All of the Lights Page 22

  The walls are closing in on me now and I can't stay in this room anymore. I can't stop thinking about him cheating on her, having a baby with someone else and then pretending like it never happened. Going back to his wife and his kids and acting like he's some sort of damned martyr.

  Roark Callahan. Patron saint of adulterers and deserters.

  A hypocrite if there ever was one.

  And my mom? What does that make her? The patron saint of doormats?

  "Yah know what?" I growl as I push off the wall. "I say I'm good to fight, that means I'm good to fight. You think I've never taken a few hits before? Today was nothing compared to other days and other fights. I'm fighting tonight and that's it."

  My dad opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

  "And while we're at it—I've been doing some thinking and I think I wanna get in the ring with the Gianottis' new guy. They've been sniffing around here long enough. Let's set it up and end this once and for all."

  And, of course, in the process, I'd also be setting up a way to get closer to the Gianotti brothers without them being none the wiser. But right about now, I don't care if they ever find out.

  "That's the worst idea I've ever heard," my dad murmurs and rubs a hand over his mouth. "Making any kind of deal with the Gianottis is a road we don't want to go down."

  "We'd get a shit-ton of money. And bragging rights."

  My mom moves closer and her fingers fold into my hand to grip it tight. "Since when do you do anything for money? You know better than that."

  "It's not really about that," I have half a mind to yank my hand out of hers, but I don't want to hurt her. I just can't stand to be around her right now. "I'm fighting tonight. And I'm gonna fight the Gianotti's guy, too."

  With that, I shove my way out of the room that's suffocating me and pound my fists together. In less than an hour, I'm swinging my fist around, connecting with skin and blood and I feel alive. I'm unleashed. Untethered and flying high on all cylinders. For the first time, being in the ring isn't about proving anything. I just need to hit something. I just need to hurt something.

  And even though my dad's sworn up and down he'll never put me in a room with the them if he can help it, I don't need his help. I'm not sure I ever did.

  Come hell or high water, I think to myself as I slam my fist into my opponent and send him flying to the ground, I'm gonna get to the Gianottis.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Rae

  "I think that sounds like a good plan," I nod carefully to Jack, who just twists his hands around his steering wheel one more time.

  "That's because it is a good plan."

  My eyes lift to the truck's ceiling, but I don't miss the light chuckle that echoes across from me. We've got the fundraiser on Saturday night all worked out—each detail planned down to the T, and for good reason, too, but that still leaves us with the rest of the week. For the past two days, we've tailed the mayor through every available space in his schedule and all we have to show for it is more pictures of the mayor coming and going.

  That's really all we have, which isn't really anything. I'd feigned another attempt at lunch with him on Monday and we'd tailed him to yet another ominous meeting in a wonderfully sketchy bar called The Tap House. The problem with having to sit outside the bar, parked a safe distance away no less, is that you can't see anything.

  The license plates on the other car was a dead end too. After some quick registry searches and forking out a whole $4.95 for the results, we'd learned the Cadillac Jack and I saw that first time outside the warehouse was registered to William Rossi. Since Rossi is probably the most common Italian last name in existence, the only one we could find in Boston with any real relevance is a businessman who mostly deals in restaurants and real estate. Unless we can figure out what they're meeting about or how that could be connected to the Gianotti brothers, that doesn't really help us.

  Focusing on this is easier than asking him questions about all the cuts and bruises he showed up with on Monday. I didn't ask and he didn't offer an explanation. The explanation was all over the news anyway.

  Jack's gruff voice jerks me out of my thoughts. "How long do yah have to stay at that fundraiser thing anyway?"

  "I think the official name is fundraiser gala."

  His nose crinkles up a little in disgust and shakes his head. "Of course that's what it's called. How long do yah have to stay there to put in an appearance? A half hour? An hour?"

  "I don't know," I sigh. "Too long, probably."

  As if on reflex, I bring my bad knee up into my chest and lift it up just enough to give it a decent stretch. I blow out a deep breath as some of the tension leaves my knee and when I glance at Jack, I find him observing my movements with careful rigidity. Maybe it's embarrassment, maybe it's the fact that he's watching me so closely, or maybe it's just the fact that he knows exactly how I got my injury, but I feel like I have to explain.

  "It just gets a little stiff sometimes," I tell him softly.

  He nods almost imperceptibly, but his eyebrows still thread together, his eyes never fully tearing themselves away from my knee when he finally speaks again.

  "You been to many of those things before?"

  My eyes squeeze shut as the memories of fundraisers, voter events, and various city-sponsored dinners past rushes over me and I fight back a shudder. "So many I lost count."

  He cocks an eyebrow at me and his lips quirk up in a smile, my knee seemingly forgotten for now. "That bad, huh?"

  "It's always the same people, just a different night, different dress, sometimes different food and music. I'm really just there for decoration and so the mayor can flaunt what an upstanding and moral family man he is."

  Jack huffs out a laugh and takes a long pull from his vape pen just for good measure. He rolls down the window of his truck a little so he has room to exhale the vapor. "Sounds painful."

  "It is."

  He huffs again and some vapor twirls out of his nostrils. "I bet they've got people walking around with trays of fancy food that tastes like shit, huh?"

  That gets a laugh. "Yep."

  "And I bet everyone walks so stiff from looking down their noses it looks like they all have sticks jammed up their asses."

  Another laugh vibrates from my throat. "Yep."

  "And I bet they play real shitty music too—like classic gangsta music."

  Now I have to cover my mouth I'm laughing so hard. "Classic gangsta music?"

  He doesn't miss a beat and swipes through a few screens on his phone. I lean over in my seat just enough to see him pulling up something on Youtube, but not close enough that I crowd his personal space. He clicks the play button and the familiar doo-wop strains fill the truck, "Walk like a man, talk like a man, walk like a man my so-o-o-on."

  Jack flashes me a victorious grin and snaps his fingers, bopping his head and then drumming a hand on the steering wheel to the beat. But he doesn't stop there. He hits another button to cue up another video and starts bobbing his head again as, "Oh, what a night! Late December back in '63..." plays through the speakers on his phone.

  "Come on," I laugh. There's no way to mask my smile or my laughter. He's made his point, but I swat him on the shoulder anyway. I just can't help myself.

  "Hey," he makes a show of flinching when my hand makes contact with his shoulder. "You know the Jersey Boys are gonna be all you hear on Saturday night. It's just a fact."

  "I'm pretty sure they're The Four Seasons. Jersey Boys is a musical—"

  "Yeah, yeah," he waves a hand in the air to cut me off. "Same difference. You know what I mean."

  "Yeah, I do," I laugh again and now it's my turn to mess around on Youtube. Before long, "Come fly with me....come fly, let's fly away..." rings out from my phone and Jack's shoulders start shaking with laughter.

  I'm still smiling when my phone buzzes in my hand and I glance to see a text from Bennett that reads, We still sleuthing tomorrow??

  "Benn wants to know if we're still on
for tomorrow."

  Jack spares me a glance from playing with Youtube on his phone. "Do mobsters listen to Sinatra?"

  I lift an exasperated eyebrow and he just shrugs.

  After I pound out a quick reply to tell him as much, I toss my phone back into my purse and glance around Jack's shoulder to get a better look at the entrance of the restaurant the mayor went in about twenty minutes ago. From the looks of it...it's just too hard to tell. Who knows what he's doing in there if we can't get in there ourselves and actually see who he's meeting?

  "So things must be going pretty good with that guy, huh?"

  My attention turns back to Jack and I smile in spite of the fact that I probably should be more worried. "Seems like it. All he can talk about is Aiden this and Aiden that and Aiden's so hot. He seems pretty happy though, even if it's new."

  "That's a good thing, right?" His mouth dips into a frown and his eyes dart to the restaurant only once.

  "Of course it is," I lift a shoulder. "He just doesn't have much luck when it comes to relationships is all. I guess neither of us really do."

  Jack's lips curl up into a smile at the not-so-subtle mention of my past, but he lets it slide. "And you think he might be putting the cart before the horse with this new guy?"

  "I just don't want to see him get hurt again."

  What I don't tell him is that Bennett has a tendency to go all in with a guy before they even really get off the ground. That just seems a little too personal, given my current company. I'm supposed to be watching that restaurant like a hawk, not messing around on Youtube with Jack or doing anything else with Jack for that matter, and I can't let myself forget that.

  Jack's phone rings two seconds later and I freeze when I hear him say, "Hey Brennan. What's up?"

  It's also that moment my sister chooses to text me, Hey Rae, do you think you could close for me tonight? Jen's b-day is tonite and she wants to go out??

  Jack glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I stare down at my phone. All my attention is focused on the conversation happening to my left and I strain to hear more of the low voice on the other end of the line.

  "Yeah, I know," Jack nods into the phone, his eyes focused in front of him. "But Pop doesn't have to know about it....sure, but I still wanna meet with them. Just set it up, bro. That's all I'm asking. How 'bout tomorrow night?"

  I glance down at the Lucy's text again and sigh. It's not like I have anything going on tonight, but still, a little consideration on her part would be nice. My finger hovers over the keyboard on my phone because I'm still eavesdropping on Jack's conversation with our brother. Even thinking that, I still don't know how I feel. Still don't know what it means.

  "I don't know," Jack continues, but not before glancing at me one more time. "Sure, tell Shannon I'll be there tonight. I don't have to bring anything, do I?" He laughs into the phone and shakes his head. "That's what I figured. See yah tonight."

  He swipes across his screen to end the call and then his grey eyes slide to mine. Jack clears his throat and a little tremor hums in my stomach at the concern and apology in his eyes. It's not an expression I'm used to seeing there and when he rubs his mouth with one hand, giving me a clear view of the caim tattoo on his wrist, I look away almost instantaneously.

  "So, while we've got some time," Jack starts a little unsteadily. "I wanted to talk to you about something. I know Benn's not here, but I figured he'll go along with whatever you think, right?"

  My eyes roll up to the ceiling even though he's pretty much nailed it on the head. "I guess."

  He shoots me a crooked grin and my heart stutters uneasily in my chest. "Anyway, I think I got a way to get closer to the Gianottis, if Brennan can get the meeting set up." He catches my frown and jumps to explain. "They've been sending people in to watch my fights at the bar, so I figured why not kill two birds with one stone, yah know? They want a fight and we need to get some eyes on them to figure out how to connect them to what happened that night."

  My mind is running on all cylinders now, trying to look at this from every angle. And from every angle, this just seems like a terrible idea.

  "Isn't that dangerous? I mean, what if they find out it's a set up?"

  Jack just shrugs. "It's not a set up if there's an actual fight. I don't care about who their guy is or how good they think he is. I'll beat him. And then we'll get one step closer to figuring all this out."

  "And how do you plan on making that happen?" I can't hide the disbelief in my voice.

  "I don't know. I guess we'll just have to figure it out as we go along. Besides, I can stretch it out for as long as I want. Make it seem like I need more convincing, maybe watch their guy fight a couple times before I agree to anything. Guys like the Gianotti brothers are all the same—when they want something, they're willing to play the game."

  "I don't know," I chew on my bottom lip in thought. "I just don't..."

  My voice trails off as my mind finishes the rest of that sentence: I just don't want you to get hurt.

  "You got a better idea?" He just lifts a shoulder. "'Cause I don't. Let's face it, this—" he gestures toward the street with one hand, "isn't getting us anywhere. We're probably gonna get caught before we see anything we can use and there are only so many times we can follow the guy around before he catches us in the act. I don't think any of us want to be around when that happens."

  "I don't know how many more times I can show up at his office before he starts to get suspicious either, if he isn't already," I sigh in agreement.

  Jack nods tightly and he pushes a hand through his dark hair. "Let's play it by ear tomorrow. See what happens."

  "Right," I swallow hard. We've only been tailing the mayor for a week and already, we're hitting a brick wall that I'm terrified will never budge. "Maybe if Benn and I can get close enough...do you think I might be able to recognize one of them?"

  His eyes narrow into tight slits, but he keeps his gaze level with the street. I know what he's thinking: Sean saw one of the Gianottis the night of my attack, but that's all we have to go on. Even if I were to recognize one of them as my actual attacker, we both know something like that might never hold up in court. After all, the Gianottis are all over the press on a weekly basis. There's always a headline about them somewhere, so a judge might not be keen on believing that night was the only time I'd ever seen them. Not to mention that it's been seven years and my memory of that night, even when it actually happened, is murky at best.

  We'll need more than just that if Sean even has a prayer of getting out of prison.

  Thankfully, though, Jack doesn't say any of that out loud.

  And then my phone buzzes again with yet another text from Lucy: Hello?? What about tonite??

  I push out a deep breath, readying to tell her what she wants to hear, but Jack's voice stops me.

  "Everything okay?"

  "It's fine," I tell him breezily, but I still can't make myself type out a reply. "It's just my sister."

  "Zero?" he cocks an eyebrow at me.

  "Yeah," I laugh. "Zero. She wants me to close the store for her tonight."

  Now his eyebrows dip into a frown. "I thought you said today's your day off."

  "It is," I shrug.

  "So why is she asking yah to work for her? That seems like a pretty shitty thing to do."

  I guess I really have no one to blame for this but myself. It's not like I've never rolled over for her before and in doing that, I've only trained her into thinking it's okay to treat me that way, that I don't really care, that I'll bend to whatever she wants because that's the way it's always been.

  "Is she sick or something?"

  "Nope," I blow out a laugh and shake my head in spite of myself. If she was sick, that would be a plausible reason to ask me to come in. If she was offering to take one of my closing shifts in exchange for hers, that would be a fair trade. But she isn't. And she never will unless I start doing something about it.

  So I text back: Can you close for me tomorro
w then?

  Asking her to close on her night off is the true test and she takes her sweet time in replying.

  Sorry. I can't. I have plans tomorrow night.

  Sure she does. Just like every night. There's still another out for her too: she could've offered to take a different night for me, but she didn't. And just as I'm about to tell her no, old habits kick into gear and I hesitate.

  "It's her friend's birthday," I reason out loud and I can see Jack shaking his head out of the corner of my eye.

  "So what? She had to have known her friend would want to go out for her birthday sooner than right now. When does your store close anyway?"

  "Nine," I mumble.

  Jack's eyebrows lift high into his forehead. "What? She can't meet her friends out after that?"

  "I don't know," I shrug. "They're probably going out for dinner or something like that too."

  "So what?"

  It's a fair question and even in the face of his rightful, fair judgment, I still can't bring myself to tell her no. If I had plans other than Netflix and hanging out with Freya tonight, maybe I'd feel better about it. But that sick knot twists in my stomach and I just can't do it.

  Lucy texts back: Thanks!! You're the best big sister ever!!

  That knot just twists even tighter. We're sisters. I have to keep telling myself that. Blood doesn't matter when it comes to our relationship. Besides, the number of people I can consider true family has really dwindled down over the past week. The last thing I want to do is push her away.

  "Aw, come on," Jack murmurs next to me and his hands tighten around the steering wheel again. "Tell her you're coming in later tomorrow then."

  "What? I can't do that."

  "Yes, you can," he nods to my phone. "It's only fair, Rae."

  There's something about the way he says my name that throws me completely off-balance. It's softer somehow. Quieter. He's called me by my first name before, but this time I feel it all the way to the tips of my toes.

  And then there's the other piece of this: he's right. He's completely and totally right. I can't let Lucy walk over me anymore than I can let the mayor continue to wreak havoc over my life and my emotions. She may still be my sister, but we need to redraw the lines of our relationship.