Adriano lunges across the table and Doc pulls away laughing. “What? You gonna kill me like your little Pryntsesa?”

Adriano stands, shoving his chair back. Doc will be lucky to come away whole from this one. And the two of them are the oldest friends of the four of us, neighbors from when they were six or seven.

A memory comes to me. Mama breaking up a fight between my brother Kit and I on Christmas morning. We were wrestling over a water pistol, and she snatched it away and slapped both of us. “I hope you’re happy. Now, no one gets to have it.”

I know what I have to do. Truthfully, a part of me has known since I left the basement with my necklace still in my pocket.

Adriano advances on Doc, his massive hands balled into fists. Doc throws the revolver onto the table and takes out his butterfly knife, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Bobby hovers like a nervous cop, unsure who to hurt or protect.

I move to stand between them. “That’s enough.”

Doc shows his teeth. “Can we have one fistfight around here?”

“You’re holding a knife,” I snarl. “But shut your fucking mouth and listen to me.”

To Doc’s credit, he doesn’t respond. I take a step backward so I can see all three of my brothers. “I hope you’re happy,” I tell them, looking from face to sulking face. “Now, no one gets to have it.”

Doc frowns. “The fuck are you talking about, Morelli?”

“This January Whitehall situation. It ends. Tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Bobby asks, going white.

“I’m sending her away. And you know why? Because you egotistical bastards don’t know how to compromise.”

Doc points his knife at me. “I don’t know how to compromise?”

“Put that away, you blond asshole. I haven’t forgotten about you almost burning us alive.”

Doc shakes his head, but I can tell he’s trying not to grin.

I expect further argument, but the stinging silence says the others understand what I’m doing. Maybe even hoped for it. The relief of a decision made, and a problem solved.

“Sit down,” I say. “I’ll get us all drinks and we can talk.”

As they take their seats I head to the bar and open a bottle of Bowmore. By the time I’m finished pouring drinks, the fight’s forgotten and they’re already discussing a married bouncer who got one of Doc’s strippers pregnant. Doc found him threatening the girl in the ladies’ bathroom.

“I gave her five grand, told her to go back to Dallas, but it’s not over. The prick’ll get at her again. He knows where her parents live.”

“Is this Revesby?” Adriano asks. “The Latvian?”

“That’s the one.”

“He fucked up a drop last year. Seems like the asshole’s more valuable dead than alive.”

“Yeah, but he’s with Enzo’s crew. We don’t need the drama.”

Bobby pulls out his phone and checks something. “He’s got a few days off next week. Marco could take him to Atlantic City. Accidental overdose.”