He'd cut our Algebra teacher a little last year and gotten sent away.But he was back now, and we were a full posse now. The guy lying on the floor was...Jack Hardy, a member of the worst family in Redcreek. He had about seven brothers who were all bad asses in some way or another. But that hadn't crossed our minds. My temper was boiling at the thought of his filthy hands on Lady, and I was guessing Jim felt the same."So, bitch, you havin' fun yet?" Slicker asked, flicking the ashes from his. “201 Maple St., Chelsea ... the FBI building,” I told him. He didn’t look well on hearing this.“You’re sure you want to go there?” he asked rather nervously.“You can drop me off near there. I’ll find my way back,” I told him.“Okay, lady,” he said as he dropped the meter flag.The trip wasn’t that long, but the traffic, getting out of Southie and on the interstate, and then off again plus the maze of streets in the area required someone who knew his way around Boston, which was something that I. More

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