"It was 'er, Con! I'm tellin' ye!" Murphy screamed, his twin holding him back. The man was convinced that as they were driving away, Rebecca was pulling up.
"Even if it was 'er, we've got ta be goin' now, Murph! It's not gonna do neither uh ye much good if ye end up dead or in jail, now is it?" He reasoned. He managed to calm down his brother enough to get the group to Doc's. It wasn't safe to stay at the hotel much longer and there was no where they felt safer or more at home than McGinty's.
"We lost the scoop of the century!" Tracy whined "I don't care what that bitch said, this is most definitely those Saint fucks."
"There will be another story, Trace." I reasoned, fighting my own inward battle. I was excited at the possibility that the MacManus' had returned to Boston, but a part of me still couldn't believe it. I had gotten my hopes up time and time before. I was tired of the disappointment.
"You're right! If it is them, they aren't going to stop until Yakavetta's whole squad is dead! We need to find out where they'll hit next!"
"This isn't Scooby-fucking-Doo, Tracy. We can't just run around and play detective."
"Like hell we can't. We're journalists. The story doesn't come to us. We go find the story!" She cried, just before storming off.
Left alone in my tiny cubicle, my mind began to wander. If I were a MacManus, where exactly would I hide in Boston? The thought that came to mind was so blatantly obvious, it was almost insane. I decided to go see for myself.
I pulled up to the curb in front of McGinty's and instantly regretted my decision. Who was to say Doc was still here. The bar had been closed for some years, but Doc still lived upstairs. I hadn't been to this part of town in years.
After minutes of arguing internally with myself, I finally got the nerve to go to the door. To my surprise, it was open, and the bar seemed to be empty, but open.
"Doc?" I called, looking for any sign of movement. I took a seat at my usual stool and waited. A few minutes passed and the door behind the bar eventually opened and the sweet old man showed his face.
"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle! Angel face!" he proclaimed. I blinked at the old, forgotten nickname. He came around the counter and embraced me warmly. "What brings you 'ere, l-l-l-l-lass?"
"I think you already know the answer to that, Doc."
"Aye, I 'ave an idea. I been watchin' ye on the news!"
"Then you know what's been going on?"
"Aye. You'd have to be livin' under a r-r-r-rock to not know."
"I'll get right down to why I'm here, Doc. Have you seen the boys?"
Silence filled the room. Doc sighed deeply, considering his answer. "I 'ave no idea where they are, miss."
I let out a deep breath of frustration. "Do you think it's them?"
"I'd be stupid not ta."
"You think they're safe?" I barely whispered.
"Don't chu be worryin' 'bout the boys. They can handle 'emselves."
With a heavy heart, I left empty handed.
"The lass, she came ta see ye." Doc told Murphy as the boys returned from seeing Gorgeous George. Murphy stopped in his tracks.
"She knows we're 'ere?" Connor asked.
"I didn't t-t-t-tell 'er anythin'. She asked if I had seen ye boys."
"Ye told 'er no?" Murphy whispered.
"Aye."
"Ye can go see 'er when we've finished 'ere, Murph. Don't go loosin' yer wits 'fore we've finished what we set ta do, my dear brudder."
"She left somethin' for ye." The old man admitted, reaching in his pocket and handing Murphy her business card. On the back she had written her cell phone number.
"Thank ye. Now let's get this shit over with."
"They aren't even letting people within a block of this place! What kind of shit is that?" Tracy protested. A few hours after I left Doc's, there was another shooting in a bar not far from the docks called the Silver Peso. Kevin told us that there were no pennies, no arms crossed, no sign of the Saints at all. This was different from the other shootings.
"Can we just get this rolling? It's freezing out here in this skirt." I complained. It was way later than I would normally stay out on a night like this. The streets were crowded with police vehicles and I could barely hear myself think.
"And say what? 'Uh, we don't know what's going on but it's probably some hormone induced Irish twins with a god complex?"
"It sure doesn't sound like them, Tracy. We just say men were shot and we go home. That's all that's been released so that's all we can say." I turned to the camera man. "Let's get this rolling." I muttered and waited for my cue. "This is Rebecca Ramone coming to you live from the streets of Boston. Behind me, officials were shocked to find the scene in this local bar where several men from a local gang were found shot to death, seemingly from their own guns. It is believed that in this bar, a fight ensued and in a crime of passion, guns were drawn. There were no survivors. We will bring you more when more information becomes available."
"And cut!" The camera man shouted, lowering the boom mike and his equipment, beginning to pack it up and stow it away in the station's van.
Just as I was walking to my car, my phone rang. The number was restricted and I almost didn't answer. "Hello?"
"It's nice ta see ye. I've missed that pretty face, that voice uh yers." A familiar, husky voice replied.
Reflexively, I immediately broke out into a smile. "Where are you?" I looked around eagerly. To my chagrin, I failed to see the face I had been longing to see for so long.
"Look up." He said mysteriously.
I did as I was told and from up above the bar, I spied a shadowy figure. I couldn't see any features, only a tall, dark man in an over sized trench coat, standing over the city like a comic book super hero. I smiled up at him as that warm feeling began to spread through out my body. "I need to see you." I admitted.
"Not 'ere. It's not safe. I'll come ta ye."
"Is that a promise?" I whispered seductively.
"Baby, ye know it."