Page 78 of Alfie: Part One
“When I asked what he was being punished for, he became tight-lipped,” he added. “He said it was up to you to divulge anything.”
Attaboy. That boded well for our future work dynamic. Because I was definitely putting Colby to work. And hopefully, I could convince him to think about returning to school too.
Finn had given me six months, and Colby and I had a lot to prove.
“Would you rat me out to the cops?” I asked. “If given the opportunity.”
He furrowed his brow. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. Part of me trusts you enough to ask and believe whatever you say in response, but another part is like, fuck Alfie, he’s jeopardizing our kids’ safety.”
The furrow between his brows deepened, and he rested his forearms on the table. “I’d like to propose a trust treaty in that case. If you’re more honest about what it is you do, I promise to be a vault.”
I cocked my head, more than a little interested in the idea.
“I would like the record to reflect that I’d be a vault, regardless,” he went on. “With only one exception. If I genuinely believe our children aren’t safe with you—and you refuse to make changes—I will certainly do something about it.”
As any parent worth their salt would.
I cleared my throat and leaned forward a bit. “When I have Trip and Ellie, my work couldn’t be more uneventful. I have access to a condo near Reading Terminal, where I do nothing but text and talk on the phone. I help Kellan set up sit-downs and…errands. I’m his PA, in short. And tonight was an emergency—an exception. They will be extremely rare.”
“And when you don’t have the children?”
Right. Yeah.
We locked eyes, and it…it was like a crossroads. Now was the time to give him a hand—not an arm. Just…more than the middle finger I’d essentially given him in the past.
“I’m a location scout,” I said. “And I put together small crews to pick up stuff.”
“Stuff,” he repeated flatly.
I nodded once. “I’m not gonna go into detail. I will just say, I’m close enough to the management that they will never put me in situations where I don’t have enough time to cover my tracks. The phone I’ve talked about isn’t just one phone. It’s a burner I replace frequently, and we have enough tech geniuses to hide my location when I use it. Most recently, today, if someone tracked any calls, they’d think they came from Japan.”
“Jesus.” West sat back again and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
I pushed forward. “Staying on the sidelines isn’t only my own stipulation—it’s what works best for Finnegan and the others too. As long as I’m only loosely linked to the syndicate, they won’t be able to figure out what I’m doing for them. There’s no connection between us other than my being Finn’s cousin and Liam’s brother. And Liam’s not from here. He doesn’t appear in local case files. He’s Chicago’s problem.”
I had a mental list of all the dirty cops who received O’Shea bribes in Philly, Camden, and surrounding suburbs.
“When you told me you had a date, I went to see Kellan,” I admitted. “I told him I wanted in.” I definitely had his attention. “I wanted action and I wanted money. I wanted to belong—and I mentioned I could come with him when he had sit-downs and whatever.”
His jaw ticked with tension, and he narrowed his eyes. “That’s not a loose link, Alfie. You’d be directly affiliated by anyone surveilling you.”
I smirked. “That’s what Finn ultimately said too. So I’m not gonna be there. I’m gonna remain hidden in situations the authorities associate with syndicate work, particularly sit-downs.”
He let out a breath and lost some of the tension in his shoulders. “In short, they don’t want you to exist on the police radar in order for you to do your work undetected…?”
I nodded. “That’s exactly it.” I paused. “I’m not guaranteeing it’s gonna work forever, but trust me when I say we’re always one step ahead of the authorities. We know when it’s time to switch things up and adjust the workload and responsibilities.”
“That can’t be true.” He became dubious. “Mobsters get arrested from time to time.”
“Not the upper management,” I replied. “When was the last time you heard of a high-ranking Son doing time?”
He had no answer for that.
“I’m the organizer of pickup crews for certain things—maybe two or three a month—and I will constantly select new locations, new routes, and new vehicles. We never establish a pattern. There’s no fixed schedule to what I do. And, West—” I leaned forward “—I do all this from a safe distance. I’m nowhere near where things go down, on the off chance that something happens.”
“Like tonight,” he interjected.