Page 76 of Ciaran

Luke makes a final check on his surveillance equipment and tests that Draven and I can hear him through our earpieces, then he climbs out of the car. Michael, Luke’s friend, follows. They head toward the disused warehouse where they’d arranged to meet Tanner.

Luke used his contacts to build a fake online presence, which backed up our cover story so when Tanner checked us out—as he must have done, otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to meet us so readily—it all stacked up. We’ve fabricated a back story about Luke’s nephew being desperate to break out of playing football for an amateur league, but that he needs a little ‘help’ on the side.

I fiddle with my earpiece and tilt the screen on the laptop to give us a better view through the camera masquerading as a button on Luke’s jacket. He approaches the warehouse and draws back a rusty metal lock that creaks and groans, and they go inside. Tanner is leaning casually against a pillar, his feet crossed at the ankle. My back stiffens, and I fist my hands.

“Take it easy,” Draven murmurs. “I feel you, brother.”

I can’t reply. I gaze at the screen, unblinking, as Luke and Michael shake hands with the blackmailing scumbag who’ll soon get a taste of his own medicine.

“How can I help you, gentlemen?” Tanner says, his voice beautifully clear. The picture is a little fuzzy, and the camera vibrates when Luke moves, but there’s no question as to the identity of the individual on the screen.

“Like I said on the phone, my nephew has been trying to break into the big leagues for a while now. He works hard, he’s a terrific player, but he’s missing that edge, y’know? That extra something that’ll give him a head start on the competition.”

Tanner nods. “It’s something I hear a lot in my field. All the pieces of the puzzle are there, except one.”

“Exactly,” Luke says. “And that’s why we’re here. A friend of a friend thought you might be able to help.”

“Maybe,” Tanner says, his tone non-committal. “For the right price.”

“We’re desperate,” Luke says, playing up to Tanner’s greed. “This might be his last shot.”

Tanner kicks his chin in Michael’s direction. “You up for this?”

“I am,” Michael says. “Playing football professionally is all I’ve ever wanted to do. If I don’t make it, well…” He shrugs. “I want to know I tried everything.”

“Even something not entirely legal,” Tanner says.

I almost choke. “Not entirely legal,” I growl under my breath to Draven. “Is this guy for real?”

“Shh.” Draven digs me in the ribs with his elbow.

“I’ll do anything,” Michael says, playing up his desperation to perfection. “I know the risks.”

Tanner rubs his chin. “I want to help you. Really I do, but, well…”

I hold my breath. Fuck. He isn’t going to go for it. Something in Luke’s or Michael’s demeanor must’ve tipped him off. I almost slam my fist into the car window.

“It’s gonna cost you, though,” he continues. “You’re not part of my normal supply chain, see. So I gotta charge you more.”

Yes! His hesitation was just to prepare them for him pushing the price up.

“How much more?” Luke asks.

“Forty percent.”

I peer closer as Luke chews his lip, pretending to mull over the offer. He catches Michael’s gaze. Michael gives Luke this beseeching look, worthy of an Oscar-winning actor. Good man.

“They should be on the fucking stage,” Draven says.

This time it’s my turn to shush my partner.

“Okay,” Luke says clapping Michael on the shoulder. “He’s worth it.” Taking a roll of bills from his pocket, he hands them to Tanner. “Here’s a down payment. You’ll get the rest when you deliver the goods. How soon can you get the first delivery to us?”

Tanner smirks, counts the cash, then tucks it away in his pocket. “Tomorrow.”

Once we’ve gone over the second half of our plan, I usher the three guys out of my hotel room and close the door with a sigh of relief. Today went well, but the wait until tomorrow is killing me. Being in the same city as Mia and not being able to grab her by the hand and take her back to New York where she belongs is torturous.

I lie on the bed and open the photos app on my phone, scrolling through picture after picture. Mia in the morning, hair tousled from sleep. Mia behind reception when she didn’t realize I was watching as she’d listened intently to the needs of a customer. Mia on the boat, her face flushed from the cutting wind as we’d zipped down the Hudson.