She’d had no illusions about Cormack when she first reached out to him. It was well known that he had a piece of all the illegal activity throughout Boston Harbor. The authorities had spent years trying to build a case to bring charges against him, but they’d never been able to gather enough concrete evidence for a successful prosecution. Eventually they gave up the effort. Truth be told, many in law enforcement recognized that Cormack did an effective job of keeping violence under control, and some level of illegal activity was inevitable. Better the devil you know, seemed to be the attitude that many took toward the corrupt union head.

That reality presented an interesting opportunity for her. She’d campaigned to be put in charge of a task force going after MS-13, which had grown in strength and influence in Boston and the surrounding towns since the turn of the millennium. It was a task she relished, not just because she wanted to fight crime, but for personal reasons as well. Her mission didn’t necessarily conflict with Cormack’s interests, and she knew that his eyes and ears along the shoreline could be an indispensable source of information.

She was straightforward with him the first time they met. She’d set a meeting to discuss the harbor’s security concerns. It wasn’t that unusual; his legitimate cover as the head of the largest union gave him an interest in maintaining harbor security. The pretense hadn’t lasted long.

“I’m not interested in the information that comes to you through legitimate channels,” she’d said directly. They were only five minutes into the meeting. He didn’t reply; he just raised his eyebrow, and there was a hint of interest and amusement his eyes. It was the first time she’d felt the attraction to him. “I’m interested in the information you come by in connection with your more illicit activities,” she continued.

“And what activities would those be?” he’d asked her. The smile was still in his eyes.

“Don’t be coy, Mr. O’Connell,” she’d said.

“Cormack. Please.”

“Cormack. I’m aware that you direct—in one way or another—all, or at least almost all of the illegal activity in the harbor. From what I’ve heard, you do a hell of a job of it, too. No one gets too fat, no one gets out of control, and everyone is taken care of. You’d have made an impressive politician.”

“Trust me, I am a politician,” he’d replied. “Which is why I have little time to … How did you put it … direct illegal activity?” He shook his head. “I’m not even sure what that means, but I wouldn’t have the time for that sort of responsibility. My job is too demanding.”

“Really?” She’d feigned disappointment. “I must have been misinformed.”