did. Hell, he probably had doubts, too, but fear shouldn’t stop what seemed right. Fear shouldn’t stop the swapping of hearts. Give me yours and I’ll give you mine.
But what if this was wrong?
Simple.
He’d become a lesson. A steppingstone to something greater. That was the wonderful thing about dating, right? You were free to discover what was right and what was wrong.
Scott had dated more than I had. He was more experienced. So maybe he kept pushing love and marriage because he knew this was right. I wasn’t experienced enough to realize it. Time. It would just take time. And maybe the part of me that went fundamentally wrong after my sister died would heal.
I would change.
Be easier to love.
To be around.
I’d be happy with me.
My life would be enough.
A glimpse of Kelly’s face shoved itself inside of my mind, but I kicked him back out—he couldn’t steal what was no longer available, and that was any more of my thoughts.
Roisin had been wrong, and that was that.
4
Cash
Compartmentalizing was something I’d always excelled at. It was how I kept the three wars in my head separate. Because no doubt about it, they were separate, although they’d all grown from the same seed.
Even though Scott Stone was on my list, taking back my father’s territory was my first priority. The issue with Stone could simmer for a while—it had to—but action was needed to claim what was rightfully mine when my father was killed.
Hell’s Kitchen and its streets.
War I went something like this: It was no secret who had killed my father. It was one of the Grady men, who was also working for an Italian family. It wasn’t unusual for the Italians and the Irish to work together, so that by itself didn’t cause concern. It was the fact that Lee Grady had been trying to get my father to start drug trafficking before his death, but he refused.
He didn’t want drugs taking over his streets. He had an old-fashioned way of doing things, and that was mostly keeping his revenue through the docks. My old man knew that drugs only led to other things, and he refused to have any part of it.
So they killed him for it.
This made room for Lee Grady’s old man, Cormick, to take my father’s spot. He backed Lee’s way of thinking, since it was a sure way to make more money, especially since the criminal climate had changed and other lucrative things, like drugs, had already started to take over.
Cormick and Lee had sent one of their men, along with his Italian counterpart, a Scarpone, to kill my father because of his refusal to join the drug game. The setup was made to seem like a meeting, but in actuality, it was going to be a blood bath.
Speaking of which. The Scarpones were one of the most ruthless families in New York, one of the five syndicates, and no one really fucked with them. Arturo Lupo Scarpone, also known as The King of New York, was the head, and he was a dangerous motherfucker. Word on the street was that he had his own son, Vittorio, killed. It was no easy death, either. He had his throat slashed. No one could prove it, nor did they even try, but it didn’t take a smart man to figure it out.
Arturo valued power over his son’s life, which meant he had zero respect for any life.
Vittorio was considered not only one of New York’s most eligible bachelors—he ran in the most powerful social circles—but he was a smart son of a bitch, which was why they sometimes called him the Machiavellian Prince of New York. Some say Arturo was threatened by him, by his powerful presence, and that was why he had him killed. There was more to the story, though, and I knew it had to do with orders that were not carried out.
Not long before I left the steel cage, I was made aware of a war on the outside. The Scarpones didn’t know who was fucking with them, causing strife between the families. Even the Faustis were involved, and they rarely got involved unless mayhem started brewing on the streets. They stayed out of the way, mostly, but if situations started to stink, they’d step in and right wrongs however they saw fit.
The Faustis were the rulers of the kingdom. When the ruthless did wrong, and no one else could make them pay, it was the Faustis who did. Even the highest