Jack shook his head, eyes wet. “She’d say we took too long.”
The Detroit snow fell like ash from an old wound, covering the Mercy Street neighborhood in a hush that felt more like a warning. Inside the Mercer family garage, the air smelled of gasoline, cold metal, and something else—something older. Loyalty. Four Brothers -2005-
Evelyn’s photo sat on the tool bench. In it, she was laughing, holding a spatula, wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Cook.” Jack shook his head, eyes wet
—the smooth one, the planner—sat on a toolbox, cleaning a revolver that wasn’t his. He hadn’t cried at the funeral. He’d just stared at the back of the head of a man named Victor Sweet, a local club owner who’d been expanding into Evelyn’s block. “She knew something,” Angel said. “And Victor knew she knew.” Loyalty