Chapter 79

Michael drives as Shane O’Leary keeps the muzzle of the handgun shoved hard into his side.

In the back seat, a woman, O’Leary’s wife, maybe, has said nothing since Michael was forced into the car. Michael has no idea where they’re headed, but he suspects it’s somewhere secluded, somewhere where no one can hear you scream.

He’s tried talking to O’Leary, to reason with him, but each time he’s been barked down.

O’Leary directs Michael to turn right onto Fourth Street. The mobster seems agitated, like he too has had enough of all this.

“I have your money,” Michael says. “I made some good investments and a significant return.”

O’Leary clenches his jaw, shakes his head.

“Twenty million. I’ll transfer it all, just leave my daughter out of this.”

Michael hears a sob from the back seat. O’Leary reaches back, like he’s squeezing her hand, comforting her.

“It’s okay, Gina, baby,” O’Leary says. Then he glares at Michael. “Your family has taken something from me that can’t be replaced with money.”

Michael feels a wave of nausea.

“My daughter was just a kid. She never thought…” He doesn’t finish the thought. “This has to end.”

“It will. Today.”

Michael looks in the rearview, tries to catch Gina O’Leary’s gaze. “It’s not going to make the pain go away, taking my daughter. Is this what Anthony would want?”

Michael feels a blow to his face. The vehicle swerves until he regains control.

“Don’t you ever say his name,” O’Leary growls.

O’Leary’s wife is sobbing again.

Michael thinks about Mac in his hospital bed. Ken dead, by this man’s hand. Ryan’s lost years of his life. And, of course, his daughter.

He tastes blood in his mouth. There is no convincing O’Leary.

O’Leary points the gun to the sign indicating the Centennial Bridge, which crosses the Missouri River and connects Kansas and Missouri.

On the bridge, Michael’s thoughts return to his daughter. To her wandering Paris holding her grandfather’s hand. To teaching her to drive. To them both having no one but each other all these years. All the identities… all the starting over. And her coming out on the other side a talented artist and curator. He thinks of Mac squeezing his hand from that hospital bed.

Gripping the wheel, he steps on the gas pedal.

O’Leary puts the gun to his head. “Slow down.”

Michael accelerates, screeching around cars on the bridge, gaining speed.

O’Leary says something he can’t make out.

Their vehicle is a blur on the busy road until Michael cuts the wheel sharply toward the protective barrier.