Page 136 of Fallen Rook

When Sully was gone, Zeke ran a hand over his tie, letting me dwell in the silence in case I had something to confess. I stuck to my guns. Finally, he said, “Do I need to get you off the Camorra case? It’s not too late, and you will be sure to collect the accolades that will follow when we close it and get your shiny promotion.”

“I’m my informant’s only point of contact,” I replied dryly. Begging, arguing, and pleading my case would only prove his point that this had become too personal; instead, I gave him a pragmatic reason why he couldn’t keep me away from it. “If I go, this all falls like a house of cards.”

“You do remember, Tom, that I’m the captain of this vessel?” He ducked his head, searching my eyes. “Yours is not the only promotion that’s on the line here. If this becomes a farce, if it goes sideways…”

“It will not,” I said around a lump in my throat. I hated doing this, especially to Zeke, a man who had believed in me more than anyone else. A man who’d been determined to be my friend, even when I rejected all other forms of social connections. A man I trusted on the battlefield with my own life—and vice versa.

“Are you sure?”

“I was the one who insisted we see this case through.” I stubbed my chest with my finger. “I was the one who fought to get to this moment. I was the one who formed relationships, who spent days and months of surveillance, who studied the Camorra operation inside and out. And I’m the one who is going to execute this mission to the best of my ability. If you take that away from me, the case falls apart, and you know it. Sully is an impulsive, angry old drunk. And he’d be the one leading this op if I step aside, if he doesn’t get suspended for nearly punching Enzo. Whoever you’d pair him with won’t have half the information needed to get the bigger picture.”

Zeke stared and stared. He stared as a form of interrogation, imploration, coercion. My mouth said all the right words, but my actions had told a different story.

“You need to watch your six.” He folded his arms over his chest. “The Department of Justice is puzzled by the direction you’ve taken with this case.”

“I will,” I promised.

“We’ve been through the trenches together. Brothers in arms. I am your oldest friend,” he reminded me.

“You are.”

“This place, this department, is my legacy.”

“It is.”

“You will not make a fool of me, of us, right, Thomas?”

“I won’t.”

I hoped it wasn’t one lie too many.

Because losing the love of my life and my best friend on the same shift seemed like an unbearable punishment, even to an asshole like me.

After work, I braved the mind-numbing traffic and drove to Staten Island. Grams took ten minutes to open the door. Not because she had difficulty walking, those damn cats kept looping around her ankles everywhere she went, like little typhoons. Finally, she tossed the door open, toeing the felines away.

She took one look at me and sighed. “Oh, darling. He broke your heart.”

“Worse, Grams. I broke his, too.”

She ushered me inside, where I planned to knock back whatever was available and alcoholic and treat myself to a silent mental breakdown.

Unfortunately, my sorry excuse for a life had other plans. Iris and Silas were seated in the living room, enjoying tea and funnel cake. A man I assumed was Joshua was with them. He was blond, lean, on the shorter side, and looked like he could pass as Iris’s brother. Still, they somehow fit.

Silas threw himself at me in a hug, and Joshua stood and shook my hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Iris has told me a lot of great things about you. Thank you for taking care of her.”

A groggy “likewise” was all I could produce. I scurried to an empty spot on the overcrowded couch and perched on it, regretting the moment I’d thought it’d be a good idea to crash Grams’s house. For the next twenty minutes, I answered questions with grunts and kept to myself. Then—thankfully—Iris and Joshua left for a date, and Silas stayed back. Apparently, he was doing a sleepover here, so Iris and Josh could get some quality time.

Deciding to rise above my misery, I asked Silas if he wanted to throw ball in the backyard.

“Nah, weather’s too cold. Besides, I wanna play Roblox.”

“You can, but only after you brush your teeth, get into your pajamas, and say your prayers.” Grams wagged her finger.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Grams.”