SPENCER

Bruce Landry and I sat on opposite ends of the roomy middle row in his Escalade. The burly henchmen had taken the front seats, and his driver navigated the vehicle a couple blocks up from Dad's apartment building, before venturing down a back alley on Main Street.

Leaning into the plush leather, I noted our location behind Sully's Diner and then kept my eyes on Bruce. The overhead light was on, shining ominously over his face like we were in some kind of dramatic film noir crime flick.

He was dressed well, and he looked pretty good for his age. From my minimal research, I knew that my dad and Bruce were only a couple years apart, but Bruce's hair was still dark and his eyes and skin didn't seem to hold any trauma.

My dad's hair, on the other hand, had run gray long ago, and his entire face was worn down by the unsavory lifestyle he'd been living. Every line in his skin told a story, and his eyes were tired. They'd seen too much.

Bruce hadn't seen much of anything yet, I could tell. But that didn't make him any less dangerous. At that moment, he held a lot of power, and he knew it. It meant I had to be careful with the little bit I still had.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked after a beat of silence.

"Yep." I nodded slowly, feigning disinterest, though my mind was busy with questions. "I know who you are, Bruce."

That made him smile. "Ahh, it would seem my reputation precedes me."

"Not exactly." I shrugged, unable to help the tiniest smirk from crossing my lips. "My father likes to keep me informed from time to time about who he's doing business with. I'd never heard of you when he filled me in, but he matched your name to a face with an old mugshot we found online."

I also ran a background check, but I didn't want him to think he was worth that much work. The guy already thought a little too highly of himself for being a fucking nobody. I couldn't imagine what benefit my dad saw in him. But that wasn't my business.

"An old mugshot, hmm?" Bruce's voice was calculated but on edge. He knew where I was going with that mugshot comment, and he didn't like giving up any of the power.

"Yeah, from December of ninety-five. Knocked over a liquor store in Roxborough, right?" I tilted my head at him and blew out a breath of air. "Pretty intense, if you ask me. I can see why you'd think I knew who you were."

"That's not me anymore," Bruce said, doing a great job of keeping it together. I could only tell in the slight twitch of his eye that I'd hit a nerve, but it was fleeting. "If I was still into petty theft, I wouldn't be working with your dad, now would I?"

He had me there.

I lifted a shoulder, dropped it. "I guess that's true."

"You know, I know things about you, too." Bruce doubled down with an unsettling smile, raising his eyebrows as he added, "I know all about your family and the part they've played in the workings of this town."

I couldn't help laughing. "My family's lived here for over a hundred years. Everyone knows about us."

"Even the stuff they do in the dark?" he fired back.

"Especially that stuff," I informed him. He really was new to this.

It was no secret to anyone what the Lovejoy name meant in Fairhaven. The men in my family had been running the police force for years. If you weren't making money with people like my father in charge, you feared him and kept your nose out of it.

It had always been like that, and I hated every ounce of it. The only hope I held onto was the knowledge that it would end with me. I wasn't planning on being a cop much longer, and I definitely wasn't a dirty one.

"You don't seem too worried about your family's reputation." Bruce sat back in his seat, sounding almost shocked. "I mean, for fuck's sake. Your dad bribed a federal judge in the nineties to clear Albert Massaro of a RICO charge. And he got away with it."

I cringed at that, swallowing hard at the memory. Not the memory of the actual event because I wasn't even born yet. But at the memory of being eighteen fucking years old, already at the police academy with stars in my eyes, and finding out my family's entire fortune had been earned by lies and blood and through the general disassemblage of societal goodness.

Growing up, I had things other kids never had, was given opportunities they would never see. As a child, it felt normal, and my mother did a pretty good job of protecting my innocence. But she couldn't protect me forever. Not from the painful reality that it was all a lie. A farce. The houses, the cars, my parents' marriage. None of it meant anything.

"My father's business has nothing to do with me," I stated firmly, looking Bruce right in the eyes so he'd understand the gravity of my words.

He only smiled, still prying at me. "And yet, you still became a cop?"

"That's beside the point. His work doesn't involve me."

Bruce scoffed and shook his head. "We'll see," he muttered before his eyes beamed up to the front of the truck. He nodded at the man in the passenger seat and was promptly passed two sheets of paper. He handed one of them to me. "Take a look at this."

I grabbed it from him and quickly skimmed. Five dates and five locations, all local. Two were typed in black ink, the other three in red. None of it meant anything to me.

"What am I looking at?"

"Those are the last five drops we did with your old man," Bruce explained, all business now. "From January 29th to March 11th, last week. You'll notice three of them are listed in red. Those mark the ones that he fucked up."

My stomach sank. I gripped the paper tighter as a breath held in my lungs.

The ones he fucked up.

"Don't know if you've noticed, Spencer, but your father's mind isn't what it used to be." Bruce leaned back and rested one leg over the knee of his other, casual. Still holding the power as I felt all of mine slip through my fingers. "When we connected last year, I was assured by a trusted associate that John Lovejoy was good for the job. He had connections I needed, names and resources I haven't been able to compile for myself yet, and enough time in the business to be a trusted face to several important people. But he's not as sharp lately. You know anything about that?"

I turned to look at him. I couldn't think of the right thing to say, so I echoed the same words I'd spoken to Dalton just a few hours earlier. "I'm not sure what that's about yet. But I'm figuring it out."

"That's good." Bruce nodded, seeming genuinely concerned for a moment. "But I'm afraid it's not enough."

Immediately, I knew where our conversation was going. I knew why I'd been brought here. And, immediately, I didn't like it one bit.

"What's this have to do with me?" I asked anyway.

Bruce passed me the second paper. It was a longer list, much longer, with weekly dates starting on March 25th and ending on October 2nd. It was more detailed, too, cataloging the contents of each drop, alongside where they were going.

Half the locations were local. A quarter were bound for Chicago, like most everything else leaving Fairhaven. The other quarter were–

Fuck.

"My dad's sending shit out of the country now?"

Bruce smirked. "Our associates in Canada came from two levels up. New territory for both me and your dad. He's all about it. Or at least he was. But with recent...developments, I can't be worried about your dad's memory problems. I have too many other things coming up."

"What do you want from me?" I asked, hoping I was somehow wrong about what Bruce was getting at. My head was spinning.

"You're gonna handle the jobs on that list," he clarified like it was nothing to him. Like the solution was splayed out before him on a whiteboard of success, the only feasible option.

"No, I'm not," I argued, shaking my head. "You can find someone else."

"Like who?" Bruce challenged.

"Literally anyone else," I countered, shoving the papers back into his hands. "My dad's made a fuckton of friends in this world over the years. Get one of them to help you."

He laughed out loud. The jolly, gruff sound of it echoed through the SUV, louder than necessary, especially when the idiots up front joined in.

"See, in theory, that would be great," Bruce said. "But these guys we're delivering to...they're old. Set in their ways. They won't do business with just anyone. They want to work with a Lovejoy, like they always have. And since your old man can't keep any important details straight anymore, the job has fallen to you, whether you like it or not."

"This isn't my job," I mumbled, feeling an intense pressure on my chest. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"You don't need to worry about that. Everything will be in place." He handed the second paper back to me. "You'll just be your father's representative. To make these assholes feel better about who they're working with."

I looked out the window, stared at the brick wall on the backside of Sully's, and felt the good parts of me chipping away. I hadn't even done anything yet, hadn't agreed to the job. But I think maybe my heart already had. I could tell by Bruce's demeanor, and more so by his desperation, that he wasn't going to let either of us off the hook.

He confirmed as much when he added, "I don't have to tell you what'll happen if this goes south, right Spencer? You've been around this world long enough to know the consequences. Wouldn't want your old man on the end of that..."

I spared him a glance. "I think you're deeply overestimating my loyalty."

He wasn't, not really, and I hated to admit that.

Mere hours ago, I'd challenged Dalton on his idea of familial allegiance. I could never fathom being so dedicated to my father's cause the way he was dedicated to his, all in the name of loyalty. But it turned out, my own loyalty just hadn't been tested yet.

Bruce had officially tested me.

"What if I say no?" I asked, just to test him right back. Just so I could say I'd fought for my own integrity, if only for show.

"We have other ways of convincing you," he replied easily.

"Oh yeah?" I let out a humorless laugh. "Like what?"

I was playing with fire, being so obstinate. But it didn't feel right to go down without a fight. Though my father's life was potentially on the line, so was my moral compass, my reputation as the good guy I'd always wanted to be. Participating in my father's dirty work meant I'd become part of the lies and corruption I'd tried so hard to avoid.

I'd have to live with myself. And so would–

"Davina Harlow."

My head shot over to look at Bruce, jolted by the sound of her name coming out of his mouth like it was summoned by my thoughts themselves, by the image of her disappointment that had just been running through my mind's eye.

She already didn't trust me. She didn't trust anyone in this town. What would she think of me helping my father peddle drugs and firearms to the bottomless pit of society? If she ever found out, she'd never forgive me. She'd never see it for what it was.

But I had bigger fucking things to worry about than that.

"What the fuck did you just say?" My chest was close to imploding as a rush of anger sped through my veins. I inched closer to Bruce and seethed, "Leave her out of this."

"Can't do that." He shook his head, smiling again. I wanted to punch his teeth out. "Like I said, I know things about you, too. I know you live across the street from David Harlow's daughter. That you spend a...considerable amount of time at her house after dark. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what she means to you."

My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't think straight. I could barely speak. Even the thought of her being hurt gutted me.

"If you so much as breathe near her, I swear to God–"

"I don't want it to come to that anymore than you do." Bruce threw a hand up, establishing some distance between us. Then he faced the rearview mirror and nodded to the driver in the reflection. "But just know, we'll be watching. We've been watching. And if everything goes as planned, this will all be over in a few short months."

As the SUV started moving, I was forced back into my seat, forced to regulate my breathing and toss my anger down.

What choice did I have? I'd promised her, years ago, that I'd protect her.

This had nothing to do with family loyalty anymore. It was only my loyalty to her that had me agreeing.