“Take it.” He said it with neither scorn nor bad feeling. “Spencer, there’s no future in selling cars like these round here. The moment’s gone.”

Spencer watched him cross over Third and turn into Beech. He looked down at the money—and then up at the MGM Grand.

Johnny Boy’s SUV pulled up on Beech. McGrath got in.

“Sonofabitch! Don’t be saying I told you so about Rosso,” he said.

Johnny Boy shrugged. Not part of his job spec.

“How were you so sure?” asked McGrath.

“Busted on two of his drops in the last month. Didn’t tell me about either of them. I heard from AtoB on the first one and I’ve had the Yo-Yo on his ass since. When I checked back through all our shit with Sheila, you were supposed to be with him on both but something came up last minute.”

“Cops might be wise to the car. Looking to take a little dirty money off the street.”

“They didn’t take the money.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they didn’t take the money. It was dirty as hell and a big-assed hunk of it. No explanation for it being in the trunk of his car. They didn’t bother. Why would that be if it isn’t because they wanted your ass?”

McGrath was silent for a moment. “Rosso’s been with us for a while. Never been any issue. Delivered a lot and picked up a lot.”

“And now he’s getting old. Cal says he’s been going on about getting a house in Anchorville. Quiet life. Maybe he’s gotten a little pension conscious.”

Haven’t we all, thought McGrath. “We need to be sure.”

“We are sure, Dom. When he left River Rouge this morning, Cal told him he’d be taking you on this next drop-off. Made sure he had a phone. Then, when I told him Zeb was going with him instead, he seemed rattled. And I took his phone off him, so he couldn’t send any messages, couldn’t stop the ball he must’ve started rolling when he left River Rouge.”

McGrath sighed. “He dead too?”

“Nope. Bullet straight through his chest. Might need a colostomy bag if he gets out.”

“He’ll need more than that.”

They watched Spencer get out of the car and head into the casino.

“No way he isn’t for real,” commented McGrath.

“Does that matter anymore? Rosso was our snitch. We could look in-house for his replacement?”

“Rosso was good. Spencer could be better. I need the best.”

“All to make this Max Petrovsky thing work?”

McGrath turned to Johnny Boy. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.