“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Soren said, sucking in a deep breath, “but this isn’t my first rodeo with money laundering.”

“Wait, what?”

“Guessing the name Alen Hakobyan doesn’t ring a bell to you,” Renzo piped in.

“Should it?”

“He’s more of Primo’s problem than ours.”

“Primo Esposito?” I asked, brows scrunched.

But it all fell into place, little pieces I hadn’t realized I’d been collecting for years.

Soren telling me about kicking around The Bronx when he was younger.

Soren’s “friend” who gave him a leg-up in life when he’d been struggling.

Alen being Primo’s problem.

Primo being the mob boss of The Bronx.

“Alen was the friend who gave you the money to start your business,” I said, watching Soren.

“Yes,” he said, shoulders dropping like a huge weight had been lifted. Like he’d wanted someone to know that secret after years of keeping it to himself.

“And he’s been forcing you to let him wash his money through your clubs ever since.”

“Yes.”

“What is Alen into?” I asked, looking between both Soren and Renzo.

“It was heroin,” Soren supplied.

“Until Primo started to lean on him,” Renzo added. “Then he turned to Tranq.”

“Tranq,” I repeated, thinking of the scores of people passing out standing up or covered in lesions on the Philly streets from the drug that was fentanyl laced with horse tranquilizers. That was the last thing we needed taking off in any of the boroughs.

“It’s what he got locked up for,” Soren said.

“And you thought you were finally free,” I said.

“Yeah.”

And here I was, trying to run a laundering con right under his nose.

“What’s he got on you?” Renzo asked.

“Got on me?”

“You got anything on paper that says he’s an investor? Any texts or voicemails he can use against you? Any blackmail material he got on you?”

“No. We always talk in person. And he’s definitely not on any official paperwork.”

“Why you worried about him then?” Renzo asked.

“Because he could… go public with everything he’s said. He could ruin my reputation.”

Renzo nodded. “What are your books like? They clean? Will they stand up to an audit by the government?”

“Yes.”

“Then the fuck you care what that idiot says? He’s just some power-hungry drug dealer who wants to fuck you over.”

“I don’t know if it’s that easy,” Soren said.

“Sure it is. And it’s about to be a lot easier,” Renzo said, shrugging. “I’m gonna have Soren toss that asshole off at Primo’s doorstep. Let him handle it now that the law fucked it up.”

“So, what happens here now?” Teresa asked, making us all turn to look at her like we’d collectively forgotten she was there.

“How do you you mean?” Renzo asked.