The alternative is taking off my clothes and lying down, vulnerable in an unfamiliar place. The masseuse can text her boyfriend or whatever. I’ll sit in the room and check in with my lieutenants over the phone for an hour. “I told them to give you the VIP treatment.” Best massage of your life.” Richie is wringing his Sox cap in hands. Usually I do, too, but I don’t need my employees thinking I’ve gone soft. I make sure he’s got an armed guard at his disposal at all times. So I sent them crying to the nurse’s office holding their bloody noses. Growing up in Southie, I’d learned to mind my own business before I could walk, but I didn’t like the way the older boys had singled out learning disabled Richie. I met Rich on the first day of second grade when he was getting his ass kicked on the kickball field by a bunch of fourth graders. Unfortunately, Richie’s mind doesn’t work as quickly as everyone else’s and I don’t hurt his feelings, if I can help it. Rich, my right-hand man, thinks he’s doing me some big favor surprising me with a massage on my thirty-fifth birthday, but if he thinks I’m going to lie down and let some stranger rub oil that smells like flowers on me for an hour, he’s got another think coming. Their positions at their jobs aren’t contingent on their strength. Those are the kind of men who get massages.

I’ve got no intention of going legit any time soon, like the pale, pencil-pushing stool pigeons I see waiting at bus stops when I pass by in my Bugatti. My business practices are illegal, immoral-and they make me a lot of money. There wasn’t a hiccup when I took over, tightening up the operation and bringing the family into the twenty-first century. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t being groomed to step into his shoes and run the Boston underworld in which I was brought up. I’ve been the head of the McManus family for five years, ever since my hardnosed bastard of a father dropped dead on the tennis court of his estate, probably to avoid losing the match.

In my world, weakness is the kiss of death.

Getting one implies that I’m overworked and stressed-both of which suggest weakness. And he’s not accustomed to hearing the word no… Because Walker isn’t satisfied with one session. Nor did I expect the dangerously attractive criminal to offer fifty thousand dollars to give me the massage, instead. When I woke up this morning, I never expected my first massage client of the day to be notorious Boston mob boss Walker McManus.

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