelling at a crying Jacqueline.

"Take a walk, please," Ginger said. He was out the door in five seconds.

She continued. "What did Jimmy tell you?"

"He said I couldn't talk to Sal and I couldn't trust you because you had a bigger obligation to the IRA than to my family."

"Jesus. You see how that kills me? You just fucking believed him? How fucking high is this guy? That doesn't even make sense! What, did he say, 'I love you' or something?"

Jacqueline's eyes narrowed. "That was stupid of me. But he knew all about you, Ginger! He didn't get that from Stella! That had to come from a much closer source. He was Michael's partner, Ginger. And I didn't believe it! I thought I was being smart because I realized that Stella was betraying us."

"Betraying you. You weren't thinking us, partner."

"You're right, Ginger, I wasn't thinking us. It was shitty of me, but it was mostly stupid! Sal is practically my father since... I didn't talk to him either, Ginger. It wasn't that I didn't trust you, it was that I was sure I could figure all this out before I included you and Sal."

"Why on fucking earth would that be your goal?"

"I don't know! I guess I just made the initial mistake and thought I could fix it if only... God, Ginger, I trusted you, but, there was that one percent I didn't. I am so sorry, honey. That is inexcusable. But then I realized, if, if it was true," she said, shaking her head, "I wouldn't have done anything to stop you. I would just give up. Whatever you wanted, you could have."

Ginger was without words, so Jacqueline continued.

"I screwed up and I can't change that, Ginger. Damita wasn't anything but a way to hurt you. And that's what I was doing, Ginger. I was jealous. It's disgusting, I know."

"Tom? Still? What the fuck, Jax? How insecure can you be?"

"OK, Ginger! We're all honest with each other now? No secrets? No bullshit, right? That cuts both ways, Ginger."

"Ooh! A little deflection? Redirection?"

"Just stop, Ginger. We both had our play toys, that's not what got to me. I get that. You like 'to hurt and control' people and he can handle it. So I don't have to. I'm glad for you, Ginger, and myself. But now I worry you're putting him above me. And so, I ask myself, why would she do that?"

"Don't you fucking dare mock me!" the blond said as she cocked for a slap but didn't deliver.

Jacqueline retreated from her stupidity and reached a hand up to Ginger's cheek.

"I'm sorry, honey. You're right," she said.

"We don't need to be angry."

"No, we don't, Ginger," Jacqueline said.

"But we do need to have this conversation. And I was going to push it off even longer."

"Lucky for me we had it out now, Ginger! Another day or two... Were you about to smack me, honey?"

"I would never have forgiven myself. Sorry."

"I would have, Ginger! Forgiven you, that is. Not smacked you. That'd be foolish."

"Well, I would let you get away with a lot more than that. That I can understand. It's this emotional crap, Jax. I hate it! Why are you still jealous of Tom, who is probably, once again, curled up in fetal position somewhere because mom and dad are fighting?"

"Oh, God, you're probably right! The poor thing. I'm not jealous of him, Ginger. Not anymore. I have been. Up to, like, two days ago, honey! But I get it now. I am worried about your relationship, though."

"Am I having déjà vu? Doesn't it feel like we've had this exact conversation before? And, wait, where did we come down on that? Slapping is legal?"

"Stop! I have some stuff to sort through on my own and I will, Ginger! But you have to tell me the truth about this, honey."

"OK."

"Tom shot him in the back of the head, Ginger?"

"Oh, my God!" she said.

"What, Ginger?"

"Your next question is, did Tom have to do it, 'was it necessary, Ginger?'"

"More or less. What, Ginger?"

"That's the one question your father had for me. It was the only thing he wanted to know. Two days later. Right after we got on 87. Like it had been bothering him for miles, but it was just the one thing. 'That Ted, Ginny, he turned his back on you, Ginny. He didn't see it coming, Ginny,'" she imitated.

Oh, shit, here it comes, thought Jacqueline. "Oh. That is weird. I'm sorry, honey," she said and waited, but Ginger still wasn't there yet. "Ginny?"

"Yes. Ginny Biondi is my real name. Virginia," Ginger said. Jacqueline stared. "I know. I don't look like a Virginia. I'll tell you more. Later."

"Ginger, I still need to know."

"Your father also said that there was no wrong answer."

"I don't know that I can make that promise, Ginger. Or if you even have to answer the question now."

"Fuck yeah, you can. Because you weren't there but you are ultimately responsible for that dead, pseudo-Mick. Did Tom have to? You mean, was it Jimmy or me? Is that what you need to know?"

"You were handcuffed over a drop cloth, I know, Ginger. I heard you talking in the kitchen that night. I didn't mean to. But I think you were lying to him, honey. Were you, Ginger?"

"No. I wasn't. The guns were positioned in my view. If they weren't going to kill me, they sure wanted me to think they were. Since they didn't need information from me..."

"...But, why kill you? Tom's right," the former attorney said. "Alive you're money. Dead, you're a liability."

"Any reasonable person would have come to the same conclusion that Tom and I did. You tell me, Counsel for the Defense, I don't know why this fucking matters to you given your culpability in it, but would Tom have a fighting chance in court?"

"It's two different questions, Ginger," Jacqueline said as she struggled to read her partner.

"Then it's my mistake to frame it that way. I thought I was going to die. Been there before and it feels the same, every time. Tom saved my life. You're happy about that, right?"

Jacqueline considered Ginger's version of events and ignored the crack.

"But, even if he didn't, you'd still say he did the right thing, Ginger. You'd protect him."

Ginger grabbed her. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You still don't trust me?" She pulled up her sleeves to remind Jacqueline of the still-red marks left by the handcuffs. "This little cunt infiltrates our home and your, pft, 'foundation.' McFuck comes to you with a song and dance about two million dollars and how I'm a fucking terrorist? Seriously? You don't think Jimmy'd kill for two million dollars? Is that what it is? What do you think your husband and this guy did for a living? They were murderers, Jax! You were married to a murderer! You think Tom's dad was the only one? God knows how many other people. Oh! And Unky Sal and Daddy? Stone cold killers! Sal's not a fucking accountant. You know that, right? And ya think there's a reason your father didn't bat an eye when I told him that I offed Ted just because he was a witness? Hey! And you know what all these murderers have in common? Huh, honey?" She punctuated the last two words with sharp pokes on Jacqueline's sternum.

"Gin-" This had to be it. She practically said it!

"...You! So little Jackie better carefully weigh her next words if she wants her pet murderess to be here next time the big bad wolf comes a-knockin'."

Tom loudly opened the front door. Both women turned to him and smiled like nothing was wrong. From his perspective, the situation had only deteriorated.

"A few more minutes, please, Tom," Ginger said. He did an about-face and made it through the door before it closed.

"His timing makes me think he's my guardian angel," Jacqueline said.

"No, babe. I'm your guardian angel. But I am so angry with you. You're right. I will protect Tom. Like I will protect you. I'm not going to walk away from us, but don't push me away! OK?"

"There's still an 'us,' though, Ginger?'"

Ginger wrapped both hands around Jacqueline's throat but didn't squeeze. Instead, she let it relax into a distant hug.

"Ack! Maybe! Leaning toward probably? You said you have some things to sort through on your own. Well, get sortin', sister! You're hung up on Tom and that doesn't make sense to me. Sure doesn't make me feel like pushing out of my comfort zone and working on shit!"

Jacqueline laughed.

Ginger continued. "Your husband gave Tom all that money to try to fix the damage that he'd done. People like Michael leave nothing but ruin in their paths and they don't get many chances to set things right. And, you told me: He only did it because your father made him. I don't know what sort of pathology made Michael hate this kid for being fuckin' ten and a child, but he did. If I've got to choose, I'm going with your father over your husband. He saved a desperate girl and made sure that Tom was given a chance. And I'm fucking that chance up. But, thankfully, the boy is bent, not broken. He's fixable and I'm gonna try. I owe him that."

"God, Ginger!" Jacqueline yelled. "Come on!"

"What?"

"You don't... You really... All you see is that Tom needs your help, Ginger?"

"...You don't think he needs our help?"

"That's what you need. To help Tom, Ginger. Fix him?"

"I care about him. Way more than I ever thought I would. You were right about that. And I did pay more attention to him than I did to you this summer. You were right about that, too. But, it doesn't mean the same thing."

"I know that now, honey. It doesn't scare me anymore," Jacqueline said.

"There aren't a lot of people in my life, Jax. He needs help and it's my fault."

Jacqueline's eyes were wide, trying to take it all in. "You... I want to hug you, Ginger! And go kick someone's ass, and..."

Ginger gave her a quick hug. "...Welcome to my world! You get it now? You finally understand that he's not between us? That he is us? He's me. You get why this is important to me?"

"I do. But..."

"...You're wondering what to do with the letter?"

"I know your mind's made up, Ginger. It's your call."

"I haven't made up my mind, actually! I practically told Sal to go fuck himself, but I'm starting to see the logic. And reconsidering whether his 'suggestion' is really an order."

"You're worried about Sal, Ginger? Don't be. I took the letter from him and said I was going to give it to you to make the decision. Yes, we agree that he is not good old 'Unky Sal,' but Jane and I are the children he and Ro couldn't have. He knows who you are to me." Their eyes met. Fight over.

"I am so pissed right now."

"I'm sorry, Ginger."

"Not at you, well, still a little, but no. At Sal, babe."

"Because he didn't tell you about Tom, Ginger?"

"Of course. Michael wouldn't tell me shit, but that's fine, he had a golf ball in his head. Sal could have but chose not to. Just like he chose not to make it clear to me for two years that he's my boss," Ginger said. "But there's something else. Hits closer to home."

"What, Ginger?"

"It's one of the things I'll tell you soon," she said. "But, hey, why do you think Sal pretended like he didn't know anything about you and I, or that Tom was living here?"

"It doesn't make any sense, Ginger. I'd say he's getting old, but..."

"...It makes perfect sense. Just like Marcus rushing up there to talk to Tom did. I was with him the whole time. I was sober and in my right mind. Why did he get all he needed from me in twenty minutes but took an hour with Tom, asking him how he felt about everything?"

"He's a wild card, Ginger! They had to make sure he wasn't going to go off the deep end. You can't let that..."

"...I'm not. They knew I couldn't be objective about him, which is fair. But there's something I didn't tell you a long time ago when we were talking about the three different Michael's when it came to Tom?"

"What, Ginger?"

"I wasn't withholding, I just didn't think it was important. Michael said if I couldn't think of any use for Tom, I should just send him down to Sal. He said it so casually that I almost ignored it."

"No! Ginger! I didn't tell you something, same reason. I thought he was just trying to make me feel better. Those were his exact words! I told you Sal said the best thing to do was throw the letter away and give Tom a 'pile of money.' He'd be fine, and if it would 'make me feel better,' Sal would look after him. Send him to New York."

"What the fuck? Can we agree right now that that's not going to happen?" Ginger asked.

"Fuck yes. I'm not giving my godfather a fucking thing if he's just going to lie to me. Worse than Michael."

"Cussy Hussy! You haven't said my name in like 20 seconds!"

"Stop, Ginger. What's this about?"

"They poured a lot of money into Tom, as Michael said. Sal is glad not to have to kill him. Now he wants to see what all he can get out of him."

"Oh. That's scary," Jacqueline said and made a show of resisting temptation.

Ginger smiled. "More frustrating on accounta all the bullshit. He is an interesting young man, though. Full of surprises. Do you want to sit down, babe?"

"But you won't be able to slam me up against the wall, Ginger!"

"I'll figure something out," she said as she offered Jacqueline one of the bar stools. "Hold on. Let's go back a minute. What about the letter? What's the best thing for our boy? Talk it out with me, counselor. Why keep the truth from him?"

Jacqueline sighed and composed her thoughts."...He's got a lot on his plate right now. We could take care of him. We could be his family until he doesn't need us anymore. I told him I would help him go on to great things after he paid us back. That will still make sense from his perspective, just me keeping my word. He's paid us back."

"Forty seconds, that's a record!"

"Would you please?"

"He does need our help," Ginger said. "Have you ever watched him, like when he doesn't know you can see him?"

"No. If I'm around, he's too busy attending to my needs."

"Totally. But, I saw it a few times. He looked so sad. That's got to fuck with your head, thinking that about your family. Having to hold onto that secret," Ginger said. "That night, when his tooth went flying? I couldn't make him tell me about it. I saw it in his eyes... I knew what scared-and-hurt Tom looked like by that point. This was more than that. It was the worst thing in the world to him. I don't know that the truth will help much at this point, but he deserves to know he can be proud of his brother and that he matters to us."

"Ginger, honey, he knows he matters to you. That's why he was right there when you needed him," Jacqueline said. "I was a turkey for being jealous of your relationship, Ginger. At first, I felt like he was an escape for you. From me. That hurt. But, I just figured this out: I'm afraid of losing him, Ginger! Because he brings out parts of you that I always knew were there, but..."

"...I don't show you."

"They were there when I needed them, Ginger. You love having someone to care for. For two months, it was me and Michael, and then, just me. And then I let myself get jealous when it wasn't me anymore."

"I'm not sure he would say I care for him," Ginger said.

"He told me so, Ginger! Actually, the reason it came up is that I know how you show him 'how much you care,' Ginger! But, it doesn't come from a bad part of you. A scary part, yes. Not one that he's afraid of, though."

"The boy's got a screw loose, for sure."

"Whatever it is, he makes you happy, honey. He satisfies needs that I couldn't possibly. I get that now. And, my God, Ginger! He's got a screw loose? The whip lashes? That 'humbler' thing on his balls? Ginger in his butt, Ginger?"

"He can take it. And we only did all three that one time. Poor guy. And that was before the humbler when I was using rubber bands or a cord."

"How'd that go, Ginger?"

She laughed. "He was so mad at me! I forgot about him! I left him tied up like that in our closet for like, four hours! He was miserable. And then you were asking why he didn't get any work done! He couldn't even look at me! And then, I had to punish him for lying to me and saying he wasn't angry."

"Oh, my goodness, Ginger, that's... I do not understand how this works between you two." Jacqueline said.

"It's not complicated. He gets it. He's not allowed to lie to me! Matter of fact, if I had just challenged him on the one, tiny, stupid, possible fib I ever thought he told me, we wouldn't be in this jam. Oh, and by the way, the humbler? That was one of his birthday presents to me. But he tried it on himself and then rethought it. So he hid it. That's just as bad as a lie! Now I have to figure out how to correct this behavior so that it doesn't happen again."

"Oh no. I stand corrected, Ginger. You are both out of your minds. But he's not just a toy to you, honey."

"I'm kidding. He's my friend." Ginger cracked a smile. "Kinda creepy that you're making him sound like our kid, though! But, maybe that's the way to look at it. Parents have to let go. We have to let go. Well, not even that. We're assuming he's gone once he finds out the truth. Maybe Sal even thinks that. Maybe he wants us to give Tom the letter, see if he goes storming off to Brooklyn. He'll be angry but he knows he's part of us."

"We didn't know what Michael did!" Sal was right: Ginger was determined not to put it all together. And maybe couldn't as long as she had Tom to worry about.

"Right. And we can help him. We just need to be willing to take that risk. Let him figure stuff out. And you know, we shouldn't underestimate him. I don't think Sal and Marcus are. And that will appeal to Tom."

Jacqueline nodded.

Ginger was taken aback. "Oh, shit."

"What, Ginger?" Was this it?

"Jimmy's body is gone. Dealt with. Tom, in yet another coincidence, just had to get a night away from us after Gloucester. How much do you want to bet Marcus took him up there?"

"Oh. Really, Ginger? Not if they're trying to recruit him, right? Is that what they're doing, honey?"

"You're underestimating him. He's the only one of us to question Stella. He just saved you two million dollars and took out a trained killer/conman in the process. Dealing with the body was just another test."

"Oh, my goodness. I guess he passed. You've decided, honey."

Ginger nodded. "Yeah. Where are you?"

"You're willing to risk losing him, Ginger?"

"Yes. Because we won't."

"Then I'm with you, honey. Fingers crossed," Jacqueline said. "How?"

"I'm still working on that. I'm thinking about a graduation ceremony, Friday night, at the other house. He loves it up there. Still, I hope. Anyway, we'll retire Thomas officially. Oh, I do know one thing!"

"What, Ginger?"

She laughed. "The Tildo. One of us is gonna fuck him with it. How's that for a capstone?"

"Ginger!"

"We'll make it fun. It's his dick. And then you better be ready, 'cause I figure we'll spend the next few weeks with Tom the Dom. Until then, though, it's business as usual for our little houseboy. And then, on Sunday, we see where he is and maybe, maybe, sit him down, explain everything and give him the letter."

"Honey, I'm surprised at that plan. It seems cruel to make him keep waiting on us. I don't know that I can do that, Ginger."

"I hear you, but the thing is, it's helping him get over Jimmy. It's safe for him. He knows his place, he's got chores to do, and he loves having a routine. And, don't forget, he's an endorphin junkie, the amount of time the guy spends in subspace. Seriously. You can't just cut him off from that. Not without some, like, endo-methadone. But we can be nice! That'll make sense in his twisted little mind. We need to keep him busy, keep him working out. And, for now, he's either going to keep sleeping in our bed or I'm sleeping in his. You heard him the other night, huh?"

"Sounded like a lost little boy, Ginger."

"They're all little boys when they're lost."

Ginger picked up her phone to call him home, Jacqueline guessed.

"Tom less than most. He'll be OK. Jax, listen. I'm still mad. You sort your stuff, I'll work on mine. But, follow my lead on this. You can do that?"

"Yes, honey. You're the boss and I'm the good girl who does whatever you tell me. 'It's usually fun!'"

Ginger got the joke but didn't take it further. Jacqueline went downstairs to the elliptical and ran for an hour and a half, lost in her thoughts.

Part II
Chapter 11: Reckoning

Though it had been a late night, Tom's eyes were open at seven. There he was, laying between two beautiful women who he loved. Out of habit, he turned to Ginger first and spooned up against her. She didn't react, so he pawed at her until she turned and tried to push him away, mumbling. Tom laughed and tried to get a little boob. This time he got more mumbling and an elbow. Better to let Ginger be, he decided. Even if "Thomas" had graduated last night.

Jacqueline was more receptive. She snuggled back into him and made her neck available to kiss. Tom pushed his erection into her.

"Mmm, my goodness! I'd forgotten what it's like waking up to a man! Good morning, Thomas, I'm sorry. Tom."

"Morning. Ginger's all elbows."

"No, she's not much of a cuddler."

Tom nuzzled in from behind. "Are you?"

"Mmm. Yes I am."

"Are you hungry?"

"Old habits, Tom! I'm making you breakfast, remember?"

"Nice."

Jacqueline stretched. "We'll see. There is a reason you do all the cooking. I want to give you something first."

"Even better."

She stepped out of bed and found a t-shirt.

"No, not that, honey. Wake her up, please."

"You wake her up!"

"Oh, Tom!" Jacqueline shook her head, and then, on second thought, saw his point.

"Ginger, honey. 'Up and at them.'"

The blond didn't move. "I'm awake. Tom!" she said.

"Sorry... Not!"

Ginger rolled over to face her bed mates. "Someone said breakfast?"

Jacqueline produced an old Drew Bledsoe Patriots jersey from a drawer and threw it at Ginger. She then returned to bed handing Tom a sealed yellow ANF envelope.

"I have something for Thomas, first. It's from Michael."

Ginger knew what she was talking about and sighed in exasperation. Damn it! This wasn't the time or the fucking plan! The envelope was sealed and Jacqueline seemed to be pretending that its contents were a mystery.

"Jax!"

The older woman ignored her.

###

Tom sat up and pulled the single sheet of paper out. As he read the brief note, his face was expressionless, but Jacqueline reached a supportive hand to his thigh. Tom finished and sat staring blankly ahead.

"How did you know to comfort me?" he asked. "Because you read this! Of course you did. When did you know?" Tom crawled off the foot of the bed and started dressing.

"When I was in New York," Jacqueline said.

Tom counted in his head. A week ago. Not an unreasonable amount of time to hold onto it given what had happened since.

"And Michael knew Jack didn't kill...how?" he asked. Jacqueline nodded. "Your fucking husband?"

"Thomas, it's..."

"TOM! My name is Tom, three fucking letters! TOM!" he screamed. Both women jumped. Jacqueline was too quick to tears, further infuriating him. Ginger stepped in.

"Tom, please. Listen..."

"Don't you even... You knew, too!" he said. Ginger held her tongue. "You just couldn't let me have one thing to myself. Well, you want to know? Fine." He pulled a shirt on and tried to jam his foot into a shoe but it was tied. He was livid, fumbling around, out of his mind in hurt. "It all comes back to the fucking tooth. I spilled his beer, he got pissed, I ran. He pushed me and I went face first into the side of the front door. I lost it somewhere in the front lawn, maybe. I probably swallowed it. A couple weeks later, he was dead and my brother was gone. My mom never forgave Jack. The asshole who hurt her kids is a fucking saint. But she never said my brother's name again."

"Come here, Tom, please," Jacqueline said.

"Fuck you, lady!" Michael had managed to pack a lifetime's worth of sadness and confusion into a few handwritten sentences. "Did... Did your husband make it look like Jack did it? Did he frame him? Why would he do that?" Jacqueline shook her head. "He wasn't my father. Some other guy was. And of course—OF COURSE!—he doesn't know. 'Cause, why would he? My mother's as much of a liar as you people. But even that doesn't matter, though, does it?" Tom paused. His voice broke as he tried to convince himself of the horrible news. "I knew I'd see Jack again. I knew it. Our kids would play together. But Jack's dead. Has been for years." He swallowed and swayed, but regained control. "Jack's dead and he didn't do it. But I'm still living the dream, baby! A murderer's brother! And, now, thanks to you fucking assholes," Tom said, "I'm a murderer, too! That's what they were right about, Ginger. Fuck you both." Tom slammed the door on his way out.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jax!" Ginger snapped as she jumped out of bed and followed him. She too slammed the door behind her and caught Tom by the arm at the top of the stairs.

"Don't go yet. Hear it all. You have every right to be mad. But you have to know it all. You owe it to yourself. And to your brother."

"Oh, my God. Fuck you! I don't owe you shit, Master." He eyed her up and down and realized that she was right. He needed to hear the rest. "God, you're hot even when I hate you," he said.

She loosened her grip on his arm but didn't let go.

"You don't ever have to see me again, but know exactly why you don't want to, OK?" For all the sharp edges and tough love, Ginger was true. She might fuck with him as they all had last night, but she wouldn't now.

"Why are your eyes green, you wingnut?" he asked.

"Ha. Really?" He nodded. "We fucked this up, Tom. I'm sorry. Probably not a surprise that angry and horny look the same on me, huh?"

He tried to smile, but instead, shuddered his first tears. Focusing on the conversation with Ginger, the realization that there would never be a reunion with his brother hit home.

She touched his face. "Come back inside, please. This isn't how it should have happened, but, just listen, OK?"

When Ginger led Tom back into the room, Jacqueline looked up with relief and whispered, "I'm sorry, Tom."

He ignored her not out of spite but because he was still reeling. He followed Ginger to the foot of the bed but stopped as she continued to her side and slid under the covers. The tears passed and he stood staring at the space Ginger patted for him. Tom couldn't picture himself in that spot. It looked like it was a mile away.

She recognized that he was in shock, crawled to him, and lifted his shirt over his head. Ginger had a masterful knowledge of male behavior and knew this one like the back of her hand. What seemed inappropriate to Jacqueline, appealing to his sexuality at a time like this, produced the desired response. Ginger tugged at his belt and he was following her back to that distant place. She led him right into her arms and met his lips.

"Tom, you have to know, Ginger didn't... She came to me several times, sure that I was wrong about how we were treating you. I ignored her every time. But she knew and I just overrode her. I ordered her not to be so nice to you. This isn't her, Tom. It's me."

He appeared not to have heard Jacqueline, his eyes, swollen and red, were still locked on Ginger's.

"Hurts worse now than it will tomorrow, I promise," Ginger said and then made room for him to lay next to her on his elbows.

Tom felt Jacqueline's hand on his arm and turned to face her.

"How do you order Ginger? How do you order anybody? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Colonel Hale's daughter and Colonel Turner's widow."

"What does that have to do with me and my family?"

"I have no idea, Tom. I don't know how or why, but the best I've been able to piece together is that Michael killed your father—stepfather—and took off with your brother. Jack died in Afghanistan five years later. Michael is responsible for him being there, I'm sure, Tom. Whatever happened, it cost him his career and would have cost him his life, but my father intervened. And so, Michael became indebted to him."

"This is some fucked up shit, Jacqueline," he said.

"It's worse than that, Tom. I only know Ginger because she is, or was, working off a debt to my family."

He could feel Ginger nod behind him. She took over.

"When I was 15, Tom, I ran away." He started to turn to face her again but she resisted, preferring to talk to the back of his head. "A family friend took me in. Then, a few weeks later, he and his boss drugged and raped me." He stiffened. "It's OK, Tom. I'm OK," she said. "They raped me all night long. I don't see how they had any other choice but to kill me. I didn't wait to find out. We were high and they were stupid, so I got lucky. I killed 'em both." Tom's jaw hung open.

She continued. "So, I'm 15, still high, and stuck with two bodies. And out of the blue, Mr. Hale comes walking up the fucking driveway. He knows my name and says he's going to help me put all of that behind me. And he did." Now she sounded choked up. "He saved my life."

Jacqueline was almost cringing. If Ginger was determined not to figure out the origin of her relationship with the Hale family, clever Tom now had enough to piece it together. All part of a plan that she hated.

"This is so fucked up!"

"It is! But fucked up becomes normal." She cleared her throat and any hint of sadness in her voice disappeared. "The knee was my low point. I thought that was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But, excellent doctors fixed the job that hack did in Ecuador, and now it's almost perfect. Thanks to Mr. Hale. But I find out, the night I met Michael, that Mr. Hale had been dead for years and I had to settle my debt with him and Jacqueline."

The widow picked up where Ginger left off.

"Michael was sick, Tom. And I believed him when he said you were a 'brat.' She didn't. But I was stubborn about it." Jacqueline took a moment to get herself back on track. "I failed you, Tom. And Ginger, too. I ignored Jimmy, cut her out of it, and you got stuck cleaning up the mess."

"Tom," Ginger said, "Jax and I knew why I owed her family. Meeting Mr. Hale was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was happy to repay that. When Michael handed you off to me, he wouldn't say why, just that I needed to figure out how to get our money's worth from you."

Jacqueline thought this reminded her of the Tell-Tale Heart. Couldn't they both hear the beating?

"Like an investment?" Tom asked.

"Precisely," Jacqueline said. "Honey, I am sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you. From making you believe that you owed me anything, to exploiting your talents, to making you feel like you weren't loved and appreciated, Tom. Or 'handsome.' That was a lie, Tom, to knock you down, so we could control you better." She put her hand on top of Ginger's on his chest. "But this, Tom. This isn't a lie," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't think I could ever be with a man again after what Michael did to me. I couldn't imagine trusting one. But Ginger knew how special you were. And it made me jealous how much she cared about you. You're part of us now. We don't deserve it but you are. Honey, you're the only man I've slept with since my husband."

"That's two of us," Ginger said. When Tom looked at her in disbelief again, she added, "Yep! Frickin' Marcus! Couldn't even get half hard on a Viagra. Can you believe that? Well, plus your buddy Steve that one time. But since then, stud, you're the only meat in this lesi-sandwich!"

"Honestly, Ginger," Jacqueline said. "Last night was hard for me, honey. But I know you would never hurt me and I want you to be the man in my life. Just be patient with me. I'll try harder!" Tom's expression gave away his sympathy and guilt for having been so mean. Jacqueline smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "It's OK, honey! I love you, Tom! And so does Ginger. Maybe you can find some happiness right here with us. Don't let this be the end, honey. Let us show you how much you mean to us."

He appreciated the attempt to sweet talk him. He also knew that letting go of the anger, as he was wont to do, would open the floodgates and he didn't want to do that in front of Jacqueline. It felt like they were both waiting for an answer. Tom wasn't giving in that easily.

He extricated himself from Ginger's grip and got up from the bed. Tom dressed again and walked out the door. He went down to the kitchen and brewed coffee. While waiting for it, he reread the letter several times. And then he tried to remember some of the things the women had just explained.

###

Ginger showed up a few minutes later, her tan skin visible through the mesh of the jersey. She smiled at Tom but said nothing as she prepared her mug, and then, after pulling the shirt down over her butt, took the seat next to him. Silence. Tom's mind spun through a range of emotions, each on its own timeline. Ginger's long, naked legs added another competing feeling to his confusion.

"What was your brother like?"

"So mad at you, Ginger."

"I know."

Tom looked down from the floor all the way to where her thigh went into the micro-micro-mini made by the jersey.

"But I'm going to pound Kitty 'til you cry."

Her eyes smiled over the rim of her mug. "Hmm. I know," she said. He looked back to the floor. Ginger watched him. "But right now, dear boy, I think you need to do some crying."

"I guess you already think I'm a pussy."

She laughed. "Oh, I do!" She slid one leg up the other before crossing them at the knee. He watched with rapt attention. "But Tom," she said, "I love pussy!"

"Asshole."

Ginger was pleased with herself. "Look, dropping that letter on you when you were still dealing with the Jimmy thing was shitty. And I'm going to slap that bitch silly for it. But, I know what she's going to say. 'How much longer could we have waited, Ginger? Honey?' I wanted you to have a few more days to work on Jimmy and get used to our new relationship before you had to know that. To give us a chance to show you that we were right behind you."

Ginger leaned in and put her forehead to his. "And last night, Tom, that seems even meaner now. And it was. But I knew you weren't going anywhere and I wanted to remind you how much you love us! And get you angry enough to do the job you did on my little button. I'm still a little sore, there, stud." He smiled though he didn't want to. "Like it or not, you and I are forever bound." Ginger pretended to think about that a moment. "You could do a lot worse!" She winked at him. "And come on. How many men can honestly say they've been fucked with their own dick?"

"Is this making it up to me?"

"Yes! And, hey, not even a comment about my color choice? Between you and the Tildo, you're bi-racial! BBC!"

Now he laughed out loud.

"So yes, boy, I'm going to tease you and call you a pussy whenever I see the need. Often, in other words. But, I'm also going to look out for you and I can't let you hold onto anger. It'll eat you alive. So, you're here and I'm listening. Tell me a story about Jack and let it out."

He looked at her for a moment. "I don't know how I can ever be normal again."

She nodded. "I've seen you go down hard and come up harder more than once. There's a joke in there, somewhere," she said. Tom laughed again. "But come on, buddy! The more I learn about you... We're pretty uniquely suited to each other. No? Anyway, you think you were normal before we got our hands on you, really?"

"Not at all."

Ginger made a "fuck it" face and said, "We just made you better at being abnormal! Now, Jack me!"

###

"I think I have a crush on your brother."

Tom laughed and had to clean snot off his face with the napkin she handed him.

"Yeah, you would've. He was about your age. Taller. Better looking." They laughed together. "It wasn't more than a few months until George was dead. I heard the shots, they woke me up. Boom, boom, boom. I don't remember them being as loud as that little gun I shot Jimmy with. Sounded like a howitzer. Was that the concussion or did Michael use, like, a silencer?"

"The concussion, mostly, I'd guess. Even in a room with all those hard surfaces, a .22 isn't that loud. It wasn't loud. But three shots from a .45 with a suppressor in the middle of the night would have woken you and everyone on your block. It's not that cool 'twirp' sound like on TV. I can teach you about guns if you want."

"Would you?"

"Of course. I interrupted you. Go on," she said.

"No worries." Tom noticed that he had slipped back into the easy back and forth they shared outside of play but didn't resist it. "So, I noticed the Camaro idling on the street, not in the driveway. And then, I heard the tires chirp as it took off. By the time I was out of bed, there he was, on the floor. So weird. Of course it was Jack! But even to me, it seemed kinda stupid at the time, I mean, he was so close to getting out. He threw his whole life away for no reason."

"Doesn't make sense."

Tom nodded his agreement. "None of it makes sense. Now that I think about it, it's absurd! My mom was rushing me back to bed as the paramedics, who were there, like a minute later, took the body away. But I was up. I watched them load him into the ambulance from my bedroom window. I thought they sped away because maybe he was still alive. Ginger, I've always felt like shit because I hoped he wasn't."

"Doesn't sound like a good man."

"No, he wasn't. But that was it! There wasn't a single cop car! Every call I've ever been on, there are cops. Always. You get to know a lot of them. But not that night. The next thing I remember, my mom was getting me ready for school. Like nothing happened. She was devastated, but told me I had to go to school and pretend everything was fine."

"No problem there!" Ginger said. "And probably a bad idea with a 10-year-old."

"Right? Who was Michael that he can make it like a murder never happened inside 20 minutes?"

"That's nothing. What'd your mom know?"

"No idea. It was never discussed after that morning. I was afraid to bring it up, 'cause it might make my dad come back, somehow. We knew it was Jack. She must have known more than that, though, right? Oh, my God! They cleaned up the scene! You're not allowed to do that! No way! But it didn't seem weird to me! No weirder than seeing the guy I thought was my dad with a huge hole in his chest. Not how a 17-year-old would have done it, huh?" She shook her head. "And no real mess on the walls, just the floor. I guess the bullets didn't exit?"

"You use hollow points indoors, as a courtesy to the neighbors. That must have been a really hard thing for a ten-year-old to see. I'm sorry, Tom."

"It was gross. But it really didn't stick with me. It was interesting, honestly. I thought it was cool that I could see inside his body. The smell bothered me, though. Gunpowder and blood. Yuck. I've only seen a few superficial gunshot wounds since then, but plenty of disgusting shit." About to once again tell the story of his brush with a decapitated head, Tom had to come clean. "Ginger, I... Last week, Marcus..."

"...I know. It's OK. I know why you had to. I owe you one," she said and smiled at him. "Tell me more."

"OK." He searched for his next words. "I fuckin' hated him. I thought he was going to kill my brother. I really did. I wasn't sad to see him dead. I felt safer. What the fuck? Michael and George?"

Ginger thought about it. "You've got to talk to your mom."

"I'm madder at her than I am at you. Even Jax. She had to know, right?"

"My guess is no. A guy like Michael would have had every detail worked out. What's weird is that he let anyone see the body—and live to tell the tale, lucky boy! Much easier if George had just silently disappeared. But, no. Think about it: She thinks her son shot her husband. Paramedics, in cahoots with Michael, obviously, take him away. She wants to believe he's alive. She's in shock. If the neighbors heard anything, they saw the ambulance and figured the authorities had been alerted. Nobody dials 911 if they can avoid it, that whole 'diffusion of responsibility' thing. So, what? Was your mother going to call the police? It's not what you want to hear, but she's a victim, too."

Shaking his head, Tom wondered if that could be. It had to be. That didn't diminish the anger he thought he felt toward her. Though he could imagine a mother's motivations, she had lied to him for his entire life.

"But she might have a few pieces of information that will help," Ginger said. "Maybe they knew each other, Michael and your mom? How else would he know about your real father?"

"I don't know if I hope so or not." He looked at the clock on the microwave. "Until an hour ago, the thing that got me out of bed in the morning, ever since I was old enough to understand it, is that Jack sacrificed himself to protect me. At around 18, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started to live up to that. Exactly when ANF came into my life. Jesus! Am I a fucking idiot?"

Ginger shook her head. "Not at all. Your dad died when you're ten and eight years later you got a scholarship. I've seen some of the correspondence. It looked official. Except, did it all come in those fucking envelopes? Second-pee-of-the-day yellow?" Tom snotted again and used the same napkin to clean up. He nodded. "Someone must have gotten quite a bargain! Whatever. They didn't seem to have anything to do with each other. You must have been curious how you got it, though. Right?"

"My mom did know! She told me it wasn't too good to be true. She must have known Michael was behind it. I always assumed that she applied for it on my behalf, which would have been totally out of character, but, how else could you explain it? I didn't even apply to college," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Based on the amount of info I was given about you, I'm sure that, if she does know anything, she was intimidated into keeping her mouth shut."

"Yeah, I guess. Actually, I think she truly believes Jack did it and holds herself responsible. But it didn't make any sense that he would have wasted his life to protect me. As much of an asshole as George was, he was nicest to me. He hated Jack because he knew he was another man's kid. He referred to him as 'the bastard.' In front of us! But as far as I knew, I was his. We even looked alike. People said so all the time. Did George think I was his? He couldn't have, I don't think. My mom is maybe not so innocent."

"Gotta ask her," she said.

"But, what the fuck, Ginger? Colonel Turner was driving down the street, looking for rights to wrong, er, wrongs to right?"

"Probably right the first time! No, there's stuff we don't know. But I have some thoughts about that. Also later, when you're in a better place. And you will be, buddy."

###

"I don't need breakfast. You guys want to head back?"

Jacqueline frowned. "It's Saturday morning!"

"You want to go stay with V?" Ginger asked.

"Damn it! How do you know about V?"

"I've known about Victoria since June. And you told me all about her and Kate, and that you could never love anyone like you do either one of them. Hurtful. I'm not kidding, Tom, it worries me how little you remember."

"A few forties didn't help," he said. Ginger nodded.

Tom was still working out his "get away from Jacqueline" problem. He knew it was temporary. His anger at her was in direct proportion to the pain he was feeling. That would fade, and with it, so would his animosity. Tom hadn't really anticipated a reunion with his brother. He made peace with Jack's death years ago—he even felt guilty about giving up hope. There was always doubt, of course, but after 14 years with no contact, it was a disappointment, not a shock.

"You guys stay, just give me a ride to the train station."

Once again, Ginger wasn't letting him go that easily. She doubted it, but still needed to determine if Tom was, in his current state of mind, a liability to either of them.

"No, we'll all go," she said. "Jax, go pack us up, please." The eldest looked at her partner a moment and then disappeared. "Tom, come here, please," Ginger said and pointed to the floor in front of her. She continued when he assumed the position.

"Baby, we gave up any claims we had on you last night. You're a free agent. But, is there anything you want to say to me?" Tom looked up from her knees as he had so many times before. This time though, she ran a hand gently through his hair. "Anything?" She was angelic.

Kneeling before her made his words automatic. "I belong to you, Master."

"Yes, you do! Say it like the first time, way back in June. Tell me that."

"I live to serve and please you, Master."

"You do! And you may. As long as you need it, sweet boy, you belong to me. Mine, mine, mine. Tell me again!"

"I'm yours, Master."

"I love that! Thank you. It's not like before, though. We're friends, Tom. But I think you need this. And when you decide you don't, just say so. We'll still be friends. A lot more than just friends! But my boy needs help right now and this is how I know to give it," she said. He looked beaten down, not hearing everything she was saying. "Tom! This does go both ways, man. You figured that out long before I did. Tell me that, too, please."

Tom thought while their eyes met. "We're a team, Master. We help each other."

"Nicely said, as usual. Good?" she asked.

He nodded and smiled. Fucked up, yes. A load off, too, though. Who would have thought it?

"I'm still mad at you. But I love it, thank you," Tom said.

"I've got work to do. My boy needs to know how much he means to me. But I love it, too. We'll head back to Boston where I will accept your sacrifice and then you can get away from us for the night if you think that's safe. But that's just master giving her boy a break, right? Nothing more. No more secret rendezvous-eses with Marcus?"

"No, Master."

"Good. We have a lot to talk about once you're feeling better. But you know that you can't leave now? I know you want to go, but, you can't."

"I know," he said.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't really want to," Tom said.

"That makes me happy and sad. But whatever. We're a team, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"My boy." She bent down to give him a quick kiss on the lips but allowed him to super-size it before they went upstairs to shower.

###

Jacqueline drove while Ginger sat shotgun and Tom lay on the back seat of the Town Car. For the hour-and-change trip, he was distracted enough that even when some piece of his new history came up, it didn't send him into a dark place. It still felt like someone else's life story.

"Tom, what was the first thing you thought of when you saw the name Neri?" Ginger asked once she was sure his spirits were up.

"The Godfather!"

"Right! So, you've read the book? 'Cause I don't think you know his name in the movie, do you?"

He thought. "I don't know if you hear more than his first name or not. I read it in Spanish. The Sicilian, too. Great, easy reads. I'll get you copies. Ooh! You know what makes me laugh about Al Neri in the movie?"

She jumped with excitement, turned around to face him, and pantomimed.

"When he gets down on his knee and steadies his revolver on his forearm to take the shot on the court steps. Right?"

"Totally. But how badass is he, shutting the door to Michael's office in Kay's face? Kinda smiling as he does it?"

"Agreed!" Ginger said. "Hmm. Tom Neri. That's hot."

"Cooler than Amore," he said.

Ginger turned back to face the road. "Well, they're both yours now, boy."
Chapter 12: Out to Brunch

It had been weeks since Tom had seen his personal cell phone. He had so little use for it that he didn't even remember where to look in his room. When he did find it, the battery was long dead. He heard several chimes indicating text messages, all from Victoria Díaz, V. The first was from three weeks ago and the last two from after he and Ginger had driven past Pete and her. The series of messages made Tom's heart race:

"Crees esto? La pobra! K comes home. Call me."

"K coming home. CALL ME!"

"Cono! Kate! Call me, gilipollas!"

"Vince said you were hurt. You are OK?"

"I kick your ass! K is home. Go see her."

"Que te pasa? K IN NY!"

V's phone rang twice and then he was dropped into her voicemail. He left a lovey-dovey message and followed it with a text:

"V! SO SORRY! Been traveling w/out phone. Having brunch at Farris at 11. Llama o venga, por favor, V! Te amo."

He wasn't sure how to explain, but he had faith that she would accept whatever he offered.

It had been a weird 24 hours, a weird few weeks. Once back in Boston yesterday, Ginger had tied him down for a hard but quick 50 lashes before giving him an extra-long rubdown with the arnica gel, a ritual they both loved. She emptied her pockets into his hand, another $67, and then sent him on his way. Tom walked down to the fraternity house and spent the entire day and night there. He had to settle for a couch in the president's room, but it was relatively clean. The only awkward moment was when Vince asked if his head was OK, and, oh, and by the way, TL, who was that blond? Tom explained that she was his boss and friend and agreed that she was a knockout, wistfully.

Last night was just a blur. He'd done some flirting with a pair of teenagers. Six years their senior, stiff from his recent whipping, and with a homicide to his credit, Tom felt like a creepy old man. By nine he had disappeared into Vince's smoke-filled room and didn't go back downstairs until the morning.

Ginger made him promise to meet her for brunch. He knew that she was concerned about him and that whole "forever bound" thing wasn't just words. He got to Farris early and ordered a little hair of the dog. Ginger was right on time, her arrival at the outdoor table coinciding with the replacement of his first drink.

"How we doing today, Tom?"

Tom killed half of it. "Hungover. Better though, you were right. You?" She shrugged. Ginger looked sad. "You OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"Right. Are you hangry, Master?"

She didn't look up over her menu. "Yes. Watch it."

"Right. Well, cross your fingers for me. I hope V is coming, but I think she's mad, too." That she hadn't responded to his text or voicemail messages didn't mean V wouldn't show up. She didn't like cell phones.

"Fingers crossed. The Bloody looks good. Is it?"

"Yes. Weak, though." Tom gave his drink a stir with the celery stalk.

Ginger nodded as she studied the menu. He wondered if she even heard him.

Tom looked over her shoulder and his eyes lit up. V was crossing the street headed their way.

When she saw Tom, a smile flashed across her face. As she approached the table, V flipped her sunglasses up and reached out to hug him as he stood. Tom was gushing to see her. So, when she went for his cheek, he went for the lips.

"Oh!" She gave him a puzzled look. When he didn't retreat, she smiled and gave him a quick one. "OK, Mister Stranger!" Tom was on cloud nine.

"V, this is my boss, Ginger."

"Oh!" V said before they shook hands and all took their seats. The women were pleased to meet each other. V sat and studied him.

"'You've got some 'splainin' to do.' Or is it all top secret?"

"Maybe too long of a story, but, God, V, I forgot how beautiful you are," Tom said.

She gave him another smile. This one more tentative. But two in under a minute? Maybe she was as happy to see him as he was her. Tom was also amazed by the change in his master's mood the young woman inspired. The usual effervescent confidence reappeared, but without the swagger that sometimes accompanied it. Was Ginger smitten?

"Does V remind you of anyone?" he asked her.

She played along and stared at the Andalucián-American.

"Yes, minus the freckles!" Ginger said. V looked at them both for an explanation. "My partner, Jacqueline." Tom looked shocked. "Yes, I said it. Still. Don't make it weird, please," Ginger said.

V looked on until the waiter came, no doubt curious as to the true nature of their relationship given the discordant data points: A drop-dead gorgeous boss who was driving around with him after midnight? Who was brunching with him on a Sunday morning? Who had a female partner?

He ordered three more Bloody Mary's after checking with V. The ladies went for lunch and Tom a large breakfast.

"So what are you doing, V?"

"I got a big-girl job downtown. But hiding out in Norwood at my cousin's for a week. We have stalkers watching the apartment. You are lucky I come to town today because I have to sneak in there."

"Huh?"

V looked at Ginger and then Tom. He understood right away.

"Speak freely, V."

"Vale. Kate's dad? Trevor Daley?"

Now Ginger looked shocked.

"What happened? Is she OK?" Tom asked.

"She is fine, Tom. Where have you been? You did not see a newspaper or TV?"

"No, I've been out of the loop. Working."

V frowned. "Coño! Google him."

Tom started tapping on his phone. He saw references going back to the end of July. He also saw words like "convicted," "embezzlement," "fraud," and "victims." The one that grabbed his attention, though, was "Mini-Madoff." He handed the phone to Ginger.

"What the fuck, V?"

She thanked the waiter and sipped from her straw.

"He steals from people! Our place is being watched. But Kate says it is OK in the City."

"Oh, my God! How is she?"

"Como Kate. Her sister drives her crazy but she is home, Tom! For good."

His heart broke and swelled. Poor Kate. Is back!

V continued. "They move out of the apartment on Tuesday. And then, no sé. Our apartment is hers, but it is in my name, so she gets to keep it. But she can't come here. Tom, go to New York. Puedes?"

"Why hasn't she called me?"

"She is stupid! Your fucking 'Blackout.' And, maybe I did not help things."

"Uh oh"

"No me respondiste, hombre. You drove by us with this beautiful woman."

Ginger was thrilled. Who, me?

"Oh, my God. Kate!" He wasn't too shocked, however, to crack wise at his own expense. "V, on what planet do you think this is my girlfriend?"

"Claro que no, Mr. 76! But you did not answer. Why were you bleeding? I saw the pillow and Vince said Ginger was mad."

"She was taking me to the hospital. I got punched by some asshole, my head hit a brick wall. All's well. See?" He showed her the back of his head, which was healing nicely. "I haven't had my cell in weeks."

"Ay, Tom, you make friends all over. I can't give up my weekends at the bar yet. Can you go?"

Ginger surprised him. "We can be there by dinner, Tom! You have to! And I have to get out of here for a few days. We'll eat and get on the road. You're driving. Gimme your drink, please."

"Ginger, that's awesome. Really?" He handed it over.

She nodded, trying to be extra cute for V's benefit. The faker!

"Thank you! But V, are you sure she wants to see me?"

"Don't you be stupid, too, pendejo. Kate will pee herself. 'Stoy celosa!" V smiled again and then something occurred to her. "Before you leave, will you go to the apartment for me?"

After some planning and lots of talking with mouths full due to the hurry, Tom jogged the few blocks back to Jacqueline's and was in the front door and out the back without her even knowing he was there. He had worried about leaving V with Ginger. The women liked each other and the "what can you tell me about busting Tom's balls" vibe was there. And sure enough, when Tom picked them up on the curb, he knew: she was under Ginger's spell. Having spent the last several months there, he was both happy and sad for her. Ginger's banter and grin indicated that V had worked some magic herself.

###

The neighborhood was too quiet to hide the voyeurs' car. Ginger pulled up a map of the area and, after V pointed out the two spots she had seen the "stalkers," told Tom what to do: Sneak up on the car going the wrong way on the little tree-lined side street. Or, if it wasn't there, they could loop around and come at it from behind on the main drag.

Tom navigated Beacon Street and T-tracks and approached the back of the girls' building. V pointed out the civilian-ized cop car, but she didn't need to.

"Take the last right slowly, and head back home, please." Ginger leaned closer to him and peered out his window. Once they were around the corner, she turned to V. "Not gonna happen, girl," was all the explanation she offered. Tom tried to play it off by joking that it was the perfect car for watching a Victoria. "Does Kate know about this?" Ginger asked.

"No, I did not want to stress her out."

"Good," Ginger said. "You're coming in from Norwood?"

"Commuter rail. It is not bad. I read."

"OK." She turned to face her in the back seat. "Don't bother arguing with me, either of you. V, you're taking Tom's room, at least while we're gone. We can put ol' boy here on an Aero Bed if need be. I would consider it a favor."

Tom was trying to guess what the favor was when she continued. "Jacqueline has clothes that will fit you and everything you need. And she can take you down to Norwood to get your things. Stay away from your apartment, please. OK?"

V was curious, but Tom's look told her it was for the best. The decision was made and there was a reason. Leave it to her to adjust so quickly.

"Vale! And putting Tom on an Aero Bed, that is, how you say, icing on cake, no?"

All three shared a smile, though Ginger was oblivious to the fact that V had been trying to make Tom laugh. "How you say?" Like Kate, she was a singer, dancer, and actor as well as a comedian.

When they returned home, Ginger was direct, saying, "Tom and I are going to New York for a few days. This is his good friend, Victoria. She needs a place to stay and necessities. She'll take Tom's room."

V was alarmed by how Ginger had delivered this news to her partner. Jacqueline, who did look like a relative with freckles and fairer skin, seemed hurt.

Tom wondered what was going on with them. Was this just because Jacqueline didn't follow Ginger's plan for giving him the letter?

Jacqueline's frown turned into a genuine smile. She greeted V with a hug.

"My goodness! Welcome, honey! I'm Jacqueline and you can make yourself at home. Any friend of Tom's..." He smiled and looked to see that V was OK.

She probably just figured that she had walked into the middle of a lovers' quarrel. Uncomfortable maybe, but not scary. Tom hoped that's all it was.

He threw clothes into a bag and grabbed the half-gallon carton of grapefruit juice from the refrigerator, and then a half-liter of tequila from the liquor cabinet which he put in his bag as well. Tom heard Ginger and Jacqueline coming down the stairs together and ran into his room to say goodbye to V before they could intrude. She was lying on his bed looking delicious.

"Hey. That was uncomfortable, sorry. Don't worry, Jax is great and you are welcome." He pulled V closer to speak in her ear. "She owes me big time, so knock yourself out! Anything you want, just ask. I mean it. If you need her to take you to Norwood, believe me, it's the least she can do and she won't mind doing it. Pretend you're at the Ritz and have fun!"

When he let her go, she looked at him.

"Everything is OK, Tom?" He was amused that she shortened the vowel in his name. That was flirting.

"Everything is OK, mi amor. And I can't wait to catch up. I need you in my life, V. I do. I'll give Kate a good rogering for you. I hope."

"Oh! Tom, there is something else." She reconsidered. "No. Never mind. You surprise each other! I will call Edie."

She walked him to the door. Before they parted he stopped.

"I couldn't handle seeing you, V. It made me too sad."

"Débil, cobarde. But, I know."

"Nunca más! Verdimente!"

"Not green, tonto. Ver-da-der-amente!"

"Sorry! Be good, OK? Have fun, for real. I'll text when we get there."

V returned his hug.

"Tú está bien! Tell Kate I luvah, Tawmmy Luvah," she said.

Tom went smiling to the kitchen and fetched the to-go cup Ginger finagled from Farris off the top of the trash and handed it to her. Then he turned to Jacqueline. This was the first time he addressed her from a position of near-equal power. It didn't feel as good as he had hoped.

"Bye, Jax. Thanks for taking care of her. She's very special to me."

She hugged him harder than he expected and whispered in his ear, "Please come back to me, Tom."

He saw that she was close to crying and forgot any hard feelings.

"I will. And, I love you. Ma'am," he said so that V couldn't hear him.

Jacqueline gasped and smiled. It was just what she needed to hear at the moment. Unlike Tom, she wanted V to see her reaction.

"Honey, listen to me. I'm sorry I hit you with that yesterday. But I had a reason, Tom. When you figure it out, keep it to yourself. She's going to need you, too. Please promise me, honey."

He looked confused but agreed.
Chapter 13: Unskilled Labor

"I gotta stretch my legs. He's not going to be here and that chick ain't either. This is a fuckin' waste of time," Dan said as he opened the car door. "I'm getting some of that Jap food."

And a big can of Sapporo, thought Sean.

He had a different perspective. He was getting paid to sit and watch whether they saw anything or not. He hoped they wouldn't see Thomas or the girlfriend. What were they going to do? There wasn't any good way to get them, even at night. And he would rather be in the car alone than with Danny Sullivan. That guy was dumber than the seat he occupied and smelled like piss.

"Take your time. I'll be here." It could be hours before he came back. Sean hoped. Jimmy would not let this kind of thing go on. What was Stella up to?

###

Stakeouts are easier with more than one person. But it's also better to be alone than in bad company. Dumb Danny had been gone since eleven when the restaurant opened and he could get a beer. By the time Dan got to the bottom of number two, Sean had lost focus. It didn't matter. They hadn't seen anyone in five days. This was a waste of time. About that much even Danny was right.

It was just luck that he happened to notice a chrome grill creeping up in the rear view mirror, going the wrong direction. Could it be?

It made an abrupt right turn, not 50 feet behind him: an older Town Car with several passengers. Nothing for almost a week and then that?

He'd just been made. That was inevitable given the stupidity of this plan. His car had just been made...

Fuck Danny.

Sean started the engine, dropped it into drive, and took a left and then right onto Beacon. If they were headed to the Marlborough Street address, he might be able to beat them there and get a closer look. If he was wrong, no one had to know. If he was right, maybe he could start figuring out what was going on.

###

But Sean caught every light and some construction. By the time he parked illegally in the alley one block up and ran to get a view, the Town Car was already there. Stella didn't give him plates but he was sure that it was the same car. Now he had a choice: Go see if the engine was hot and confirm his suspicion, or smoke a few cigarettes and hope he got lucky watching from a distance. He tried to do both.

The only thing keeping a 25-year-old white guy from Southie from blending in anywhere in the Back Bay is dressing like a hood. Sean was smarter than that. With jeans that fit, a Polo shirt, and light jacket, he was invisible.

He jogged to within 20 feet of the enclosure and then headed toward the car without looking like he was doing anything but cutting through the alley. The enclosure was open, which told him the cars weren't in for the night. But it was too risky to get near it. So he walked by and tried to discreetly commit both license plates to memory. And then he heard a ping. The old car had just been turned off.

Sean walked to the sidewalk on Berkeley Street and learned something new: It was too close for a local not to go the wrong way down the alley to hop right on Storrow drive for points North and West, or the airport. And it would be a small risk to continue through the last alley illegally to Arlington, which would put you right on the Mass Pike, Interstate 90. From there it was a straight shot to San Francisco without one traffic light.

If he set up on the far corner of Berkeley and Marlborough, he would be able to see the front door, and, if one of the cars made for somewhere out of town. Sean was lost in his thoughts when he heard activity behind him. He took a step around the corner and peeked in time to see Thomas and a smokin' hot blond, each carrying overnight bags. The guy handed her a bottle of booze before they got into the Town Car and she was laughing it up. Road trip. Didn't matter where they were going. They would be gone until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

There had been at least three people in the car that identified him, so someone was still in the house. Thomas and the woman appeared to be relaxed. They had seen his car at the apartment, but they didn't seem to feel like they were being watched. Sean started walking down Berkeley and didn't risk turning around until he was at the corner. He caught the taillights of the Town Car disappear down the next alley.

Sean had something. It wasn't what Stella wanted. All she cared about was the dude and maybe the rich girl. But he knew it was good intelligence. Fuck if he was going to share it with either asshole. By the time he got back to the girls' apartment, Dan was standing out in the middle of the old parking spot as though he needed to make a close inspection to verify that the car wasn't there.

"Where you been?"

"Meter Maid," Sean said. It was Sunday and there weren't any meters. "We can't keep parking facing the wrong way. I didn't wait to talk to her. Did a long loop."

"Fuckin' cunt."

Sean needed to talk to Jimmy. 
Chapter 14: Kill New Hampshire 43 Heavy

There wasn't any debate, it was a much better ride and neither of them was inclined to get back in the Cherokee after transporting Jimmy Connelly's body and Tom's vomit in it. He handed Ginger the tequila and juice and held onto her arm.

"Motherfucker, you are spilling your guts, so liquor up."

"Liquor?" Her mood had improved since meeting V and springing a sudden departure on Jacqueline. Ginger got into the car and set to working both sides of the bar. Not a word was spoken until they were on the interstate 15 minutes later.

Tom thought he was angry.

"On top of all this shit now you're bringing V into it?"

"She's already involved, Tom. Kate is, really."

"No, they're not, Ginger."

The air mixing into her straw indicated that Ginger was to the bottom of her first cocktail. "Maybe not. But I've seen that Crown Vic before. So have you. Guess where."

"I don't know, just tell me."

"Hmm! It was the car outside of Jimmy's place."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Ginger poured tequila into her cup. "Yes, I'm sure. I recognized the plates." She could see the concern on his face. "Relax. They aren't bothering V, who I love, by the way! Kissy, kissy with your girlfriend's roommate. You were showing off."

"I totally was. She's the coolest person, ever, though. Master's not jealous, is she?"

"Oh, motherfucker," Ginger said but then dropped it rather than lie. "Those dudes were local amateurs, Tom. Not IRA. If they were, we wouldn't have seen them. And anyway, they would have already reached out and touched you. And me. And Jax. Stella's just grasping at straws. You want a sip?"

"What? No! Ginger, what the fuck is wrong with you? Stella's staking out the girls' apartment? 'Those guys aren't IRA?' What about this doesn't worry you?"

"You're overreacting, boy. They've had more than one chance and just let V pass by. She spent a night or two in the apartment by herself and didn't have any trouble. Could someone have gotten in there if he wanted to?"

"Yeah."

"But they didn't."

"Fucking IRA? That's a possibility?"

"Well, it was a worry but I blocked it out. Figured there wasn't much point in upsetting you. I guess that is scary, the kinda thing you might want to know. Whatever. Jimmy tried to extort two million dollars for 'the Cause.' Truth be told, none of us has ever heard it called that, so we're making a pretty big assumption, I guess. Anyway, Tommy Ass Kicker walks in and kills one of their quote-unquote soldiers, made it look easy, the stud. But Jimmy wasn't supposed to be bothering Jax! That's why we're OK. Michael Turner still looms large enough, I guess, the asshole. According to Sal, Jimmy was given money to pay his way out of the deal but he parlayed it. And, what do you know? That bit him in the ass,'" she said. "Jimmy was in big trouble and tried to use Jax to get out. And now that he's gone—this part still doesn't make sense to me—Stella's just as desperate. Say what you will about her, she's not greedy. Cheap, as shit, yes, but not greedy. I don't know who the fuck she is that she needs that money, but here we are. Do you remember Jimmy saying that Jax's ignoring him put them in a bad spot?"

"No."

"He did," she said.

"So, the fact that I'm not dead yet tells you I shouldn't be looking over my shoulder?"

"We, baby. We don't need to be looking over our shoulders. Sip, lover? Toast our good fortune?"

Tom just shook his head and made a "get on with it" face.

"Fine! Cheers." She took a long pull on her straw. "Smooth!" Ginger said before continuing. "Stella's dangerous because she's cornered. She's not a player though. Local nobodies sitting out in the open in Jimmy's car is stupid. Working an accent for a long time doesn't make her some sort of criminal mastermind or something. She's throwing minimum wage around, hoping to get lucky. Oh! And what did she do when you shot Jimmy? She ran right by our car and didn't think to fuck with it?" Ginger was getting animated. "You thought of that and you don't know shit. No offense. Point is, she didn't know how to assess the risk. You had a pea shooter and one pea. You're lucky you didn't miss Jimmy! Again, sorry, but tiny barrel, nervous guy with no training, that's like, maybe one in 1000 you drop her with a single .22 when she's on the run beyond ten feet. You'd have had a better chance with one of your cum shots!"

They both had to take a moment.

"Tell me, Master, why is Jimmy's car sitting outside the girls' place?"

"Hmm. I'll confirm this when we can get on Wi-Fi, but..."

"...Wait. Confirm it how? The phones?"

"Of course! I still don't think Stella realized I could track her phone until just recently. Shit, she still might not know! Duh. Jimmy Connelly wouldn't be so stupid, surprised he'd be working with someone who was. Or didn't try to use it to his advantage. But, my guess, and I'm happy to bet you, is that she followed you back to V's after we popped your cherry."

Both shuddered for different reasons.

"Did you track me there? That how you knew who V was?"

"Yep. And a week later, dipshit. I needed to get to know you, Thomas. Glad I did, by the way. I know I don't say that enough." She put her hand on his knee.

"Stop!" He smacked it away but still laughed. "What do Stella and some local hoods have to do with V and Kate's apartment? Why didn't you track Stella there at the time?"

"Ah, now there's the clever boy with a terrible memory. You caught me being the dumbass. I had no reason to distrust Stella and so, I didn't even think about it. How much trouble could I have saved if I had just thought to follow both phones? Or, this is even worse, I could have gone back at any time and looked at her history. I just didn't see any need until that night. Want a sip?"

"No, thank you! Why the fucking girls' place?" Tom asked.

"Ooh, there it is," she said, "Tawmmy's gawt a tempah. You tell me! Who does Stella want to hurt?"

"Uh, me? You?"

"I should think both. I broke her nose." She had a laugh. "And she never liked you one little bit, did she? And that was before you put one in the back of Jimmy's head. Bad ass!"

He frowned. "So, stake out V's apartment? With 'amateurs?' What the fuck?"

"You tell me! You've got all you need to answer your own question, Inspect Her Gadget. What's special about V's place?"

He gave her another look. "Hurting V would hurt me?"

"But she hasn't done anything to V and she could have," Ginger said.

"She thinks I'm going to go there?"

"Duh!"

"But she knows where I live!"

"I've never been to V's place before today..."

He nodded as he explained it back to her: "She can get me without having to worry about my gigantic sister."

Thud. She punched his shoulder.

"I've got big bones!" Ginger said. "That's it, though! She's scared of me. She's probably scared of you, too, big guy, but not in the same way. Fuck a dude's ass enough times..." She once again dissolved into laughter.

So did Tom. "Never again!"

"We'll see about that. And come on, you gotta get to give. Fair's fair."

"Fine, I'll do without," he said. "It's not that important to me. You'll be begging for it soon enough. You were saying?"

She scowled. "You might have me there. Damn it. Mmm. You will have me there." She waited until he acknowledged her.

"All right! Back to why Stella is outside the girls' apartment."

"Right. Our house is dangerous. Your fraternity house is full of male-ish beings. Witnesses, at least. So it's not safe. They'd have to grab you en route..."

"...Grab me? Like kidnapping?"

"Abduction. You're no kid, boy."

"Wait. And get Jax to pay for me?"

"Flattering, isn't it? Two million dollars for a humble little houseboy?"

"Retired houseboy. And that's pretty cockamamie. This isn't Mexico!"

"No, but listen. Jax was going to give them the money! They knew she could do it, that she's so loaded that peace and quiet would be worth two million dollars to her."

"Well if it's that easy, then why not take V?" he asked.

"There's the problem. You know how once you learn to ride a bike you can't not ride a bike?"

"No. What?"

"I think there's no good answer to that question because there is no good answer for that question. 'Cockamamie' is right. Everything about this is stupid. She's a fucking idiot! If Jax can afford it, is she going to let your friend get hurt? I can't see why she wouldn't have taken V. She blew it."

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah, scary, but, we have her now and Jax is going to keep her safe. Bitch! Theo will accompany V to and from work, and he'll stay at the house with them. She's safe."

"Thank you for thinking about that. Maybe Stella doesn't want to hurt V?"

"She's desperate but you're right. We'd be foolish to dangle V or Kate in front of her, but she's not a killer. You, on the other hand, are."

"Please don't say it like that, Ginger."

"Sorry. But you did put her in this mess. Boy, I'm going to put her in a much bigger one. I promise.
Chapter 15: Twofer

They put the car in an underground lot and walked to the Daley family's home. V had called ahead and spoken with Edie, the Daley's housekeeper, who made sure that the pair had no trouble getting into the building. She met them outside the door to the apartment. The woman greeted him with a hug and multiple kisses on his cheek.

"Katie is going to be so happy you came!"

"I would have been here sooner, ma'am, but I've been traveling for work. This is my boss, Ginger."

"Hi Ginger, thank you for bringing him." She looked Tom over with her hands on each of his shoulders. "Oh! This is so wonderful!"

"She wants to see me?"

"Of course she does! Enough of this nonsense, not talking to each other while she was away!"

"So, can I surprise her somehow? Oh, and may Ginger use the bathroom?"

###

Tom had never seen an apartment the size of the first floor. As they followed Edie upstairs to the second, Ginger whispered, "Whatchu talking about, Willis?" and had a giggle.

Edie put a finger to her mouth as they assembled outside the open door of one of the girls' rooms and listened in.

"...skinny little bitch! I've fucking had it with you. Grow up!"

"Whoa, you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

Silence for a moment.

"Tom?"

He didn't answer. Without a sound, Kate crossed the room and came flying out the door. She found her target and in one step had his head in her hands for a long-anticipated second first kiss. When they parted a moment later, Kate was beaming with tears running down both cheeks. But Tom startled when he took in her face. For an instant, he wondered if he had just kissed her sister. Kate's nose was gone. Her eyes were still the same, he thought, but now they just made her look "model" interesting. Kate was hot, top to bottom.

Edie, crying, clung to an amused Ginger in her excitement. Tom's master was glad that he'd been right: Kate didn't keep him in suspense. And even gladder that she was so sexy, liquid muscle poured into spandex. That a boy, Tawmmy Luvah.

Kate wrapped her arms around him. After a few seconds, she opened one eye and looked at the tall blond in her hallway.

"God, Tom! Are you trying to give me a complex? I'm Kate, by the way."

Ginger shook the hand that was extended her way until Kate broke off from Tom and hugged her, too.

"I'm Ginger. I'm glad I got to see that."

A smaller, sassier version of Kate emerged from the room packed into a sports bra. "Tom, huh? So you do exist."

"Nikki, don't be a pill," Edie said. Kate had released Ginger and now hugged the housekeeper, who kissed her tear-filled cheek. "Oh, Katie!"

"I knew you were up to something, Eads!" The silver-haired woman laughed and tried to look innocent. Kate's joy was her own.

Nikki clearly craved attention. Before she could get her next shot in, though, Kate pounced on her, peppering her face with kisses.

"Don't worry, Sticky! I won't leave you out!" The much-littler sister struggled to free herself but was overpowered and soon started to crack and laugh. Once that was accomplished, Kate turned to Tom and Ginger and took the hand he offered. Her face was all questions.

"V?"

"Who else?"

She smiled. "Uve! That bitch!" Edie gave her a "you know better than that" look. Kate's face indicated that she still needed more information.

"I'm here to put an end to this 'nonsense,'" Tom said.

Edie must have used the same word with Kate and it was music to her ears.

She affected an English accent. "Absolutely daft, Tom! Rubbish!" She pulled him back in for another hug.

"Kate, I never..."

"Yay! And no. Me neither!" She pulled them apart. "I love you more, Just Tom!"

###

"Uh huh, they're both right here," Kate said into the phone. "Yes! Yeah, she is. Wow! OK, interesante! Hold on..." Kate addressed Ginger, "V says, quote, 'Thank you, honey.'" Kate went back to her roommate. "...I know! Tawmmy Luvah, right?...I don't know. We haven't talked about anything yet. Soon, I hope! Yes. OK... OK... I love you, too, girl. Vale. Later. Que te den!"

They could hear V laughing before Kate cut the line. Tom was right, Ginger thought. She needed to see these two young women together.

"What do you need, Ginger? Are you hungry? A beer or something? You getting hungover?"

"We all have to eat, no? This is my first trip back in two years, so pizza, Chinese, deli, whatever. My treat. And then, a nap and a shower? I'm meeting a friend later tonight."

"Did you park at the paid lot on this block?" Kate asked.

"Yes," Tom said.

"Oh. We'll go out and get the food and bring the car back here. Ginger, our driver will take you anywhere you need to go but he's done at midnight. Tomorrow is his last day."

"Oh, no, I'll take a cab."

"Don't be silly! He'll be happy to. Everyone's trying to be business as usual but that all comes to an end on Tuesday. Really, please."

Ginger made a "why not?" face and said, "OK. Fun! And, we can invite him to eat with us?"

"Great idea. But you're going to have to help us keep it upbeat. That's been a bit of a problem when we're all together."

###

"Second floor," Kate said. "We need to exit on the east side of the block. We'll get the pizza and then take care of the car?"

Ginger agreed and the doors closed. The elevator dropped three floors before Kate couldn't wait any longer.

"Thank you, Ginger."

She compared Kate's muscular curves to V's skinny and mentally congratulated Tom again.

"I had to get out of Boston myself."

Five more floors.

"Nice try. Tom." Kate said. Ginger smiled but didn't get the joke. "Are you a non-sharer, too?"

"By 'too' do you mean in addition to some other quality I possess, or, like Tom?"

"Like Tom."

"Kate, Tom is a sharer! Right?"

"He is?"

Ginger reconsidered. "Well, he didn't talk a lot at first but he's very 'in touch with his feelings.' Drives me nuts!" she said. "Of course, he never mentioned you."

Kate frowned. "He talks to you?"

"Of course," Ginger found that she took no pleasure in the expression on Kate's face and tried to restrain herself. How catty could she be? The girl was 21! "No, he doesn't share the important stuff easily. And, he's probably gotten more out of me than anyone I've ever known. He was due some answers today and he made it happen. And, no, it wasn't the worst thing in the world. I guess I'm growing."

"He made you talk to him?"

"Yeah, I don't usually pound tequila on Sunday afternoons." They emerged into the evening and made their way up the block.

"Ginger, you know, don't you?" Kate asked.

It didn't take her long to figure out what she meant. "Yes. Since a week ago, as a matter of fact. And it's not fair that I do. It was stolen from him."

Kate was confused but didn't interrupt with any more questions.

Ginger realized that, so far, everything about this conversation sucked for Tom's girlfriend.

"Edie and V are right, Kate. You guys have wasted enough time being apart. Some people go their whole lives without any idea about what you have. I might. But, listen, honey—Tom would 'pee himself' if he heard me call you that, by the way." She made air quotes.

"One time that happened!" Kate said and pretended to be angry for a moment. Then she looked at Ginger, who, again, caught herself being lulled into opening up.

"Kate, Tom is still in love with you."

"I am too!"

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes," Kate said.

"Good. But, listen, his whole world turned upside down yesterday. Huge stuff. For him, the biggest stuff. All related to that story. I can't explain. I won't take that from him. Not again. He's still struggling with it but doesn't realize how off-balance he is. Please promise me you won't let him share too much. Not yet. Make him take some time, OK?"

Ginger saw the concern intensify on Kate's face. Then she caught a subtle double-take before Kate started pulling them across the sidewalk, giving a wide berth to the newsstand.

No, not the newsstand, the asshole making a purchase. Holly.

How did Kate know Holly? There was no good way to know the detective.

Equally eager to avoid being seen by him, Ginger allowed herself to be steered. Neither spoke until they were safely inside the pizzeria.

"What just happened, Kate?"

"Nothing."

Ginger gave her a "try that again" raised eyebrow.

Kate quickly buckled. "I saw someone I didn't want..."

"...Holly?" Ginger interrupted, her eyes now locked on the young woman's.

"Yeah."

"Did he hurt you?"

She nodded and started to tear up. Ginger hugged her and instantly forgot their one-sided rivalry. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. You can talk to me about it, about anything. I support you. OK?" Kate nodded on her shoulder. "When, honey?"

"Three summers ago."

"Have you seen him since then?"

"I thought I saw him the other day. I wasn't sure," Kate said. "That was the first time."

Ginger frowned. "Does Tom..."

"...No! He knows all about everything leading up to him, but, no. I started to tell him and he got so upset, like, a vein popped out on his forehead." Kate laughed nervously but her face went serious again. "I was scared of what he would do."

"Not to you?" Ginger asked.

"No... No."

"OK. I'm sorry. I knew that but still had to ask. Do you feel like Holly's here because of you? Do people know you're home?"

"Not really. A few people recognized Nikki, but, like, as a celebrity. They weren't mean. And one guy yelled at her from a distance, she couldn't hear what he said. No one's bothered me at all or even looked at me twice in the airport or anything. Even when they saw my name. And I actually look totally different. I had plastic surgery and long hair."

"But you don't think he's here because of you?"

"I don't think so," Kate said. "Really."

"Is there anything I should worry about immediately? I'm sorry I'm all in your face. I'm still drunk and I know who he is. I worked with him. Is there anything I need to know right now as far as your safety is concerned? Your sister's?"

"No, I don't think so," Kate said, now with a look of incomprehension.

"Kate, don't worry. Everything is fine. We'll talk about all this when we can get a moment. A sober moment. But I think we're going to be very close, you and I. I want that. As for Tom, I'm also sorry I tried to make you jealous a minute ago. That's not how to start a friendship. We only go back about six months but I've never seen him so happy. I'm glad you feel the same way."

"I do."

"That's wonderful. Please don't tell him about Holly, though. I'm worried about what he'll want to do, too. Let him deal with the letter he'll tell you about first. OK? And you and your sister can't stay here, not if Holly's around. You'll both come back to Boston with us."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, but that's not up for negotiation, Kate. It's not safe. I'll tell Tom that, though, please. Understood?"

"Yeah." Incomprehension gave way to sadness.

"Smile at me, honey. Everything's going to be OK. Great! Some of the news Tom got was really exciting! I think you guys have an adventure coming up," Ginger said.

She was pleased with how quickly Kate's face lit up.

Tom's girlfriend thought a moment as she contemplated the beautiful, drunk woman in front of her. "I was thanking you for loving him."

She smiled. "Boy doesn't give you much choice, does he?"

Ginger didn't give Kate much of a choice, either.

###

It was almost seven by the time they all had a paper plate in their hands. Tom, who Ginger pointed out had gotten drunk every night since killing Jimmy, passed on the beers offered him as ordered, but everyone else had one. Boxes were shuffled around the kitchen and most of them ate standing up. Kate needn't have worried. No longer feeling a need to keep up appearances, Terence had an endless supply of perfectly bawdy jokes to carry the evening. Each fell within the sweet spot between the matronly Edie and the 19-year-old PITA, Nikki.

Two beers were all it took to move her from annoying to someone who needed a straightening out. The Daleys and their attendants seemed to have given up on the brat a long time ago. Unfortunately for her, Nikki hadn't heard Ginger refer to her partner, Jacqueline.

"Another slice of pie, sister?" Nikki asked. This might have gone unnoticed, but when she held both her thumbs and index fingers together in the shape of a diamond her meaning was clear. The identical "you just wait until our guests are gone" stares Edie and Kate sent her way had a paradoxical effect. They only seemed to egg her on.

"Oh, fine. Goodnight, everyone, or is bye more to your liking, Katie? Bye, bye! Bye, Katie." she said as she walked out the door, laughing.

Tom put an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. She leaned against him.

"Just how many times did you drop her on her head, Eads?"

###

Kate set Ginger up in her bed for a disco nap and insisted that she make herself at home with the sisters' toiletries, which were half packed into open boxes in the shared bathroom. When the woman returned to the kitchen to join the rest of the adults, everyone was speechless. Ginger, now almost six inches taller in heels with her hair done, was in the same blue dress she had worn to Tom's "last supper."

"My word, Ginger! Hearts are breaking tonight!" the housekeeper said.

Tom was pleased to see that her eyes were their usual pale blue, but that was due to the color of the dress, not the mood her evening's plans inspired. He had gotten over most of his jealousy about Master. But he was only human. He thought he heard a whimper from Kate.

Ginger bent down and kissed the young woman on the cheek, whispering her thanks. Tom could see that Kate's reaction was more than just an "OK, pal, no problem." They seemed tight for just having met today. She left a hand on Kate's shoulder and then fixed eyes on Terence, extending the other to him.

"Ready?"

Terence recovered and took her by the fingertips.

"Yes, of course." They walked out of the kitchen arm and arm.

Tom smiled. She was handling Kate with kid gloves.

"Where is she going, Tom?" Edie asked.

"To do some heart breaking, I'm sure." He elaborated—which Kate recognized as unusual for the "old" Tom—because he wanted to make it clear that Ginger was just his friend. "No, I'm kidding. But she and Jacqueline are in a rough patch. Jacqueline kinda took her for granted. They're mostly made up, but Ginger's scared of her feelings because this is the longest relationship she's ever had. I'm not worried. They're a great couple."

Edie nodded.

Kate slid even closer to Tom, feeling like a phony with her cute new nose.

###

Ginger sat and chatted with the owner/bartender. She didn't get deep with many people, but she had a long history with Chris. He was solid, always a gentleman. They were close enough that he need only read her body language to know if it was time to encourage one of her gentleman callers to call it a night, even the ones who packed a badge and gun. The reason Chris never got a turn was that he had never asked for one. He was loyal to a girlfriend Ginger never met. That, and his brother, George, was a frequent flyer.

"I saw Holly tonight, Lower East Side."

"Holly? Lucky you."

She nodded. "Yeah. Lucky was that he didn't see me. Last I heard, like two years ago, he was jammed up with Internal Affairs. Any idea what became of that?"

"Nope. Haven't heard a thing."

"Is he still on the force? Who else do you see? Love still around?" Ginger asked.

"He's got to be close to retirement if he is. I'm really out of it now, Kelly. Love's still on the force. Although, she's got to be getting close, too, no?"

"Yeah, probably. She'll be fifty in December. How is George? Where is George?"

"Kels, he's married!"

"No way. Really?"

"Really."

"Good girl?"

"Amazing! Baby on board!" Chris said.

She gasped. "No way, that's so great! Such a sweet guy."

"Yeah. We're just a straight up bar/restaurant now. No cops, no girls. Slower but steadier. We each get a few nights off a week."

"Good for you," Ginger said. "Tell him that I asked about him."

"Of course! That will make his day. You were always good to him. Thanks."

"He was my friend! Not un-fun, either."

"I'll tell him that, too!"

"Please do," she said.

"Another?"

"Another water, please."

He poured her a new glass and then jumped. "Oh, shit! I have a treat for you!" Chris said.

"For me?"

"Sure. Coincidentally." He left the bar and went into the office, emerging a few seconds later. Chris extended a hand to her, palm down. Reflexively, Ginger received the vial of cocaine and secreted it into her clutch without looking at it.

"What's that about?" she asked.

"One of my servers dropped it the other night. Not giving it back to her."

"Idiot tax?"

"Exactly. You remember. I'm sure it's good. She hustles."

"Wow. It's been a few years. OK, thanks!"

"You're welcome. Enjoy."

Chris was still a success because he and his brother had extraordinary self-control given that they spent years surrounded by free booze, drugs, and working pussy.

Alex was half an hour late. Fuck him. Ginger loved someone else—even if she wanted to slap her around—and that person was missing her right now. Maybe not so much, she thought with a smile about her partner's Latina distraction. Ginger didn't need to feel like she had missed out by being stood up. She didn't need to be here at all.

But she did need something. She dialed.

"Ginger, what can I do for you?" Terence asked.

"Pick me up where you dropped me off?"

"15 minutes."

Ginger kissed her goodbyes, swapped phone numbers with Chris, and promised it wouldn't be so long until next time. Then she waited on the street in the light wind. Terence arrived promptly. Ginger strolled up to the passenger window that he rolled down.

"Hey, thanks. I know you're off in 20 minutes. You heading home to a wife or girlfriend?"

"Just a cat and a bed."

Ginger thought about Marcus.

"You like girls?"

"One in particular, since she's asking."

She returned his smile, opened the door, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Know a place to park?"

###

Edie might have been overjoyed by the reunion of the two lovers, but she was old-fashioned enough that she wouldn't permit Tom to sleep in Kate's bed. Then again, she was also known to be a deep sleeper, it had been a long few days, and she chose to close her bedroom door with a young man in the house.

So, 45 minutes after saying goodnight, Kate crept downstairs and joined Tom on the couch. Kissing soon turned to petting and then she interrupted the silent movie.

"Inside me."

"Yes, but..."

"Do you need a condom?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

It was dark, but Tom could tell the wheels were turning.

"Ginger?"

"Yeah," he said. "And Jacqueline."

This time, he was sure that Kate whimpered.

Tom pulled away to try to get a look at her.

"You squeaked!"

"My God, Tom! You said Jacqueline was one of the most beautiful women you'd ever met. V said it, too. And, Ginger? How can I compete with that?"

Tom had forgotten that Kate had any idea who Jacqueline was or his first impressions of her.

"Kate!" Tom whispered, "There is no competition! You won a long time ago. Please, don't worry. As soon as I found out you were home, I had to be here."

"Really?"

"Yes! Even though you didn't call me, damn it!"

She pulled him in for a kiss and he felt the tears on her cheeks for the second time that day. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm being so insecure. You did what I asked you to. It's not like you knew I was coming home. Pretty impressive, Tawmmy Luvah. Both of them?"

He laughed at her. "Jax for the first time on Friday, actually. But yeah, Ginger quite a bit. My relationship with them is complicated and weird but it's over if that's what you want. But, if it'll make sense to anyone, it's you."

"Ginger is interesting."

"That's an understatement. And, I know them! I saw the eye banging they both gave V. You're going to have to fight to keep them off you. They're very bi. 'Bye, bye, Katie!'"

She laughed but kept mulling. "You say it's over if I want, but, it's not that simple, is it? You can't just leave."

"No, not right now. I'm sorry."

Not the answer she was hoping for but it was the one she expected. She studied his face in the dim. "Are you scared, Tom?"

Kate still made him want to share like no one else could. But he was on dangerous ground and didn't know how best to proceed, Ginger's warning to him not to share too much in the back of his head. He was angry, too. Fuck them—and Michael!—for making lying to Kate, or at least avoiding the truth, the right thing to do. For the moment he found a compromise.

"Jack died ten years ago," he said, and then waited for the words to sink in to both sets of ears.

"No!" She hugged him hard and started crying again. "I'm so sorry, Tom!"

He managed to get the word "Afghanistan" out before he lost control. No more keeping a brave face for Ginger and Jacqueline. Or, better said, no more feeling the mixture of shame and anger that made him unable to show that vulnerability for more than a few seconds at a time. The cry he would have had at Jack's funeral no longer eluded him. Tom emptied the buckets onto his love's shoulder.

Kate comforted and also got the purging she didn't realize she needed. All this crap had only angered her until now.

Still working through tears, Kate again requested, "Inside me, please. No condom."

Tom thought about it. Stella had been tested as often as he had. And only two of her interactions with Tom since July were forced cunnilingus. The risk to Kate was very low, but still a risk. He checked with her again but got the same request.

Within seconds Tom was guiding himself into her. At the tip, however, Kate again whimpered and put a hand on his chest.

"Whoa. Go slow. It's been a long time."

He tried his best, but each millimeter was fighting against her taut musculature. And hurting Kate, which wasn't easy to do, was a turn-off. He hesitated.

"No, no. Keep going, it's OK. Just... Oh! Oh, God. Talk about uptight! OK, start over!" They were both laughing and sniffling. "Breathe, Kate, breathe!" she coached herself.

After a few minutes, Tom was fully within the woman who would, according to their shared daydream, sing his children to sleep. There he parked while she tried to coax her body to relax around him. It was sexy but also sweet and comforting, an affirmation that whatever bumps in the road were on the way, they would face them together. The Blackout ended as abruptly as it had begun.

"But guess what!" Tom said.

"What?"

"This is fucked up, like out of a soap opera, but that guy wasn't my real father, either. And Jack didn't kill him."

"Oh, my God, Tom. What's going on? How do you... God! I feel like I'm riding a horse!"

They giggled together, Tom trying to keep his body still.

"Ginger told me not to let you tell me too much," Kate said.

Of course she did, Tom thought.

She continued. "If there's more, I can wait. Please! And, oh! I have some things to explain, but...stay, stay, stay..." She tried to urge some motion into his hips. "HNN!" They both laughed at the noise he forced out of her, and then at the disconnect between the conversation and what was becoming pleasurable for both of them. "Oh, Tom. You're taking my breath away. Mmm! Your real father?"

"Uh huh. Oh, and you can't call me Tawmmy Luvah anymore. It's Tom Neri. That was my father's last name, right out of the Godfather."

Kate pushed away so that she could almost see his face. He wasn't messing with her.

"Baby, this is crazy, crazy stuff! You just found this out? Like, a letter or something?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to explain without breaking your brain. I can't last much longer, sorry. For round one, anyway."

"Oh, yeah! Yes. Don't break my brain, Tom. I still have to graduate!"

"Oh, right. Kate, uh, where?"

"Mmm! Blow my head off!" They both laughed into each other again, trying to muffle the sound. "Doing two guys named Tom in the same night. So slutty!"

They kissed and laughed some more, Kate's almost loud enough to wake Edie when she felt Mount Neri erupt inside her.

"My man! Forgot I'd need a few towels."

###

Terence dropped her off just after one. Ginger opened the front door and made her way to where she remembered the couch to be. She smiled and mouthed the word, "cute" when she realized that Tom and Kate were sleeping in a knot, the smell of sex lingering in the room. Something was going on with Ginger Andersen. What she didn't recognize, though, was that her tendency to aggress when threatened by uncomfortable emotions was about to go dark.

Kate, who only had a twin bed, had told Ginger that she could share Nikki's queen if her evening's plans changed. The woman bumped and stumbled around boxes until she found the stairs, ascended like a cat, and crept into Nikki's room, locking the door behind her. Her romp with Terence had been a quickie and though they chatted for almost an hour, he couldn't get his 50-something equipment back online and she could tell his eyes were getting heavy.

Ginger undressed and grabbed a long t-shirt, which she threw on the unused second pillow. After a quick trip to pee and borrow Nikki's toothbrush rather than find her own, Ginger walked back into the room. She climbed over the sleeping girl and got under the covers, but quickly pushed them off her, and most of Nikki, who was lying supine. Her eyes were now adjusted to the light in the room. She got up on her knees, brushed the hair off Nikki's face, and admired it. It was cute. And while it wasn't insurmountable, there was something about Kate that made the young woman feel out of bounds. It was rare for Ginger to self-impose a limit, but she figured it was just her concern for Tom and how much he cherished his girlfriend. More sappy emotion. Watch out, Nikki!

She traced a finger over the girl's over-sized breast, a thin t-shirt being all that separated them. Further down, the shirt was up, revealing the naturally taut stomach of a 19-year-old whose habits hadn't yet caught up with her.

Ginger wondered if her touch would be incorporated into the dream that Nikki's rapid eye movements indicated she was having. Being Ginger, gentle gave way to rough. Breast augmentation diminished sensitivity, after all.

Nikki awoke with a start and realized who was touching her in her bed, and the implications, in short order. The look of anger, fear, and arousal on her face was priceless. Ginger liked. Nikki was about to see some of the woman's best work. The hand that had been stroking and pinching was now around Nikki's throat. It wasn't tight, but the strangler's face made it clear that it was a stupid word away from being the only thing Nikki could think about.

"You're a little cunt, aren't you?"

Nikki nodded, her eyes wide.

"And you deserve this as much as you want it?"

Again, she silently agreed.

Ginger muscled the girl into the middle of the bed. She bent down and made like she was going to kiss Nikki on the lips but stopped just short. To her surprise, Nikki strained to close the gap. Ginger yielded and they pressed their mouths together. She was almost disappointed that the girl wasn't just trying to make it easy on herself. The gentle sounds Nikki made and the way she tried to take Ginger's tongue deep into her mouth made up for the fact that this wasn't going to be non-consensual.

The attacker guided the girl's head all over her body, letting Nikki work each nipple and every other spot on which a tongue felt good. Before long, she was all hands, too. Ginger let go of the throat long enough to reach down to test Nikki's pussy. The pain in the ass liked, too.

One would have to imagine that Ginger's eyes were shining like emeralds. She straddled Nikki's head and ground Kitty into her mouth.

"Sorry about the latex taste. I figured it would be safer not to let Terence fuck me bareback."

Nikki whimpered and Ginger felt the first ripples of pleasure surge through her. She dropped down to her elbows. "Your fingers, too, bitch."

###

After Nikki serviced Ginger to orgasm, the aggressor softened. She climbed off and stretched out next to her.

"You OK?"

"That was scary."

Ginger smiled. "It was meant to be. You were awfully wet."

"I still am. That's even scarier."

"Don't sweat it. I'm not going to tell anyone. And I would never insult someone's sexuality. You shouldn't either. That was a shitty thing to do in front of everyone."

"Sorry."

"Tell it to your sister." Ginger contemplated her next move. "Listen, Little One. I can be asleep in five minutes. Or I can go sleep in Kate's bed. But if you want, I'll be gentle..."

###

"...You'll have to thank her for this, whore..."

BOOM! The little gun recoiled. He saw a misting of blood on his hand and some spray in Ginger's tangled curls. And—instantly—that fucking smell, aerosolized blood and gunpowder.

With Jimmy's body now in a heap on the floor, Tom could also see the fear in Ginger's eyes but was more concerned with getting Stella in the sights as she ran to the door.

"Don't," Ginger said from a million miles away.

"HWAHH!" Tom awoke taking a huge gulp of air, as though he had just come from too long underwater. Kate was looking right at him, frightened. He was soaked with sweat and disoriented.

"It's OK, Tom, you're dreaming."

She reached to touch him and was relieved that he didn't jump on contact. He closed his eyes, wondering if he had said anything. When she pulled him into her arms, that worry evaporated. Tom wished it wasn't four in the morning, though, because he didn't want to go back to sleep. Neither did she. They settled back to rest on the couch and lay next to each other in silence until Kate did the one thing that would calm them both.

"Tura, lura, lura..."
Chapter 16: Gone to Ground

"The door is busted?"

"Yeah, like a drunk put some serious time into it," Sean said.

"And they haven't been there? Not even Stella?"

"She's in Brighton, laying low. We've got his car. Just driving by it doesn't look like anything has changed."

"She's hiding, huh? You didn't go into Jimmy's?"

"No, of course not. She's got us looking for some guy. In the same spot, every day, out in the open. Think he made us."

"Us?"

"Some football player, Danny Sullivan. I think he's retarded. Stella told me I'm supposed to make him feel like he's in charge."

"Who's the guy?"

"No one. But he broke her nose. Fuckin' Danny is talking about killing the bastard after Jimmy's done with him. But, the apartment he's supposed to go to? We're looking for his girlfriend, too. She's famous. You know that Trevor Daley guy? It's his daughter."

"Well, now, that is interesting. Giving us Irish a bad name, that one. Doesn't feel right to you, does it, Sean?"

"Stella's got an Irish accent all of a sudden. She's pretending she knows what she's doing and says I'm working for Jimmy. But this isn't what working for Jimmy is like."

"Something's amiss. Irish, huh?"

Sean nodded.

"After they made me, they went back to this other address on Marlborough. Big money. I saw our guy with this woman. A ten and a half, blond. Think they packed bags and headed out of town. They didn't seem like they were running, though. I didn't tell Stella."

"Go to Jimmy's and have a look around. When do you see Stella next?"

"Couple hours."

"Keep doing what she tells you to do. But push her for more information."

"She's going to say it's Jimmy's orders."

"Yeah. Thing is, no one's heard from Jimmy. And she's in hiding," Riordan said. Sean looked worried. "Just be patient, Sean. You did the right thing coming to me. We'll figure this out. In the meantime, don't do anything. Don't touch the guy or the girlfriend. Just keep your eyes open. And don't let that retard do anything foolish."

"OK," Sean said, "Thanks." 
Chapter 17: End Game

Somehow, Ginger didn't need even half a night's sleep after her all-day bender. She woke Tom and Kate before six, told him to get dressed, and her to go back to her own bed.

"Let's get breakfast for everyone. We need to talk," she said to him. Tom was still bleary-eyed but obedient. "Kate, we owe you some explanations. Tom and I need to figure some stuff out first. Just a few minutes. OK?"

His nightmare fresher in her mind than his, Kate was scared and angry. Ginger was freaking her out. But she was also comfortably in charge. The real problem wasn't the woman—at all, actually—but that she was now necessary.

"OK."

"Let's go, buddy. Kate? Your favorite bagel place?"

"Go out the way we did last night. Two blocks south, two blocks east. There'll be a line. Seriously. But it moves really fast."

"Excellent. We'll be back in a bit."

###

"OK. I did the right thing. No regrets," Tom said as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Well, you can regret it even if it was the right thing. You should, actually. It's a fine line."

"Whoa. Talk about lines."

The bagel place was a block ahead. Long before they could see the name, they could see the queue. It wasn't even 6:30 on a Monday morning.

"Half the new restaurants on this island close within a year. You wait in line for the good ones," Ginger said to the guy who grew up 50 minutes from where they stood. He was still preoccupied.

"Kate's just so pure and good. And I feel disgusting, Ginger."

"It is disgusting. You're not. She should never know anything like that. Neither should you have. Kate is beautiful, Tom. I'm not talking about the nose job and all that—though that's a conversation for later! But, she is a beautiful person." What Ginger would never say was that Kate made her insecure and jealous, two feelings she wouldn't even have recognized if not for her relationship with Jacqueline. She didn't want to lose her boy, but more than that, Ginger needed Kate to like her.

"Bringing Kate into all this feels wrong." Tom realized what he had just said. "We are bringing her back to Boston, aren't we?"

"How'd you know that?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, we are. But I'm not worried about her. She's tough. And, don't forget, you narcissist, she's got her own stuff going on. You gotta be there for her."

"Yeah."

"She didn't think twice when I said you needed to hold on to some things for a while before you shared them. Boy, you were right, she makes it so easy! But she's not a needy girl and, wow, does she love you. You make a lot more sense to me now. And this was just in half an hour."

"Told ya! But why did you mention anything to her? Now you have her curious."

Ginger thought about her actions. It was one-part power play, one-part "help Tom not say too much." She now acknowledged (to herself) that she was threatened by the 21-year-old, which was weird and unfair because she also felt protective of her. Something was starting to click, though. There was a fix: Ginger would own them both.

"She's a very special woman, Tom. She'll need to be managed in the short term, but she's not gonna go running for the hills."

"Jesus. Look."

Ginger saw page two of the Times folded back so the reader could stand in the tight line. There was a picture of Trevor Daley.

"You ever meet him?"

"Nope. Whenever she mentioned her parents it was always bitching. Edie's her mom, but she wasn't here the one night I spent in the city with Kate. We stayed at a hotel.

Ginger nodded.

"Well, you're a lucky man, Tom. I mean, you two plus V is interesting enough. Your girlfriend—who is still very much in love with you, boy—frickin' thanked me for being your friend and she knows we're not just friends, right?" Tom nodded. "And she's joking with V about how hot Jax and I are and 'Tawmmy Luvah?' She is secure in herself and your relationship. Especially for someone who just saw you for the first time in more than a year."

"I almost passed on her. Thank God for charitable women," he said. "So, what are we gonna do?"

"Almost Dumbass. Wait 'til we're outside. Oh! I have to tell you something first."

Ginger took a moment to place their order and paid with plastic. Then she leaned in close. "I was a bad girl last night."

"'Got fucked like you haven't in a long time?'"

"HA!" She startled him and the other people waiting to pick up their orders. "I felt bad when I said that, sorry. To be fair, 'the way it hasn't been in a long time' is by some guy who could only guess how I wanted it. Don't you worry, well-trained boy with a nice big cock, I'll probably let you fuck me again. If Kate's down."

Tom kept his laugh between them. He wasn't tiring of Ego Stroking Ginger. Only then did it occur to her, in this morning of realizations, that she had intended to hurt his feelings when she said that yesterday. Her emotions hadn't been this confused since she was a teenager.

"No. I blew that off. It's not what I really wanted," she said. "Terence. In the parking garage, back of the limo. Probably caught on video."

"Excellent," he said, shaking his head. "Was it?"

She nodded side to side. "Yeah. Knows his way around a woman. Generous. But quick." Tom's happy smile irked her. He was supposed to be jealous! "But, that's not the bad part."

"Oh, no."

They collected several bags from the counter and made their way back onto the street. Ginger waited until she could speak at full volume.

"I pulled a Stella on Nikki when I got home. What'd you call it? Face-rape?"

"Ginger! You predator!"

"She was good! So good, that afterward, I had to return the favor."

"You know she's a total ho, according to Kate. Breaking the rules, Master."

"Excellent," Ginger said. "Fuck."

"Kate also says she's not as stupid as she comes across. Pissed you off, though, didn't she?"

"She did. But I'm over it and she learned a life lesson," Ginger said. Tom laughed. "I told her I wouldn't tell anyone, so don't say anything. Hey, no one's gonna be awake. Let's eat our sammies and make a plan."

The best place to do that was going to be the "back" steps of Kate's building, they agreed. It was hard to keep up with Ginger when she had a date with a Taylor ham, egg, and cheese.

They ate while watching weekday New York come alive.

"So, I don't get the impression that anyone upstairs is worried about anything other than packing boxes. Do you?"

"Not at all. Edie said Nikki's been recognized on the street, but it didn't seem to be that big of a deal. And Kate looks different from the pictures that made the rounds. She's not hard to find, the 'old' Kate, on Google. Lots of plays and performances. But, I almost wouldn't recognize her."

"How's that feel?"

"Weird. All the other senses feel right, though. I'm glad I put on so much weight. She's ripped."

"She is. Really sexy, Tom. I'm impressed."

"You're telling me? And that's exactly what she said about you, by the way."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. But hold on. Why is it a good idea to take her to Boston? That doesn't make sense."

Ginger put that little tidbit in the back of her mind for later. "OK, we know about one risk to Kate up there. But they're not safe anywhere. People are pissed. And the Feds aren't obviously watching the girls, which is more good than bad, I'd say. But I want Kate and Nikki where I can keep an eye on them until I can end this bullshit. V, too."

"How do you 'end this bullshit?'" he asked.

"Duh. Get rid of Stella."

"Get rid of her?"

"I know, it sucks, Tom. And you won't have anything to do with that part. We're clear about that?"

"Of course!"

"Listen. Stella's like a wounded animal. Say she does get her hands on you. You think she's going to play nice? She tortured you before she had a reason to hate you. And her little amateur friends shouldn't be underestimated. Probably just as stupid as she is but with something to prove."

"But wait," he said. "As fun as it sounds to have the last four women I've slept with in the same place—God, that's terrifying...ly hot!—we're banking on Stella being desperate, but not desperate enough to take a gamble that pays off?"

"Well, she's not gonna go kamikaze on us! And Marlborough Street is safe. We're a few blocks from the cop shop, there's always traffic. But all right, how's this? We send the girls and Jax up to the other house with a chaperone or two. You, of course. The property is a bit of a nightmare, but the house is easily secured. Steps up to the front and back doors, all the windows are high off the ground. Good lines of sight..."

"No," Tom said, shaking his head. "It's not going to be the zombie apocalypse, Ginger! I'm more worried that there are no neighbors within sight or sound. Earshot, whatever. And Stella knows where it is, right?"

"She's even been there twice," Ginger said.

Tom reviewed the plan in his head.

"Two things."

"Tactical Tom Neri is hot! Let's hear it, boy."

He laughed at her. "Really one thing. We get all the people-at-risk out of Boston to somewhere safe, like Vermont or something. We put all our resources into protection and we wait her out. You said she owes them money. There's got to be a deadline, otherwise, why's she so desperate? Time is running out, the IRA takes care of her for us."

"Good thinking. But, have a guess why not?"

"Nope. Seems safest to me," he said. "Obviously."

"Watch it, boy. OK, for starters, that deadline could be weeks or months from now. We have no idea. Jimmy never gave Jax a date. We wouldn't know when it was safe, we'd just be guessing. There'd be pressure to let down our guard too soon. It's not easy to lay low for an indefinite period of time. V's got a job she wants to keep, we all have lives to live. And, buddy, you realize what is going to happen to you when you're outnumbered five to one? By dominant women sharing menstrual cycles?"

"Danger! V and Kate are definitely subs, by the way. So is Jax, really."

"Yum. But, whatever. It's not sustainable. For me, either."

"Ginger can't sit still that long."

"The hell I'll be sitting still! And I can do anything I want, ass," she said. "We're saying the same thing: Lock down best we can. I say at home, you haven't suggested anywhere better. That's where I'm going to be and I want to be able to keep an eye on everyone while we—Marcus and I—hunt her down. You'll be a good boy and guard the flock until we fix this. Because, Tom, here's the most important thing: It's still amateur hour. I don't think the IRA knows what's going on. If they get their hands on Stella, though, she'll say anything to save her life. Next thing you know, someone else, someone competent, is coming after us. Now, if Stella just disappears, they're none the wiser. It looks like she and Jimmy are on the run. Their efforts go into finding her, not us, which is kinda what you were saying, clever boy."

He thought about V commuting in from Norwood, or Kate trying to hide in the City, or anywhere for that matter. Ginger watched him looking for something else to worry about. Finally, he nodded.

"OK," she said. "We'll talk to Kate alone. She'll decide what Edie and Nikki need to know. Or, if there's a better plan for her sister. I know I changed my mind about your participation. It has nothing to do with my respect for you. Actually, it has everything to do with my respect for you. I appreciate you not arguing with me."

"All of this is confusing, Master, and I know it's not easy for you. I still serve you, I know."

"My boy. I know you want to mean that and that's enough."

###

When they returned to the apartment, the three women were awake and waiting. Kate was drenched in sweat after a sprinted mile in the building's gym.

Once everyone was fed, Kate made herself available, and her primary caregiver disappeared with Nikki. They stood where they had just eaten. Kate maintained constant contact with her boyfriend. To Ginger, she looked like someone who was up to whatever challenges might come her way. Their way.

"Kate, V isn't just hanging out with Jacqueline. Someone is watching your apartment and it's not safe for either of you there. One of our friends is making sure she gets to and from work safely."

Kate looked at Tom, who nodded.

"We don't think the City is safe for you. Or your sister."

Now Kate nodded. As though this was all news to her.

"And you want to go back to Boston?" Ginger asked.

"I do."

"Nikki should come with you. Until we figure out that it's safe, we'll all stay under one roof, on Marlborough Street."

"OK. Marlborough?" Kate asked.

"Jax's house is on the other end. What are you thinking?" he asked, studying her new face. It was lovely but full of worry now.

"I'm thinking that New York isn't safe because of my dad. But, whatever's wrong up in Boston doesn't have anything to do with him. I think it has something to do with whatever woke you up at four in the morning." Kate held his hand. "I trust your judgment, Ginger but the most important people in my life are all caught up in something weird. You know me, Tom. I don't need all the facts, I just need to know that I'm making responsible choices. Especially if Nikki's involved."

"Kate, we're really not worried, just being extra cautious," Tom said. "You're coming home so we can start catching up!"

She pardoned him for lying and smiled. "OK."

###

Everyone was surprised at how readily Nikki accepted the decision to bring her to Boston. Edie didn't require any convincing, either. She just wanted them out of the City and appreciated the older sister's sense of responsibility.

The girls and their de facto mother participated in another deception: They all did their best to pretend that this parting was like any of the previous. Of course they would see each other again, but it wouldn't be automatic. For the first time in the women's lives, the place and person that comprised "home" would be separate entities. It was easier not to dwell on that.

Terence's last duty was to take Tom and Ginger to Brooklyn. While they were gone, the three Daley women scrambled to pack the sisters' essentials and keep from crying. 
Chapter 18: Sticky Situation

If Sean had any reservations about disrespecting Stella, they disappeared when he realized why Jimmy's place smelled like bleach. It wasn't clean, it was merely straightened up. And the blood stains that couldn't be quickly scrubbed away were covered by pillows and blankets. This place had Stella's stupid fingerprints all over it, probably literally. Maybe even Danny Sullivan's, too.

Whose blood, though? It had to be hers with that nose and face. So, what? Jimmy hits her and runs? That didn't make any sense. That kid comes to Jimmy's place and busts Stella in the face? That made even less.

The guy they were looking for knew Sean and Danny were watching the girlfriend's apartment. But he didn't seem to be looking over his shoulder just two miles away in the Back Bay. Stella needs him in one piece and Danny was talking about "when Jimmy was done with him." Was he lamming it? Maybe.

Stella was the only person whose behavior defied easy explanation.

Maybe it isn't her blood.
Chapter 19: Q is for Quartermaster

V had gotten to work without a hitch. Jacqueline said everything seemed fine around the house as far as she could tell.

Ginger was apprehensive about her first in-person meeting with Sal. She didn't know what to expect but she was pissed at him and that might be dangerous. He was going to make requests, if not demands, and she would do as ordered. After he earned her loyalty.

Jacqueline's godfather also wanted to meet "the kid." So much so, that he decided to permit him in a meeting that was far beyond his security clearance despite Ginger's discomfort with the idea.

Terence was an adult about seeing her hours after getting to know Ginger in the back of the limo. She asked him to let them out of the car two blocks shy of the tienda Latina and wait nearby. They walked down the street without a word, both trying, as they got closer, to see if there was any hint of the office's existence. There was obviously a second floor but it looked more like where the grocery store's wealthier rats made their homes.

"Well, well, well! Tom and Ginger! Welcome. Please have a seat," Sal said when they entered.

Ginger gave the old man a longer-than-necessary hug, Tom noticed.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?"

"No, but it wouldn't be hard to miss it," she said.

"Kids, I'm sorry, but I have something to take care of in a half hour." Ginger nodded. Other than a "hello" while shaking hands, Tom had yet to speak, per Ginger's order. Sal switched gears and got to it. He spoke to her.

"Let's make sure we all have the same basics. So, you underestimate Stella, find out the hard way she's working with Jimmy?"

"Correct."

"Ginger's in a bad spot and Tom has a concussion but comes in and gets her out of it. Then, she returns the favor. Now, Jimmy's gone. Stella is the only loose end. Is that it?"

They both agreed.

"Well done, both of you. And now?"

"And now I think she wants to get her hands on Tom," she said.

"She doesn't know that Jacqueline might have considered it if she had just asked nicely?"

"Shows to go you," Ginger said. "I was hoping you could give us some reassurance because we're about to increase our exposure."

"Oh? How?" Sal asked.

"We're bringing Tom's girlfriend back to Boston with her sister. She'll stay with us. Her roommate, too."

"You didn't want to leave them in New York?" he asked and then answered his own question. "Ah, they're shedding the family home. That's imminent?"

Both Tom and Ginger wondered how he knew who Kate was. Did Marcus even know that?

"Tomorrow," she said. "The City isn't safe for them. Her parents aren't worried and neither are the Feds, as far as I can tell." Sal shook his head. Ginger didn't know what that meant but wasn't going to ask. "I misjudged Stella. She was in the house for six months, burrowed in like a tick. She's a great actor, sure, but without Jimmy, I think she's lost. Inept. I want to get back up there and make sure she's no longer a problem, ASAP. Agreed?"

"Yes."

"Do you also agree that if Jimmy's bosses were angry they would have let us know already?"

Sal took a moment. "...Probably." Ginger frowned. "Almost certainly."

"OK."

"Seems like they don't know anything is wrong," Sal said.

"Stella is the only other person."

"And she's not telling. Yet. I'd have heard something. There'd be some sort of an investigation. No one's careless. That tells me you're safe for now."

"For now. And maybe not."

"I'm sorry. I can't say for sure."

"But, if so, there wouldn't be much we could do about it, anyway?" Ginger asked.

"No. That I do know. Think gas leak."

Tom was pale. Sal noticed and tried to reassure him.

"Jimmy had no business going after Jacqueline. He was breaking the rules. If he had their blessing, someone would have reached out to me. Jacqueline's OK is just a formality. This was personal. And Stella doesn't want people to know he's gone. They got themselves in trouble, now she's on her own getting out of it."

Tom was done being quiet. "So, maybe the house we're all crowding into explodes? Or what about this possibility: We don't have to worry about the big guys, but I have to worry about the locals. Jimmy was a 'made guy,' right? If that's the case, I'm putting everyone at risk. Keep the girls away from Boston and everyone away from me. Right?"

"You make a good point," Sal said. "But maybe you've seen too many movies. And, pardon me, but, you're a nobody, son. And that's a good thing! No record, no history, you're living with a wealthy Daughter of the American Revolution—don't tell anyone she voted for Obama twice! If Stella says you did this without a body, they're going to say 'bullshit.'" He waited for Tom to settle. "Ginger is right. Stella's alone. Keep your heads down but get your hands on her, ASAP."

"And then what?" she asked, swallowing her frustration.

"Keep Marcus informed."

"OK."

"Well, there we go. 20 minutes to spare," Sal said. "I've been having phone trouble." He pulled a few envelopes out of his desk drawer and handed them to Ginger before explaining, "SIM cards and a list of all the numbers for you and Jacqueline. These will do until I get this worked out." He again noticed Tom's apprehension. "Fact of life, don't worry. And stop watching so many movies!"

Ginger thanked him and had a laugh on her boy.

Sal continued. "Tom, I understand the letter you got from Michael caused some consternation. It did for me. This doesn't make up for that, but at least now you won't hesitate to open mail from me." From behind his desk, he produced a medium-sized USPS Priority Mail box and handed it to the young man.

Tom flipped open the lid and both he and Ginger gasped.

"No way! Just what I've always wanted! Thank you!"

"Don't thank me. You earned it. $21,700 in back pay. And there's more to be made."

"Congratulations, Tom!" Ginger said and patted him on the knee. "Hey, do us a favor? Run down the block and have Terence bring the car up before we take this out onto the street?"

Tom hopped to his assignment. Once he was out the door, she turned to Sal and her smile disappeared. For a moment she just stared at him. He was ready for anything, but she still managed to surprise him. Ginger reached into her back pocket, pulled out one of his business cards, and slid it across the desk, face down. Trudy and Winston's address was written on it.

"Guess where I found that," she said.

"Among Michael's things. I remember giving it to him."

"So, that is your handwriting?"

"Yes."

"Why would that ever have been necessary? When have I not done what was asked of me? Why would you threaten them?"

"Michael thought he needed some insurance because he was losing his mind. Your neighbors are fine. They were never in any danger and I have no doubts about you, Ginger," Sal said. "Neither do I hold you in any obligation. I hope you will continue doing what you are doing but you're free to go if that is what you want."

"That's not what I want. But, if anything happens to me, the money keeps flowing. Ten grand a month. Will you do that?"

The man pushed the card back to her and said, "I will. They're fine. I promise. You keep that as a reminder of what matters."

"Thank you. I'm ready to do whatever is asked of me," Ginger said. "Just..."

"...What I'm asking you to do now is help Tom and make sure everyone stays safe in Boston."

"I think the most helpful thing for Tom would be not to involve him in any of this. I'll take care of Stella. It was my mistake, I'll clean it up. Please."

"You're looking at this the wrong way, Ginger. Tell me something. What are you really getting them away from in New York?"

Ginger sighed. Again, the guy was a step ahead. "Does the name John Holly mean anything to you?" she asked.

"Sure. He's a cop. Detective. Correct?"

She stared at him incredulously. Evidently, Sal had been looking over her shoulder since long before Charley Hale died. "Yes," she said. "A disgrace to the badge. I saw him last night, two blocks from the Daley's apartment on the Lower East Side. She said she'd seen him around there recently." Sal shrugged. "She knows him," Ginger said. "He knows her."

"How does Trevor Daley's daughter know Detective John Holly?"

"I don't know. I just met her. But he hurt her, I know that," Ginger said.

Tom returned, out of breath. Ginger was about to ask him to give them a few more minutes but Sal told him to "come on in" and the conversation ended.

In all of this, the man was surprised that he still couldn't get a read on Ginger. Did she really not have any idea about her mother?

"Do you have time to run over to Rego Park?"

"Sure. Is that where we get the gear?" Ginger asked.

"Yes. Ari or Yael will be expecting you. They have some quirks. Most important is that they insist you haggle with them. If you don't, they'll be less accommodating in the future. Just offer them about 70 percent and see how far below 90 you can get them to agree to. Good people. Both former Mossad and friends of Michael's. Use hundreds only. You said those phones are less than ideal. They were the best I could do at the time and those SIM cards fit, so you're stuck with them for a little while longer. Maybe, now that you're both potentially heading into a fight, you want to be able to keep closer track of each other. See what they can do. Have fun, kids."

###

"Since it's my money, may I do the haggling?" Tom asked.

"Sure, Mr. Gonna Be Involved No Matter How Fucking Stupid That Idea Is."

"I didn't ask for that, Ginger. I'm sorry." Then, under his breath, he reminded her of her proper title.

Ginger nodded. She wasn't angry at him or this beautiful morning. Or the $21,700 gift.

"I know. Man, I need to beat you," she said. He laughed.

Whatever Tom and Ginger were hoping for, the little shop exceeded their expectations. The couple was there to greet them and did so with friendly hugs. Yael, who still looked like she could kick at least Tom's ass, led them downstairs to a room the size of a one-car garage.

"So, we have the Galaxy S's from earlier this year. The software is driving me nuts and almost cost us big time. Whatcha got?"

"Both software and hardware have been updated, but the phone-based system has some inherent flaws. Size is still an issue because even if they're getting bigger, they're also getting slimmer. And phones are easily misplaced. Or removed."

"We want to be able to track three people who are potentially in harm's way."

"Soft targets who want to be tracked?"

"Yes."

"That's a no-brainer." Yael went behind a counter and brought out what looked like a blob of mercury about the diameter of a nickel and the height of about three of them. "You get at least three satellites keeping an eye at all times, anywhere in the Americas. Accurate to within a meter, they claim. More like inches. They'll last about six months, and then they're done. $1,000 each. Download the software for free when you register. It's good and runs well on Android. You choose the alias it's under."

Ginger handled the little thing.

"Cute. Put it anywhere on me?"

"Practically indestructible. They work in up to fifty meters of water. Traffickers put one of these in their mules to keep track of their product."

"Very cool. We'll take three. Now I need some darts."

"You don't have Michael's old gun?"

"Yeah. Still dying to use it."

"I sold it to him! Hard to justify that size for one shot. Want to see something more up to date?"

"Yes, please!" Ginger made eyes at Tom.

Yael produced a smaller, sleeker weapon. It looked like a Luger, which Ginger always found sexy, even for a gun.

"They're not interchangeable, but the darts are about the same size. Now you have six shots, semi-auto. Standard CO2 cartridges. Gun is $1,000. You'll probably want these..." She showed them a shiny silver dart. "They're $200 each. You'll need several to take down an elephant. This is for veterinary use, I assume?" she asked with a smile. "It's a cocktail. Ketamine for instant results and a synthetic narcotic—I can't remember what it's called, but it's safer then fentanyl—to keep them down. Each dart comes with the antidote in what looks like an Epi-pen. Tape two Benadryl to it and you're not going to get hassled leaving one in your car. A few seconds 'til sleep, a few to revive once the Ketamine wears off, maybe 20 minutes. Make note of that: When you jab Yogi Bear with the pen, he better be on the other side of steel bars."

"How about Boo Boo? He asleep for good?" Ginger asked.

"You have an hour or so to get the antidote in, otherwise, yes. These are for big game."

"What do you think, Tom?"

"Like Narcan?" he asked. "The antidote?"

"Yes," Yael said. "In theory, that should work. But I don't know if it's equally effective, targeted so specifically."

"That stuff's amazing! I've never seen it used live, but there are YouTube videos of practically dead people waking up in seconds."

"So, what do you think?" Ginger asked him again.

"We've got to get moving. Six darts, the gun, three trackers. 4,000 even," he said.

"Ho! This is state of the art equipment. 5,000 even," Yael countered.

"Can you replace our old darts?" he asked.

"I could, yes, they're also 200 each."

"Great. Then we only need two trackers and four darts. 2,500," Tom said. Ginger watched, wondering not whether, but how she was going to kill him.

"The original deal, I'll throw in two...three darts. Five even."

"We don't need that many. If we do, you'll get us next time for the full 200 and an 'I told you so' assuming we're not bear poop." He pulled out $1,000 from each of his back pockets and put it on the counter, smiling at his joke. "Terence is waiting. Let's go, Ginger. You got 500, please?" She, too, had a grand in each pocket, at Tom's request. It was rookie-ish, the choice of someone who may not have ever seen a thousand dollars in cash before. But she thought it was cute, too.

"4,800," Yael offered.

"No, thank you. 46," Tom said. Yael held firm. To Ginger, she looked insulted. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "We don't need any of this, state of the art or not. We can make do with what we have. C'mon, Ginger, so you have to wait for the software to refresh. You said that was just laziness on your part."

Ginger decided to play along: "What are we looking at to upgrade the old phones?"

"Now you are going to waste my time?" Yael asked.

"Not at all, ma'am," Tom said. "4,600 is what we're willing to pay for some things we want but don't need. That's 90 percent of your asking price and you move more merchandise. We have more wants in the future, we'll make the trip down from Boston. Otherwise, you won't see us again until we need something."

Yael studied him. She was clearly unimpressed. It was pure intimidation and he was afraid he might twitch or show some other weakness under her penetrating gaze. Eventually, her expression softened.

"Not quite 90 percent but a deal. 46."

Tom hid his relief and shook her hand. He fished the $1,000 out of his remaining pockets.

"Ginger, you got the six?"

Yael packed it all into a cheap black plastic bag and became, once again, affable. She wished the pair luck, and to Ginger's surprise, hugged each of them on the way out.

It wasn't until they were in the back seat of the car that Ginger spoke.

"That was unpleasant, Tom."

"I had an Arab-Israeli boss for two years in the dining hall. She was super nice but every transaction was a contest. But here's the thing: Yael was happy when we left. That wasn't an act. Coming in at just under 90 percent, she got to win but we weren't pushovers. Sal told us we had to haggle. Could you have done better?"

Ginger laughed. "Finally something you can do better than me! No. I would have been happier paying the sticker price! I hate haggling."

"Me too! But whatever. We go into her store, buy her stuff—which we really can't get anywhere else, right? Not from someone who Sal trusts," he said. She agreed. "It's polite to do it the way that she wants. She would have been twice as happy—and we could have gotten away with 85 percent—if you hadn't deferred to me. Thanks for that, by the way. I know you're not happy about any of this. Hey, but before you say it's crazy, demanding that we haggle, note that you are doing the same thing."

"Oh? How so, boy?"

"You should have pulled that tone out in the store, woman." She laughed at him. "Come on. That's the one thing I can do better than you? Please. You expected me to counter with at least one other thing. We'll call that 90 percent. Your 'win.' If I had just let it go, you'd be bummed, 'cause I wasn't playing along. And if I gave you the full list of ways in which I'm superior, woman who could burn a pot of water, you'd get all defensive and stop having fun. Probably try to hurt me. I also believe you cry when no one is looking."

She glared at Tom until his stupid grin wore her down. It would have been easier to just smack it off his face, but things had changed. She kinda liked the new Tom.

"I'm way better at annoying you," he said. "And, FYI, she should know that if it blocks the receptor sites, it's an antagonist, not an antidote. I think."

"Ooh, you're right, clever boy! Get some confidence." He felt smart. "Cool stuff, huh? What are we gonna call those little guys?"

"The darts or trackers?" Tom asked.

"Trackers, duh."

"Mulitos," Tom said.

"Love it!"

"See?"

"Don't." 
Chapter 20: Phony Talks

The best place for Dan Sullivan to be this afternoon and evening was outside the girlfriend's apartment. He was sure not to see anyone, and, if he was there, Sean could get some alone time with Stella.

There had to be a reason she wasn't sitting on that other house. He hoped there was a reason other than that she was a fool. The more the stupid questions piled up, the shorter his patience. Stella was a liar. Sean just had to figure out a way to work it to his advantage or at least keep from getting burned.

He gave Danny a dose of his own medicine. Before the knucklehead could get away on one of his power lunches, he announced his own.

"Be back in a bit. If you see that meter maid, just move the car. Don't talk to her."

He smoked two cigarettes by the time he hiked down to the B-line and had to ditch the third and run through traffic to hop on the train. It was a "hurry up and wait" situation. This stretch of tracks was crowded with the laziest college kids on the planet, he figured. There were so many stops, and they were so close together, that you could beat the train if you walked. But walking was for suckers.

###

"Stella, I'm out front. Danny's at the place. We need to talk."

Rather than answer, she hung up and appeared at the door a minute later. Stella looked like crap. She wasn't taking care of herself. He wouldn't need to press hard to get her to open up.

He heard three different languages on the way up the stairs, and the place smelled. Sean waited until they were in her dingy little apartment.

"Stella, this guy Danny is a problem."

"He's got a few. Jimmy among them."

"He can keep doing what he's doing, but I'm done sitting out there waiting for nothing."

Stella was seated in front of a laptop with some sort of device stuck in its side and a satellite photo on the screen.

"I expect problems from Danny. Not from you, Sean."

"Where the fuck is Jimmy, Stella?"

"I don't know." It was true, though she had a good guess and was looking right at it.

"So you're not in contact with him?"

"No, Sean, I'm not. I'm living in a fucking slum with a broken nose and I don't know where Jimmy is."

"Why are we looking for this Thomas guy? Is that his first or last name?"

Stella was distracted by her computer screen so Sean closed it for her. The resigned look she gave told him that Stella was all alone.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" He lit a cigarette, and, not seeing an ashtray, used the floor. Still, she didn't answer.

"Who are you hiding from here in this dump? That guy, Thomas? Why'd he break your nose?"

Stella looked at Sean with exhausted eyes.

"Jimmy had me working for Thomas's boss, Jacqueline. He went back a long way with her late husband. I don't know all the details. But I do know she has the money. Just before we got it, though, Jimmy disappeared. Thomas got suspicious and started asking questions. He didn't like the answers I gave and he hit me. Jacqueline intervened and I left."

"You just want to get even with this guy?"

"That's what Danny's for, but she's got the money. She'll pay for him."

"Why are you hiding?"

"Thomas and another one of the people who work for Jacqueline know where I live and followed me to Danny's house, too."

"Go to Jimmy's."

"I did. That's where I got the car. But Jimmy's not there and he's not answering his phone. The door's broken, too. It's not safe."

"Who's the other person?"

"Ginger. She's tall and blond. Dangerous."

"Do they all live and work in the same house?" Sean asked, and thought that the "dangerous" blond just became an eleven.

"Yes, I just worked there."

"So, you go into 'the office' one day, Thomas—I'm just going to call him Tom. So, you go to work, Tom starts asking questions, doesn't like your answers, and then, punches you in the face?"

"Ay," she said, fully aware of how stupid that sounded.

"And you took the T home?" Sean didn't ask or belabor the point. One lie identified, and a stupid one at that. Was she high or something? "Why are we watching his girlfriend's apartment if no one is ever there?"

"Because that's the only place to get him without having to worry about Ginger."

"Well, who the fuck is she?"

"She's a professional, Sean. As are the two black men, Marcus and Theo."

Sean wasn't sure how much to believe. She had warned him not to mess with Tom alone, and now everyone else. Did Stella have any respect for him at all?

"Who are these people and what's the deal?"

"A rich lady with protection. But it's two million dollars, transferred from one account to another. No police, no violence. Jimmy and I spent months setting this up. All of a sudden it fell apart and he's gone. But that money is spoken for, Sean."

He didn't understand what that meant, and, for two million reasons, didn't dwell on it.

"And we just need this guy, Tom?"

"Alive and well. She's not going to pay for a body."

"And Danny? I'm gonna call him 'Dan.' Sounds like a fucking preschool. Can you keep him doing what he's doing?" As in, out of the way.

"It's not like we're paying him." Though she was running out of "incentives" for the moron. "I need you to do me a favor. Here's $20. Print this and mail it to them on Marlborough. What's your email address?"

"Email?"
Chapter 21: As Suspected

So much for getting away from everyone and everything. 24 hours after they left Boston, Tom and Ginger were headed home with Kate and Nikki. Saying goodbye to the New York apartment, Edie, and Terence was sad for the girls. But Kate knew that it wasn't time for tears and Nikki followed her sister's lead.

Neither of the Daleys did somber for long, however. Once across the Hudson, it felt like a family vacation with the conversation ranging from turn-offs (the word "daddy" in bed and cologne being almost unanimously disliked) to the sisters' academic statuses. The women were trying to get to know one another. Tom was happy to be the butt of jokes if that facilitated the merging of his two worlds. He liked the attention. They were just past Providence when he asked Ginger to tell them what was going on.

"V noticed someone staking out your apartment, Kate. Just sitting there for a few days. She felt uncomfortable enough about it that she went to stay with her cousins in Norwood. That adds an hour to her commute," Ginger said. "At first we thought it had something to do with your father, like paparazzi or something. But when we went to check it out, Tom and I recognized the car. We had this woman working with us, and, turned out, she was scheming to steal a lot of money from Jacqueline. This clever young man here sniffed it out, but it got ugly."

Ginger continued. "Now she and her hoodlum friends want to get even with him. They know that the apartment is a good place to find him. Maybe they'd use one of you to get at Tom. Or maybe they figured out whose daughters you are. We agree that it wouldn't be hard?"

"Yes," Kate said.

"What we do know, is that Stella needs the money she was going to steal, so this isn't over yet."

Kate tried to anticipate her sister's logical first question.

"Nikki, you've been heckled on the street in the City. That'll get worse if people feel like he gets off too easily. We have to hide for a while no matter where we are. I need to be with Tom..."

"...And V."

"Yes, and V, ya skinny little bitch! And I want to know my baby sister is safe. Because I love her sooo much!" Kate roughly hugged Nikki to both lighten the mood and remind her who she would be answering to.

"OK! Brute." Nikki said.

Ginger's appreciation of Kate just kept growing. Yes, the young woman was going to make a lovely addition. "So, Nikki and Kate, prepare yourselves. Actually, Tom is the one who needs to prepare himself. We're all going to be in one house for a while. It's big but there won't be much getting away from each other."

"For, like, how long?"

"I'll be on it night and day, Nikki, with a few friends of ours. Not long."

Tom thought Ginger was showing off. The Daleys ate it up.

Nikki didn't understand the larger threat, but she knew that was going to be hard for everyone.

"Katie, let's dye our hair!"

This time, Kate's hug wasn't rough at all.

###

"Have Thee meet us at the front door. He'll take you and the girls. I'll stash the car under the Common. Quickly."

Tom didn't need the reminder, but he accepted it without attitude. Ginger was trying to pull them both out of the 200-plus mile stupor.

Theo answered Jacqueline's phone. He was ready.

"Girls, I'm going to pop the trunk when we get there. Get everything you can in one trip and hustle inside, all three of you. I'll carry what's left."

They pulled up to the house just as Theo finished his reconnaissance run. He was in spandex. Lots of it.

"Seriously? You thought that guy was straight?" Ginger asked Tom as the Daleys got to work. Jacqueline was there to accept them at the front door, all smiles.

"You were fucking with me all summer? So I'd be jealous of them?"

"That's still a surprise to you? It was actually Marcus's idea since we wouldn't let them DP you. Don't you feel dumb now? Pair of ass-kickin' Milli Vanilli's."

"My master's fuckin' crazy. Get out of here, jerk," Tom said as he closed the door and headed inside.

###

V was waiting at the bottom of the steps. Kate dropped her bags and ran to her best friend. Jacqueline was just in time to see them part and both women look at each other.

"Te conozco?" V asked, studying her friend's new face in person for the first time.

"Sí, claro! Soy yo!"

"Ahh! Mi amor! Qué bella!"

"I'm so happy to see you, V!"

Kate turned to Jacqueline and had her wrapped up in a hug before she knew what hit her. In short order, Kate managed to embrace everyone in the room. Nikki marveled at how this group, like every other, loved Kate the moment they met her and couldn't take their eyes off her, especially now that she was so pretty. Nikki thought that there was no reason she couldn't do the same thing.

As the host, Jacqueline gave the orders. She would leave it to the guests to figure out who went where and told them to meet back downstairs once they had chosen rooms and settled in.

Tom put his bag in his bedroom and stole a moment with Jacqueline in the kitchen. He pressed against her for a moment as they hugged.

"Wait for it..." he said.

She gasped."You are so sweet, Tom. And, God, like better than a half-a-minute man! Kate's OK with...

"...She's...non-traditional. We'll go with 'probably' for now, based on our conversation last night."

"Wow, honey. Kate's that lucky girl we talked about, huh?"

"It's the other way around. Amazing how right it feels after so long. Still unreal."

"It is real, Tom! Victoria was just giddy all afternoon. My God, she is special. Honey, does she..."

"I don't know. I mean, she has, but, as far as I know, only twice, with Kate. She's definitely not full-service. She likes to be serviced, though, and she loves to be pushed around and manhandled. Oh, hey. I'm done pretending I'm mad at you, Jax. Master."

"I'm not done being sorry, honey. Thank you for coming home to me, Tom, and bringing your friends with you."

Ginger came in through the front door and met them in the kitchen. She placed the box of money in front of him.

"Forget something?"

"Holy shit, I did! Jax! Thank you!"

She took the opportunity to hug him again.

"I mean it, Tom! If you want to work with us we'll figure out a way. OK, honey?"

"OK," he said. "$21,700. That's funny."

"I thought you'd like that. You saved us a lot more than that, Tom." She turned to Ginger and got a half-hearted hug. "No, Ginger! Are you still mad at me?"

"Not sure what you think changed overnight, woman. Still don't know what the fuck goes through your head sometimes. I needed some time away and I didn't get it, so watch your step," Ginger said, but still gave her partner a kiss on the lips. "Maybe a workout will help."

Jacqueline looked at her two roommates and sighed. "I'm glad to have you both home." The three youngsters entered the kitchen and Theo materialized from the basement. "I have making up to do all the way around, I guess."

Kate went right to Tom's side and slid up under his arm.

"OK, ladies," Jacqueline said. "It's going to be close quarters. Hopefully not for long. Everyone's hungry?" They all were. "Tom, you're the master." She paused for effect. "Groceries delivered today. We've got enough to feed an army." She looked at Theo. "Marcus?"

"45 minutes."

"OK, dinner for eight. If you'll cook, Tom, we'll clean."

"Yeah, I'll cook. V and Kate will help."

Ginger said, "I'm going to work out before we eat. Girls, there's an elliptical in the basement. Some weights, and plenty of room, too. We'll explain more at dinner and do some planning."

"Tom, do I have time to squeeze in a workout? Fifteen minutes with weights is enough," Kate said.

"Sure. Report back here in 20."

###

Tom cleared the kitchen of everyone but his two girlfriends and closed the door.

"What a trip it is to see you together again!"

A sweaty Kate stroked V's long dark hair. "Feels like a long time, but not at all," she said. "V, Nikki and I are going to see about becoming morenas tomorrow! Then we'll be like sisters!"

"Ya son," the Latina said.

"No, silly, you and I!"

"Oh..."

"Kate," he said, "open that box."

"Holy... Tom! What is this?"

"About $14,000. Terence and Edie each got a grand. Plus Ginger and I did some shopping. It's from Jacqueline."

"Ay, she said you saved the company a lot of money, Tom! How much?" Victoria asked.

"A lot! Listen, Kate, I want to explain more to you and I want V to know, too. It's just that I'm not ready to tell you everything. Ginger's right, I need to leave some out for now. OK?"

"OK."

"Thanks. Kate, you and I are back? I'm your man?"

"The power's back on, baby! You're my man but I know you can't just drop them and we all have to get along if we're going to be on top of each other like this. It's fine if you need to be...like you were with them, I'm just not ready to share you completely yet. Present company excluded."

V smiled.

"That'll work. They're a couple. I'm just a friend with benefits and you're amazing." Tom changed directions, trying to stay unemotional. "I don't want to cry, Kate. I guess I do that now. But this is all so fucked up."

She went to reassure him but he limited her to a kiss and quick hug.

"Just let me get it out. You guys dice the veggies, pieces this big," he said. "I'm going to do a half-hour beef stew. It'll be tough, but it'll fill everyone."

The women got to work peeling and cutting onion, carrots, celery, and potatoes as Tom cubed the chuck steak. Once his hands were on autopilot, he explained what he had learned about his brother and stepfather and then gave an abridged and extremely redacted account of his sexual servitude and how it led to such fond feelings for their hosts.

###

"Kate, I've been caught up with my situation and haven't asked you about yours. I'm sorry."

"Stop right there, Tom. I've been happy not to talk. But it's only fair. What do you want to know?"

Tom looked at V. "You explained why you didn't graduate. I guess, whatever you want to tell us about your dad."

"I've actually gotten most of my information from the papers and Edie. My parents haven't felt the need to tell us anything. He stole from a bunch of rich people, for kicks. Part of me wants him to get what he deserves. The other part still wants to be rich!" Kate said. "No, I mean, seriously, if you add up all that he stole, that we know about, I guess, it's a fraction of what he has. Getting rid of the apartment and stuff was just to make it seem like we were paying some price. That 'we' is Nikki, me, Edie, and Terence, by the way. Everything in the apartment is gone. I mean, I'm not really attached to my bed or dressers, but whatever we didn't take is gone. The lawyers are playing for leniency...to keep his prison time short."

"God, that sucks, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it does. I bet you're dying to ask me about my rhinoplasty," Kate said.

"Edie told me all I need to know. You're beautiful."

V agreed.

"Thank you. I didn't have enough time to let it sink in. It's weird to see a different face in the mirror. I think I would have been OK surprising you in May, but this all happened and then, I do not want to talk about how fucking mean people can be."

"As long as we're all clear that I thought you were perfect."

"I know, baby!"

Tom heard what he guessed was Marcus's arrival.

"Oh, hey, listen, V, what do you think about Jacqueline?" Tom asked.

"Like I had a date with her yesterday. It was a good one."

"No way, V! That's awesome!" Kate said. "Right?"

"I think so. She's pretty fuckin' sexy," Tom said.

"Yes, but they are 'partners' with 'fucking servants?'"

"I only just now thought of that description," Tom said. "Don't try to apply regular rules. They don't. Think of them like Kate, but if Kate had completely given up on anyone thinking she was normal." His girlfriend laughed.

"But they are fighting, I don't want to make it worse," V said.

"They're not fighting. And that won't make it worse, I promise. You might just be the gap bridgah."

He waited for her to interpret.

"These women are crazy, no?"

"They totally are! But you made Ginger silly like I've not seen before. Oh, and Jax just asked me if you might be interested."

"Ay, Tom! Y, qué le dijiste?"

"That you probably weren't but wouldn't be offended if she asked."

V thought about it and smiled. "Muy bien, hombre. Vale. Vamos a ver."

Kate loved that. "Tom, you and I can be exclusive for a little while? They're not going to get weird?"

"Yes, of course. Forever, if that's what you want."

She looked at him. "Yeah, right, for either of us! Or, even better, if you were exclusively mine but I could distract Ginger so V..."

"...You probably don't want to do that, actually," he said, remembering Ginger's exploits the night before. "But it sounds like you get it. This is a woman's world. I live here in peace because I accept that fact."

Jacqueline knocked and opened the kitchen door.

"Girls, help me set the table, please? We're ready when, Tom?"

"Now, ma'am."

"Oh, please. Did you see that I loaded the dumbwaiter with all the dishes, honey?" she asked.

"I was wondering where they were. Thank you."

"My pleasure, boy. Come on, ladies."

Kate's question went unasked.

###

Dinner was simple, just one course. Once it seemed everyone had eaten their fill, Ginger got to business.

"Marcus says he didn't see anyone around your apartment. He and I are going to take a run over there and make sure they haven't changed vehicles or gotten sneakier. We might be able to get inside if there is anything you need."

"I have a paper bag in my room. If you can," V said.

"Ooh, V! Where's my little keyboard?"

"By your bed."

"Could you get that? It's a digital piano. And the plug, please?"

"That is essential if we're going to be here for a few days," Tom said. "You'll see."

"We'll do our best. We have to assume that they know we saw them yesterday. V, what else can you tell me about the guys?"

"I did not see their faces. I could tell they were watching me but I thought they were just pigs. But then they seemed to be interested in me more than anyone else. There are a lot of cute girls in our neighborhood."

"Can you think of any details, anything else suspicious?"

"No sé. There was this big guy on Beacon when I walked home last week. He didn't seem like someone who would be eating at Hidaki. He was by himself, drinking a beer, staring at me like he knew who I was."

"Just a fat guy checking out a hot girl?" Tom asked.

"No, like, football player big..."

"...Anything funny about his hands?" Ginger asked.

"Yes! He had a bandage around one. You know him?"

"Oh, my God! It can't be this easy! Tom, that's why he only hit you once! You were right, he did break a finger or something on your rock-hard head!"

Tom smiled.

"You got hit in the head?" Kate asked.

"No big deal."

"You think it's the same guy?" Marcus asked.

"Yep. Tom saw them kiss," she said. "He's got a bone to pick with Dewey Lunkhead here. No pun intended. That makes this a small team, and JV. This guy's a fucking moron. How much of this do you remember?"

"Parts," Tom said.

"OK. Marcus and I will take Thee's car to the apartment and check it out. We can get your things and exit a back door?"

"Yeah," Kate said, still frowning about Tom's head. "Just go all the way downstairs."

"You know where we can find this guy?" Marcus asked.

"Dan Sullivan is his name. Yeah. Tom found a good place to watch his apartment from. Maybe we can pick him up tonight. It will be a good test of the Mulitos. We'll take one. Tom, it took 15 minutes to register and put the app on both of our phones and the laptop. Everything you need is written on mine. The app is called Hype Music. It's buried in there."

"Nice. Thanks."

She smiled. "Try tracking the Mulito and my phone, see how in sync they are."

"Got it," Tom said.

Marcus was building on Ginger's plan.

"After we scout the apartment, we'll take my bike, park in his neighborhood. Maybe we get lucky."

"He's got a big-ass roommate. My guess is offensive linemen. Big."

"Let's not rush this. Let's just see what we can find out tonight," the former linebacker said, smiling at Ginger's naked manipulation.

"We're good here, Ginger. Don't take risks, please," Jacqueline said.

"OK. On that note, Thee, you still have Homeland Security credentials?" Ginger asked.

"Yes."

"V, you've been on the job a month?"

"Three weeks."

"Any problems at all? Ever late? Supervisor ever give you shit?"

Tom and Kate knew the answer to those questions. V was a good girl.

"No."

"What's your supervisor like?"

"Cool. I like her. Ms. Lea, with an 'a.'"

"OK, Thee, we'll go in there tomorrow and get V excused from work for the week."

"Venga! How?" V asked.

"A grand in cash and a Homeland Security ID. She'll be proud of herself and you," Ginger said.

She looked uneasy.

"Don't worry, V," Tom said. "I've gotcha if you get canned!"

"Ay, coño. That is not funny! Is my first real job."

"Better safe than sorry, V. All of our current problems stem from underestimating Stella," Ginger said. "Jax, the girls said they want to dye their hair?"

Nikki and Kate smiled and nodded.

"And we can cut mine like hers!" Nikki said. "Poor Tom will be so confused!"

"Five bucks says I can tell you apart in the dark."

Only one of the sisters smiled at that.

"We'll get someone to make a house call tomorrow," Jacqueline said.

"OK, great. Marcus and I will try to find Stella. You all stay upstairs for the most part. Don't do anything stupid. Pretend this is life or death. It's not, at all, but, no reason to make it easy for her."

That killed the summer camp atmosphere. Jacqueline saw a chance to lighten the mood and mark some territory.

"If I may make a toast... To Tom, who, in addition to making this wonderful meal, was the only one of us to distrust Stella. And who, we have to admit, is also the only one of us here who has something everyone else wants."

Kate nearly did a spit take.

###

For the evening's entertainment, the three guests put on a private concert for Jacqueline and Tom while Marcus and Ginger started their hunt and Theo kept watch on the first floor. Jacqueline would remember the night for a long time. Not just because V was shamelessly flirting with her to the obvious surprise of Tom and Kate, either. Even before they sent Nikki to bed, the dynamic between Tom and the roommates was unlike anything the widow had ever seen before. Their love was pure, unabashed. Honest. Jacqueline now had a greater imagination for what was possible.

Kate wasn't as carefree as she acted, however. She had been keeping V's glass full of wine and encouraging the huge leap her best friend seemed eager to take. Shortly after getting things started, she sent her off to bed with Jacqueline. Kate wanted to make sure that she and Tom wound up sleeping together, alone.

On the record, there was a threat to him, possibly the sisters, and maybe even V—everyone that mattered most to Kate. Information was being doled out piecemeal, after careful consideration. They told Kate only what she needed to know. She wasn't satisfied with Tom and Ginger's definition of "need."

It didn't take her long to determine that her man was sad and afraid. Jack's death, all the lies, and even the general security concerns didn't fully explain it, though. His fear was centered around her. Not for her wellbeing, though. He almost seemed to be afraid of Kate. She just needed to be patient. He would talk soon. They might have been slammed together after a long time apart, but all this crazy shit with hot older women and danger didn't change anything between them. It didn't take her long to realize that, either.

Right now, though, he was sleeping peacefully. Kate smiled and kissed his head before settling next to him. She was soon asleep.

What felt like minutes later, he was mumbling and sweating.

"Tom! Baby? It's OK. You're having a dream. Tom!" she said, shaking his shoulders.

He woke with a start.

"You OK?"

"...Sorry... Bad dream," he mumbled.

"Same one as last night?"

"Hm?"

"The same one you had last night?"

"...I don't think so."

Tom threw off the covers and made like he wanted to fall right back to sleep. Kate ground her teeth. He was lying again. The guy couldn't even bluff at cards. If he was lying, it was because he believed he was protecting her. But from something secret. That's not how they did things. She would tell him about Holly, eventually. He needed to talk sooner than that, though.

Chapter 22: Box of Rocks

When Ginger and Marcus got to Dan Sullivan's place it was just after midnight. There were a light and TV on in the living room and, Ginger guessed, one of the bedrooms. They puzzled over how to determine whether both roommates were home but, without any fancy equipment, decided it wasn't easily done without going to the door.

It was worth taking the time to make this go smoothly. But Ginger was antsy and wanted to have a look around.

"Ginger, no one who ever saw you once could forget you."

"Aww, shucks. I'll wait here. Oh, look! Tommy Toss-His-Trash left us two forties. Dumbass."

"An old Crown Vic?"

"Yeah, dark green. KNH43H," she said.

"Text me if anything changes. Sit tight, Blondie."

Ginger hadn't even gotten impatient by the time he returned.

"Got it. Talk about too easy, girl! It's 18 cars down, on this side of the street, right between the two street lights that are out. It's a 2006."

He interrupted her thinking. "I've got two ideas."

"What?"

"I'll give you the Ginger-pleaser first. Assuming it's locked, but, with this asshole, maybe we get lucky. 99 percent sure there's no alarm. So, we break into the passenger-side back seat. You camp out. When I see him go to his car tomorrow, I follow and get his attention just as he gets in, get him looking ahead. You greet him from behind with a garrote."

"Motherfucker!" she said, slapping him on the chest. "What if you took two Viagra?"

###

The car wasn't old enough that it would be easy to get into without a key. They decided to go for plan A and would fall back on plan B if lifting a door handle set off an alarm. That option was just to wait out the annoying scream, and any suspicious neighbors, and then pull the valve from the passenger-side rear tire when no one was looking. From there it got dicey: When Dan went to his car in the morning, they would find some way to run upstairs to his apartment, break in, disable the roommate, and wait for Stella's other boyfriend to come back inside. There was a chance he wouldn't, but they could watch from the window and see what he did. Though Ginger was dying to use the dart gun, it was a back up to Marcus's Taser.

He had to run home for the garrote and something new he wanted to try for breaking into the car to make the preferred plan work. It was past two when he returned and the lights were still on in the apartment. Ginger was bored, awaiting company with nothing to report.

The big man joined her leaning against the humming box.

"Ooh, that's nice and warm!" he said.

"Vibrating, too."

He laughed and put his arm around her.

"I'm wide awake and it only takes one pair of eyes. You want to take a nap?"

She was dreaming happily in minutes. He texted Jacqueline the schedule with one hand, as content as Ginger was.

The Mulito, quickly sewn into a vintage scrunchy of Kate's that Ginger was wearing, was on the laptop's screen, working like a charm.

###

"Kiss me, you fool!" Ginger whispered as she pulled Marcus onto her and leaned against the car. They made out like two drunks until the random four a.m. walker across the street had moved far enough away.

"Now, was that so bad?" She reached down to check. "Nothing? Jeez, what the fuck? Well, hard to ever call that nothing."

"It was lovely. Now let's get this done."

"You're no fun," she said.

There wasn't an alarm but all four doors were locked. Marcus pulled out a window-sized piece of malleable plastic.

"What is that? Besides crinkly?" she asked.

"Gotta have it warm. Watch." He set about lining it up on the window. "Actually, help. Can you get one of those pretty fingernails between the layers?" She could. "OK, stick that on the corner, and peel. Work fast! It has to stay warm."

It was a sticky and stretchy sheet of rubberized plastic (which wouldn't hold heat much longer than aluminum foil, Ginger thought). Once they had it stuck to every square millimeter of the window Ginger realized why he had brought his helmet. He put the crown of it against the glass and pushed. From there it was just a few blows from his gloved palm at the corners and...

"Voilà! That's great! 29 bucks!" he said as he pushed the window into the car. Instead of there being hundreds of small pieces of glass, most of it was stuck to the sheet, and there was only a slight crunching sound.

"Cool!"

He left her to clean the glass out of the edges and stash the window/objet d'art under the passenger seat. After a few minutes of work, it looked, to the casual passerby, like someone had just left the back window open.

In the unlikely case that she wound up talking to a cop, Ginger had nothing incriminating on her but the garrote, and that was crotched. The dart gun was stashed under the driver's seat. Marcus would be able to warn her, which might help her not look so guilty. And, anyway, it was amazing what someone who looked like Ginger could get away with.

She settled in for a long wait. Marcus had it almost as bad because to see both Dan's front door and keep an eye on her required him to be out on the sidewalk. Since it wasn't a 24-hour store, he needed to have some reason to be loitering off Commonwealth Ave in the middle of the night. Allston/Brighton is one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the country, but, even there, large African-American men in black leathers get a second look from cops as surely as free donuts.

He stowed the Taser and the collapsible baton on his motorcycle until daylight and hurried back to his vantage point. No use being found in possession of weapons at 4:30 a.m. As long as he was clean and not seen emerging from the bushes behind the convenience store, the valid military ID in his wallet would act like a shield in the event he couldn't name drop his way to a "Sorry for the confusion, sir." Many cops were veterans. Someone who appeared to still be an active-duty Major was going to get the benefit of the doubt, likely topped off with a "Thank you for your service."

But the early morning was without incident. He and Ginger checked in occasionally to keep each other awake, and she even got an hour and a half on the back seat looking at the sky. She saw a shooting star and smiled remembering that she and Winston had counted 16 on her 15th birthday, just before she made the getaway that changed her life forever.

###

With Marcus and Ginger waiting to execute Operation Garrote, Theo was on his own to get V excused from work. He went home for his suit and credentials. His placard would get him in the building and past security, but not as effortlessly as if he had the blond Wonder Woman with him; such an attractive pair was somehow more credible. As much as they teased Tom, though, Theo and Marcus were without any of the self-identifying mannerisms of gay men. If V's boss was a heterosexual Boston woman with an education, chances were she was going to have a giant crush on the soft-spoken man with a badge.

The goal was to arrive just minutes before V's supervisor and be waiting in her office. Knock 'em off balance and keep them that way until you got what you needed. With a smile. And $1,000 cash just to give her a reason to keep quiet.

He slipped out the back door at six, ran around the block looking for anything suspicious, and then to the closest cab stand, leaving his car parked several doors down from the house, thanks to Jacqueline's Back Bay resident sticker.

In the kitchen, Tom already had a kettle on and was about to start cracking a dozen eggs when Jacqueline called from the front hall.

She showed him the envelope in the vestibule and they agreed it was harmless in that it wasn't from the Unabomber and merited immediate inspection. The contents weren't surprising: a Google Maps image of the property in Gloucester. There was no note, nothing to indicate who it was from, but they didn't have to guess.

Jacqueline dialed Marcus, who was down the street from Dan Sullivan's.

"Good morning," he said.

"Hey, we have a wrinkle."

"Go ahead."

"Just got a single piece of mail, a satellite image."

"OK, I'll call you back."

He texted Ginger in her uncomfortable hiding place.

It would have been a clever move for Stella. She knew that all the eggs were in one basket and there were only so many dogs to guard the hen house. Sending someone to Gloucester would "confirm" that there was something up there worth protecting. Was it worth going a man down to keep Stella on the wrong track?

Ginger texted back:

"Excellent. Theo make it quick. Then go north. Be invisible. Night scope. Mulatto." Frickin' auto correct! She had to send a second message excusing herself: "Mulito. Sorry!"

Marcus OK'd her with a happy face (which she thought was cute) and relayed the message. Five minutes later Ginger was pleased to get the confirmation. As pleased as one could be lying on the dirty floor of a 2006 Crown Victoria. She passed the time thinking of the car's namesake. And the little one. Really, all the youngsters. Their home was like a candy store.

###

"There's blood?"

"I don't know how much there was, but the place has been cleaned with bleach. A few good stains on the couch. Hidden. It must be Stella's, right? I mean she looks like she was in a car accident, but..."

"But what?"

"This kid Tom broke her nose at their place, on Marlborough. Not Jimmy's. So she claims."

"Hmm. You believe this is really about two million dollars?"

"She and Jimmy were working this woman for months. Supposed to be safe and easy, just one bank talking to another, she said. No police, no violence."

"But she gets her nose broken and Jimmy's nowhere to be found."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Sean said.

Riordan considered it. "You're doing fine, son. We'll have a chat with Stella but she's not going anywhere. She's determined to see this through. I'd like to meet this Tom, though. What do you need to make that happen?"

"I don't know. The car isn't back, but it seems like there are a lot of people in the house. I feel like he's there. Could have slipped in when I wasn't looking, easily. If he is, I just need one of the boys and for him to pop his head out. Stella says I'm not supposed to go near him by myself. Apparently, he wrestled in college."

"Oh! Scary! Right? And the retard?"

Sean laughed. "He's sitting outside the apartment right now. Stella doesn't know they saw the car. He sticks out like a sore thumb. Did I tell you he has a broken hand? From punching Tom."

"Jesus."

"She's not paying him, so I got her to agree to just leave him there. And, I had to do her a favor. She wanted me to mail this Jacqueline woman a satellite picture of a house in the woods. I dropped it through the mail slot before five this morning. Kept her money."

"No more silly risks. Willing to wait for the mail, though, that's good. Where was the house?"

"Gloucester?"

"Are you kidding me? You remember the address?"

"No, sorry. What?"

Riordan couldn't fault Sean's lack of imagination. It was because of his common sense that they were even talking about this fiasco in the making.

"We need to talk to this kid. Get the goon away from the apartment. Break his other hand if you have to, just get him out of the picture. Stay out of sight, make the kid feel safe. We're going to pick him up."

###

It was almost as they figured. Judging by the hour the lights went out, Dan Sullivan wasn't going to be an early riser. A (stupidly) unanticipated problem with their plan in this part of town was that the majority of residences were occupied by students. So when he stepped out of his building just before noon, there were half a dozen souls out and about, most carrying school bags. Someone might see Dan grab for his throat at the wheel of Jimmy's car, or even Ginger laid out in the footwell, waiting. And then Marcus watched him making up his mind to cause the other problem. He looked up the street toward the store and then down toward Jimmy's car. He repeated the motion, no more quickly. Marcus guessed he was breathing through his mouth and blinking with purpose.

Dan wanted a cup of convenience store coffee. Marcus recited a text message to Ginger as he walked away from his post and out of Dan's field of view. When the colossal specimen disappeared into the store, Marcus double-timed it down to his front steps. He would just have to ad lib to get Dan on the right side of the street and distracted. Rather than wait for her text response, he dialed Ginger and left his phone on in his pocket so she could hear the dialogue.

The guy didn't head to the car but back home to shower, Marcus assumed. He put the phone to his ear and asked if Dan knew Jimmy. Ginger had no idea.

"OK, I gotta talk to him. Be ready."

Marcus put the phone back in his pocket and locked eyes with the approaching mountain. He'd be hard to hurt with bare hands.

"You Dan Sullivan?"

"Who are you?"

"Shut the fuck up, boy. You've got Jimmy's car, I'll ask the fucking questions. Let's go, there are some people who want to talk to you."

"Wait. You a friend of Jimmy's?"

"Holy shit! They said you were stupid. No one's seen Jimmy for a week and you've got his car. You smart enough to see the problem there, asshole?"

Dan hesitated.

"...Boy, you're right, I won't shoot you right here on the street," Marcus said. "But you think you make it to dinner alive if you keep hiding from us? Let's go."

"I'm not hiding. This is where I live. Stella knows that. Jimmy probably knows that."

"No one's seen her either."

"We're working on something for Jimmy."

"You and Stella? When did you see her last?"

"Day before yesterday. We're looking for some guy, broke her nose. Jimmy wants him."

"He told you that?"

"No, Stella said that's what Jimmy wants."

"Is that right? Average size, like a wrestler, this guy?"

"Yeah. Thomas something. Jimmy wants him in one piece. I gotta go look for him."

"You know who that guy is, asshole? That's Jimmy's fuckin' cousin. You the guy who punched him?"

Dan took a few seconds. "...Stella said he was..."

"...Just stop." He pulled out his cell phone and pretended to speak a text message: "He knows where she is." Marcus put the phone down.

Dan was like a deer in headlights.

Marcus read the make-believe response.

"And then what?" he asked the phone and lowered it. "You play guard? Tackle?"

Dan was glad for a question he could answer. "Center, mostly."

Marcus read another fake text message, placed the phone in his pocket, and then put all of his weight and strength into a right hook that knocked Dan onto his ass. Coffee went everywhere. Ginger couldn't tell what happened at first but pieced it together when she heard her partner helping Dan up. She laughed, thinking it was also cute that Marcus did that for his friend "Thomas."

"OK, buddy. You're OK. Come on, up on your feet." Once Dan was standing, Marcus lightened the mood. "I always wondered if I could do that, you know, without all the pads and shit. Now, where's the motherfuckin' quarterback? Heh heh, just fuckin' with you."

Dan was confused, but, dumb as he was, he was in familiar territory. Like Tom, his brain had good software for running on half-power. In fact, he was about to make several of the best decisions of his 23 years.

"Daniel, can you take me to Stella?"

"Yeah."

"Sure you can drive, buddy?"

He laughed, rubbing his jaw with the uninjured hand. "I gotta get the keys."

"Let's go together. You lead the way," Marcus said, and then, mindful of the roommate, "Let's go, Blondie."

###

"You're not Victoria, you're Ginger," Dan said.

She stood facing him as he sat on the couch and iced his jaw with a bag of frozen corn. She held the dart gun with both hands, smiling as she thought of all the times frozen vegetables had made it into their summer dinners after Tom thawed them on some Ginger-related injury.

The roommate was asleep and hard to wake. Marcus and Ginger decided to get as much information out of this idiot as they could before going after Stella.

"That's right," she said, sounding like she was from Southie, or a movie about it, anyway. "And that guy you punched is Jimmy's cousin. We don't know where Jimmy is, Stella is hiding from us, and you have Jimmy's cah. Lotta questions to be answered here, aren't there?" Her accent was overwrought.

"I guess so. But I don't know anything."

Ginger nodded. "When'd ya see Jimmy last?"

"I met him once, like, a year ago."

"How ya know Stella?"

"She ran for him."

I knew it, thought Ginger. "What'd you get frommah?"

"Coke. She could get anything, though."

"Now, don't be embarrassed to answer this question, 'K? D'ya ever fuck Stella?"

"Lots of times."

She got close enough to whisper in his ear, giving him some privacy from Marcus and kick-starting an erection.

"I've fucked Stella 'lots of times,' too! It's almost like you and I have kinda done it, isn't it?" She parted to gaze into his eyes. All he saw was a sea of green. She went back in close. "But, there's something funny about how Stella likes to do it, isn't there?"

He nodded.

"Tell me. Whispah in my ear." He was almost there. "Come on, I'll tell you a secret first. I'm even better at it than she is! Big boy like you needs a big girl like me. Tell me what Stella did fuh you."

He answered in her ear.

"That's fuckin' hawt! That's what I was thinking that night when I came by! I saw ya lookin' at me. I was looking at you, too. D'ya ever put it in her?"

He nodded.

"D'ya wear a condom?"

"Even for blowjobs."

She laughed. "Any reason?"

"For what?"

"D'ya have drippy dick or somethin'?"

"No. She just had lots of rules."

"That a girl, Stella. You may have just saved her some serious pain, Danny Boy." She pushed off him and dropped the good cop act. "OK. Let's start at the bah that night, from when you saw Tommy Connelly. What happened?"

Dan was confused, bordering on disillusioned. Ginger bared her fangs to push him over the line.

"Trust me, ya fucking dildo, just because I don't want to dig a big hole don't mean ya not getting buried! We'll find Stella one way anutha. You can be alive when we do, or ass up in the ground with a two by four up there. Your choice, pig fuckah."

Marcus laughed at her.

"Stella said you were dangerous," Dan said.

"She's got no idea, baby! So you saw Tommy Connelly in the bah that night. Why'd ya hit him?"

In a three-minute string of simple sentences, Dan told them all that he knew. It was obvious that Stella wasn't trusting him with much, but he was able to confirm many of their suspicions. Stella and Jimmy were looking for Tom and Kate, but not V. The car was out in the open because Dan Sullivan was following stupid orders. Stella never mentioned Marcus and Theo. Dan was supposed to stay away from the Marlborough Street house but knew that they had a green Cherokee and black Town Car. The one concerning piece of information was that he couldn't say much about the capable-seeming "Sean," other than that Stella referred to him as "one of Jimmy's guys."

"Where's Stella now?" Ginger asked.

"I don't know the address. You could walk there."

"From here?"

"Yeah."

"She hidin' from us?"

"I don't think she's left in a few days. Looks like shit. Why'd that guy hit her?"

"He didn't hit her, asshole. I did. But the little shit got away from me. She is trying to steal a lot of money from us. From Jimmy. Didn't tell you that, did she?"

"No."

"'Corse not. What would happen if you were to drop by her place right now? Unannounced."

"I don't know. I go when she calls me."

"So ya just hang out by the girl's apahtment every day and Stella gives you some blow?"

"Yeah."

"Nice work if you can get it. What are you 'uppose ta do' if you see Tawmmy?"

"Call her unless I can get him quietly."

"You gonna hurt him?"

"A little. But Jimmy wants him in one piece. Or Stella..."

Ginger shook her head. "She in a hurry?"

"No. She told me to take my time, make sure I could get him without people paying attention."

Ginger restrained another laugh. How fucked was Stella if she was asking this dummy to do subtle?

"Here's what I don't get. You're fucking stupid. But Sean's a smart kid. Why's he letting Stella order him around?"

"I don't know. He's kind of a dick."

"How so?" Marcus asked.

"He acts like he's smarter than everyone."

"Y'understand why that's funny, right?" Ginger asked.

"You already said it. I'm not smart."

"I'm sure you're lots of other good things, punkin!" Ginger said, nodding again. "Where do you think Sean is right now?"

"I don't know. He just shows up sometimes and waits in the car."

"What else does he do?"

"I only see him when he's at the girl's apartment."

"Wait. Sean Farrell, right? Really tawl and skinny? Bright red hair?"

"No, he's the same size as that Tommy guy."

"What?" she asked. "Who the fucks he tawkin' about?" Marcus didn't know. "We're not tawkin' about the same Sean. Who is this guy?"

"I don't know. His name is Sean."

"Thanks, dipshit. We know that much. But you're not tawkin' about Jimmy's Sean. What else can you tell me about him? What's he look like?"

"I don't know. He's just a normal guy. Dark hair. Always wears a jacket. Like, one of those old ones?"

"How fuckin' hahd ya hit him, man?" she asked Marcus. "Dan! We know Jimmy. We know Stella. We know Tawmmy and his girlfriend. And we know Sean Farrell. No other Seans. Give me something here."

"...I think he's older than me but he looks young. He just looks normal. Uh... He smokes those ni-... Newports."

Ginger and Marcus silently congratulated him on the catch.

"OK. Well, glad it's not our Sean."

Ginger looked to Marcus to see if he had any questions.

"Tell me what happens now, Daniel. You take us to Stella. How do we get her into our car, let you go on your merry way? No two by four."

"Details. Can we pahk near her place? Is it a house? How do we get in the door? Neighbahs?" Ginger added to the inquiry.

"I only know how to get to it by the alley but its got a driveway. It's a shit hole."

Mike Driscoll emerged from his room, bleary-eyed. He didn't acknowledge the almost six-foot blond with the silly grin and dart gun trained on him before he turned his back to her and walked to the bathroom where he peed, farted, and yawned.

Marcus, meanwhile, made it clear to Dan that anything but continuing his train of thought was going to result in bigger problems than he already had.

"Flush, ya fuckin' pig!" Ginger yelled at Mike, the gun now hidden behind her back.

The other meathead looked at her and reflexively sucked in his gut but didn't stow his wiener.

"Eww. Put that little thing away."

"Hey, fuck you, bitch!"

Thup. The dart stuck out of the belly he was restraining, to their mutual fascination. Ginger started counting Mississippi. She got to three.

"...What the fuh...fuh...fuuuck?" Mike asked as he did a half spin and collapsed onto the floor.

Ginger turned to Marcus holding a hand to her mouth which contained what was about to be the single biggest laugh of her adult life. But she hadn't peed in close to eight hours. When a little wetness reminded her of this fact, she ran toward the unflushed toilet. Trying to make it past Driscoll's bulk to the bathroom, however, she tripped and landed on the sofa that was his stomach. His unconscious grunt was what did her in. Ginger pushed her back against the wall, managed to get her jeans and underwear down, and left a puddle that ran down the length of the hallway to the bathroom, convulsing so hard that it left her body in painful spurts.

Minutes later, Ginger tried to rejoin the conversation but then had to excuse herself several times. She retrieved the dart and rolled it up in a few pages of a magazine for safe keeping in her pocket until it could be disposed of properly.

Dan had given Marcus enough information that by the time Ginger was able to get back to work, they were ready to have the young man drive them to Stella's.

"I don't know if I can handle seeing that again! Might kill Stella, though." She regretted not having any of the antagonist.

"Hey, Dan, Stella's phone's still here, isn't it?" Ginger asked.

"In my room."

"Chahged?"

"Yeah, I keep forgetting to give it to her. She's on her regular phone now."

Ginger went into Dan's room. The combination of dirty laundry, sweaty feet, and pee smells almost knocked her over. It was worse than a primate house. At first, she thought that this was no place for Stella. How much was this guy paying her? Then she remembered that the MBA didn't even bother waiting for Tom to clean his ass before she got in there. And Dan didn't strike her as the type to care about a little poop in the bed. Stella and this guy were soul mates. Ginger found both phones and then took Mike's phone and wallet from his dresser.

"Gimme yuh wallet, Dully," Ginger said, pleased with his new nickname. He complied. "Hope you can fuckin' act." Before leaving, she used Mike's arm as a kickstand to prop him up on his side and minimize the chance of his choking to death if he threw up. It seemed like a courtesy. Ginger led Dan and Marcus downstairs and out to the car. "Let's go see if Stella's nose job took!"
Chapter 23: Found Wanting

"You're scaring me, Tom!"

"I'm sorry, Kate. I'm OK. Really."

"No, you are not! Waking up soaked in sweat is not OK!"

Kate stood and walked across the room to close the door. When she returned to Tom, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. As though she had gotten her hands on Ginger's playbook, she bent down to kiss him before starting the interrogation.

"Put your hands on me. Who do you love, baby?"

"You."

"And it's good, isn't it? Feels like we just said goodbye yesterday."

Tom wasn't fool enough to think she had changed topics. "It does."

"And, you gotta admit, lover boy, I'm being pretty cool about chillin' out with the women you've been screwing. The women who owned you!"

"Yes, you're being very cool. You know who I really belong to."

"Me! Yay! And vice versa. Right? I'm the one, Tom!"

He nodded. "You mean that? You're sure?"

"I'm sure! We're tickety-boo, baby. I've been thinking about you, though. You're very good at seeming like it's all fine when it's not. Jack is gone, you were lied to forever, and I don't care what you say, these women hurt you, Tom. Throw in seeing me again and not being sure if we're safe, that's enough for anyone to lose it, baby! But there's something bigger. I'm sorry, you can hold off on telling me about all the sex and stuff but I have to know what you're so afraid of. Now, baby. Please."

"You don't want to know, Kate."

"I'm sure I don't! But one of your masters is out trying to hunt down Stella. There are guns and strategy sessions... You brought me and my sister into something scary, Tom. I'm not mad at you! Nothing could have kept me from being right here. Maybe I would have left Nikki with Edie but I want her where I can see her, too. Ginger earned some big points giving a shit about my sister when no one else does. But Tom, I'm here because I have to be with you. No matter what."

Tom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Kate gave him some space by putting her head next to his.

"It's really horrible."

"There's nothing about you I can't take. You're mine, end of story."

He still wasn't ready, so she pushed harder. "I know Ginger loves you and she's trying to protect you. But she's wrong about this. You don't need to wait to tell me. You need to get it out, Mr. Psychologist. Two nights in a row, Tom. It's poison! It's hurting you!"

"I don't want you to know, Kate."

"That's not how we are, Tom," she said and felt a pang of guilt. "I've got everything I need right here. And so do you. It's time to let your ever-lovin' girlfriend help you." Kate knew he was about to blurt out whatever it was. He'd be terse, matter of fact. She steeled herself so that her reaction wouldn't scare him. "I love you, baby, no matter what." She waited, maybe half a minute.

"I killed someone."

"Oh, God." She squeezed him but kept her face hidden. Kate was a great actor. She could produce tears on a dime. But she couldn't stop them. Not now. The once-future star could, however, introduce comedy once she regained her voice another half-minute later.

"It doesn't change anything!" she said, repeating her first words after he told her about Jack killing his father. When she felt him laugh underneath her, she found the strength to turn toward him and put her lips to his. "Dude, seriously, if you want to hug me, just ask!"

He laughed at the second reference to the defining moment of their relationship. "I'm so sorry, Kate."

"You don't have to be sorry," she said through tears. "Are you safe?"

"From the cops, yes."

"And whoever it was had it coming?"

"I thought he was going to kill Ginger."

"God! No wonder she loves you so much. Now I get it. You're so clutch, Tom."

"Jesus, Kate! How could you be OK with this?"

She thought a moment. "I don't know. But I am. You're still my man. Maybe scarier, but I can handle that. This is related to the Stella situation?"

"Yeah. I just thought she was fucking around outside our circle. You wouldn't think it based on the last few days, but the ladies are serious about safety. I was just looking for a way to get her out of my life. Turned out, she was working for Michael's former friend, the guy I..."

"...There's that modesty I fell in love with. You must have done something right to get a box o' cash, though."

"Accidentally, yeah. Ginger says I'm supposed to tell her story over and over again, relive it. That's what they do at disaster sites. They make people describe what happened out loud, over a megaphone. You sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes. I kind of have to. But, you can wait if you need to."

"It's morbid."

Kate shrugged.

"Tom. My dad's on his way to the pokey. Mom'll get off scot-free, which her own daughter thinks is sickening. The man I love is a character from Rosa Salvaje. We're hiding out with the two most perverted women in Boston. And suddenly, Uve is the most normal person in my life! It's not morbid, it's crazy!"

Only Kate could make Tom laugh as he began telling the story of his first homicide. When he finished, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had no more secrets from her. And fuck if he couldn't see it in her eyes: she did love him even more. Kate was no ordinary woman. Tom was the lucky one.

But Kate was a great actor. While her man had just purged his secrets, she now held onto her second: she was frightened of him and who he would become. For the first time, Kate couldn't imagine that happy little scene they had both dreamed of. But perfect love was just the stuff of fairy tales, however, and, as she told him so long ago, she didn't need it. Kate still had fight in her. If Tom could be saved, she would do it. He was "the one" even if she was scared of, and for, him. The young woman had even decided the other night that if he had some venereal disease, she would share it, as crazy stupid as that was.

"Ginger doesn't need to know that I know yet. But, I've heard the worst parts, right?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't mind hearing the in-betweens that you don't remember. And she's right, baby. No more concussions," Kate said. He agreed. "So, the dream is about pulling the trigger?"

"Yeah. Maybe five seconds real time, seems to take forever though."

"None of the other parts? That cop? Holy shit, Tom!"

"There I think the concussion saved me. I forgot how much danger we were in. And Ginger was right. Since she was sober, we would have had to really mess up for him to want to look in the back."

"So many different ways it could have been the last night of your life." She counted in her head. "Ten days ago. When did the dreams start?"

"When I saw you. In my head, you're just beauty and life. And I feel so disgusting! I'm sorry I mixed you up in all this, Kate. I am. I never saw any of it coming."

"Of course you didn't. I can't imagine how confused you must be right now. How you're keeping it together."

"Not entirely."

"You lose control in the middle of the night. But otherwise, you're just the same old Tom. Well, no! You are different. Ginger says you're 'in touch with your feelings.' You've changed. I can already see it. You talk way more now, and like, about things. And you did it! You loved someone else. I'm proud of you! I love this Tom even more if that's possible. Please, keep telling me the story and everything else and how you feel about it."

"I can do that. God. Everything leads back to Michael Turner! This house we're in, our host, Jack. And that makes me feel angry and powerless. And that's scary."

She smiled. "That a boy. Michael was a horrible person, Tom. You sure didn't think that when you met him, though. And Jacqueline is as hot as you said she was. In a different way than Ginger. But, dude, if one of those women told me it was my job to serve her, I would have been down on all fours, wagging my tail and panting." Tom laughed again. "Seriously, whatever inhibitions our little V had just disappeared as soon as Jacqueline turned it on last night," Kate said, shaking her head. "She's talking now, too, by the way. Like way more, right?"

"Totally. And smiling for extended periods."

"She warmed up to our hosts rathah quickly, I'd say. V not only went down on Jacqueline, but she rode the old strap-on-Tom."

"The Tildo?" he asked, laughing.

"Oh, God. You can tell me that story and how you feel about it."

"OK. It's funny. Coincides with my first waxing. Guess whose tongue was in my mouth when the strips of wax were ripped off my mons pubis and taint?"

Kate laughed.

"I can't wait to see it, by the way! She said she came like three times! She's all loopy this morning. Didn't you notice?" He hadn't. "Don't feel bad about serving them! Wow! Those are some sexy women! I'm still mad at them. Assault is assault, Tom, even if it's done by a woman and you kind of enjoyed it. But, I see where they were coming from. $200,000 in loans goes away if you just let these hot bitches use you for a while? Not unlike my wild summer but a whole lot safer and now you have two close friends," Kate said, gazing into his eyes. "If you could go back and change it all, how far would you go?"

"That night. I guess. But, well, I mean, I lost my brother. But Marvin and Tony were almost brothers. You? V? Fuck! Ginger, Jax, Marcus, Theo, the list just keeps going. Actually, that's everyone," he said and laughed. "But, whatever. My whole life, as awesome as it is, dates back to that night. Michael took everything from me and somehow managed to give me more back."

"He didn't give you anything, Tom! You earned it. I only hate one person more than him. Almost two." Kate realized she just gave him an opening to ask that she had never before, so she quickly covered. "I had a girlfriend in London. Naomi. God, Tom, she turned on me like a pit bull. Such a bitch. I'm still not ready to talk about it. But, whatever. I would never have met you if it wasn't for Michael." She hugged him while thinking about it. "I'm really drawn to Ginger."

"Oh, total backtrack, but your wild summer? Ginger did it for years."

"No way!"

"Yes, way. And, somehow that included working for NYPD."

"Really." That explained how she knew Holly. "You really don't think your relationship with them was abusive?" Kate asked.

"Definitely not with Jax. But, yeah, the first two weeks with Ginger were...shocking. Kinda sick. But after that, I've never felt so connected to someone else. There were no boundaries between us after that."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked as she climbed off and lay down facing him.

"OK, well... The first time I had to wipe her ass, it was like, torture. Two weeks later, it didn't even phase me. Once I got to that point, I never had to do it again. That's how she works."

"That's pretty frickin' gross, baby!"

"Yeah. But it also wasn't. Like, you know I'm not into poop or pee, or anything. Neither is she. But it's so intimate. Like, if you needed it, say you were recovering from surgery, who could you bring into the bathroom with you? V? Me?"

Kate made a "maybe but I don't even want to think about that" face.

"Edie?"

"Yes."

"Nikki?"

"I would hate that, but, yes."

"It was all about bonding us. It made me feel like I was an extension of her. I have no idea how, but it made me love her. Kinda bums me out that I had that level of intimacy with someone other than you. Maybe we need a similar two-week period..."

"Maybe," Kate said. "Tom, the reason I'm being 'so cool' about this is that I was supposed to be gone for another seven months. You have deep relationships with these women, which is great, and not really something I thought you would do. So, I see your point."

"Which is?" he asked.

"That the ends justified the means?" Kate asked. "And, I know you had every reason to think I had moved on. V kept telling me to call you or write you. But I didn't want to keep you from trying. And as much as you love Ginger, you pulled me right into your new world without a second thought. Oh, hey, boy! What did you mean when you said I probably didn't want to 'distract' her so V could get with Jacqueline?"

"Oh, right. Hmm. I wonder if I should tell you this."

"I'm sure you should, Tom!"

"You have to understand that violence and sex are like one and the same for her. And there is no ill will behind it."

"OK..."

"Nikki pissed her off when she made all those 'bi' comments and..."

Kate gasped.

"...No fucking way!" She hit his chest. It hurt, just how it should.

"Yup."

"Holy... That's why Nikki's been such an angel the last two days? Wait, after Terence in the limo?"

"Ginger."

"Oh, my God!"

"You can't tell Nikki you know," Tom said.

"I'm glad you saw the problem there! That's weird, swimming in the same pool as little sis. Did she like it?"

"It went both ways but that doesn't mean Nikki liked it. If Ginger was truly angry—a rare state for her—your sister would have been along for a rough ride."

"Oh, my God. I knew it! Not that Ginger would get on her, but that Nikki was too preoccupied with my being bi. Do you know what happened?" Kate asked.

"She probably woke up to a hand on her throat followed by a blond cooch in her face. I'm sure it was scary." Tom laughed. "Been there!"

"Choking is like, a thing for her, huh?"

"Yeah, a big thing. Not my favorite, but you just have to get used to it. She can be gentle sometimes too, though. The rarest state of all. Softest is after she's gone too far and say, knocked me unconscious. Those are actually the best times, when she decides she needs to be punished."

"Punished?"

"When Ginger's been bad, she needs to be triple penetrated with dildos and my dick. So crazy that she has to keep telling me it's OK, asking me to hurt her some more. She fuckin' loves it."

Kate felt his cock surging to life underneath her.

"Oh, my... Tom! I don't know how I feel about that, getting hard talking about punishing Ginger?"

"I hope you get the chance to! Does it make you mad?"

"A little. Jealous, mostly," Kate said.

"But mad?"

"Yes, you jerk!"

Tom placed her hand on his throat.

"Then take what's yours!"

###

Sean turned the corner banging a fresh pack of Newports on his palm and suddenly stopped in his tracks. Some black guy—same size, minus the fat—was helping Dan to his feet in front of his apartment.

The dude was teasing him, shucking and jiving, while Dan rubbed his jaw. Sean had missed something good. It must be one of the "professionals" Stella mentioned. Then they went up into Dan's building. And—what the fuck?—Ginger came running out of a parked car and followed them. And once again, he was sure she was smiling. He figured she must be a lot of fun.

Sean dialed his phone and started toward the car she had emerged from.

"Hey, they got to Dan before me. Just saw them go up into his apartment." He started unwrapping the cigarettes. "The blond and a black guy. OK... Yeah, I'll sit tight."

Ginger had been in Jimmy's car. Interesting. And did that idiot leave the back window open? No, he didn't. It was neatly broken. Who were these people?

###

Sean smoked three cigarettes waiting for Dan and company to show themselves again. When they did and made for the car, he ducked into the convenience store to wait for them to come down the one-way street. He watched Jimmy's Crown Vic head through the asphalt lagoon that made up the store's parking lot, and then head deeper into Brighton. To Stella's no doubt. Two cigarettes later, Riordan and two of his guys arrived. Sean hopped in the back seat.

"They just headed to Stella's, I think. The black guy roughed ol' Dan up."

"What are we looking at?"

"Ginger and the guy?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. He's big. Big enough to knock Dan on his ass. She's big, too. Stella says they're 'professionals,' whatever that means."

"Are they armed?"

"No idea. I'd want to be! Dan's a fuckin' monster, even with one hand."

###

Ginger dialed.

"Hey, is Tawmmy with you?"

Jacqueline reacted to her accent.

"I'll get him," she said as she covered the phone and yelled upstairs. She asked Ginger, "How'd it go? You OK, honey?"

Ginger briefly explained the situation and now Jacqueline understood the reference to "Tawmmy." He came into the kitchen.

"They have Dan and are heading over to Stella's in Jimmy's car. You're 'Tawmmy,'" she said.

Jacqueline went to the laptop.

"Hey," Tom said, "What's up?"

"Tawmmy. Hey. We're on our way to have a conversation with our little friend."

He chuckled thinking how happy Ginger was to be (over) playing a new character.

"Ask her if they're on Elm Street," Jacqueline whispered.

"OK. Mulito says you're on Elm?" Tom asked.

"Yep," Ginger said. "Listen, Stella's got at least one other guy working for her. Name is Sean. Not Farrell. He's your size, dark hair, smokes Newports. Stella said he's one of Jimmy's guys but we have no idea who he is. BOLO."

Tom laughed again. It was fun to be in a conversation in which that word was used.

"Will do."

"Oh, I'm switching to Stella's phone when I hang up. Mine's on fire and battery is red."

"OK. Where to if you get her?"

"Huh. Not sure," she said. "Hey, where to with the little thief?"

"We'll see how far we get. The hahbah when we're done," Marcus said.

"OK, I heard that. Do me a favor and check in at 1:30 and then on the half hour? Good luck," Tom said, feeling smart.

"Gaught it. We'll give her your regahds," Ginger said and ended the call. She spoke to Marcus again. "What's the plan?"

"He says Stella has to come open the door for us. Anything other than that would set off alarms. Daniel, I want you to put your thinking cap on. How could you get her to open the door without tipping her off?"

Multitasking wasn't easy for the former center.

"Uhh..."

"Remember, buddy: Splinters," Ginger said.

"...I can say I saw you guys."

"Then she's going to worry that you led us right to her."

"Not if I say I saw Tommy and his girlfriend."

"No, because she must know you're out in the open. Same problem. You're easily deceived," Ginger said. "What if you said Sean was doing something wrong?"

"Like what?"

Ginger thought. "...Hassling the roommate, the dark-haired girl?"

"He wouldn't do that."

She looked at Marcus, who was thinking the same thing she was: Dan was the weak link.

"OK... He took Jimmy's car and left you stranded?"

Dan thought about it. "OK."

"Good. All right. We'll have a look and adjust the plan if need be. What about one of the neighbors? Would they let us in?"

"None of them speak Amer-... English, I don't think."

###

Once they saw the situation, Ginger realized how alone Stella must be. This place wasn't fit for human habitation. It was hard to believe they were still in the much-gentrified Brighton. This was not a neighborhood in which the police were called when there was anything but major trouble. The door was locked.

The three-story building had a porch, and enough room for Ginger to stay off to the side and keep it from closing once Stella let Dan in. Even so, and assuming it was like most such buildings in the Boston area, Dan was told to push the button on the edge of the door to prevent it from locking when it closed. If he failed to do so, they would bust it open, grab portable Stella on the stairs, and whisk her out of the building.

Proving once again that brains are not required to be a good actor, Dan followed the plan perfectly. He called Stella from the porch, complained about Sean taking the car, but really had to go to the bathroom. He asked her to hurry.

Stella took her time coming down to the door, though. Once she opened it, Dan pushed past her, did what he was told, and ran up the stairs to hide out in the lavatory.

Ginger gave Stella a ten-count before popping up and looking through the window. All clear. She and Marcus waited until they heard the apartment door close on Stella and Dan before walking up the stairs. Each creaked louder than the last.

There was only one apartment per floor, but it felt as though there were enough bodies in the building to give the Fire Marshal nightmares. Not hearing a chain or deadbolt on Stella's door, they decided to run up the last flight of stairs and kick the door in.

###

"Jimmy's car. You said there's another way to get there?" Riordan asked.

"Yeah, but it's a fuckin' maze back here. It's like half a mile before you can get to the other side of the building with a car," Sean said.

"It's just through that alley?"

"And to the right. The blue one. She's on the top floor."

Riordan handed Sean a Glock 19.

"Be smart. All right, let's go."

With Sean in the lead, the four men approached the building in single file, taking turns running the last 20 feet to the stairs in the open.

###

Marcus kicked the door open. Ginger was right behind him, her dart gun drawn. Poor Stella had just sat down at her laptop when the angry woman was on her. This time, the blond's blow was aimed at Stella's temple. Stella was knocked off her chair and probably a little dumber for the rest of her life. Marcus found Dan, who, whether because he wanted to be thorough or had a case of nerves, was sitting on the toilet with his drawers down.

The Taser aimed at him, he was encouraged to finish the job, pull his pants up, and find a spot on the couch. Unfortunately, this wasn't a quick process for the idiot with the busted hand. Marcus was almost to the end of his rope when Dan finally assumed his proper seat. Once the scene was set, Major Diggs made his way to the window.

Ginger was again in the traitor's face, gun in her gut.

"Oh, Stella, I am so glad to see you."

"Ginger, please! They're going to kill me."

"Who?"

"You know who."

Marcus had his Taser aimed at Dan when he peered outside just in time to see a guy disappear from view on his way onto the porch. Dan sat back and watched, concluding that there wasn't a real firearm in the room.

"We've got company, Ginger," Marcus said.

"Who is it, Stella?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Where's Sean?"

"I don't know."

"Little shit. We'll talk later," Ginger promised and fired a dart into Stella's stomach. She didn't take the time to watch the result but pointed the gun at Dan on the couch.

"Save it," Marcus whispered. "Hey, Fat Boy, put both hands on the table," he said. The Taser in his right hand, Marcus, in one fluid motion, pulled the baton out of his jacket pocket, extended it, and broke the radius and ulna of Dan's good arm, just above the wrist. Then, after Dan screamed, he popped his head out the door to see what he could learn.

###

Sean and company were pleased to find the door unlocked. They looked around at each other, drew their guns, and pushed inside.

"AHHH! You asshole!" screamed Dan from upstairs. "Fucking asshole!"

Marcus's retort was inaudible.

Sean rethought the privilege of being the point man.

###

The call went right to voicemail because Ginger's battery was dead.

"Miss Kelly! It's Chris. Hey, I called a friend, 'cause I haven't thought of that asshole in forever. Your buddy Holly is suspended without pay right now. Not much of a secret, either, for my guy to know about it. They're going to take his badge. There's some good news, huh? George was sad he missed you and says 'hi.' It was great seeing you, beautiful. Keep in touch!"

###

Marcus closed the door and whispered, "At least two, Ginger." Then he spoke into Dan's ear.

"The next shot is to the head unless you start talking. Tell us everything Stella told you when she gave you your assignment. Like you're telling a story out loud. Don't give me a fuckin' reason."

Ginger picked up Stella's body to hold as a shield. Whoever was coming wanted to talk to her, too.

Dan was stoic about his fractures. His voice was strained, maybe up a pitch, but he was thinking as clearly as he ever did.

"...Stella said Jimmy...wanted us to get this guy, Tommy. He's Jimmy's cousin but he broke Stella's nose and his girlfriend is rich... Fuck! So I just sat in the car and waited. But after the first few days, nobody went to the apartment, not even the other girl..."

Marcus poked his head back into the room from behind the door frame.

"Who's apartment?" he asked.

"I don't know... Fuck!" Dan continued to tell the story loud enough for the interlopers to hear. "Stella said he wanted me to get the guy, Thomas. Tommy. So, I just waited. But he never showed up."

###

The four men convened on the last landing that wasn't visible from Stella's apartment. They heard Dan's muffled voice from inside. Riordan signaled that they would rush the door on three. He'd go last, Sean first. He mouthed, "Don't shoot!"

###

"What were you supposed to do if you got the guy?" Marcus asked.

"I don't fuckin' know! Stella said I could break his nose, but he had to be on his feet for Jimmy."

Marcus gestured to Dan, demanding more.

"...I just wanted to work for Jimmy and Stella said if I did a good job I'd get a chance..."

###

Three.

This was the scariest thing he had ever done. Sean couldn't imagine that Ginger would shoot him, but the black guy would. That was just a given if you grew up in South Boston. But Sean needed to graduate from running to real work. And if Jimmy was out of the picture, he'd be starting over from scratch with this crew. It was time to show that he wasn't just the kind of guy who paid attention, but he had guts, too.

He did the last flight of stairs in twos and pushed the unlatched door open. Two of his teammates were on his tail as they burst into the room. Ginger shot Collins right behind Sean but it didn't make any noise. Was it a BB gun?

Marcus appeared right in front of Sean and before he knew what hit him, "Jimmy's guy" got a taste of 50,000 volts. Sean was too preoccupied to notice Collins collapse behind him and Deuce put his hands up.

The racket Sean made with his electric tarantella drew everyone's attention. Ginger had an unfaithful thought about her dart gun. She dropped Stella's body.

Keeping her gun on Deuce, she went to the door, peeked out into the hall, and pushed it to. It no longer latched.

Dan was done being cooperative. Sensing the fragility of the stalemate, he kicked the back of Ginger's knee. It surprised her more than it hurt, but it gave the surrendering Deuce an instant to turn the tables.

"She's down!" he yelled.

Riordan appeared at the door and drew a bead on the blond's head.

"Uh uh uh! Be a shame to put such a thoroughbred down. Why don't you just drop it, darlin'? You, too, my brutha," he said. "You guys hear the one about the nigger and the blond who brought spitballs to a gunfight?"

"Mister... Are you Jimmy Connelly?" Ginger asked, minus the accent. "I don't know what your deal is, but this little bitch tried to steal from us. We don't want any problems with you, we just want her."

"We need to talk to her as well. About Jimmy. And my understanding is that the money is his, not yours."

"What are you talking about? We run a 501c3 non-profit! We support colleges and social service programs. It's old family money. Stella's been working for us for six months, trying to set up some con. We figured it out and got this butt fuck to show us where she was." How long would Dan go before asking questions?

"What's wrong with these two?"

"They both got a dose of elephant tranquilizer. He'll be fine. She'll die if we don't get her the antidote soon."

"Where's this Tom I keep hearing about?"

"He's Jimmy's cousin!" Dan said.

Riordan looked all the way around the room.

"Deuce, help Sean up. Tar Baby, go have a seat on the couch. You too, Ginger, sit your pretty ass down. You. Retard. Don't say another word." He stood before them with his revolver loosely aimed at all three. "Where's Tom?"

Marcus spoke up.

"He's laying low, avoiding this asshole." He gestured to Dan.

"Sir, I'm sure you've heard nothing but lies from Stella," Ginger said. "Tom is just a kid. Stella thinks he's worth a lot of money to our boss. He might be worth some money, I guess. But we just want to go back to our lives and not worry about someone getting kidnapped. It's that simple."

"He broke Stella's nose," Dan said.

Ginger pounded her fist onto the bandaged hand in his lap. He screamed again but settled quickly. Riordan laughed.

"I thought I told you not to talk, son. Blondie, you're my kind of girl."

"Thanks," she said. "I broke Stella's nose."

Sean was now recovered enough to take part in the conversation.

"Where?" he asked.

"Her little hooker hideout in South Boston. We followed her there."

Score one lie for Stella, one truth for Ginger. Sean was ready to buy anything she sold at this point. Riordan was wary.

"What happened after you broke her nose?"

"She ran to the kitchen counter where there was a gun. I saw it in time, gave her a good kick, and ran down the stairs."

"Why'd you shoot her with the...dart gun?" he asked, pointing at Stella with his pistol.

"Yes, a dart gun. Stella already got away from me once. I wasn't taking any chances."

"They knew we were coming up the stairs," Sean said. Riordan continued as though he hadn't heard him.

"She doesn't look so good. You have an antidote?"

"Yeah, she's too small. We've got less than an hour to save her life."

"Correction. You shot her. She dies, it's your problem."

That would still be better than Stella talking to this guy.

"Look, Mister...?"

"Just call me 'sir.'"

"Sir, I don't know what you want from us. Stella told this guy all sorts of bullshit. He gave our friend a concussion, for no reason."

"Tom?"

"Yes. He's also been sitting outside Tom's girlfriend's place, leering at her roommate. All we want to do is go about our business."

"So you don't need Stella. We'll make sure she doesn't bother you anymore. But something tells me your boss will pay the two for you like she would for Tom. Certainly for the both of you. So, I still need to talk to him."

"Tom is just a kid! He's a frickin' summer intern we kept on. That's why Stella wanted him. He should have been easy to get but Numby here can't handle a guy half his size. And yes, fine, our boss would pay for me, too. Stella was just too scared of me. Isn't that right, asshole?"

Dan nodded.

"And it was one million," she said.

"You know, Blondie, I want to believe you. But, someone knows where Jimmy is, and you've made it so I can't talk to the person I think has the answers. Neither you nor Sam here look like philanthropists to me. I wouldn't be surprised if this Tom is also more than you claim."

"His ex-girlfriend is rich! That's all it is. Stella wanted Tom because both our boss and the girlfriend might pay for him. But she's an ex and lives in another country. Marcus and I are contractors. We protect our boss from people like Stella. We're just small potatoes. Hence the non-lethals."

"Hence. Well, I'm going to make up my own mind about this young man!" Riordan took stock of the situation. He had to get Marcus, Ginger, and an unconscious Stella into a car. And if he wanted answers from Stella, and believed the blond, the clock was ticking.

"All right contractors, cooperation is in your best interest. Prison is no place for a woman of your beauty, Ginger. And boy, you won't make it that far, I promise you. Deuce, run down and bring the car around, pop the trunk."

Riordan studied the dart gun.

"How long are they out?"

"Hours."

"How many shots left?"

"Three. I think," she said.

He studied Stella on the floor. "Not looking good for you, Ginger. Stella's hurtin'. Collins is twice her size and I don't think he's waking up anytime soon. If I can't get answers from Stella, your whole non-lethal plan is shot to shit. And then, I'm just going to have to make some assumptions from there."

"You do what you need to but I have to warn you. Stella's not going after this money out of greed. She owes someone, a big fish, and they're not going to share it with you."

Sean had a realization.

"She said that, that the money was 'spoken for.'"

"So what am I going to do?" Riordan asked. "A bigger kid takes my milk money? I'll give it to him if I have to. Maybe I get a finder's fee. I still need answers. Let me have your cell phones, please."

They both hesitated.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Riordan said as he shot Marcus with a dart. "I should have thought of that sooner. No need to cart his black ass around." Ginger watched Marcus slip into unconsciousness and held his shoulder so he didn't pitch forward onto the coffee table. She was alone. "Give me the phones before this starts getting unpleasant."

She dug in Marcus's pockets and then handed both phones to Riordan.

"Your password, pretty lady?"

"Just a slide," Ginger said and started wondering if there was anything obvious that would tell him the phone was Stella's.

"Figured you for an iPhone," he said as he started snooping. "Hmm. It's clean. Who you got in your contacts? Danny? This Danny? I thought you just met."

Did he really not continue to G? "Plan B was just to call him. We met a few weeks ago. Stella went to his house before she went to her little hideout. Danny here might like a good pegging, but he is hetero."

Riordan chuckled. Ginger was saved by Deuce's double tap on the car horn.

"Ginger, give me your boyfriend's wallet, too, and let's get going. Stella's life depends on it. And the keys to Jimmy's car."

She once again reached into Marcus's pocket and produced the requested items. Riordan opened the big man's wallet.

"A contractor, huh? Major Diggs?"

"You should quit while you're ahead, sir," Ginger said. "Stella's not worth all this trouble."

Riordan laughed.

"Yeah, right. OK, Blondie, what do you think? Dart Danny Boy?"

Ginger didn't press on her vague threat. She followed his lead.

"Oh, my God, yes! Wait, wait. Danny, stand up!" she said. He didn't want to. "It's worth it!" she said to Riordan.

"You heard her, up on your feet."

Dan stood, looking pathetic with both his arms held as though in slings. His wrist had doubled in size.

"Gut's worked well for me," she said.

Thup. Riordan fired and then smiled at the delight on Ginger's face as they waited.

"Timberrrr!" she said as Dan went down.

Riordan, Sean, and Ginger shared a laugh.

"Hey, it's going to turn out that we're all friends, so, what do you say you let me collect the darts? Cover my ass? You've got Stella over me, that's enough."

"Sure, go ahead, just don't be stupid."

"Thanks." Ginger crouched and moved all the bodies around to get each dart. "Oh, shit, Stella's awfully cold."

"Your problem. Where's the antidote?"

"Our boss' place."

"Marlborough?"

"Yes."

"And Tom?"

"I don't know."

"I do," Riordan said.

Ginger was impressed that Sean didn't need to be told to grab Stella's laptop. Actually, ANF's laptop, the thief! She kicked herself. That could have been tracked if she had only thought of it months ago.

"You carry Stella, she's your responsibility. Now, let's just hope this summer intern of yours does what he's told," he said.

"That he does," Ginger said. "Which is why he'll stay put." She thought about him. Tom had diagnosed the real threat, she and Sal had dismissed it. Ginger hoped Kate would convince him not to do anything stupid, not to do anything, but she knew her boy better than that.

###

Ginger carried Stella down the stairs like a giant toddler who had fallen asleep on her mother's shoulder.

"Put her in the back. No one's watching. No one who's going to talk," Riordan said. "Just put her on the fucking floor and get in the car, Ginger!" He waited for there to be room on the seat, and then threw Jimmy's car keys to Sean. "Hold up. Take a picture of this on your phone."

He slid into the back seat and without warning jabbed Ginger's nose, and then mouth.

"Give it a minute," he said. "...All right. Say cheese." She turned to the phone/camera and gave her best "fuck you" face. "Bring that to the kid and meet us at Jimmy's. This little comedy is coming to an end."

Ginger kept her mouth shut. This was going nowhere but down. Tom would get sucked in because he was too loyal and dumb not to involve himself. Too dumb to see that rather than taking a chance to have something better, he was going to make his life as meaningless as Ginger's. For nothing. Jacqueline would be fine. She always came out on top. Isn't that how Michael and Mr. Hale set it up? Debits and credits. Toms and Gingers owed, Jacquelines collected. Jimmy was right: Her "partner" was going to get over whatever was lost today. Ginger wouldn't. She'd either be dead or living with Tom's blood on her hands. She'd never really been anything to anyone. She abandoned the people who loved her most years ago. Because that's what she did. Poor Winston would go to his grave thinking that she ran away from him.

Someone was going to die today and the world would just keep spinning. For the first time in her life, Ginger didn't feel like fighting.

###

At 1:35, Tom was concerned that he hadn't heard from Ginger. She was at what he assumed to be Stella's place. But something seemed wrong. He had all the women looking out of every window. There was no sign of anyone watching the house.

Five minutes later, he couldn't sit still. Kate and Jacqueline gave up trying to dissuade him. He went out the back door with his phone in one hand and his eyes on the ground. Tom ran through the alley like a bloodhound, looking everywhere someone might loiter to watch the house. There was a notable increase in the number of cigarette butts at the end of the alley, but they were weird—Gauloises mostly. Right at the corner, though, he saw five Newports. The spot was too isolated for a social smoker and offered a protected view of Jacqueline's cars. He looked around and settled on the far corner of Berkeley and Marlborough as the most likely spot for someone to keep an eye on the front of the house. He jogged to the end of the block, crossed Marlborough, and then Berkeley.

If it came down to it, this Sean was going to tire quickly. There was almost a pack's worth of Newport butts all around the corner, especially under the closest tree. The hair on Tom's neck stood as he took Sean's perspective. He couldn't have seen much more than comings and goings, but knowing that the guy had spent hours watching while they were inside having a sleepover party enraged Tom, but logic still ruled, for the moment.

Tom ran back to the house, used a key to unlock the back door, and went up to the kitchen.

"Jax, that Sean guy has been watching the house. There are piles of Newports everywhere he'd be sneaking around."

"Hmm. Ginger's ten minutes overdue?"

"Yes. Nikki! Come here, kid!" he called.

She appeared in a too-tight t-shirt. Tom fought his biology but it was hard not to sneak a few peeks.

"Hey, look at this. This is Ginger at what I guess must be Stella's. This is her phone, I think she left it in a car. And this is the phone she has on her. Watch all three and let me know if something changes. You mind?"

"Nope. Is Ginger OK?"

"I'm sure. She probably got busy with something and didn't have a chance to check in."

Tom ran upstairs and grabbed the derringer from the women's bedroom. He confirmed that there was still a round in one of the chambers (as Ginger had taught him). It fit neatly in his pocket. He hurried back to the kitchen but met Kate on the first landing.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to figure out why I haven't heard back from Ginger. She's past due to check in."

"Why don't you call her?"

"Huh. Should I?"

"Well, if she has her phone on vibrate, it wouldn't blow her cover!"

"Kate, this is serious. I just found a whole lot of Newports in places around the house. That Sean guy has been spending a lot of time watching us. I don't think Ginger would be careless enough to miss her first check in. But maybe she's just caught up. I don't know. I'll call her after two. Now I just want to convince myself that I'm being paranoid."

"How worried are you?" she asked.

"I didn't want to bring you all back here, at all. Ginger and Sal—the guy who gave me the money—convinced me. It would have sucked to be apart from you any longer, but I'm sure you would have been all right and we'd get through it. They know better than me, though, and they agreed it was safe."

"Is it?" she asked.

"Probably. Just...something doesn't feel right. I can't see how you or Nikki have anything to worry about. Or V."

"Ginger?"

"Kate, she and Marcus are like, superheroes. But they're looking for trouble. So, you know, I'm a little worried."

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his hips.

"Baby, you saved her once. She's a big girl. If she gets in trouble, Marcus is there. She's doing her job. That's what she told me," Kate said. Her hands dropped down to his butt. She patted his back pocket. "Hey! Is that a gun? Wh-..."

"...That guy has been out there stalking us! I'm not letting anyone near you."

"Tom!"

"Ginger's moving!" Nikki yelled from the kitchen.

"Saved by the bell," he said. "I'm not looking for trouble, Kate. Not going to let it find us, either," Tom said as he led her downstairs by the hand. "Come on."

***

They all stared at the screens.

"Fucking delay! Doesn't it look like Ginger's not holding that phone? Could also just be different accuracies... No, look. They're both going downstairs!" he said, pointing to the declining altitude numbers on the Mulito's screen. "Or walking in rectangles."

They kept watching.

"This is confusing," Tom said and then tried to explain it to himself. "...Ginger's phone is headed through that alley toward the other phone. Her scrunchy is, maybe, getting in a car. Is that what we're seeing?" There were tentative nods. "Innocent explanation, someone?"

Jacqueline offered a theory more optimistic than what her gut told her: "Marcus has her phone. He's going to get the car to pick Ginger and Stella up."

V tried to make it work: "Ginger shot Stella with her dart gun and they have to carry her. She is small, no?"

Jacqueline and Tom looked at each other, asking with their eyes if the other thought that was what they were looking at. They didn't.

"Oh, shit. Both of Ginger's phones are in one car, and she's in another," Tom more asked than said. "Wait, could Marcus have Stella in Jimmy's car and Ginger's taking his bike?"

"How did his bike get to Stella's? They were in Jimmy's car together on the way over," Jacqueline said.

Tom lowered the resolution on one and then the other program.

"Two cars making for...Storrow?"

"It's right there," Jacqueline agreed. It was actually over a mile away, but they were both heading toward it.

"OK, I'm calling."

"No. Don't," Kate said, now recognizing the danger. "It's not worth the risk."

Everyone agreed.

"Maybe they're bringing Stella back here," she said.

"The problem with the phone trackers is that they are 'easily removed.' Why would Ginger get rid of her phone? If she was coming here, she'd warn us. Unless they get off, both cars are going to pass within 200 feet of us. What the fuck?" Tom said. "OK. V, go upstairs and watch the front steps, please. Kate, watch the alley from my bathroom. Keep back from the windows. Nikki stay here and yell if they get off Storrow. You'll be able to see my Mulito and Ginger's on the same screen when they're close. From the exit, we'll have like 30 seconds if they're coming here. I'll be in the alley. Jax, can you come down to the basement with me and let me know what happens? They'll be here soon."

"Tom, why would you go outside?" Kate asked.

"They want me, Kate. And they expect me to be inside."

"What are they going to do, break the doors down at two in the afternoon? Someone will call the..." She caught herself. "You still don't need to go outside."

Everyone else had dispersed to their assigned locations. Kate held onto him at the top of the basement stairs.

"This kid Sean worked for Jimmy," Tom said. "Jimmy must have had friends. Stella will tell them who they want to get their hands on. That puts everyone around me in danger. I don't know what's happening, but, if they want me, they're not coming anywhere near you to get me."

"Damn it, Tom."

"I'm sorry, Kate. Please go. It's going to be fine."

"You don't believe that!" she said.

"I'm scared, but I do." Tom squeezed her hand and they parted. He ran downstairs and straight out into the alley. Two minutes after he secreted himself in the enclosure, Jacqueline opened the door a crack and said that the car with the phones was on its way. Ginger's Mulito kept going.

"Keep it locked, Jax. Don't open it unless I tell you to. If I ask, don't. Here are my keys."

Jacqueline disappeared and he ducked.

To Tom's relief, the alley was the right choice of entrances to defend. Jimmy's car pulled up. He could only see a piece of it and not the number of passengers, but he only heard one get out and no voices.
Chapter 24: Unhinged

"I need to speak with Tom."

Sean didn't hear him coming, focused as he was on Jacqueline's muffled voice from inside the basement. With three steps' momentum, Tom kicked Sean's head so that it slammed the heavy metal door.

"Now, Jax, let us in!" Tom said as he dropped into the stairwell and helped Sean stay on his feet.

As the door opened, Tom hooked him by the armpit and drove the guy another three steps into the basement before launching them both so that the Southie punk got sandwiched between Tom's shoulder and the floor. Jacqueline, Sean, and Tom heard the voyeur's clavicle snap. Tom was just getting started. He gripped the warm-up jacket in his left hand and pounded three hard rights into the meaty parts of Jimmy's guy's face.

"Tom! Stop!" Jacqueline yelled. She almost thought to order him to his room as she had from this very spot on the summer solstice. But she wasn't getting through.

"Stop, Tom!" Kate said, running down the stairs. She hit the floor and kept coming, tackling him off Sean and pinning him down just as she had a few hours earlier. "Calm down!"

He was surprised and relented the moment she touched him. V and Nikki appeared on the stairs with matched concern on their faces. There was already a bloody mess on the floor, and on Tom and Kate, and he needed to be stopped.

Tom was torn between the threat to his world just two feet away and the promise of his—now unimaginable—future in his face. She could see him straining with his eyes to get back to the task at hand. And lucky he was because Tom saw Sean slowly reaching for his pocket.

"Off, off, off!" Tom said as he bucked Kate from on top of him and caught Sean once more on the broken nose. He got to the pocket first and pulled the gun out.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tom screamed. He was back on Sean, smacking him above the temple with the butt of the gun. "Stupid. Stupid. Motherfucker!"

"Tom!" Kate grabbed at her boyfriend, who again stopped immediately. "He didn't come here to fight! Turn it down a few notches, Tom Stall! We have to figure out what's going on!"

Tom laughed even though he didn't know the reference. He realized how out-of-control he was. Kate provided him something to grab onto and settle himself.

She continued. "He knows what's going on! About Ginger. Right?"

Nodding, Tom said, "Yeah." Having requested and received basic handgun instruction from Ginger, he ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber. "OK, hold on. Sean, look away." Tom didn't wait for the advice to sink in. With an "all right, have it your way" face, he slammed the butt of the gun into the other collarbone. Sean screamed. Now he was completely neutralized, with no structural support for his upper body. The muscles were going to spasm, but, Sean was in the most comfortable position possible, lying on his back with gravity pulling the broken ends apart.

"OK, sorry. We're good, we're good. No one else in the car?"

"I don't think so. He was driving." Kate looked at him, distrustful of the sudden calm.

"Jax, take this," he said, pulling the little .22 from his back pocket and handing it to her. "Go have a look at the car, please. Make sure it's clean, inspection is up to date, check the gas, all that stuff. Look for any reason it could be pulled over. Ginger and Stella's phones should be in there, too, right?"

Kate nodded.

Tom inspected Sean's Glock but found the "extra" trigger confusing. He guessed it was a safety but Ginger hadn't mentioned that. He debated asking Sean how it worked but thought it best to pretend that he knew what he was doing. Tom did know how to put the loose round back in the magazine and then noted that he had seven shots. He replaced it and stuck the gun in his back pocket, psyched that he did so looking far more cool and confident than he was. The former houseboy took a few calming breaths and tried to get his brain working.

"All right, asshole. Where's Stella now?"

"With us. With Ginger. She's unconscious and you have to bring the antidote or some shit. I was just trying to bring you to her, fucking asshole!"

Jacqueline had already returned with her hands full.

"Where is Ginger right now?" Tom asked her. She dropped the phones and wallets into a pile on the clean part of the floor and ran upstairs to find out. Tom turned back to his prisoner. "Your shitty day is just getting started!"

"Fahk you."

Tom poked his collarbone and smiled at the response he got.

"I got all fucking day, Sean. Scumbag."

"Stella...needs the antidote or...she dies and Ginger goes to prison...cocksucker..."

Tom gave him another jab to the nose.

"Watch your fucking language," Tom said, laughing at his acting job and the kid's attitude.

"...The phone." Sean drooled as he tried to spit blood. He gestured to his other pocket with his eyes. Tom sat up off him and pulled it out. "...The picture."

Tom went to the open applications and, with a sick feeling, expanded the most recent gallery image. Ginger wasn't perfectly pretty anymore. He handed it to Kate.

"We don't care if Stella dies! That'd be fucking great. Ginger's fine as long as I keep you breathing. All this picture tells me is that I don't have to feel bad about beating the crap out of you. Understand?" Tom fiddled with one of the fracture sites. Sean almost pissed himself. "When did Ginger dart Stella?" Kate was watching the dialogue, no longer afraid now that there seemed to be method rather than madness.

"V and Nikki, go upstairs. Now," she said. Jacqueline maneuvered around the two young women to join Tom, Kate, and Sean on the basement floor.

"...After one..."

Tom looked at his watch. That was an hour ago, at least.

"OK, Kate, up in Jax's room, in the bedside table further from the bathroom, there are a bunch of Epi-pens and a pack of Marlboros. It's got darts in it. Could you bring them to me?"

"Uh huh."

"It's going to be all right."

"I know." She ran upstairs and Tom turned his attention back to the punk.

"Sean, my boss here knows who I am, but I'd rather Kate didn't. You're getting off watching her?" He punched Sean in the shoulder eliciting another scream, which he stifled by covering the messenger's mouth. With the broken nose, all that blood, and no arms, this was instantly life or death for Sean. Tom only held it there long enough for him to realize that. He looked to Jacqueline. "Where is Ginger right now?"

"She was down by South Station."

The questions were visible even on Sean's bloody face: How did they know where she was? How did Tom get the drop on him?

"Stella's little 'studio' off Summer Street? What's waiting for me there, Sean? Who?"

With the occasional poke at a sore spot, Sean eventually explained that Riordan and "his guys" were at Jimmy's with Ginger and an unconscious Stella.

"Where's Marcus? Big black guy?"

"I don't know. I never saw him," Sean said and tried to clear another mouthful of blood.

"Liar!" Tom screamed before covering Sean's mouth again.

"Where is Marcus?" Tom wouldn't let him answer the question. He wanted Sean to believe that he was willing to do anything short of killing him. Finally, the reprieve was granted.

"I'm listening."

Sean sucked air. "...Back at Stella's. He got darted, too."

"Ginger shot him? Sean, that doesn't make sense." Tom was looking for something creative...

"...Riordan took her gun and shot him!"

"Who's Riordan?"

"The guy I work for. I didn't even know your girlfriend was here. I was just looking for you."

"Why?"

"...You have to answer some questions."

"About what?"

"Jimmy Connelly."

"Who the fuck? So, I guess you're not trying to steal from us?"

"I don't know what Stella was trying to do. My boss just wanted me to get you."

Tom punched his shoulder again.

"You're full of shit. Did you hit Ginger, you fuck?"

"Riordan did. So you'd know he was serious. You still have to come with me."

Tom laughed as Kate returned.

"Sean, do you think I'm not taking this seriously? The only thing I have to do is not kill you, asshole. Anything happens to Ginger, though, sorry man."

"...I'm just...doing my job. You broke Stella's nose!" Sean said. Despite his condition, he was still trying to assure himself of Ginger's honesty. She had made an impression.

"The hell I did, asshole. I should've snapped her neck! But she got away before we realized what a lying sack of shit she is. Right, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "All this trouble you're in now, Sean, it's all because of Stella," Jacqueline said. "She used you like a fool, honey. She tricked us, too! I'm afraid Tom is right, though, Sean. If anything happens to Ginger you're going to pay right along with Stella. Now, honey, I don't want to see you suffer. Is there anything you can tell us that might prevent that? We're really on the same side here."

"Before you answer that," Tom said as he took hold of Sean by the back of his neck. "We're going to turn you over. Give us something useful and I'll try not to make this the most painful minute of your life. Be a piece of Southie trash and your best bet is passing out."

Sean started hyperventilating. He knew the moment he started getting pushed around, passing out would be a dream.

He waited too long. Tom threw him down on his side. Stella's henchman screamed bloody murder.

"...It's just Riordan and Deuce at Jimmy's. Just two guys, I think!"

"Not good enough. What else?" Tom asked.

"...Riordan thinks Ginger killed Jimmy. I think. I don't know!"

Jacqueline spoke up. "Ginger's in real danger, Sean?"

"Yes."

"Honey, tell me the truth. Are you worth anything to him? Are you a bargaining chip or a pawn?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

Tom and Kate thought a joint, "Oh, shit."

"It's OK, it's going to be OK, Sean. I'm sorry that's true. But you just helped us. You might be all right, Sean." She looked at the pack of cigarettes in Kate's hand. "That for what I think it is, Tom?" Jacqueline asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Sean, anything else to say?"

The voyeur rested his head on the floor. It was less painful that way.

"He thinks he can get money from you."

"You're going to be OK, Sean. Take care of him, Tom."

He gestured for the pack of cigarettes and opened it, revealing six shiny darts. He selected one that Ginger had said contained something like morphine. He spiked it into the floor, let two big drops flow out, and then jabbed it into Sean's exposed trapezius muscle. The punk wailed.

"That'll help. Just wait." The effects were slower due to the intramuscular delivery.

"...Aw, God. Not gonna...kill me...is it?"

"I don't think so," Tom said.

Once he calmed down, took responsible direction from someone who—suddenly, but not surprisingly—knew better, and showed mercy, Kate was right with her boyfriend again. This guy brought a gun into the house, watched her, V, and Nikki like a pervert, and he was on Stella's team. Seeing her man so violent was unsettling, she had only heard about this Tom. But thinking in advance about being decent to the enemy proved that he wasn't out of control. Tom had a job to do. Sean needed to give up information and he did. Kate decided not to dwell on the inappropriateness of her many conflicting feelings.

Sean's pain had gone from a nine to a five in just a few minutes. He was smiling.

"Fahk."

"Ride the dragon, asshole," Tom said. "Jax, what's up with the car?"

"It's fine, Tom. Plenty of gas. There's a toolbox in the trunk. Four phones and two wallets. Let's see... 'Daniel Sullivan' and 'Michael Driscoll.'"

"OK, I guess keep everything here, right? None of it does us any good now. And take a few of the antidote pens. My Mulito is right here." He pointed to the fifth pocket-within-a-pocket on his Levi's.

Sean was awake, but out of it. Tom once again helped him turn over. There was some groaning, but Sean soon settled and appeared to be resting almost comfortably. Tom frisked him, liberated his wallet, and threw it onto the pile. Then he checked the phone out. It didn't take long to determine that Sean was old school with his cell plan.

"He talks with his boss, Riordan, no texts. Should I call this guy and tell him we have Sean?"

Jacqueline included the attentive Kate in the decision-making process with just a look. But the elder decided against it on her own.

"Tom, this young man isn't a fair trade for Ginger. And, you shouldn't give up the element of surprise. They don't know you're coming," she said. "Or that Sean's out of the picture."

"Does it make more sense to leave him here?" Kate asked.

V had crept back into the room, orders to "get upstairs" wisely ignored. Her hand was immediately snatched up by her roommate.

Tom and Jacqueline thought about it, but Kate answered her own question: "No. You want to be able to trade him for Ginger on the spot...if they'll take that deal."

"OK," Tom said. "I'll take a second Epi-pen, leave it with him in the car. Right? The antidote should work on him, too, I think. It won't hurt him but he's going to be in a lot of pain. I don't know if the dart was a good idea."

"Wait," Kate said. "Leave him in whose car? Theirs? You're going to be stuck there, Tom! That's..."

"...You and Ginger need a ride home," Jacqueline said. "Is that why you told me to take an antidote pen, Tom?"

"Didn't really have a reason for that. Sounds smart," he said.

"It was, honey. I'll get Marcus. It's immediate, right? The antidote, Tom?"

"Supposed to be. It's actually an antagonist, which means it doesn't have to metabolize, it just blocks the receptor sites. You can't overdo it, so take two," Tom said. Kate's feelings were now wholly inappropriate even if he was showing off. "Stella is going to be at two hours soon. And she's tiny. We have to clean up and go. Would you get some wet towels, Kate?"

"I've got it," Jacqueline said and went into the bathroom.

"You can't do anything about Stella, time-wise, but, should we send a text?" Kate asked. "Could that buy some time before they're on their guard? Make them think that everything is going according to plan...or even better, maybe, like...'Got Tom and Kate?'" She thought. "Or, would that tip Riordan off if Sean doesn't usually text?"

Jacqueline, having heard everything Kate had said, returned from the bathroom. She started trying to make Sean less of a horror, but he was still bleeding from the nose. V was more successful with Tom.

"She's right about buying time, right Jax? V? I can't think," Tom said.

"You're doing fine, honey," Jacqueline said. "I don't see how it could hurt."

"OK, then send it, please," he said as he handed Kate the phone. Tom helped Sean to his feet and stuck two of the fake Epi-pens in the guy's jacket pocket. Sean was wobbly and mumbling, still a mess.

Kate returned the phone to Tom who was holding Sean by the collar. He locked eyes with her.

"This isn't who I am, Kate."

"I know! You're OK. You've got this." Her voice started strong but began to waver. "Just come back, OK? We have catching up to do."

"It's not going to get much better than this, Tom. You have to go," Jacqueline said.

"We'll just recline his seat," he said. "I am coming back, Kate. I love you."

"I love you more, baby."

They both smiled despite their fear, trying to look strong for each other.

Tom pushed Sean to the door and out into the alley. No one seemed to be around, but lord knew how many eyes were on them. He sat the punk shotgun, felt the gun in his back pocket, and climbed into the driver's seat. Stella was fucked. But maybe that was for the best. Prison for Ginger was scary, but that didn't seem like a real possibility given that no one was in a position to talk to the police. What Stella could say when she was awake, however, was definitely trouble. So, why was he doing this?

Because Ginger would do it for him.

He drove away from what was now, finally, his home—and almost everyone he held dear to him—unable to imagine a scenario in which he didn't make things worse.

###

Once Tom drove off, Kate pushed Jacqueline away and then swung at the woman with an open hand.

"What did you do to him?" she screamed.

"Cálmete, Kate! Stop it!" V said, trying to insert herself without getting her nose broken. Nikki, too, had returned to the basement and immediately jumped into the altercation to restrain her sister.

"You and fucking Ginger ruined him!"

"No!" Jacqueline stood her ground. "He is not ruined! My husband was ruined. Tom is good!"

"You did this to him!" She appeared to be about to take another swing when Jacqueline planted her feet and slapped her, hard. V was surprised, Nikki, terrified of the expected retaliation. But the older woman wasn't backing down.

"You get a grip, young lady! None of us asked for this! Tom is fighting for the people he loves. For all of us. And you, daughter of a felon, join the club! You will welcome him back here with open arms. Am I fucking clear, girl?"

They were all desperate for some order in the confusion, and the eldest provided it. Once Jacqueline got through to Kate, she welcomed her and her attendants with affection. They were all scared. But fear didn't get them anywhere.

"I'm sorry, Jacqueline."

"We're fine, honey. And Tom is not broken. He's still yours but he has to be hard now. Like Ginger. And they need us to be here when they come home."

What started as a mêlée ended with four strong women making their peace and bracing themselves for whatever came next.

"Now," Jacqueline continued, "I am going to see if we can tip the scales in their favor. I owe them that. You just make sure there's something for them to come back to, Kate."

No one resisted her. Even Nikki knew that Jacqueline was past due to stick her own neck out.

"I will come," V said.

Kate looked at her. "No, V!"

"Yes, Kate. Jacqueline is right. We can help them."

"No, honey," the host said. "I'll take care of this."

"It will be easier if I come. There are stairs, no? Marcus will need help," V said. "That is where we are going?"

"Yes, but..." Jacqueline started to say.

"...No 'but.' I will come. Kate, we are doing this."

"V, no sabes todo."

"Sí, lo sé!" V said. "I heard you talking and I figured out the rest. Y qué? Él es mío también, no? Like you always say... Como tú, amor! Now, basta! Sé mujer!"

"No, V, I have to."

"No. You are not allowed to leave. Do you listen?"

"V..."

"Stop it. Jou're not always the boss, Kate. Take care of your seester."

"Fuck, V! I'm not the boss. I'm sorry."

"Then stop being the boss and listen."

"Did you not just see that? This is serious!" Kate said.

"What we're going to do is not a big deal, Kate. And she's right, two is better than one," Jacqueline said. "You are not to step foot out of this house. Right, honey?"

"OK, OK. I'm sorry. It's OK."

"What the fuck, Kate? Relax. Jou are going to eeperventilate!"

On the second attempt, V got Kate to laugh."...I'm fine. Go. Thank you. Cuánto te amo."

"Claro. Y igualmente, mujer. Now, vamos..."

"Wait. Take the last Mulito-thingy so I can watch, please?" Theo had declined it, figuring it might come in handy later.

"You are going to watch me?" V asked.

"God, yes, V!"

"Bueno. Hasta la pronto, marica!"

###

The silent 15-minute trip seemed to take seconds. Tom swung his right arm in a violent arc, connecting with Sean's shoulder. The anesthetized's reaction was unhappy but unsatisfying.

"Don't you nod on me, asshole. I was going to marry that girl, give her a new name."

Sean willed himself forward and threw up into the footwell. Tom saw bright red blood and coffee grounds. Sean was swallowing a lot of blood.

"...Fuckin' loser," Sean said and managed a sickening smile.

Tom turned the corner off Summer Street and put the transmission in park.

"You know, I am losing a lot. All because you and your friends are scumbags."

"There you go." Sean laughed at him.

"Well, hate to tell you, but the joke's on you. You said yourself that you're worthless to this guy. And now you've fucked up," Tom said. A few seconds later, he added, "My girlfriend could kick your ass. Pussy."

In frustration, Tom turned his whole body and wound up to deliver a knockout blow, dislocating the guy's jaw. It looked disgusting but he wasn't complaining. It was Tom's second cheap shot of the day.

"See how that feels when you wake up, asshole." Tom was glad Sean was unconscious, he would have called him on the lack of conviction in his voice.

He self-assessed. Tom didn't have many more "rights" in him. His hand was in slightly better shape than Sean's face, making the gun he wasn't confident he could even fire that much more dangerous. It was a deterrent alone. But that was something.

Tom had to get in there ASAP whether he wanted Stella alive or not. Ginger's life might depend on it. If this all worked out somehow, he couldn't wait to point out that "a woman" needed her "boy" to rescue her. Twice. The beating would be worth it.

He stepped out of the vehicle and ran to where he could see the building. Peeking his head around the corner he saw just one car in the parking lot. There was no one in the windows, but neither was there a chance of getting to the door without being spotted if anyone was even near one.

Tom was shaking from a too-long adrenaline high. But he wasn't scared, not of what was going to happen to him. He was the murderer's brother. Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you, George. And Stella, Jimmy, Sean... The tooth clicked in his mouth.

He doubled back to the car and popped the trunk. The full toolbox presented options. The mini-sledge suited his mood.

###

"Sounds like Sean may have Tom and his girlfriend. How do I respond to a text, Deuce? Oh, you know what? I don't," he said. "This kid of yours, just a harmless intern, huh?"

Ginger shrugged. Not to be underestimated, that's for sure. But that was as true for his toughness as it was for his knuckleheadedness. Just stay home, buddy. Please!

###

"Maybe your intern isn't paid enough," Riordan said. "We're coming up on two hours."

"Maybe your intern isn't excited for you to hear what she has to say since he's been working for her," Ginger said. She was seated on Jimmy's red couch, next to the blood stain Stella had left when she almost went right over it ten days ago. If only they had taken care of her then.

"Yeah," he said. "He's worried." Collins was surprised by Riordan's patience for Ginger.

The source of everyone's troubles lay with her head on Ginger's lap. The blond was doing her best not to show her fear or revulsion. Stella might already be a corpse.

Riordan and Deuce—Doucette, she learned—were content to wait while the clock ran out on Ginger. They were still pretending that she might walk away from this situation for a few million dollars. But, if the older man hadn't seen it all, he'd seen most of it. He knew Ginger had something to do with Jimmy's disappearance.

Riordan's patience was wearing thin. It was looking more and more like this was the cast of the final act, Tom's text was just a stall. How the kid got his hands on Sean's phone was just another question the woman would be made to answer.

"Tell me about Gloucester, Ginger."

"It's nice. Still a thriving center of fishing. Some serious urban problems, though. Lot of heroin up there, I understand. Rockport is really beautiful, right next door. You planning a day trip with the missus?"

"You're very clever, Ginger. You'd rather see her dead than talk, huh?"

"I don't want her to die! I hate her guts but not that much! And I can tell you right now what she's going to say. She was just minding her own business, trying to steal a million dollars from our very generous boss. You know Stella made more than a hundred grand a year? For shit. And still, she had the nerve to try to get more! She must be really scared of whoever that money's for. Something tells me you should be too." Ginger played with Stella's hair. She really didn't want to see her dead, the prospect of it reminding her that despite all the bullshit, they'd had some fun and intimate moments with the little wannabe-boy.

"What she won't say is that she was in love with her boss, or that she was whoring, dealing drugs... But honestly? I'm no fan of Stella's but she'd never hurt someone for real. Too much of a coward. But she's got money. Maybe the question you should be asking is who she paid to do it."

###

"Victoria, you drive," Jacqueline said. "You have a license?"

"Yes, of course."

Jacqueline buckled her seat belt and dialed the first of three handwritten numbers taped to her phone.

"Sal. They have Ginger. Marcus is out of the picture, so is Theo. It's all on Tom right now. We're in trouble, Sal... I don't know... Yes, back to South Boston... Victoria, what was the guy's name? Riordan?"

"Yes, that is it."

"You what, Sal? All of it?...But why?...So, what does that mean?...He will?" Jacqueline grabbed V's hand. "Oh, my God, Sal. Hurry! Yes. Thank you, thank you! OK. Love you, too."

V looked at her. "What happened?" she asked.

"We had some help from outside. It might be OK, Victoria."

Jacqueline made another call.

"Can you get back here, Theo? We need you at the house."

###

"Just bang it into his thigh?" Jacqueline asked.

"Read it," V said.

"I did, honey! 'Safety off. Swing and firmly push the orange tip against outer thigh so it clicks. Hold ten seconds.' He should wake right up. You want me to do it?"

"No, I will go," V said.

"No, we'll both go, of course. Like you said, honey, stairs. But do you want to give him the shot?"

"Yes, a little. Someone has to."

They left the Cherokee in front of the porch and soon encountered their first problem: Somebody had pushed the little button again.

There were no buzzers, so V started knocking loud enough that she wouldn't be ignored. Finally, a man in a filthy t-shirt appeared. V pleaded for help in both English and Spanish. There had been enough commotion in the building today, but two attractive women—who might have been mother and daughter, or even sisters—weren't a threat. He let them in.

They ran upstairs, slowing toward the top, unsure which apartment it was until they saw the open door. Jacqueline and V entered the room and saw three bodies.

"My goodness, this has Ginger written all over it! It's like Jonestown."

"Ay! That's the gross guy!" V said.

"At least she went two for three. Looks like he's done some atoning." Dan's broken hand wasn't visible, but the extra wrist on his left arm was.

They both stepped over the bodies on the floor and stood in front of Marcus.

"I think the only risk is not getting it all in there, so just slam it and hold," Jacqueline said.

V removed the safety and then with a quiet, "Lo siento," stuck Marcus in his thigh. She held it steady for almost 20 seconds.

"Jacqueline, he is very beautiful."

"I know. Poor Ginger tried her hardest. Marcus, honey?" He slowly began to stir. "Hey! You there?" Jacqueline asked.

Two minutes later, he was alert and oriented. It was weird to watch.

"Where's Ginger?" he needed to know.

"Everything is OK for now, but we need your help, Marcus. Can you move?"

"Give me a minute...just a headache... Which one of you gave me the stick?"

"I'm sorry, Marcus," V said.

"Good for you, girl. You're very beautiful, too. That stuff is incredible..."

Marcus was on his feet in three more minutes, and able to drag Collins down the stairs and load him into the Jeep not long after that. Jacqueline took the wheel and told him everything she knew.

###

"Both collarbones? Good for him."

"It was terrifying, honestly. I'm worried that he's out of control, Marcus. And Ginger, she's probably shooting her mouth off."

He was digging around in Collins's pockets.

"Oh, to be a fly on that wall! Thomas is fine, sounds like he knows what we figured out too late. These guys wanted Stella even more than we did and they're not messing around. Took my wallet, damn it, and my keys. But they left this kid's phone. You don't have a gun in the car?" he asked.

"I do. Should have thought about that before I got in the driver's seat," Jacqueline said. She reached into her back pocket and removed the little two-shooter. Keeping it below the window line, Marcus studied it.

"Is this..." he asked.

"...It is, Marcus."

"We should have gotten rid of this. Straight home, please. Don't speed. Any towels in the car? In case he bleeds."

"I'm wearing two shirts," V said.

"Why might he bleed, Marcus?"

"Hopefully not. I'm going to knock his teeth in."

"Is that necessary?" Jacqueline asked.

"This Riordan needs to know the risk he's running, keep him from doing something we'll all regret. Same reason he hit Ginger." Marcus took the bullet out, opened Collins's mouth, and put the metal barrel between his teeth. "Eyes front, Victoria," he said, and then palmed the guy's mouth closed, careful not to get a fingertip bitten off. He should have told them to turn the radio on, too.

"Oh, God!" Jacqueline said. V tried to block it out but it was a sound she would remember for the rest of her life.

"Sorry. No mess, though." He fished inside the guy's mouth and pulled out some of the broken teeth. "OK, boy, smile pretty!" With the toe of his boot, he held Collins's lips apart and snapped a photo. Then he put the gun in his back pocket and started searching through the phone.

"Watch your speed, please," Marcus said. "We'll leave this guy with you as insurance. We'll need to tie him up quickly and get him the antidote. No dead white boys. Then I need a clean gun. And directions."

"You can have my nine-millimeter," Jacqueline said. V looked at her. "Of course I do, honey. I'm a decent shot, too. Does that upset you?"

V shook her head.

"You know what drawer I keep it in, too! Makes sense if you know Ginger," Jacqueline said, trying to distract herself from the fear that was gnawing at her insides. "Marcus, I called Theo back from Gloucester. Was that wise?"

"Sure. How long ago?"

"15 minutes?"

"He's well?" Marcus asked as he rolled Collins's body over on the floor behind the front seats so that gravity would keep him from choking.

"Sounded fine. Sorry. I didn't even think about that, Marcus."

"It's OK. I don't worry about him. Everyone else is good?"

"The kids are all upset, but everyone's fine. Are you going to be OK to drive, Marcus?"

"Getting better by the minute and I've got about 20 before I have to make that call. Still amazed. That was a strange feeling, coming out of that. I had heard it was immediate..." He dialed the first number in Collins's call log. A woman answered and he hung up. The second number went to another woman's voicemail. On the third, Marcus got the commanding voice he was looking for. He mouthed, "I'm coming to get you," as he hung up. He attached the photo before typing a simple text message: "Be smart."

"Victoria, would you get Thomas on the phone, please? Where do you reckon he is?"

"Probably there already," Jacqueline said.
Chapter 25: No Plan, Just Execution

"All right, asshole. You wait here and dream of happier days. I'm going to come back, and if all goes well, you and Mr. Sledgehammer won't get to know each other."

Tom made sure that Sean's seatbelt held him in a somewhat safe position for unconscious vomiting. Whatever was in that old dart was still plenty potent. Sean was leaning forward, the nylon strap across one of the broken collarbones, but feeling no pain. And he didn't even get a full dose, thank God.

He gave the gun a final inspection and realized that the "middle" trigger wasn't complicated, he would just have to pull squarely. That didn't seem safe at all! But he couldn't find anything else that might prevent an accidental discharge. Tom pocketed the gun, closed the door, and put the hammer in his belt. Then he returned to the observation point, the last before he was no longer a secret. Now he had a decision to make: run almost 100 feet in plain view of all the windows or try to be stealthy and creep around the fence, hugging the shadows in broad daylight.

He left Kate to risk his life for Ginger. He would have done the opposite, too. What he couldn't do was stay on the bench, no matter who asked him to. It was nice of Ginger to try so hard to convince him that he had done the right thing by killing Jimmy. It was even nicer that she saved his ass after he set this whole chain of events in motion. But this was Tom's mess to fix.

The phone in his pocket vibrated.

"V?"

"No names," Marcus said. "Where are you now?"

"Right outside the place."

"Can you wait for me?"

"No, St-... Little's way past on the, uh, pen."

"All right, what can you tell me about the site?"

"Umm... The only door I know on the ground is open, like broken. No cover for about 30 yards. Windows look down on a big ass parking lot with one car in it. The neighborhood is dead. Once inside the door, I think it's a flight of stairs up to a big open apartment, like a loft."

"You can see it?"

"Yeah."

"No one around anywhere?"

"Yeah, I mean, I can hear cars on the main road, but it's dead here. Used to be an industrial neighborhood. It's got to be the only residence for a long ways. Must have been a warehouse or factory."

"Boy, think. Can you wait for me? 15 minutes."

"No. I'm not going to be responsible for that. I gotta go. Just hurry, please."

"I'm coming. Slow it down and buy us some time. We have their guy. I'll be there, buddy. Just keep everything going until then."

"OK. Hurry."

Tom killed the line and suppressed the voice screaming in his head. And, did Marcus just call him "buddy?"

###

"Oh, Ginger. I'm looking at a picture of one of my guys, missing his front teeth! Starting to think I don't need to talk to Stella."

"You see that you're the asshole here, right? We don't give a shit about your friend Jimmy! You stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Won't be me, but you're fucked now." She laughed. "For Stella. You should start setting things right with the people you care about."

"Now we're making threats?"

"Wouldn't your day have gone better if you had just left us alone?"

Riordan laughed. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you there, Ginger. But, I did also wake up wondering about one thing, a question that still needs to be answered. And I think you can answer it."

"I don't fucking care who your stupid friend is, or was, or whatever. Stella is all we care about. You can thank her for whatever happens to you."

"We'll see about that. Hopefully, she lives to tell the tale."

"Oh, great. You're so clever, waiting for this fucking thief to start spouting accusations."

"Ginger! What could she possibly accuse you of?"

"Stella probably knows exactly what happened to Jimmy but she won't cop to anything. I've got nothing to worry about. She'll pin it on someone who isn't here to defend themselves. She's lied to me, my boss, that stupid Danny kid, your guy Sean... She's going to burn you, too. In the meantime, here I sit, vaguely threatened by your tone."

Again, Riordan laughed at the beautiful blond with a sense of humor.

"Won't be anything vague about it."

"I don't doubt you, capo! But I'm not the enemy here."

"Let me ask you, though, Ginger. Say you had gotten your hands on Stella. What then?"

"I'm not going to say I wouldn't have slapped her around, but, you don't have to kill a shoplifter! Our boss is a defense attorney. You think this little piece of ass wants to go to prison? You watching the same Netflix I am?"

This time both men laughed.

"That is a lot of money, though," Riordan said. "And then there's that 'big fish' you mentioned. Not a problem for you?"

"Stella betrayed her boss and friend out of fear. She owes someone a million dollars. My boss doesn't owe anyone shit. The point I think you ought to be considering here is that you're involving yourself in an ugly situation with no reason to believe that there's an upside. What kind of finder's fee you think you're going to get for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong? You see how this sucks for me, getting caught up in bullshit because you're as greedy and stupid as she is?"

"Oh, I do, Ginger. I do. But..." Riordan dragged it out. "...I also hear a smart woman scrambling to find an out. One minute threatening, the next trying to make friends. A 'professional,' huh? Well, don't you worry. If your guy shows and Stella lives, I'm not just going to buy whatever she's sellin'. I'm not as stupid as you think, Ginger! Please. Or greedy. But her boyfriend, who I've known for probably as long as you've been alive, disappeared. I have to be thorough. That's what a smart person would do, right?"

"Her boyfriend? You gotta be kidding me. You know what I have in common with Tom, Danny, our boss Jacqueline, and Jimmy? We've all had sex with Stella in the past month. She's a fucking tramp is what she is. Maybe Jimmy found out she was screwing men and women all over town and they had a falling out."

###

"You OK, sweetheart?"

"No, Sal! We got Marcus back and we have a fucking prisoner, Sal! But no word on Tom and Ginger."

"OK. Everything's going to be fine. Riordan was the name. We know who that is. Can you get to him?"

"What do you mean, 'get to him,' Sal? I know where he is."

"Then go there. You'll get a call from overseas."

"Oh, for God's sake, Sal. What?"

"You're going to get a call soon, from Aidan. He'll call all the dogs off."

"Why can't he just call..."

"...You've got the secure line," Sal said. "Hang up with me, put in the second card, and restart the phone. Then, expect his call in about 15 minutes. And get to Ginger."

"And Tom."

"Right. Just get there."

"Fuck, Sal!" Jacqueline said as she hung up. She then called Marcus.

They all stood in the foyer. Except for Collins. He was laid out, still unconscious.

"What, Jacqueline?" Kate asked.

"Hold on. Marcus! Hey. Come back and get me, please. I need to be with you."

Kate couldn't hear the rebuttal.

"No. I have to be there, Marcus. Sal set something up. Just come back and pick me up, honey. I'm sorry. Just do it, please."

Marcus obeyed Sal's secondhand order. Bearing in mind that he was without ID, packing some white lady's gun—a murder weapon, at that—and driving her car, Marcus did legally what would have taken half the time illegally, and turned around. Ten minutes later, Jacqueline was sitting shotgun, holding her phone like an egg.

Collins's head lolled around in the back seat, he was taking longer to come around than Marcus had. His mood was less than agreeable. The zip ties and shattered teeth didn't help. But apart from being angry, he was quiet.

###

Come on, Ammo. Tough, tough!

After a lifetime of suppressing this part of him, it was time for Tom to take the monster for a walk. There'd be regret—already was!—but it would be worse if he didn't help his best friend.

Still, his legs were set in stone. Then inspiration hit him: Jack would have already saved the day.

"I'm sorry, Kate."

Tom sprinted from his hiding spot straight to the entrance, half expecting a hail of bullets that never materialized. He paused at the busted front door and tried to remember what was on the other side, determined to keep moving so that he couldn't give in to fear. And maybe, if he was lucky, he might gain the initiative.

Stairs to the left, door straight ahead, calendar covering a blood stain on the right.

Tom vaguely remembered there being another set of stairs on the far side of the apartment that would have been better for sneaking up on Stella and Jimmy that night. That's where he needed to go now.

Watch the top of stairs, get through quickly.

Tom took a few breaths, got the hammer set in his hand, and prepared to make a single motion past the bottom of the stairs and through to the warehouse floor. But if they were waiting for him, he was about to get shot the moment he went inside. Again he tried to be rational, they need the antidote—antagonist!—they're not going to shoot me. Are they?

He pulled the broken front door open and paused. No gunshots.

One, two...

Three. In one swipe, he knocked the unlocked inner door's knob straight through and followed it. Still no gunshots. It didn't feel like anyone had been at the top of the stairs, either. No voices above. It had been a while since he knew Ginger's Mulito was here—and he hadn't even considered trying his new Hype Music app on 4G—but he knew this was the right place.

Weird. The apartment took up about a third of the rectangular building's volume. It seemed to just sit suspended by the two staircases and a few round steel columns. It was clean and white inside, he remembered. The outside looked like a house with the skin off. Insulation, wiring, plumbing, et cetera were all left exposed to the larger open space of the building.

"Holy shit, that's cool."

He was alone and there were no voices above him. Nothing to do but hurry. Tom ran to the far stairs and checked the door. Unlocked. He opened it and listened.

###

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Here he comes. Tom, I think. By himself. Coming to the front door. With a fuckin' hammer!"

Riordan's eyes said, "Get there." Deuce did, but between checking the window and his own fear of peering down the stairs at a vulnerable target, missed his chance to get Tom under their control before he had smashed through the other door and was standing directly below them.

Riordan, Deuce, and Ginger all looked down at the floor. Ginger bit her lip. No, Tom!

Reading the disappointment on her face, Riordan smiled but didn't say anything. He verified that he could keep his gun on the back of Ginger's head and still hit the front stairs if he had to, so he motioned Deuce to the far staircase.

"Don't say a fucking word, Blondie," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Then he yelled. "Tom! No need for heroics, son. Just come on up here and we'll talk. Ginger is here. We're hoping you have something for Stella."

Everyone waited for some sort of response. There was none. Not that they could hear, anyway.

"Come on, Tom, we know you're here. Ginger needs you to come up and have a talk with us. We're all armed. This is the only way, son."

Ginger sighed.

"This has nothing to do with him. Please. Just let him go. I'll answer for Stella."

"Oh, but Ginger, I'm dying to meet this young man you're protecting. The one Stella went to such great lengths to find."

"That's 'cause she's a coward! Like Danny said. She wanted him because she was too scared to come after me."

"Right! But, here we are, and Tom has somehow managed to lose Sean and knew right where to go! Riding to your rescue!"

"I told him where I followed Stella and your guy was supposed to bring him here. He's just a dumb kid who probably thinks he's saving the day. Please. Don't hurt him."

"You care, Ginger. Tom! Stop fucking around and get up here!"

Still no response from downstairs. Riordan put the gun to the back of Ginger's head.

"Call him."

"Tom, come on up, buddy. It's OK."

Deuce was surprised when Tom immediately poked his gun out of the doorway. He had ascended the steps without a sound. But it didn't matter.

"Right here, buddy," Deuce said, his gun aimed at the would-be rescuer's temple.

Tom stepped into the room, holding the hammer in his left hand, the gun in the right. Ginger chuckled and shook her head.

"OK, easy does it, my young friend," Riordan said. "We just want to have a conversation. Why don't you put the gun down? And the ha-" He chuckled, too. "...The hammer, too. On the floor right there. No need for weapons."

"Well, why don't you put yours down? You know, keep it friendly?" Tom asked.

"So you don't do anything stupid. You have what we need?"

Tom put both his gun and hammer on the floor.

"Yeah, I have it. I'm sorry, Ginger."

"Buddy, come on! Don't worry about it. These guys are assholes."

Everyone but Tom laughed.

"Come on, Tom. We're fine here. Just give her what she needs and have a seat. Here." Riordan pointed with his gun, next to Ginger. It was where Tom wanted to be, anyway.

"I... I've got it right here. In my pocket." His voice cracked under the pressure.

"It's all right, Tom. You're fine. Just bring it to me and calm down," Ginger said. "It's OK."

Tom followed his master's voice. He handed her the auto-injector.

"Thanks, man. You didn't have to go all that way for this bitch!"

Scared shitless, Tom laughed. He realized that Ginger was, once again, in "cracking jokes because the game is over" mode.

Ginger re-read the instructions just to be careful, and, then with a "Let's see how lucky little Stella is," banged the shot into her thigh.

"Deuce, watch the window. Darkie has Collins, don't forget. Apparently, they all know where to go."

After half a minute, Stella mumbled and moved.

"Well, Ginger! You're as lucky as she is!" Riordan said. "She just wakes up?"

"Should be quick."

"Ah right, like that stuff the cops have for junkies."

"Exactly. Come on, Stella. Wake up, girl!" Ginger said.

"Tom, where is Sean?" Riordan asked.

He laughed. "

"I beat him unconscious! He's going to need a hospital. You as much of a pussy as he is?"

Ginger shot Tom a look.

Riordan slammed the barrel of his gun into Tom's head.

"Fuckin' tough guy, huh?"

"You punch Ginger?" Tom asked. "Send some pervert to spy on my girlfriend? I should've fucking killed him!" Tom was indignant, too jacked up to catch her vibe.

"Stella! Wake up!" Ginger said. "She's here!" Come on, Tom, get yourself out of this.

"Stella! So glad you could join us! Can you hear me?" Riordan said.

"Hey, Stell. You're here with me and everything's OK, girl."

###

"Just get there. They're not going to hurt me, Marcus," Jacqueline said, staring at her phone, willing it to ring.

Marcus didn't need to reiterate that he was doing his best. Jacqueline was just nervous. But traffic was light. It was only a matter of distance and red lights at this point.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

Jacqueline pressed her hand on Marcus's shoulder.

###

She looked confused but was coming around.

"Hey, Stella! Sean is bleeding internally. Throwing up blood last I knew. For you," Tom said.

"Tom! Calm down!" Ginger said. He jumped and settled. Deuce smirked at how quickly he obeyed.

"...What's going on?" Stella asked, sounding like an American again.

"All your friends are here. We've been..." Riordan said.

"...These aren't my friends. He killed Jimmy!" Stella pointed at Tom, who looked surprised. So did Riordan.

"That's what you start with?" Ginger asked.

"What the fuck, Stella?" Tom asked.

Ginger said, "Hold on there, Stella. It is Stella, right? Didn't you just get caught trying to steal from us? Where's your accent? Or is that just another lie?"

"I'll ask the questions, Ginger," Riordan said. "Please, Stella, continue. Tell me what happened to Jimmy."

"She came in here trying to kill me. But Jimmy caught her. We were going to send her back to Jacqueline with an ultimatum and Thomas shot him in the back, right in front of me." Her tears were real.

"So you've been hiding out, trying to get Sean and your friend Dan...er, Danny, to do what exactly?" Riordan asked.

"To catch Thomas."

"And do what with him, Stella?"

"Make him pay for what he did to Jimmy."

"But you told everyone that Jimmy was alive."

"I had to carry out our plans by myself."

"Where is Jimmy?" he asked.

"You sure are running scared, Stella," Ginger said. "This place smells like a public pool. Tom kills your boyfriend and you clean up the mess? Who's the money for?"

"Please. I'm not going to ask you again, Ginger," Riordan said. "Stella, let's have some details. You and Jimmy were working these people for some money?"

"Yes. I gave him information, but he just asked the woman—Jacqueline—for it."

"So?"

"So, Thomas stalked me. Then Ginger showed up here and tried to kill me."

"But Jimmy 'caught her?'"

"Yes."

"And Tom here, he just walks in and shoots Jimmy in the back?"

"Yes."

"How dare you?" Ginger asked quietly.

"This kid, Tom, sneaks up on Jimmy Connelly, in his home, and shoots him in the back? Right there?"

"Yes!"

"Where were you? Where was Ginger?"

"I was standing next to Jimmy. Over there. We were talking to Ginger."

"Just a friendly conversation. No furniture over there. And I see blood here on the couch. Just a chat?"

"Ginger did this to my nose. Jimmy had her tied up."

"Oh! So, when you told Sean that Tom here broke your nose at their place, that was a lie?"

"Sean wouldn't listen to me if he knew Jimmy was dead."

"She's not even a good liar!" Ginger said.

"No, she isn't. So, you and Jimmy were having a not-so-friendly conversation with Ginger over there. Where was Tom?"

"I don't know. He came out of nowhere and just shot Jimmy."

"But not you. You were right next to Jimmy?"

"I ran."

"Ginger, your version, please?"

"I came in through that door, saw her in her little lingerie—shopping at the American Girl Doll store again, Stella?—I broke her nose, and then she ran to the kitchen. I chased her and knocked her down before she could get the gun and then I ran out the door before I got shot. Tom had a concussion and stitches in the back of his head from her guy, Danny. See?" Ginger pointed out the healed wound on the back of Tom's skull. It was angry and inflamed after having a gun jammed into it. "He was passed out at home. Oh, she paid Danny with cocaine, by the way."

"Tom?" Riordan asked. "You ever been here before?"

"Nope."

"But you knew how to find it, somehow."

"You have one of our phones. We can find them anywhere in town. That's how we knew Stella was screwing around. I just thought she was a hooker."

"What business is that of yours?" Riordan asked.

"We all fooled around. I needed to know I wasn't going to catch something from her. Stella you better fucking hope..."

"And you never met Jimmy?"

"Who the fuck is Jimmy?"

"Thomas is lying," Stella said. "He met Jimmy twice and he's been here before."

"'Thomas' is lying.' You're right, Stella," Ginger said. "We came down here to shit Southie and murdered your secret boyfriend—who we knew nothing about—but not you, who we caught trying to steal from us. Do you hear yourself?"

"Look at Ginger's wrists!" Stella said.

"Oh, for...here. Look at my wrists."

"What for, Stella?" Riordan asked.

"Jimmy had her in handcuffs from that beam over there. She was hanging by them."

"I'm sure you have an alternate explanation. Those are cuff marks."

"Sometimes I let Romeo here fuck me while handcuffed. You can probably find marks on his wrists, too. But those would be from Stella."

"Oh, now just a minute. You and the summer intern are an item? Not you and the black guy?"

"I told you like four different people who have fucked Stella recently. Not the black guy, he's just a colleague. That's what this comes down to for you, Stella? You hate Tom so much that you're accusing him of murder? Did you do Jimmy in the ass like you do Danny?"

Riordan looked surprised.

"That's just what she sounded like when Jimmy was questioning her. He thought she was vulgar."

"'He thought she was vulgar.' Shut the fuck up, alien. You fuck guys in the ass for money! Either you were lying to your boyfriend or he's no one to judge vulgar. What are you so mad about? Do you really think you had a future with Jacqueline after you stole her money? And, seriously, pick a fucking accent!"

"What about that?" Riordan asked. "I heard you recently became Irish."

"For Christ... I am Irish. I was sent here to help Jimmy get this money."

"Unbelievable. Who sent ya, Stell?" Ginger asked.

"I'm a soldier."

"HA! You're a stain in a soldier's underwear! Who the fuck are you kidding? They kill soldiers, that's not what they call themselves. You're delusional," Ginger said.

"I had a job to complete, regardless of what happened to Jimmy. Thomas killed him and everything fell apart."

"Stella, you are such an asshole!" Ginger said and turned to Riordan. "If your friend was involved in this nonsense, he should be ashamed of himself. Jacqueline would have given her the money!" She turned back to Stella. "She has the money, you know that. But all you know how to do is lie. You're a soldier? Bullshit. You're a fucking idiot who probably offed her boyfriend having choke sex."

"Fuck you, Ginger. Your damn right we tried to take Jimmy's money back from Jacqueline! Ginger is Jacqueline's bodyguard and girlfriend. Tom is just their pet. He killed Jimmy because he thought it would impress her."

"What?" Tom asked, like it was funny.

"The fact that he never fuckin' strangled you is pretty impressive. Do you hate him because he's the one who figured you out or because he started getting more attention than you?"

"That's enough," Riordan said. "The fuck is the matter with all of you? Time for the lightning round. Jimmy, God rest his soul, is dead. One of you two killed him. And I only need one of you to get the money. I'll wait and see if Stella's telling the truth about this 'big fish' you mentioned and are now trying to deny, Ginger. Someone has to answer for Jimmy. Over here on this side of the couch. Who's it gonna be, kiddos?"

Tom and Ginger froze in place.

"Move it. Now! Or this is going to get even more unpleasant," Riordan said. Slowly, they rose to their feet, Tom searching Ginger's face for some sign that he was misunderstanding what was about to happen. How could they have already missed their last chance? "Down on your knees."

"No... No, no, no, no! What are you doing? This is crazy, no!" Ginger turned to Riordan, and the rest of the room, pleading her case. "We didn't kill anyone! You can't just shoot us for no reason! You don't even know that the guy is dead!"

"I'm only going to kill one of you. Because Jimmy is dead. And he is buried in Gloucester, isn't he, Ginger?"

###

"Mrs. Turner?"

"Yes." The accent was real, the call clear. "Jacqueline, please."

"Jacqueline, I'm an old friend of Michael's. I'm sorry we've never met."

"I'm sorry, I'm not much in the mood for pleasantries."

"Is that right?"

"We're trying to keep from losing people who are very dear to me! Good people who..."

"...OK, everything is going to be fine. Where are you now?"

"Two city miles from where we need to be. Don't you know people?"

"It's OK, darlin'. You just put me on the phone with whoever it is, I'll straighten everything out. Jacqueline, I owe you an apology."

"I don't need that! I need you to help us!"

"I will. Do you know where you're going?"

"Yes. I'm with a friend and we have one of Riordan's men with us."

"Ahh, that is helpful. You're with a friend?"

"Yes."

"A friend of Michael's?"

"Yes!"

"Then you are fine. As I was saying, I owe you an apology. Jimmy was out of line. He wasn't to bother you and he knew it. Michael was a great help to us and he ended our partnership honorably. He was a good man, Jacqueline."

"He was." She broke down. "Hurry, please!"

"You sound like you're in the thick of it. Just relax. It's going to be fine. Stella was instrumental in this?"

"Yes, she tried to steal from us. I would have given her the money!"

"I know you would. But things have gotten complicated, have they not?"

"Please..."

"...Aidan."

"Please, Aidan. I don't... They tried to steal from us and my people thought they caught her. We didn't mean for you to get involved!"

"It's going to be all right! We've no problems, Jacqueline. We're greatly indebted to you and I want to help. Just put me on the line with this Riordan and I'll handle the rest. Until then, may I please speak with the man who works for him?"

"He might have a hard time speaking, he's...had some dental work done. And he's cuffed."

"Michael's wife indeed! Hold the phone for him, love. He doesn't need to speak, just listen."

###

"Please, you can't do this!"

"I can and I will, pretty lady. I'm tired of being lied to. One of you killed Jimmy. It put Stella into a bad position and you're right, she's no soldier. No benefit for her to have Jimmy dead."

"Please, just let Tom go! He has nothing to do with this."

"To do with what, Ginger?"

"We didn't kill your friend! I've done some bad shit in my life but I never crossed anyone who didn't deserve it. But, Tom is completely innocent! He's a kid!"

"Once again, I'd like to believe you but you did your best to keep me from talking to Stella. And this harmless summer intern claims to have beaten Sean. And when you're in trouble, he comes rushing to your rescue."

"Because he didn't think someone was going to die! This was just about money!"

"No. You knew what Stella was going to say. You handed me her phone and tried to pretend it was yours. You're a liar, too. You're covering for him. He saved your life that night, didn't he? And now you owe him. Honorable, but misguided."

"Come on, dude! I just graduated from college!" Tom said.

"I'm not covering for him! We didn't kill Jimmy! Stella! Don't let him do this! Not on a lie! You can still get your money!" Ginger said.

"No more protecting your little pet, Ginger. He killed Jimmy. We both saw it!"

"She's lying!" Ginger said.

"I can tell that you care about each other. It's time to 'start setting things straight' between you," Riordan said.

Ginger grabbed Tom's hand. The room was silent except for her quiet sobbing and his hyperventilating.

"...She loves you more. And so do I. You're so good, baby!"

"Fuck! Don't call me baby!"

"You didn't give me a chance to say goodbye to Jimmy, Thomas!"

"Show some fucking respect, Stella," Riordan said.

"I'm so sorry, Tom!"

"Don't be. I love you, Ginger. Take care of her." He trailed off into tears. "She really likes you."

"Please!" Ginger said. "It has to be me! Tom's never hurt anyone."

He was hard to understand. "Tell Jax you love her, Ginger. It's OK, you tried."

"NO! Don't do this! Please don't hurt him! He's good, he's good. Please!" She hung her head. "Kill me. Kill me, you fucking cocksucker! You better! 'Cause I will murder every last one of you."

Deuce was trying to keep his attention anywhere but on the pathetic scene before him. He had been rooting for them the whole time. Stella was the liar. Ginger and Tom at least had the guts to fight for each other.

"What the fuck? Is that Sean?" he asked. All attention shifted to him. "It's like the fucking Walking Dead!"

Riordan went to the window. Sean was shuffling across the parking lot, covered in blood and vomit, his jaw hanging open to the side. The gangster returned, jabbing his pistol into the back of Tom's head again.

"College kid, my ass!"

"You're such a big man, fuckin' pussy," Ginger said.

Tom squeezed her hand, sucked a last deep breath of life, and lost control of his bladder.

"Oh, God..."

"...Oh, SHIT! Hold up!" yelled Deuce.

###

Marcus turned into the parking lot and headed straight to the front door. As he passed Sean staggering across the pavement, he opened his door and knocked him to the ground, laughing as he did so.

"Oh, God!" Jacqueline said for a second time, "We're here!"

"So am I, Jacqueline. Give the phone to Riordan."

She didn't wait for her driver. Jacqueline went straight to the front door and headed up the stairs to where she saw Deuce with a pistol trained on her.

"Put that gun down, boy!" the widow said. He obeyed reflexively and tried to give her a wider berth as she pushed past him into the large room. "You're Riordan?"

"Fuckin' Deuce. You must be Jacqueline."

"Talk!" she said, pushing the phone into his hands. Her bravado put him on his heels. He accepted the phone.

"Yes?"

Marcus entered the room pushing an unbound Collins.

"Ginger, Tom, get up! We're going home," Jacqueline said. "You too, Stella."

Riordan continued answering in the affirmative.

The two condemned got to their feet, shaking. Both had peed.

"Come on, it's all right. We're going home," Jacqueline said.

"Two of my guys have to go to the hospital!"

Marcus interrupted, saying "Give me the phone, please. Thank you," loud enough that everyone on either side of the Atlantic could hear it.

Collins, who had reached a hand for Deuce's gun when he was released into the room, never once opened his mouth.

As soon as Marcus had the woman's phone in hand, he ended the call and walked away, following a procession led by Jacqueline. They were rushing out of the room. Stella hoped she heard correctly and hopped over the couch after them.

They all heard the gunshot as they gathered around the car. Tom and Ginger startled, still trying to come to terms with their narrow escape. He stared at Sean's broken body on the asphalt. It was disgusting. An animal in that condition would have been put down. Jacqueline pushed Tom into the backseat.

Ginger had regained some of her sense.

"Put Stella in the way back," she said, opening the passenger side door and climbing into the front seat. She fastened her belt and waited for the trip to get underway as though it were a normal day.

Marcus opened the back gate and, with a smile, gestured for Stella to climb in. They both knew the significance of Ginger's command.

Deuce came running outside, white as a ghost. He went right the driver's side and gave Marcus the confiscated phones, identifications, Stella's laptop, and even Ginger's dart gun. Before going to Sean's side, he did something strange: he thanked Jacqueline and called her "ma'am."

"Thank you!" Ginger said, fondling her gun like Gollum.

Everyone on board, Marcus did a reverse K-turn and made for Summer Street.

"Stow it, Ginger."

###

The car was silent as they headed back into town. Jacqueline reached a hand up to her partner's shoulder.

"NOOO!" she screamed, thrusting her body forward and away from the contact. Ginger sobbed a few times and then went into full tantrum, pounding the dashboard with her fists and crying. Perhaps because she heard Tom sniffle, her attention shifted and she reached back to manically stroke his knee, which was all she could easily reach.

"I'm OK, Ginger!" he said, reaching for her hand. Tom was so OK that he had just taken another leak.

"Tom!" she repeated.

"I'm OK. We're OK!"

"Oh, God, Tom!"

Jacqueline waited several painful minutes as her lover—the most unflappable person she knew—came undone.

"Ginger and Tom, everything is OK, everyone is safe," she said.

The car reeked of urine. Tom had pity and took Jacqueline's hand in his and held tight. She looked at it, swollen and bloodied, and noted that he was still trying to help the couple.

"Jacqueline, I'm driving straight to the other house," Marcus said.

She knew why. Tom and Ginger were in no shape to be around other people. It would be an unpopular move, but it was the most compassionate thing to do.

"Thank you, Marcus."

The trip was long. Long enough for both Tom and Ginger to begin to unwind. She had to focus her anger first.

"Can you hear me, Stella?"

"I'm sorry, Ginger," came the muffled voice from the rear compartment.

"Not like you're gonna be," she said. "And if I ever hear you sound like an American again, I will beat you to death." Ginger changed gears. "Jacqueline, did you let them know we're all right?"

"Oh, my goodness. No, I completely forgot," she said but stopped herself before adding "honey" and pulled up the number.

"Tell Kate and V that I peed my pants twice today."

It took a moment, but soon (almost) the entire car was laughing.

"Me too," Tom chimed in, "I'm sorry!"

"It's OK, honey. You're OK. We're going home." Jacqueline did her best to comfort him. And herself. She held his hot, shaking hand with both of hers and hoped everyone would ignore her tears.
Chapter 26: Getting Away From It All

"Ginger, you're sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I figured out why I haven't been able to move on."

"Please forgive me, Ginger!"

"Your father...killed my mother."

Jacqueline gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"He had to have. Right?"

"He did, Ginger, I know it."

"How could I have been so... He knew me, Jacqueline!"

"I'm so sorry, Ginger!"

"You have to go. Please, just go."

Jacqueline's knees almost gave out. She had felt on the verge of losing Ginger for weeks. Now it was happening after she had nearly lost her for real.

"Please, Ginger! I love you!"

"Just go!"

"We're gonna be fine, Jax," Tom said. "Take care of the girls. We'll be there before you know it."

The older woman resisted the urge to tell her partner that she loved her one more time and went out to Marcus waiting in the car with tears streaming down her face.

"Holy shit, Ginger! Really? Are you OK?" Tom asked.

"It just hit me. I should've thanked Riordan. I'm fine. Really."

"Are you sure? How could you be?"

"I don't know. I feel like I've always kinda known it. I'm OK, boy. You?"

"Actually, amped up. That won't last. How about your face?"

"Fine. Totally forgot about it." She wrinkled her nose, which only hurt a little.

"You don't have to look at it," he said.

"I'll clean right up. Ass."

"I'm still shaking, Ginger."

"Me too. Coincidence that the only clean clothes up here are mine? I swear you set it up that way."

He laughed. "All part of my plan! Step One is getting us out of the pants we wet. Plans with Master don't usually require a Step Two."

"Usually, no, but Kitty is hibernating. Plus, you're spoken for. Wanna get drunk?"

"Exceedingly," Tom said.

"Yeah, no shit. We're allowed! You have cash on you?"

"I do!"

"My boy! We'll see if we can get the pizza guy to pick us up a 12-pack."

"F that! I've got $167 of your money and you promised me we'd do another seafood dinner," Tom said.

Ginger cocked her head and smiled at him.

"I suppose you are proud of yourself."

"Enough to bust my conch tearing apart lobsters on the deck!"

###

Jacqueline recovered. Though still frightened and sad, Ginger's realization had been expected and the matriarch of this family wasn't going to let Stella, who was now in the back seat opposite Tom's wet spot, see weakness.

"I don't know how this works, Stella. I could strangle you. You know I would have given you the money if you had just asked me?"

"That's what Ginger said."

"Well, we can't change the past, but you hurt us all. Tom and Ginger. How you were going to sit there and watch them get killed over fucking money that you were going to steal..."

"I was doing what I had to. Ginger nearly killed me with that tranquilizer. I didn't want them to die. I didn't want Jimmy to die, either. I had to watch that, though."

"He got exactly what he deserved, Stella. And Ginger is right, they should have gotten rid of you at the same time."

"They should have."

"We're not going to kill you or even hurt you, Stella. Well, I'm sure Ginger will find a way, but you'll live. I paid the money. You understand that? How sick that and your accent make me, Stella? Now, my new friend Aidan owes me a favor. That's how you got out of there alive."

"You gave Aidan the money, Jacqueline?"

"Even your life is worth a million dollars, Stella."

"Not two?"

"Excuse me, you ungrateful bitch?"

"I'm sorry. Jimmy spoke of two million dollars we were to get."

"The other million was to finance his disappearance, obviously. Did you think you were going with him?" With a smile, Jacqueline turned to look at the young woman.

"I was."

"Then you're as much a fool as a liar, Stella. I suppose you loved him and his dye job and phony accent?"

"Yes."

"Unbelievable. What's your story, Stella? Were you really whoring? We didn't think you cared much for men."

"No. Ginger asked me the same question. There was nothing unsafe, except Jimmy and I were unprotected."

"Oh, great, a gentleman like Jimmy. You stupid girl! Well, you'll be tested. Now, humor me here, Stella. Why don't you like Tom? He couldn't have been nicer to you."

"I didn't hate him until he killed Jimmy."

"Stop fucking lying to me, Stella. You never liked him. What was it? Were you jealous? Is Ginger right?"

"Jacqueline, I..."

"...No more secrets, bitch. Amuse me! You were scamming us the whole time, but you did seem like a happy girl when it was just the three of us. Did we pay too much attention to him, Stella?"

"I didn't think a man should ever act like he did. It was disgraceful."

"Oh, my God, Stella! Who are you to judge? You conned me, sexually assaulted him... Let's see, what else? Drug dealing, prostitution... Ginger would add 'impersonating an American.' Stella, you are one of the most disgusting people I have ever met, and I was a defense attorney! And don't even get me started on your Gaelic jihadist pals. I've underwritten their evil to save your life. Does that seem like a good deal to you, Stella?"

"You wanted the truth."

"I did," Jacqueline said. "Something you know little of." She sighed. "All right, Stella, here's your new situation as I see it now. You will continue working for me and then train your replacement. But you belong to me now, Stella. In every way. I loved you. I let you into my home, my business, my bed! I feel nothing for you now. And that's how you'll be treated, like nothing. Do you have enough money to pay your October bills?"

"Yes."

"I figured. You are really an MBA, right?"

"I am."

"Like I'll ever believe another word out of your mouth, Stella," Jacqueline said. "You will turn all your accounts, identifications, passwords, et cetera over to me. You no longer make decisions about your life. Do you understand me, Stella?"

She nodded.

"Tighten that little belt, girl. You're property!" Jacqueline said as she passed the confederate's Galaxy S back to her. "Here, Stella, I'll trade you. You will keep this on you at all times, Stella. I'm not kidding. You're going to want to run, I know. But the minute I can't find you, it will be a race between Aidan and Ginger."

Marcus cleared his throat.

"And Marcus. Sorry, honey," Jacqueline said and put a hand on his. "Aidan, by the way, called you a traitor, Stella. He assured me that he'll be keeping an eye on your family," she continued. "Sorry, Da!"

Now the big man smiled.

"Her father is already in prison, isn't that right, Stella?"

"Yes."

"Oh, did you notice your friend Sean, Stella?" Jacqueline continued. "Hmm? Tom did that! It was hard to watch, honey. He nearly killed that boy! I would not want to be the cause of all that anger, especially after some of the sick things I understand you did to him. Disgusting, Stella. You are going to have to come to some peace with both Tom and Ginger. Good luck!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And good thinking. But that will be, "mum" going forward, paddy," Jacqueline said, channeling her inner Ginger. "Riordan's dead and those young men are no longer your friends if they ever were. I have no control over them, Stella. They won't come anywhere near us, but you'd be wise to stay out of South Boston."

The young woman nodded again.

"Stella, I'm the only friend you have. But I've done my good deed! You screw up, I won't lose a minute's sleep. Understood?"

"Yes, mum."

"Good."

"Thomas did that?" Marcus asked.

"Tom, and yes. Some of it with the kid's gun, Marcus!"

"He had a gun?"

"Yes! Tom caught it before he could do anything, thank God. And then he just lost his temper, I guess! But he stopped because Kate asked him to."

The traitor stifled a groan in the back seat. Kate fucking Daley was in Boston!

"Stella, no bullshit. Tell me what happened in there this afternoon. I don't care about what you did or said. I just want to know about Ginger and Tom."

She considered the question. "It was something, Jacqueline. I'll never forget it. They were lying up until the end, but they faced their deaths bravely. Do you want Marcus to hear this?"

"Good God, Stella. Tell the fucking story!"

"Riordan decided that he would wait to find out if I was telling the truth. He said he only needed one of them to get the money—Ginger, obviously—and the other had to pay for killing Jimmy. I told them Thomas did it because that's the truth, Jacqueline. Thomas shot him, right in front of me. But Ginger swore up and down that they had nothing to do with it. She begged Riordan to kill her, not him, but everyone knew it was going to be Thomas. Then she threatened him, called him names, anything to protect Thomas. He said she should tell you she loves you. And then the Doucette boy saw Sean out the window. Riordan was just about to kill Thomas when you pulled in. I know you hate me, Jacqueline. My time is coming, we know that. May I be so full of grace."

Jacqueline was in tears again. "Thank you, Stella."

"I'm sorry, Jacqueline."

"Well, like you said, honey, your time is coming. Just not today." She let go of Marcus's hand and dried her eyes.

###

They pulled the Cherokee into the enclosure and exited the car. Stella might as well have been on a leash, she stayed so close to her savior. Marcus smiled when Jacqueline pointed out the dent in the back door that must have come from Sean's head. Theo was there to greet them in the basement. He rushed to Marcus. Jacqueline enjoyed watching them reconnect, but it made her sad as well. Ginger might be gone for good.

The Daleys and V were in the kitchen. She wasn't sure why, but Jacqueline wanted them all to meet Stella. Perhaps to provide some closure. Or maybe just because it was just fun to humiliate her, show her how quickly she was replaced.

Kate knew who Stella was the instant they walked into the room. She stiffened and watched her through narrow slits. Whatever Jacqueline's intentions were, Kate hijacked the encounter. She stepped up to the petite woman and asked if Stella knew who she was.

"Kate Daley."

"Oh, that accent makes me sick. Correct. Now get on your knees, bitch."

It was so unexpected that Stella thought she misunderstood. Kate slapped her, sending the young woman sprawling. V and Nikki were so in sync with their alpha that they played it cool, with two matching smirks as if they expected this and knew their roles. Stella's eyes searched the room and found not one friendly face. Marcus and Jacqueline formed two different kinds of crushes. Kate sure could create a scene.

"On your knees!"

Stella was already hanging on by a thread, having escaped death at least once today, and didn't need to be told a third time. She rose from the floor and looked up at her persecutor.

"There are a million things but what do you want to apologize for right now?"

Kate and Stella were now the only two people not smiling. Their eyes were locked. Everyone wanted to know what it would be.

"I lied to people who were kind to me. And I was cruel to Thomas."

"His name is Tom, you twat. You're disgusting. Get up."

Stella stood, still held in Kate's focus.

She grabbed Stella by the back of the neck and pulled her in close so that only Nikki heard her say, "You think you're afraid of Ginger?" Kate let go and made sure Stella saw how serious she was. "Get out of my sight."

With that, Kate shoved her out of the kitchen.

"Stella, you keep that phone on you and come when called!" Jacqueline yelled after the traitor in a cheerful voice. Once she had left the house, attention turned back to the matriarch. Where were Tom and Ginger?

"Everyone is fine. Kate, I'm sorry, we thought they needed some time before coming back home. They're up at the other house."

"Jacqueline! I have to... Why would you do that?" Kate asked. The other girls, looking as though nothing had just happened, turned to Jacqueline with the same expectant looks on their faces: Yeah, why would you do that?

"They have enough on their plates right now not to have to worry about us and our feelings, Kate."

"Why did I come up here if not to be with Tom?"

"Kate, I'm sorry. They're in shock. They need some space."

"What happened? You said everyone was OK in your text."

Jacqueline looked at her young guests. V was the only one of them who had left the house in 24 hours. They were still scared and worried.

"Kate, I'm sorry I slapped you."

"You were right. I'm sorry I needed to be slapped," she said.

"Honey, it was terrifying." She was no longer putting on a brave face. For the second time that day, Kate's anger turned to affection in an instant. "Seeing them like that." Jacqueline was hard to understand as she cried. "They were on their knees and he was just going to execute one of them."

"But, they're OK?"

"Yes, they're fine, honey. Ginger looks better than she did in the photo. They were joking when we got to the house. She wanted me to tell you that she wet her pants twice today, girls."

Kate and V laughed. Marcus stepped in.

"It was my call, Kate, to take them up there. I don't think they should plan on coming home soon, eith-..."

"...But..."

"...I mean, we'll plan on taking you to them. They don't have a car."

"Can we go tomorrow?"

"Yes, I think so."

"But they're going to be all right?"

"I'm sure. They just need time," he said.

"It wasn't just that they thought they were going to die, Kate," Jacqueline said. "One of them was going to be holding the other's hand when it happened. Maybe you'll feel better knowing this: The guy who was going to do it? Riordan? The boy we had here at the house killed him as we were leaving." Marcus frowned at Jacqueline's unnecessary candor.

"Kate, I'm sorry. About this and before, and everything. But I need you to promise me that you'll be there for him. He was very brave, honey. They were there for each other and you were the last person he thought of. Please, tell me you'll take him back now, Kate."

"Of course! I want him back right now! Can we call?"

"They've got their phones. They'll call us if they feel up to it. I'm sure they want to see us, too." Jacqueline couldn't hold back the tears.

"What is wrong?" V asked.

"Ginger doesn't want to see me!"

"Jacqueline, that's not true," Marcus said. "Just give it a night!"

Kate could only wonder. Was she up to this? Was he going to be the same boy? Did he belong with Ginger? To Ginger?

Jacqueline read her like a book and used it as a means of getting her own emotions under control.

"Don't worry, Kate. The thing between Ginger and me happened twenty years ago. More of the horrible shit that the men in my life unleashed on the world. She and I are going to be fine. So will you and Tom. Marcus is right. I got in her space too soon and she just lashed out. That's why they need to be alone for a bit, honey. Tomorrow."

"Fffffffuckkkkk!" Kate restrained her yell.

"Cálmete!" V said.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone."

"We're all on edge, honey. Boy, you sure had Stella's number," Jacqueline said.

"V, do you have any weed?" Kate asked, ignoring the comment.

"Sí, en casa. Pero, no puedo."

"Oh, you get tested? That sucks. Never mind. OK, girls. We're sleeping here tonight. Right, Jacqueline? That's what you want?" Kate asked.

"Yes, honey. Please."

"We all want to. But can someone run over there?"

"I've got you," Theo told V more than Kate. "We'll take Marcus to his bike, and then, Jacqueline? Cold beverages?"

"You brilliant man, Thee. Yes! What are we drinking, ladies?"

"Wait, are we celebrating?" Kate asked.

"We're giving thanks, honey. We could have lost so much today, but we're all OK."

They all agreed that beer would yield the gentlest hangovers.

"Could we do Chinese or anything-not-pizza?" Nikki asked, with no hint of a whine in her tone.

The fair question, nevertheless, earned her a thorough but affectionate ass-kicking at the hands of her older sister. Nikki ran out of the kitchen to the stairs where she allowed herself to be overtaken, laughing as she muttered protestations along the lines of "Ooch, eech, otch." Poor Tom missed seeing his first tickle fight, albeit between sisters. But it didn't end the way he would have wanted. Kate wound up crying on her sister's shoulder while Nikki soothed and assured her that everyone and everything was all right. V joined them and saw the baby with new eyes.

Watching this, Jacqueline was confused. The maternal part of her, underdeveloped as it was, screamed at the same time that her inner, lawless carnivore purred. Kate was a whole lot of both and it shook Jacqueline. She wanted to hold the young woman, but for what purpose she didn't know. Nor was Ginger's partner even sure that she was up to the task.

###

It was nearing dark when the pins and needles woke Dan. His right hand trapped under his bulk, the circulation had been almost cut off for several hours. He quickly remembered the broken bones in his forearm, which now looked like Popeye's. It couldn't be good leaving the injury untended for so long. Still, Dan realized, he should be in even more pain than this.

He was alone in the apartment. Near as he could figure, Jimmy was dead. All those people, though... Dan had no idea who was who, but somehow always found himself on the wrong team.

Stella had coke! Ever since that guy—or was it the blond?—broke her nose. That chick was so hot! She wasn't nice, though. Plus, she was into black guys. That never made sense to him.

It took some doing, but Dan was up on his feet. He was foggy in a not-so-bad way, minus the injuries. Everything was in slow motion. Wasn't there a light switch in here somewhere? He gave up looking for it and checked all the potential stash spots in the living room and came up with nothing. Bathroom, kitchen, or bedroom?

Bedroom and score! Right in the backpack next to her inflatable mattress on the floor. Two small Ziploc bags, at least an eight ball. Dan had broken the metacarpal bone of his middle finger on Tom's head ten days ago. It didn't feel good, but he was able to touch his thumb to all the other fingers. And that was good enough to pick up the baggies.

He brought them to the coffee table where there was still some natural light. With a lot of swearing and grunting, he managed to dump both into a big pile. He suddenly had plans for the evening.

Getting it on board was another issue, the bandage repeatedly disturbing the mound. His mouth was watering, he could practically taste the coke but just couldn't get it into his head. That fucking nigger!

After an agonizing three minutes, he had rolled a straw out of a two-year-old magazine page that was long enough to allow him to plug a nostril, hold the paper, and jam it straight into the pile. With a giant snort, Dan got relief.

It would be his first and last speedball. Given the amounts of both cocaine and heroin and his size, he might have been up for the experience. Except, he was still metabolizing a potent, synthetic narcotic. You can throw up a liquid. You can't exhale poisonous dust. All Dan knew was that this wasn't right.

###

"Did you really just figure it out today, Jax's dad?" Tom asked.

"Fuck, Tom. I've known everything I needed for weeks. Since we found out your story. I knew enough to make a good guess years ago. I've even thought about it. How did he know who and where I was? But, next thing you know, I'd be thinking about something else. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, I guess."

"I repress. Swallow it down deep enough that it'll be my kids' problem."

"Oh, God, that's almost funny," she said. "Want to know something even crazier?"

"Yeah."

"It'll be exactly 19 years ago in three days."

"No way."

"Fucked up. I figured something else out today, too. Jax tried to tell me. She obviously found out when she found out about you. She didn't have to tell either one of us, Tom. She took that risk because it was the right thing to do."

"It was the loving thing to do!" Tom said. "That's why I'm still your friend. I told Kate not to be angry at you because you guys didn't have to tell me anything but you did. Now I know what she was talking about! Duh!" Ginger looked confused. "She pulled me aside as we were leaving for New York and said she was sorry for blindsiding me with the letter but that she had a reason. When I figured it out, I was supposed to keep it quiet until you figured it out. And then I was supposed to 'be there' for you."

"She still surprises me," Ginger said.

"Can you still love her?"

She took a long pull on her beer.

"I can! Tom. I do! Always have. I love Jacqueline Hale-Turner and want to spend the rest of my...foreseeable future with her!"

"That's awesome, Ginger! God, you've changed in a very short period of time, huh? Nice qualification, there, too. I get that."

"Some serious situations. But whatever was keeping me from accepting that I was in love is gone. You said your darkest thought was that you had to be alone. Mine was always that my mother abandoned me. I knew that like I knew my name is Ginny. I held onto that instead of facing the slightly less scary thought that the closest thing to a father in my life was the guy who killed her! Believe me, buddy, I'm still a raw nerve, but I feel peaceful right now. And drunk. But, I have something I've never had before: People who care enough about me to do whatever fucked up thing I demand or risk losing me to make sure I knew the truth. That's worth fighting for."

Tom offered his beer for a clink. "I'm so happy for you, Ginger!" He was choked up.

"Thanks. I've felt this coming for a while. You had a lot to do with it, your faith in me. So I'm gonna give you yet another pass on the tears, ya pussy!"

They clinked bottles again and raced to the bottoms. Tom won.

It was the end of Round One. But they weren't even done with a twelve-pack.

Tom went downstairs to reload the six-pack carton while Ginger peed and laughed to herself. Fuh...fuh...fuuck!

###

"What the fuck, Danny?" Stella pushed his face. It was cold. She slapped him. "Danny!"

She knew where the living room light switch was: in the roach-infested kitchen. She saw the pile of powder, the makeshift straw, and the two empty bags. Oh, shite!

Stella had no idea what would happen if one snorted equal parts cocaine and heroin. Seemed like something out of Behind the Music. He didn't look dead. His lips weren't a healthy pink but they weren't blue, either. Finding a pulse was difficult but she told herself that she could feel something.

What had to happen before she called 911? She swept all the evidence onto the magazine cover, dumped it into the toilet, and disposed of the straw in the garbage. Stella couldn't find a wallet or phone on him. Her laptop was gone. There was nothing here but what she'd carried in her backpack.

Maybe she should just run.

Low on cash, exhausted, and possibly being watched this very minute, she might as well shoot herself in the head. Or crush and snort enough Oxy to do the job. Once her nose started working again. Fuckin' Ginger.

Fuckin' Thomas!

There was no moving Dan. And time was not on his side. Stella was minutes away from having to answer questions from police officers. After all that today, this was how she was going to go down? It didn't seem fair.

She said a prayer and dialed.

###

"Thank you for calling! Are you OK, honey?" Jacqueline asked, trying to sound upbeat and read her partner.

"I'm fine, Jax. And you and I... S'OK. We're good."

"Oh, Ginger!" Jacqueline stopped short. She had promised herself not to burden Ginger with any more of the "emotional crap" her partner hated so much. "Are you drunk, honey?"

"Exceedingly!"

"Is that wise, Ginger?"

"Feels wise right now. Ask me again in the morning."

"We're drunk, too, Ginger. We played cards!"

"Fun?"

"Very. This is a good group."

"You must be in barely legal heaven. Who'd you sleep with last night, woman?" Ginger asked.

Jacqueline laughed. "Guess."

"V."

"That didn't take you very long!"

"Kate was with Tom, Nikki's still pretending..."

"...Not anymore! You're so bad, Ginger!"

"Guilty pleasure. Not sure how I feel about it, actually. She's too young. Not very nice of me to blab, either."

"I think it was a good thing, Ginger. Her sister does, anyway."

"What was V like?"

"You're asking me to kiss and tell? I'm looking at her right now. She's so beautiful, Ginger!"

"I saw her first! Give me details."

"Not right now, honey."

"OK. You're going to spill it next time we make love."

"Really, honey? There's going to be a next time?"

"Yes, honey! I'm sorry I was so mean before. There's still an 'us,' and there will be many next times."

Jacqueline gasped. "Oh, Ginger!" V had come to Jacqueline's outstretched hand and now held the woman's head against her belly. She smiled at the absurdity of the situation.

"We're OK, Jax, you and I. Tom's OK, too. He's prancing around in my panties."

"Of course he is. Is he talking to Kate right now, Ginger?"

V nodded.

"Should be. He's downstairs," Ginger said.

"That's going to go OK, right?"

"I think so. He's scared, though."

"She is, too. She got iffy this afternoon. Snapped right back into shape, though. She's a hell of a woman for 21." Jacqueline could now feel V nodding.

"I know. OK, Jax. That's it. I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and we're great. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I can't wait," the widow said.

"I can't wait, either, babe. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, honey."

As usual, Ginger hung up before hearing the last word. Jacqueline shook her head and smiled.

"Is good?" V asked.

"Oh, Victoria! So good. She's OK."

"I'm glad."

"I know this is strange, but, have you decided where you're sleeping tonight?"

"Sí, claro, mi señora!" V said. "Pero..."

"...Say no more, honey. I understand. But we can snuggle a little?" Jacqueline asked.

"Jes. I would like that."

"I'll take it, Victoria. Come on."

###

The paramedics were kind enough to provide the police officers with a running commentary. Their primary survey obviously turned up the newly broken bones but missed the small blood spot and bruise on his stomach left by the dart. Once they saw the pinpoint pupils, they intubated, bagged him, and administered two doses of naloxone. Still, Dan didn't respond. The pair had their hands full getting him out of the building. A stretcher would have been difficult on its own. With 300 pounds of meat in it, it required the assistance of a second ambulance crew. The stairs groaned under the weight. Once Dan was on his way out of the apartment, the police officers started asking questions.

Stella tried to strike the right balance between acting like a concerned acquaintance and someone who had no idea how or why Dan wound up unconscious by narcotic overdose in her apartment when she wasn't there. John Law had plenty to be curious about. The door had been kicked open. Tiny Stella obviously didn't break Dan's arm about six hours ago and steal everything of value in the crap apartment. And why was this young woman with the recently broken nose living in this dump with nothing more than a backpack and Aero Bed? Thank God they didn't ask for a look inside the bag. And thank God Dan wasn't interested in her blessed OxyContin.

Playing her role meant accepting the unusual offer of a ride to the hospital in a patrol car. Would the police just drop it once he was out of their hands? How soon until Dan could explain that the drugs were hers? Stella wondered if she ought to get in touch with Jacqueline. But for now, the best she could do was to settle into the waiting room and hope for a few minutes with the big idiot before there was a cop in his face. An awful lot depended on dumb Dan being smart. If he woke up, that is.

###

"Hey," Tom said as he rejoined Ginger in the master bedroom.

"Is for horses!" Ginger said. "You know what gay horses eat?"

"No."

"Hayyyyyy!"

"Nice. What would Ginger the horse eat?"

"Whatever the fuck she wanted, I'd assume. Slightly above average fraternity boys if she got hungry enough."

"Jerk. I just talked to the most amazing woman any man has ever met."

"You feel better?"

"I feel great! And, I have orders to 'thank Ginger for both of us.'"

"Do you?"

"I do."

"And my partner is going to bed a certain Victoria Díaz. Again!"

"Kate's actually feeling unusually insecure. V is all of a sudden all about Jax—which I'm sure is just a passing thing—and I'm here with you."

"And yet..."

"And yet," Tom said.

"You sure that's what she wants?"

"Yes. She wouldn't say it if she didn't mean it. It was her idea. I told you, Kate's more like you than anyone else I know."

"Jax said she's a hell of a woman for 21."

"She really is. You were right, she was turned on by this afternoon. Freaked out, too, but not scared of me."

"Told you!"

"You sure did, Ginger. The other thing is, you have to stop with Nikki."

"Sure. If I understand the why."

"You do."

"Ooh! Call her back!"

"She's probably talking to V right now about gang banging Jax," Tom said.

"Send her a text! 'Ginger gives up Nikki on one condition, dot dot dot.'" He reached over to his phone. "Oh, you liked that, did you?"

He looked at his growing hard-on and smiled.

"You're 'there' with Kate?" Tom asked. "I don't think you really were a couple days ago."

"Yeah. I am. I wasn't, you're right. It took a while but, all the more for the delay, I guess. I'm very there. And, God, so easy, Tom!"

Ginger lay down next to him and started tickling with one finger and a grin while Tom typed the text.

Kate responded with a photo of her outstretched hand with the caption, "Deal. Manana por la manana."

He showed Ginger and then typed. "Done," he said and threw the phone over to the sofa.

"Now, Tawmmy Luvah, make me feel alive."

###

"Ma'am, do you have any idea what he may have taken?"

"Doctor, I'm sorry, I don't know. He does cocaine and drinks too much. I don't know about narcotics, like heroin? That doesn't sound like Danny."

It wasn't looking good for the big guy. He was still unconscious when he arrived at Boston Medical Center. She gathered from the paramedics that his blood was taken for "drugs of abuse" screening. She hoped that the results would be too late to do him any good. As far as she was concerned, the world was a better place without Dan Sullivan in it. Besides, if he never woke up, he couldn't dispute the sloppy story she slowly put together for the police on the ride over to the hospital.

Stella told them that she and Dan had split up a while ago. They hadn't seen each other for several weeks because she had been hiding at the little crash pad ever since he broke her nose. That was an accident—"honestly"—but the alcohol and cocaine problems weren't getting better. She wasn't by his side now out of love. Dan didn't have anyone else.

The cops made sure that they had a way to contact her and left Stella at the hospital. She was exhausted and still fuzzy, but still realized that that was too easy. At the moment, Stella was the only source of information on Dan. She should get to Mike first thing tomorrow. He was only a little smarter than his roommate and had no allegiance to her. Of course, the two young men were fools, but two fools telling the same story was a problem.

Her thinking was interrupted by commotion from the approximate area she knew Dan to be in. From her vantage point, it was impossible to know what was going on. Ten minutes later the doctor came out and told her the sad news. Stella heard a few words: "ischemic," "arrest," and "coded." They didn't mean much to her, but she got the gist.

###

"Oh, my gosh, sis! You've got your hands full!" Kate said as she rejoined the group. The youngest was sitting on Theo's butt, rubbing his shoulders. "Having fun?"

Nikki giggled at herself. "If I were Katie, no one would be safe right now!" Everyone laughed. "Can you even feel this?"

"It's nice. Keep going," Theo said.

Kate was still standing. V and Nikki understood this to mean that she still had some business to attend to.

"We're going up tomorrow, right? Tom's ready."

"Ginger is too. They're drunker than we are!" Jacqueline said.

"Boys, are you coming with us?" Kate asked. They didn't need to. "Nikki and V, you want to come though, right? I don't think it would be too much for them at all."

Neither wanted to be apart from the new herd yet.

"So, here's what I'm thinking. I want to go up first thing in the morning. Just me."

"I think that's a great idea, honey. We'll follow you in the afternoon."

"Everyone OK with that? Sorry Nikki," Kate said.

"I'm fine," the baby said. Then she looked down at the man beneath her and pretended to pout. "Poor little Nikki, not getting the attention she so deserves."

###

The tears Stella cried in the back of the cab on the way home from the hospital were again, real. But they weren't for Dan Sullivan. It had been a terrifying day after a string of miserable ones. Would this nightmare never end?

Yes, it would. It will. If Stella was lucky, it would be with an unanticipated bullet to the brain, like Jimmy. But that's not how Aidan operated. She had betrayed him, so there would be suffering before death. Jacqueline was only delaying the inevitable. Aidan was happy to let the traitor live in dread for a while.

Maybe, had Stella not been so fried, she would have realized sooner that Dan dying created a world of new problems. Idiot learns a hard lesson was one thing. Wrongful death was another. Someone had to have supplied the drugs. And that cop knew something was up. The neighbors would be thoroughly questioned. Oh, God, she remembered. Stella had seen Dan forced to hand his driver's license to Boston Police officers in the recent past. He was in the system. Which meant that they would be looking for Mike Driscoll—also in the system—sooner than later.

Stella had the cab wait in the cul-de-sac as she ran up to her dingy second home. When she emerged from the alley, her heart rose in her throat. Two police cruisers were sitting by the back porch and the lights in her apartment were lit.

###

Ten minutes later, Stella was sitting at the top of the steps outside of Mike Driscoll's apartment, crying yet again. It was just before midnight and he wasn't home, probably wouldn't be for hours. If the asshole hadn't left all the lights on, she wouldn't have let go of the taxi.

It was a beautiful fall evening, though, and the walk did her well. By the time Stella got to her real home, she almost forgot to be on full alert. That tranquilizer was all right. Still. It got rid of her new itch, at least. Thanks, Ginger.

It was why she recognized only at the last minute that there could be any of several mortal threats waiting near her real apartment. She poked her head around the last corner and got a look up her street. It was quiet, no one about. Cops would be visible, she figured, once her brain started working again. But Aidan's guys wouldn't. Of course she couldn't sleep there again. Ever. What was she thinking?

There was still a thousand dollars in cash, more coke, and her two passports in the place, however. She had to get it all out of there before the police searched. And it wasn't going to get safer to do so in time. All Jacqueline might have bought for her one million dollars—Fucking Jimmy!—was the privilege of being absent when it happened. Stella's death was going to be a message heard 'round the world. But right now, she might still be ahead of...whoever.

Stella made it in and out in minutes with the money, the last two grams of the special reserve coke, and a handful of Percocets—beneath her just two weeks ago, they were starting to look better and better as the Oxy dwindled. She had to flush what Dan had left on the coffee table.

She changed, packed two days of clothes and as many bras, underwear, and socks as she could fit into the bag. Time to go wait for Mike. What was she going to tell him? Where was she going to sleep?

###

He gave her a few hours to think it over. His loss.

"Michael Driscoll, I'm not playing! They killed him! And they'll kill you, too. And me. So nobody else knows about all of this. Did you tell anyone about anything that happened today?"

"No. I didn't even see the black guy. This is your and Dan's shit, not..."

"...Yours, too! He's dead and you were the last person to see him alive. You can identify Ginger. You're a witness!"

Silver-tongued Stella had started getting sloppy hours ago. Though he was playing with a standard deviation's greater IQ than his late roommate, Mike Driscoll was still no genius. A crying/lying Stella with a "get the hell out of here" message at 3 a.m. might have been ignored except the police seemed to be looking for a reason to fuck with him ever since the DUI.

The late Dan Sullivan's roommate filled a duffel bag with everything for which he could foresee a need plus an armful of dirty laundry, took the offered $200, and left Stella in his apartment "to lock up." Where he went didn't matter, just as long as it looked like he was on the run.

###

No time to waste. Stella crushed a Percocet and mixed it with a little of the cocaine in a pile on the coffee table. Thinking like an idiot, she brushed it all onto the floor so that it wasn't immediately obvious to anyone but a cop. She then searched both men's rooms for anything of value. She found two $100-bills in Dan's dresser but couldn't locate his phone or wallet. He didn't have either on him when the ambulance arrived but they weren't here, either. Without turning off a light, Stella left the apartment door open a crack and made her way downstairs. She was exhausted. There was only one place she could go. But how to get across town to Jacqueline's without being caught in possession of enough drugs, cash, and false identification to get her put away for life—however many hours or days that was? She said another prayer and hit the street.

###

Stella power-walked to the convenience store trying to stay inconspicuous. She knew it was both a cab stand and a good place to encounter a cop. Without a hitch, though, the soon-to-be wanted woman was in the back seat of a Red Cab a minute later. The driver asked if she was all right. Stella knew she wasn't ever going to feel 'all right' again. She tried to sniffle, semi-consciously testing whether she could get an Oxy or nine up into her sinuses. Still no dice. Ginger!

The driver dropped her in the Back Bay on the corner of Commonwealth and Fairfield. She headed north, crossed Marlborough, and turned into the alley for the last few blocks. She contemplated using her key and sleeping in Jacqueline's vestibule, but that might be a good way to get shot. Then she had an idea. Both cars were probably in the enclosure so their doors might be unlocked. Stella could catch some Zs before pleading her case at a more appropriate hour.

The Town Car was locked. The Cherokee wasn't, but, even with packed sinuses, the combination of real urine and chunder smells and the imagined odor of Jimmy's corpse made Stella gag. Fuckin' Thomas! It would have to do. She slid the driver's seat all the way back and reclined it. Despite the temperature, she kept the door open.

But Stella couldn't get comfortable. Alley rats were bold and, at this hour, active. One even walked up to the open door, stood on its hind legs, and sniffed at her. Stella slammed the door and broke down once more.

The Irish national threw her backpack into the rear compartment, but the privacy screen was drawn, so it just landed on top. She climbed over the seat, putting her hand in Tom's still-wet spot. She cursed him for the thousandth time and stowed the bag. Then Stella put the seat how she found it before getting out of the car and enclosure. Now that most of her contraband was stashed, the best thing she could think to do was keep walking until it got late enough to supplicate at the widow's feet. It wouldn't be the first time she had begged Jacqueline for something. And, yes, they were all correct: Stella often had to fake it with Ginger but never once with the boss.

###

She had to get out of the vermin-filled alley and take her chances on the street. A lone woman at this hour in the Back Bay didn't have much to worry about once she got to Beacon Street, where there would be steady automobile traffic. That wouldn't help a wanted one, though, so she stayed on darker and quieter Marlborough. When she rounded a corner too quickly, however, Stella found herself making eye contact with the nicer of the two officers she had met earlier as he eased out of an alley in an unmarked car.

###

"Ms. Jones?"

"Officer?"

"Why don't you come with me, please?" He was alone. How did he know to find her here?

The woman was pitiable. Her faded raccoon eyes were swollen and red from fatigue and so much crying. It didn't take much to get them going again.

"How could he die?"

"Let's talk about that. Get in the back of the car, please."

Oh, shite! That might be the last thing she ever did. There was nowhere she could go that Aidan couldn't. Certainly not in Boston.

"Please, sir, I can't. I have to sleep."

"You're not in any trouble, Ms. Jones, we just want to talk while this is fresh in your memory."

"I don't think that's a good idea, sir. May I please just go to the station tomorrow? I can't think straight."

"Get in the fucking car. Now."

###

The good news was that Stella survived long enough to have been seen in police custody by many people, so they weren't going to kill her. But nothing felt right about this situation. She wasn't processed or "checked in" to the district station and could tell that both detectives—not officers, she now understood—didn't want to have a conversation. It wasn't clear what they wanted. Since she wasn't treated as a perp, she wasn't searched. The drugs were stashed but she had two passports with two different names from two different countries in each of her back pockets.

From four to six in the morning, the two men did most of the talking. They knew a lot considering they had been on the case for eight hours. The straw Dan had used to kill himself was presented to her in an evidence bag. In addition, there was what they expected to be heroin residue on the toilet's rim. Samples were taken. The only neighbor they had spoken with claimed to have seen someone fitting Dan Sullivan's description in the building several times recently. There had been many comings and goings that day and some sort of scuffle, too.

It was cruel to interrogate Stella given that she was falling asleep in front of them. She wasn't offered a phone call and got nothing but laughter when she said the word "rights." In her near-hallucinatory haze, Stella realized that Jacqueline was, indeed, the only person who could help her. She was finally allowed to sleep on a couch in the district captain's office at six but had to put up with several intrusions.

The want of narcotics woke up when she did at 9 a.m., leaving her in a crappy mood. Thank God she didn't have it on her. Oh, shite! Stella didn't have her phone, either. Jacqueline had ordered her to keep it on her, but now that she knew it was how the widow and her partner kept track of their charges, Stella figured that was for the best. But if the cop used it to find me, then they'll tell Jacqueline where I am, won't they? With Ginger away, it must have been Marcus who had her picked up. Jimmy had warned her to be careful with "the black boys," but she had still overlooked them.

The detectives led her back into the same interview room where two well-dressed men, one Asian-American and the other African-American, awaited them. There was no way it was legal to put a single woman in a room with four men. The rules apparently didn't apply to her situation, and she had an idea why. Out of the pan...

Now Detective Lawrence, angrier than ever, summarized what they had learned. State law required investigation into any death that happened within 24 hours of hospital admission. The drugs of abuse screening had revealed the presence of heroin and cocaine in his blood and "something else narcotic," as yet unidentified. The entry wound from the dart—only discovered in the postmortem—and the two busted wings made for a juicy mystery. Finally, he started asking questions.

What happened to Dan? She didn't know.

Where did Mike Driscoll go? No idea.

Did he have anything to do with what happened to his roommate? Maybe; they did everything together.

Who were the other people allegedly in the apartment? What other people?

The likelihood of her certain and violent death at the hands of a countryman was actually a comfort. There wasn't anything this guy could do that was worse than Aidan would come up with, so, fuck him. Stella didn't know anything.

There was no use in explaining that "unidentified" substance or the blond who shot Dan full of it. Protecting Jacqueline and those close to her was now the only way to keep time on her clock.

Tears. "Please, you're treating me like I've done something wrong! I used to love Danny but I didn't want him in my life anymore! He found me a few weeks ago but I thought he was trying to change and wanted to help him. I didn't expect to find him there with drugs! I'm in a police station being interrogated by four men. Am I not allowed to let anyone know I'm here? This doesn't seem..."

The other detective, Cepeda, was about to scream at her when one of the heretofore silent suits interrupted.

"...You'll have to pardon his frustration. They've both worked very hard to understand this curious situation and now have to hand it over to my partner and me." The Detectives rose as if on cue and exited. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "I'm Special Agent Nguyen and this is Special Agent Faulk." They both held their credentials out for her to see. "On behalf of the United States of America, allow me to extend you a belated welcome, now that you've overstayed it. Are you ready to go home, Ms. Caffry?"
Chapter 27: One Big Happy

The rest of the crew showed up about an hour after Kate and Ginger each submitted to Tom and the other. Ginger lifted Jacqueline off her feet but apologized that she was "pretty fucked out for a few hours." Everyone hugged like they hadn't seen each other in months.

###

Standing on the back deck, the older women watched the others playing in the yard. Tom had found a kids' football and was all-time QB in an impromptu game of two-hand touch. V had just made a beautiful catch. Kate was making sure she heard footsteps.

"We have Tom to thank for this," Jacqueline said.

"Worked out well, didn't he?"

"As if you had any idea what you were doing."

"None at all. You just get lucky sometimes, I guess. You weren't kidding about Kate being..."

"...A powerhouse? They refer to her as 'the boss.'"

"Jax, she played me like a fool! What did you tell her before she came up?"

"Nothing. She asked for the black one and a harness. I said, 'great idea.' It is hers, in a way."

"Did you give her the handcuffs?"

"Handcuffs?" Jacqueline asked. "What did I miss, Ginger?"

"A lot. But, you're kidding me, right? You didn't give her those?"

"No."

"I didn't recognize them, but, God! She must have brought 'em from home. That girl is crazy! Love it! She made me say yellow and red, because I was scared!"

"Really, Ginger?"

"Really, Jax. She got right into my head out of nowhere. Made me think you were dumping me!"

"What? That's crazy, honey."

"Seems ridiculous now. But she knew exactly how to get to me. And Tom... Let's just say his real master has arrived."

"Well, I'll be. The girls met Stella yesterday, Ginger. That's when I learned that Kate wasn't just a sexually precocious kid. Reminded me a lot of a certain gorgeous blond, actually, which made a long night even longer. Nothing happened with Victoria last night, by the way, honey. We just cuddled and fell asleep. It was lovely but it's not her thing."

"Yeah, Tom was surprised you got even one romp out of her."

"I'll give her an A for effort," Jacqueline said.

"What'd Kate do?"

"Oh, Ginger. No wind-up, she just slapped Stella clean off her feet! The other two were right there, like a pack. Stella practically 'peed her pants,' Ginger!"

"Aww! That reminded you of me? Flatterer!"

"It was great, Ginger," Jacqueline said, nodding in appreciation. "We need to talk tonight with Kate and Tom, about Stella."

"Not just that! Lots to debrief. Later. Hey, you said Kate 'got iffy' yesterday. How so?"

"I heard her tell Victoria that Tom scared her and she scared herself in their little Spanish code. But—oh, my goodness, Ginger!—before that, yesterday afternoon, after Tom left, she came at me! If the other girls hadn't been there, she would have really hurt me, Ginger!"

"No way! Kate. Wow! Ginger likey. Kitty likey!"

"Kitty's gonna love this: I slapped her, Ginger!" Jacqueline said. "Settled her right down."

"You did?"

"What do you think of that, Ginger?"

"I'm impressed! Oh, hey, Jax?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Look at me," Ginger said. Jacqueline did. "You need to know that I love you! I really do, woman. D'you hear me? I just told you that I love you! Twice!" She was smiling ear to ear. "I love you. Three times!"

The tears seemed to have been waiting for this moment.

"Ginger, I heard you! And I'll never get tired of hearing you say that. I love you so much, honey!"

"I was really mean yesterday. I'm sorry."

"My God, you're apologizing to me? You were in shock and I was needy, Ginger. I can't believe you're still talking to me!"

"I was trying to convince you that we needed to be responsible, take a risk of telling Tom the truth. And you were standing there, giving me all the clues I needed to figure it out. You risked everything we have to do the right thing for me. Thank God I hadn't already killed you!"

"Oh, my goodness, I know, Ginger! That was the scariest thing, disobeying you about Tom. I know you were close, honey!"

"God, I feel so stupid! You were like, 'Come on, Ginger! Open your eyes!'"

"I didn't want it to hit you when you were alone, honey. I thought that, maybe, explaining it to him would make it click in your mind. Ginger, I am so sorry."

"I know. It really sucks. But Tom and I had a great conversation last night. It doesn't matter what your father or husband did. As he said, you did the loving thing for me. That's all that counts. But, for the record, I'll fucking beat you if you ever go off screwing a Damita again without inviting me!"

"Never again. The thing with my father makes me sick, Ginger. It makes me want to give you everything. I know it will never..."

"...I know, Jax. And listen, I wanted you to know how I feel and that we are going to keep working on us..."

"...Oh, no. A 'big ol' Jane-sized but?'"

"I need some time and space to take care of a few things and myself."

"Of course, Ginger. Take all the time you need. I'll be ready to give 'us' whatever it takes, whenever."

"You know, sometimes how I deal with things doesn't make sense to you."

"No, but you said you love me and that we're going to work on our relationship. Whatever you need, Ginger."

"Speaking of your sister, it's time for us to get closer to her. She's the only family you have left, Jax. That's not half as scary as it is for me to go find what's left of mine. Tom, too. He's gonna talk to his mother and maybe meet his dad." She laughed. "Yesterday shook a lot of things loose!"

"I guess so, honey. OK. I'll be by your side when you need me, Ginger, and cheering you on from a distance when you don't."

"Thanks, babe. OK, enough of this emotional bullshit. I love you. There, I said it again and it still feels good." Ginger looked thoughtful. "It's kind of a turn on!"

"Making yourself vulnerable to someone you love often is, honey. Know who I learned that from?"

Ginger laughed and the women faced the yard again. "So, are we like the parents here?" she asked.

"Are you ready for that? Now that 'mom and dad' aren't fighting anymore?"

"That's weird. It does feel like..."

"...A family? I know, Ginger. It's insane. But, there's something right about it, too. Don't get too comfortable, though. Remember, they are all very young, honey. Not much lasts at their ages."

"You're already worrying about the empty nest, woman?"

"Oh, God, I am, Ginger! There's so much depth there. They don't have boundaries or hangups, none of them. I want them all in my life. Even the little one."

"She is cute. But, probably the one we'll have to part ways with first. Soon. She's gonna need dick and Kate's not that open-minded. V, too, I'm afraid. Kate's the only one who's really bi."

"You're right, Ginger."

"After this morning, I can say with confidence that she is more than enough," Ginger said. "OK, prepare yourself... Kids? Come, please."

"Oh, my."

Jacqueline was reacting to the way the "kids" turned to Ginger's voice, and, without any hint of weirdness, started toward the deck, Tom and Kate holding hands. They were all smiling. Happy.

###

It was a good thing that Tom liked to cook, they all agreed. The Marlborough Street house was stocked for a siege, so they hadn't needed to make a trip to the store before driving up to Gloucester. There was a nip in the air once the sun went down, which made the tuna Alfredo he put together a good choice. Everyone was stuffed on the dense meal, but not too full for the chocolate cake he and Betty had whipped up. There was beer but no one was drinking in a hurry. Tom abstained.

V brought Kate's keyboard. After dinner, Ginger got to see the seductive lounge act first hand. "The girls" put on an hour-long concert, doing all of Tom's favorites.

"Well. She sings and acts! Now I know," Ginger said.

"It wouldn't have worked if I had warned you!" Kate said.

"I'm still recovering."

"Aww, Ginger. I'm sorry!"

"Not at all, Kate, really. It was amazing. The whole morning was."

V looked curious. Jacqueline tried to fill her in.

"Apparently, Kate out-Gingered Ginger this morning."

"Yes, that sounds right," V said.

"Oh, really?" Ginger shot back.

"She is tricky. She never sneezes."

"What the hell does that mean?" Ginger asked.

Tom explained: "Sneezes are often fake, just to see who will say 'bless you.' Hiccups, too, sometimes, right?"

Kate yawned, hard. And then Ginger couldn't help but mirror the behavior.

"Damn it!" she said.

"She's tricky," Tom said.

###

"They're fine," Kate said when she came back downstairs.

"They already know more than they should. Were they happy to not be in this conversation?" Ginger asked, now lying on the floor. She welcomed Kate back to the room by reaching a hand, indicating that she wanted to lay down with her.

"Totally."

Kate kissed Tom and then settled in to spoon with her new friend Ginger and keep an eye on him.

"As I was saying, we've all been lax about our rules," Tom said. "I'm not the only one Stella potentially exposed. We need to do three straight months of testing. All of us. Nikki and V, too."

"Agreed," Ginger said. "Dully told me that Stella made him wear a condom for blowjobs."

"And she told me that she was only unprotected with Jimmy," Jacqueline said. "She wouldn't take stupid risks."

"But she's also enough of an asshole that if she did get something, her attitude would be, 'fuck 'em,'" Ginger said.

"Can't change the past, honey. We'll have Janet to the house next week. Stella's going to give a pint," Jacqueline said.

Kate had a question. "So, are we going to be exclusive within our little group here?"

"I'd like to be," Jacqueline said, "The four of us. Your sister obviously can't be. I'd love it if Victoria changed her mind, but..."

"...She won't," Kate said. "Maybe if she's drunk one night, but..."

"...'It's not her,' I know, Kate," Jacqueline said. "She was very sweet about it."

"This one," Ginger said as she wrapped her arm around Kate's throat, "is going to be my thing. You're all leaving tomorrow morning. Kate's staying with me."

There were three confused faces in the room. The announcement had come out of nowhere but everyone could tell that the domme wasn't kidding.

Surprisingly, Tom saw something right about the idea. The two women had known each other for three days but already there was something powerful between them. Kate had gotten off—unlike ever before—on Ginger's best this morning, turned the tables and scared her, and then turned again to declare a happily subordinate status. The Supreme needed to control someone after spilling so much of her heart and soul lately. Since it couldn't be Tom, it would be his girlfriend—who appeared to be on the verge of a minor climax. So, really, both.

"Kate, it's OK if you want to do that," Tom said. Jacqueline tried to appear supportive.

Ginger loosened her grip. Kate rolled away from her, they locked eyes, and then she rolled back into the spoon.

"Yes, please," she said, looking at Tom with an embarrassed smile.

"It's good to know Ginger can still be surprised, honey," Jacqueline said. "And that means I get some alone time with our—your—boy." They all smiled. "Prison bitches aside, we have to talk about a few things. First is the living arrangements."

Everyone laughed at the out of character joke and then thought for a moment.

"It doesn't make sense to put a third in your apartment, Kate..." Tom said. He and Jacqueline were of the same mind.

"It'll be tight, but, she is my sister. Might not be the funnest arrangement, though..."

"You see how much room we have, honey. I would love to have you join us."

She looked to her boyfriend who nodded enthusiastically.

"OK," she said. "I'm ready to take it to the next level with you, Tom." She winked at him.

"Wonderful. You can have the third floor to yourselves. Two beautiful bathrooms..." Jacqueline said as she patted him on the head.

"And Nikki just takes my room at the apartment. That'll work for V."

"Neither of you goes back to the apartment until you're brunettes," Ginger said. "We also need to get your name off the mailbox and intercom and you'll both use a P.O. Box. Right?"

Kate nodded. She hadn't thought about those details.

"God, our name is Mudd now."

"We may be able to help you become someone different," Jacqueline said.

"Really?"

"Really, honey."

"Gosh, that's crazy. A pair of brunettes. Or redheads, whatever looks most real. Hmm. A pair of gingers." She felt the response she had hoped for. "It'll be like playing a character. Nikki'll love it," Kate said. "She's good at that."

"What about you, Mr. Neri?" Ginger asked.

"I don't know. I've always hated the last name Amore but changing it wouldn't be easy," Tom said. "I've been me in Boston for six years and I've been everywhere in town. Six —no, seven—different schools, the hospital, voted in every election..."

"It's not like you have to go out and get a desk job," Ginger said. "Women do it all the time, you know."

"Huh. And it's a nice little posthumous 'fuck you' to George."

"OK, let's have a conversation with Sal and see what's possible," Jacqueline said. "Next topic?"

"Stella," Ginger said. "Explain why she's still breathing."

The widow took a deep breath. "I spoke to Aidan—the guy who ordered Riordan's murder—for less than ten minutes, Ginger. I barely understood a thing, I was so frantic. But I pieced it together. Stella was just a pawn in all of this, honey. It was actually Aidan's idea that she make some restitution to us. No more killing. This isn't the neater solution, it's the one I can live with."

"What's she going to do?" Tom asked.

"She's going to keep working for us."

"Jax, are you kidding?" Ginger asked.

"Honey, I made a whole bunch of quick decisions while practically 'peeing myself.' But, I've had 24 hours to think about it now and I'm comfortable with my choices. She is completely harmless. One word to her Irish friends and Stella disappears. Or someone in her family dies. In the meantime, she's got a good mind and I need her until I can hire someone more trustworthy."

"Woman, I hear you, but, fuck! One wrong look and I'm going to kill her. Tom? Right?"

"I don't need to kill her, Ginger. Being subordinated to all of us? To me? She'll be miserable! Jax, you are retiring your houseboy. Maybe she does some real work but I've got an image of her in a French Maid outfit, scrubbing toilets and just...amusing us."

"Yes!" Ginger agreed. "Say it, Jax!"

The most mature person in the room considered the statement for a few moments.

"Yes. I like that image, Tom."

"Oh, my God, that's crazy," Kate said. "I think dangerous, too, maybe?"

"Like, Lucifer Effect?" Tom asked. Ginger laughed.

"I don't know what that is, but, you don't see what I'm worried about?"

"You do. Stanford Prison. Stella's soul is broken and we all turn into monsters," Tom said. "You're right."

"I'm not advocating for her. But all is well, other than my father. We're all with the people we want to be with, we have everything to be thankful and happy for. Abusing Stella will just add negativity."

Jacqueline spoke up.

"It will, Kate. If we take it too far. And Tom can attest—Ginger!—that we are capable of going too far."

"I'm not disagreeing!" Ginger said. "I told you, it'll be a daily struggle for me."

"You'll live and so will she, honey," Jacqueline said. "Kate, I see your point. And you're joining our family, you've got an equal voice. But, you haven't been equally hurt by her, Kate. After everything she did, I spared her life. I'm not just going to let her go without paying a price. Stella tried to hurt us. She forced me to give the IRA a million dollars! I need to see her cry. We're going into this with our eyes open. What do we think, people?"

"I'm not worried about whether she deserves it or not. I know she does. I'm thinking about us. I'm worried about myself, how angry I am."

"I'm not worried about you, Kate," Tom said. "Or myself. Or Jax. And I'll take Ginger's word if she promises to be sane and back down when one of us says to. Well?"

"I'll be reasonable. And, I'll listen. But she's going to cry. I'm not debating that with anyone. Kate?"

"OK."

"I'm glad we agree because she moved into Tom's room this morning."

"What?" Ginger asked. "Jax, what the fuck?"

"She's in danger, Ginger. From whom, we don't know. But someone tossed her apartment last night. I don't think it was Aidan's people. I told you it was his idea that she repay us."

"Riordan's guys?" Tom asked.

"Maybe, but I don't think they could possibly regroup so quickly," Ginger said. "Collins might be the real deal but the other guys are tools. I doubt we were the only people to pee our pants yesterday. Plus, he and Sean are laid up, I'm sure."

"Pee if they're lucky!" Tom said.

Ginger laughed. She looked to the ceiling and sighed. "Fuck it. No negativity. Not right now, anyway. She's not by herself, right?"

"Of course not, honey. Theo's babysitting. She was sleeping like a log when we left."

"OK. Got my chi in alignment and 'we're all with the people we want to be.' Everything I said though, still stands. Stella cries."

"She will, Ginger."

"'Well, OK then.' I'm putting it out of my head for now. What else?"

"Who got darted yesterday?" Tom asked.

"Stella, obviously. Dan and his roommate. Marcus," Ginger said. "That leaves two more darts if anyone of you become a danger to yourself or others tonight."

"Collins," Jacqueline said before chuckling. "That gun is retired, my love."

"Agreed," Ginger said.

"Only Dan and his roommate didn't get the antagonist?" Tom asked.

"That's right," Ginger said. "Dork."

"We should find out what happened to them, just so we know."

"Maybe we can have Stella follow up," Jacqueline said. "We have those boys' wallets and phones back home. Sean's, too."

"I've been thinking about, well, lots of things. Stella was just following orders and so were Riordan's guys. Maybe we should make sure that Sean and the guy with the teeth—that's Collins?" Tom asked. Jacqueline nodded. "They should get taken care of."

"Like, patched up?" Ginger asked. "Good thinking, Tom."

"Yeah. I mean, it's not my money, so..."

"...No, that's an investment in our safety, Tom," Jacqueline said. "It was good thinking. We'll get started on that when we get back tomorrow."

"Great. Thanks, Jax," he said and tried not to grin like a fool. Kate smiled at his blushing and the ease with which the women elicited it.

"Tom, what was the thing you were going to tell me in person, about your dreams?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah. I think I'm done with them!"

"'Accroches-toi à ton rêve,' Tom," Ginger sang. Kate's eyes lit up.

Tom guessed that the woman now scratching his neck was confused.

"Jax, Ginger pointed out that I was getting drunk every night after Jimmy. So, I didn't drink when we went to NYC. I woke up with a horrible nightmare. And then, the same thing the next night. I lied to Kate about it."

"You 'fessed up at a more appropriate hour. You're forgiven, baby. This time."

"That's terrible, Tom, but you're smiling?" Jacqueline asked.

"Yeah. I'm still nervous for tonight. But I think something good came from yesterday. A few things, actually. The most important, though, was that whatever guilt I had about Jimmy, just went away. Like I was..."

"...We were," Ginger inserted.

"Like we were being held to account for our crimes. It wasn't our doing that the power went out, the governor called, whatever. We didn't get away with it."

"We're absolved!" Ginger said. "Washed clean in our own pee!"

"Oh, Ginger, you're gross!" Jacqueline said. "I'm glad you can laugh about it, though. I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"Me, neither," Kate said.

Tom interrupted everyone's thoughts.

"Oh, my God! Jax! In all of this, I forgot to say thank you for coming to our rescue!" he said.

"Yeah, Jax! 'Put that gun down, boy!'" Ginger said. "I swear, you have the best lines! Remember? 'Go to your room, Thomas!'"

"Not a bad team," Jacqueline said. "We've come a long way since then, huh, honey?"

###

Ginger and Kate were the shot callers in their respective worlds. After worrying so much about which of the two he had to lose, Tom, again, found himself as the magnet that pulled the queendoms together and the glue that would hold them fast. Even V agreed that the two alphas—and everyone else—would benefit from some one-on-one bonding.

That's what she and Nikki would do, too. They were going to be roommates and that was exciting. V was going to get to know and love another Daley girl and the baby had always looked up to her sister's best friend. With so much instability in her life, Nikki eagerly agreed to the simple terms the Latina offered: "You be nice and I will help you."

Splitting up now felt right. It was just a few day's pause on the journey toward creating some new kind of family. One that, unlike the members' true families, met everyone's needs and enabled greater things from all. A family built on trust.

###

V wanted to make her boss happy and work two days this week, so it was six a.m. when they loaded the Town Car and piled in.

"You're scared, Kitten?" Ginger asked as they walked back into the house after saying goodbye.

Kate took her hand.

"It gives me chills when you call me that. Yes. I'm worried about Tom. I don't want him to doubt my feelings."

"He'll be OK. And you'll be back to him. But you have to put him out of your mind now."

"He's all I've thought about for the last year. For the last four years! And I'm just leaving him after all he's gone through!"

"He'll be fine. I don't want to hear another word about Tom until I say otherwise," Ginger said. "Understood?"

"Wow. Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master."

"You'll learn," Ginger said. "I don't have a playbook here, Kate. Just a few basic rules but they're to be followed absolutely. We'll find our way together." Ginger held the door open.

"Thank you. Do you want me to tell you how scared I am right now?"

"Yes, I do! You always tell me the truth. Just leave all the bullshit right here at the door. You're going to give me everything. All the good and all the bad. It's gonna hurt. You know that?"

Kate nodded. "I know. I want to give you everything."

"It won't always hurt, pet," Ginger said with a smile. "Good girls are rewarded."

"I'll be good, Master!"

"I don't doubt it. Now get your skinny little bitch-self up there."

Ginger slapped her ass as she took off up the stairs. Property. 
Read True Love X 2: Wicked Dark Boston Thrillers Prequel #1 for free!

All the murder and betrayal, love and laughs that led up to Bound!

A very brief free sample follows.

I am busy putting the finishing touches on the other Wicked Dark Boston Thrillers Prequels, they'll be out this summer:

A Good Boy\- Tom's first months with the women of ANF and how Ginger broke and rebuilt him in a few weeks. Full of her best rants and philosophizing on feminism and BDSM, it's laugh-out-loud funny, a little violent, and hot. Just like Ginger.

Class of '97\- Meet Ginger as a 15-year-old runaway and learn how she became an NYPD asset and what Jacqueline's father had to do with it. Class of '97 is at turns brutal and sweet, a must-read page-turner for Ginger's fans. This is a standalone novel.

XXX\- All the sex scenes that were trimmed or deleted altogether from The Family Trust Series and a few new ones in one read. The name says it all—literature it ain't.

Rats, the second book in the Wicked Dark Boston Thrillers Series, will be out in the Fall of 2018.

I am also working on something completely different based on my experiences as a resident of Charlottesville, VA during the summer of 2017. There is so much that you couldn't possibly know—regardless of whether you prefer left- or right-leaning news—unless you weren't just here, but happened to live (as I do) in the wrong part of town. This was the first time I've ever been witness to real history. Sadly, it was also the first time I saw the whitewashing of that history. You need to know this, and no amount of non-fiction I could produce would cut through all the bullshit.

The 2nd Civil War is an Odyssey-inspired, post-apocalyptic thriller that starts out with a fictional character in the real world happenings of that crazy August and then goes into an imagined future, the kind of future I believe is possible if we allow ourselves to be misled.

I'm under the gun, so to speak, as this needs to be out before they come back, and that is one thing that they have promised to do every time they've descended on our quiet little university town. "Whose streets? Our streets."

Look for it in June. 
Page 1 of True Love X 2

Career Ender

Suffolk County, NY, 14 years ago.

"Jesus, look at this thing! You know what I would have given for this car when I was your age?" Michael asked. He looked over at the unconscious body in the passenger seat as he twisted the top off the bullet in his hand and took another micro-shot of uncut cocaine, the last of what he had smuggled home from the jungle. And then another. It felt right, getting hopped up in a hopped-up Camaro from back in the day. From the plush ceiling to the toggle switch for the brake lights, to the fuckin' scanner? It's a time machine! The car was meant for this moment. "How did you get this thing through inspection?"

Michael laughed to himself. He'd always wanted to use the dart gun. That was just funny, dropping the kid like a bear. Now he wondered if you averaged their heart rates, would it be something normal? Not with this blow! His whole head was numb. No, this wasn't the plan. But fuck it. This would work. And it was going to feel great. That piece of shit.

The kid was going to be out for a bit. Long enough? Would he get to dart him again?

Michael took yet another shot.

"All right, kid, let's go take care of this asshole. You can thank me later." He hit send on his Nokia cell phone, remained silent when he got an answer, and then hung up.

Michael turned the key and once more thrilled as the massive engine roared to life. Fucking thing of beauty! He did his best to keep under the speed limit and then rolled down their street. Pulling up in front of the house, Michael put it in park and gave the engine two quick revs to wake the kid's stepfather in just the right mood for getting shot.

"Don't go anywhere." Michael left the car idling on the street and ran to the front door, gun in one hand, the kid's house key in the other. He opened the door, found the light switch, and rested his hand on it. George must have been reading from the same script. Just as Michael thought he would, the guy came to the other entrance of the room and hit the lights. In the half second before Michael turned them off, he saw George in his wife beater undershirt—of course—and George saw that it wasn't his bastard stepson who had disturbed his sleep.

The suppressor took care of almost all the muzzle flash, but he did enjoy the short strobe light show as George went down. Ten seconds later Michael was back in the driver's seat, laughing as he dropped it into gear and stepped on the gas.

The "ambulance" passed them going the other direction a minute later, and Michael made for bigger roads. And bigger things for his 17-year-old passenger.
