“So, I’m a little short right now.”

“If you do this job for me, I’ll split my fee with you.”

Sean had been working on and off as a private investigator for nearly four years, starting right after he’d washed out of the police academy-or, more accurately, got kicked out for chronic insubordination. Of the six brothers, Sean was the odd one, quiet, reserved and fiercely private. The only people he truly felt comfortable with were his brothers, and half the time they couldn’t figure out what was going on in his head-especially in the past year or so.

Sean had built his business on tailing cheating spouses and deadbeat dads. He supplemented his income by tending bar at their father’s South Boston pub. And when he needed help, he usually called on his little brother. Liam could always use an extra buck or two.

Sean made a perfect P.I. He was always silently watching those around him. Their eldest brother, Conor, was known as the steady one, and Dylan, the strong one. Brendan had always been a dreamer, an adventurer. Sean’s twin, Brian, liked the spotlight, and was confident and gregarious.

And then there was Liam. His place in the family had been carved out early on. Liam was known simply as the charmer, the pretty boy who breezed through life with more friends and admirers than he could count. Though Liam had always considered his social skills rather ordinary, people just seemed to be drawn to him. Early on, he had learned how to read people. He could see inside their heads and understand exactly what they wanted from him. And if he needed something in return, he would give them what they wanted. Sometimes it was nothing more than a smile or a compliment or simple reassurance. His brothers called it charm.

Maybe that’s what made him a good photographer. He could look through a lens and see a story inside the people he photographed-all their fears and conflicts and doubts. He knew what the public wanted to see in a photograph and he gave that to them. Unfortunately the photo editors at the Boston Globe considered his work a bit too “artistic” for a daily newspaper. “Just give me a news photo,” his editor would say, “not a damn masterpiece.”