Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Did you use that term, or did you say deliveries?”
I squinted, honestly not remembering. “Does it matter? It might’ve been deliveries.”
He nodded once and flicked ashes on the ground. “In short, you gave him enough intel to get a case started against you,” he said. “If he goes to the Feds, they’ll wanna map out your routines and habits. If you let your ex-husband know you’re handling some of our deliveries, that’s an excellent piece of information the authorities are gonna wanna know.”
I automatically sat up straighter, and I felt the need to defend myself—and West. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?” He put emphasis on pretty much every word. “Youse’re divorced, and you’re clearly still hung up on him, but does he feel the same way? What happened last night? I don’t think you’re the reason you’re not getting back together.”
Fuck. I could really use a shot of indifference right now. Instead, I was feeling unsettled and flustered. And I didn’t fucking do flustered.
“I don’t know how to sum up almost a decade of history, Finn,” I replied. “But if I didn’t feel I could trust West, I wouldn’t have shared anything at all. And let me be clear—I don’t share shit about anyone else. No dates, no locations, no names outside the family, nothing incriminating—”
“When you share information about your role in the syndicate, you share information about all of us,” he corrected. “The Feds always wanna know more about our operations, whether we’re suspects in something or not. Right now, they probably have a picture of you up on their boards, and it’s highlighted with a big fucking question mark. Don’t do their work for them.” He took a quick drag from his smoke and faced Shan. “This is what I’m talking about. If they’re married, I don’t have a problem with what he’s sharing—unless it goes overboard, but by the sound of things, it’s standard vague shite.”
“If I may,” Shan interjected and turned to me. “Is a reconciliation out of the question?”
I nodded once. “With 99% certainty.” I explained, briefly, a little about what West had told me last night, what his issues were—and his fears about possibly being associated with the Sons, what it might mean for himself and our kids. That he could lose his job and whatever.
I didn’t go into detail about West not wanting to put me in a position where I had to choose a family. There was no point.
“Why would he lose his job?” Shan wondered. “I thought he was a TV producer of some sort.”
“He is. It’s… I mean, they’re understandable worries when you don’t really know what’s up,” I said. “They’re just not based on what happens in reality. I seriously don’t think he’d lose his job.”
“Where does he work?” Shan asked next.
Finn responded. “He’s the producer of that Morning in Philly show. Emilia always has it on when she makes breakfast.”
A Good Philly Morning, but yeah.
“Oh, I didn’t know it was that show,” Shan mused. “I watch it too. I particularly enjoy their debate segments—and that we don’t have to sue them after their specials about the Sons.”
Heh…
“That’s understandable, though, given we have two Sons on the board,” he added.
What?
Finn was confused too. “We do? I thought we only had people at NKP2 and South—”
“That’s the company West works for,” I blurted out. NKP2 Productions had their headquarters in Boston, but they had offices and studios in Philly, Pittsburgh, and Miami, cities with their own morning shows.
“Fuck, that’s right,” Finn chuckled. “I forgot they’d merged with that Jersey company.”
I knew about that too. What the fuck was going on? A Jersey-based production company had headhunted West, eventually resulting in us relocating back east. And around the time he and I got divorced, NKP2 Productions had merged with—or swallowed up—the other company.
“Why do we have people on the boards of production companies?” I asked.
Finn smirked faintly. “Because it’s much easier than having people on the inside of the networks they eventually sell their productions to.”
That didn’t answer my question.
Shan was ready to clarify, thankfully. “We have to know what’s being said about us, at least on a semi-national scale. NKP2 focuses on East Coast productions within news media, and then we have one member with South Helen Broadcasting that produces a show in Chicago. Some radio and podcasting too, I believe.”
Finn nodded and put out his smoke. “These days, social media weighs heavier, but we still gotta keep up with TV and print media.”
I guessed that made sense, the more I thought about it. I’d just never considered how many pockets they might have their hands in.
“To be fair, it’s not only about knowing what’s being said about us,” Finn said. “I’d say it’s less about that nowadays.”
“True,” Shan conceded.
Finn smiled. “It’s about control.”
Of course it was.
I sat back and swallowed, and I wondered just how much influence the Sons had. I mean, I knew they interfered all over the place. Mainly, politics. You wouldn’t catch a Son voting for legalizing fucking anything. It was business lost in the drug trade.