Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

D eclan

"We have to be prepared, Declan," Tommy says for the thirddamntime.

I sigh. "Tommy, we are as prepared as we need to be. The Serbians don't give a shit about our small business. They're out to strike at the Outfit. We need to stay the fuck out of it. Let them and the Bratva deal with it. The last thing they want or need is us getting into any of it."

"The Serbian was in Seamus's building. You're telling me that wasn't a move against us?"

For fuck's sake. "What fucking move exactly? He was in Seamus's building because Seamus was dumb enough to rent to him, and it's smack dab in the middle of Sabatini territory. The guy hit Outfit property only."

"I want more guns." He slams his hand on the table and pushes up from his chair to stand over me. Both hands are on the table, aggression in every bone in his body.

The other men in the room inhale fast, and no one breathes.

Tommy Anderson has long been a pain in my ass. His da and mine were cousins. He's still pissed I took over for my da. What really hit his pride was that I didn't take over for my da because it was expected—I was voted on by those at the top. The belief was that with my economics degree, I could work magic on our income.

Our money had been dwindling since the early 90's. The Good Friday Agreement wasn't signed because of a true desire to end the conflict. It's because the IRA was running out of money.

They fucked up and got in deep with the cartels out of South America. All the money made was supposed to go to fund the IRA for weapons and living. For years, money was made off liquor, gambling, and loan sharking. All fine and respectable ways of making money.

Until we started to get squeezed harder and harder by the cops. When they went after the Italian mafia, they indirectly caught our men, and business was lost.

We were never to touch coke. It was an edict from decades ago. But desperate times and all that shit. The half a ton of coke went missing.

No one ever found out if it was the cartel, someone in the IRA, or even a third party. The coke was supposedly on a tanker bound for the US for us to distribute in Chicago and Boston. But the boat never made it to the dock in Boston. It was never found. That single fuckup reverberated for a decade—until the IRA was dead broke. They signed the peace agreement to cover up our coffers were too empty to keep fighting .

What enraged Tommy the most was that I did turn things around. Many of the changes were small enough that most didn't feel them. The few big enough to impact deeply were made to Tommy's business. He's never forgiven me since.

"Sit down." I grind the words out.

He doesn't move for thirty seconds too long. When he finally does, sitting on the edge of his chair. I meet his angry eyes.

"Now is not the time for you or any of us to step into this shit. The Serbians torture and kill for fun. They don't care about us. You go around waving guns in their faces, and they'll kill you and everyone you've ever known. With two teenage girls who put their entire lives on social media, your family won't be hard to find. They won't do it with a bullet, quick and final. They'll take their time and make you watch."

Face flushed, he drops his eyes from mine.

"Declan isn't wrong, Tommy. The only thing us getting involved in this will get us is blood on us. Declan believes in Tony and Dominic Sabatini and the Outfit. I'm more inclined to trust in the Bratva. The Levins are ruthless, bloody bastards. The Serbians don't give a fuck about us, and we need to keep it that way." James, our shared uncle, is firm.

"Anyone else have something to say?" I ask the other men in the room. There is Ryan and two others, all here to protect and support our interests and launder our money before sending it to Ireland.

No one says a word.

"On your own heads, be it," Tommy mutters as he gets up and slams the door on his way out of the room .

"If there's nothing else." I nod to the door.

Everyone files out but James. He takes the seat in front of my desk again.

"I don't trust him anymore. He's itching for a fight. Against me, the Serbians, anyone willing to go up against him." I meet his eyes head-on.

James sighs and nods. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"You know exactly what the problem is." I'm not going to let him ignore it.

"I can't tell him who he can fuck."

"You can when she's feeding him coke and pumping him for money. Colm saw her at the store downtown, shopping like she had no limit. Tommy is paying for the two girls to be in private school and his wife's flights to Ireland every few months—flights she makes a point to tell everyone are only ever first class. Don't tell me he can keep up with the amount of money coming out on top of a working girl who probably still charges him every time she fucks him." We had this discussion when word got out Tommy was fucking a new girl in the building.

"What do you want me to do, Declan?"

"I want the girl dead. Cut off the need for money, limit it to just the coke, and force his ass off it."

James shakes his head. "Fuck, Coleen and Seamus yesterday and Sara today."

Sighing, I close my eyes. I don't like death. It gets messy, and violence should always be the last option. But I also don't hide from it. If it protects us in the long run, then it will happen. "Look, if I thought it was as simple as throwing money at her and sending her on her way, I would do it. I talked to Maeve last week. Sara is a greedy, grasping nut job. She's glad Sara is out of the building and doesn't want her back."

Maeve runs the girls in the building as far as keeping them clean and maintaining order among them.

Another shake of his head.

"If it's not Sara today, it's going to be Tommy soon," I warn him.

He squeezes his eyes closed. "You think he's going to blow everything up?"

"He's catching fire. When he explodes, it will hit us."

Opening his eyes, they meet mine. "I'll handle Sara."

I nod.

With a heavy sigh, he leaves.

The door barely has time to close before Ryan is back.

His sigh as he sits down matches my own. "Tommy is going to burn down to the ground, and he's going to take us down with him."

"That's what I told James, and he wants to argue against killing Sara."

He winces. "Sara? Dec, she's not the problem. Taking her out still leaves Tommy standing. Give him a minute, and he'll find a new Sara."

I shake my head. "I can hope like hell in the time it takes for him to find a new Sara, that James and Ronald can shake his ass right. Tommy has had these cycles of self-destruction for years."

"Which is exactly why it should be Tommy, not Sara."

"Fine. You think Tommy should be offed, go on with you. Talk to James. Talk to the old men." I encourage him.

His head goes down.

"Exactly. Because you know they'll never say yes unless Tommy steps into it up to his fucking neck. They have allowed one man in this to be killed since it all began. They're not going to okay Tommy."

"Sorry," he mutters. "I just don't want?—"

"I don't either. If it were up to me, Tommy would be dead instead of Sara, but it's not. They'll say yes to Sara because she's no one, a pawn that stumbled onto the board. But as long as Tommy is someone we still need, he'll live. Until he loses his status as an asset."

Sending a hand through his hair, he nods. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Banshee, do you want to know where she ends up?"

I roll my eyes. "It's not a big fucking deal. She hurt Miranda, now she won't get a chance to do it again. That's all there is to it."

An eyebrow goes up. "You got it bad for her."

"Fuck you, get out of my damn office."

The bastard laughs as he follows the order.

Fuck him. I don't have it bad. Except fuck him, maybe I do as I give into need and check the cameras in my office.

Miranda fills the screen, and my cock turns to stone at the sight of her. Her head is bent over the books as she keys numbers into the calculator. Fuck, I'm so screwed at how turned on I am simply following the line of her elegant neck.

I'm impressed by how quickly she enters the numbers without taking her eyes off the ledger. I hate how her forehead is lined, yet there are so few lines from smiling around her sexy mouth. Last night, when she laughed about Banshee, she made my cock so hard it ached. Her laugh was husky and somehow sweet at the same time. I want more of that, her laughing, her smiles.

Shit. My cock is thickening simply thinking of it. I close out of the cameras before I give into need and jerk off like a kid with a crush.

It's waiting in my email. I'm never shocked by how quickly Valdez completes a task. The first thing is on the man's combative divorce. An idiot, he didn't get a prenup, and the soon-to-be ex is trying to get every dime.

My skin gets tight. Does Miranda know? Would she care?

There are pictures from the wedding, a huge, expensive affair that happened less than a month after their divorce was final. Interesting, considering something like that would take at least a year to plan. Miranda said he paid more for her to sign and go away—because he had a deadline.

Even if I'm not sure why it matters, I'm relieved she took back her maiden name. He's tall, blond, and has blue eyes. He also looks at least ten years older than his age. I could see how a woman would think he was appealing. His middle is soft and has been since before they were married. The man sat behind a desk all day, and it showed.

I spend an hour in my home gym every day, lifting and using the gym bag more for stress than because I gave a shit about having a six-pack. However, Miranda definitely liked what she saw .

The new woman is a cheap version of Miranda. Her tits are fake, as are her teeth and hair. All paid for by him. Miranda wasn't exaggerating when she said he molded the woman into what he wanted. A blonde with blue eyes, she's only an inch shorter than him. I bet he thought he upgraded. Idiot. I'll wait to find out how the divorce goes before I decide if I'm going to kill him or not.

Valdez, ever helpful, lets me know if I want the man dead that he's willing to provide it as a service. Interesting. He runs what will likely become the largest private security firm in the world. While he has hackers who can find out what a person had for lunch one day ten years ago, they also perform special operations like killing a head of state, snatch and grabs of powerful people, and even saving hostages—that the government didn't want their fingerprints on. He has boots on the ground in every country in the world—except Antarctica—and including America.

Of course, he's going to have men willing to kill a civilian. It's simply that he's never offered the service to me before.

My phone rings, keeping me from finishing the file. If it were anyone but Aoife, I'd let it go so I could keep reading. "Yes, darlin'."

Her chuckle is a balm to my soul. "Well, I thought you should know since you men always make such a big deal of it. She will be indisposed, so I hope you'll tell me to do more to take care of her."

What the hell is she talking about? I flick back to the camera. Miranda isn't at the desk. "What?"

"I had to send her up to bed with a heating pad and go back out to get some things for her. Poor thing was most upset, worried about the dress, and embarrassed that she had forgotten the time. Then she railed against your high-handedness in keeping her here. "

It finally clicks. Fuck. I'm not a teen. A woman on her period doesn't bother me in the least. But with how uptight Miranda is, I'm positive it will make a difference to her. "You won't be letting her out now, will you?"

"Of course not. I trust you won't hurt the girl. If I want kiddos to tend to before I'm unable to enjoy them, then I need to let you talk her around. Another thing. She mentioned she liked to read, so I showed her the library. She was a kid in a candy store. Colm almost buckled under the weight of carrying them up to her room." She chuckles.

My jaw tightens at the picture Aoife paints of what a future could look like with Miranda. It does something crazy to the center of my chest that it's not far off from my own thoughts. Aoife, as a stand-in granny, would be a sight to behold. "Ensure you go with her request for dinner. If you don't feel comfortable making it, let me know, and I'll pick it up."

"Already done. An order has been placed at the Sabatini club. I ordered you the veal you love."

"Thanks." I end the call and stare at my phone for a hard minute.

The knock at the door pulls me out of my head. "Yeah."

Shannon opens the door. "Hey, Boss. Finn said to ask you now. I was hoping to get some time off. My sister is having her baby in a few weeks. Hoping to see her and the family for a week or so."

I lean back and study him. Shannon has worked for me for almost five years. Like all my men, he was sent over from Ireland by the old men. In the last year and a half, he's been to Ireland more than all the years combined. The excuse is family every time.

America might expect their people to work eighty hours a week and exist on only two weeks off a year. Companies in Ireland didn't. So I don't. I've done my best to give my men time off so they don't get burnt out and resentful—thinking they'd be better off back in Ireland.

If there were anyone stupid enough to steal from me, it would be Shannon. Except I can't fucking see it. I've watched the tapes from the gambling rooms so many times my eyes felt like they were melting. Then I put more cameras in and watched some more. Still, I found nothing.

What I want to do is clean house of everyone working in the gambling rooms. But if I do that, everyone will know people thought they could and managed to steal from me. The respect would be lost entirely. They would see the deaths as what they are—overkill for a dented pride. And the next to be hired would try it again.

I shake my head. "You've only been back from Dublin all of two months. I can't give you the time. I need you here. Maybe in another month or two."

His eyes are big and round, the same way they were when I took the ledger from the gambling room. There was still a page and a half left, he gasped out at me when he asked why I was taking them.

When I told him that they would need to be changed out sometime during the night and it would be more efficient to start a new book before the night got busy, he accepted it.

"It's just, my mam is going to kill me for not going. You know how mams are." Realizing what he said, he goes red. "Maybe you could look at James. I know he'll be a good hire. I'm willing to vouch for him. "

James is a friend of his he's made since coming to Chicago. Sending an eyebrow up at him, I stare at him until his head goes down. If the men don't come to me through the family of men already here, they come through the men in charge in Ireland. It's too much of a risk to trust men from here in America. I didn't care how far their family went back. "No."

"Okay. Um, all right. I'll be getting to work."

"Good." My phone rings, and I answer.

Aoife relays the day with Miranda and says, again, how much she likes Miranda. She takes the manicotti with sausage from Sabatini's she ordered for her dinner and tells me to be extra nice to Miranda as she indeed has a tough time of the month.

Once she's gone, I go upstairs to Miranda's room. I don't bother knocking because I have no doubt she'll tell me to go away.

"Hi," it's soft, almost timid from her.

She's lying on the bed with a book clutched to her chest. With her tousled blonde hair and soft eyes, it's clear she slept. Her beauty almost overwhelms me. Every time I see her again after being away from her, I wonder how she becomes more beautiful than I remembered her. Soft moss becomes a question.

"How are you feeling? Are you good to join me for dinner? If you want, I could bring yours up here." I don't move from the doorway, not trusting myself to get close to her. The last thing I want is to give her the option to hide from me…but Aoife's caution of treating her gently sends the words out of me .

Blushing, she stands. "I'm hungry. I was able to get a nap. I feel better. It's embarrassing. Aoife was acting like I'm an invalid."

"Everyone was given the order to see to your needs. Some women need a little more coddling during this week. There's nothing wrong with that."

I see the three large stacks of books at the foot of the bed. Curious, I study them. The library was started by my father. More than half of it is Irish writers of every genre. The rest are other authors of his preferred genre: mystery. She has a broad selection herself. Most of them are mysteries, with a few classics and a memoir.

"Is it okay, Aoife, let me pick some books out?" The question is concerned.

Nodding, I step back. "Yeah, of course. If I had known, I would have shown it to you before I left today."

Going downstairs, I follow her.

Colm appears from the library. "Everything good, Dec?"

"No," I wait until Miranda disappears into the dining room. "I want you to get with Liam and have him keep an eye on Tommy. I don't trust him."

Concerned. "Yeah, but Liam?"

I understand his worry. Liam is completely psychotic. He's benched right now for killing someone he was only supposed to beat so badly they wished they were dead. While he's benched from getting paid by me, he's loaned out and earns money taking hits in the city and into New York and sometimes in Ireland and England. As much as the old men didn't like me ordering a death, they liked having Liam as an option and bargaining chip in the underworld .

"Tommy won't be expecting Liam. Because he knows Liam is supposed to be benched." It's that simple. We don't have nearly as many men as I would like. While I hoped to add a few more, others are more cautious.

Colm nods and leaves.

Aoife had removed everything from their package and placed it on plates before she left. Miranda is waiting at the dinner table in front of her plate.

"How are you doing on the audit?" I ask as I sit down. More to fill the silence than because I care.

She sighs. "It's slower than I would like. I was hoping to finish last year today, but I'm nowhere near it. Since you said you think it's been happening for the last two months, I'm going to focus on three months prior to this time last year. They aren't going to match even if there wasn't any theft, but it gives me a kind of baseline to gauge. After dinner?—"

"You'll go back upstairs and rest." I cut in.

"The sooner I finish, the sooner I can go home. I'm not going to be able to relax."

"I can think of something to help you relax." I tease her.

Hazel eyes roll. "You're such a man. And…"

"For the record, it doesn't bother me in the least. If you're up for it, I will always be."

A blush sweeps up to her ears. "That's gross." She shakes her head.

"No, it's not. Also, a strong orgasm will help your cramps. I'll be happy to show you. Unlike your ex-husband. I'm still wondering how much money he had for you to marry him?— "

"It wasn't about his money." She's spits out at me. Eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Yes, I was attracted to the life he lived as it was the one I wanted to make for myself. But it wasn't only his money. Like I said, he was persistent in getting me to date him?—"

Shit. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. You're just so beautiful you could have waited for a man you did care for."

"I don't know. What you said today about hoping you didn't love someone like your dad loved your mom…" She blinks fast as she looks away. "I felt that way too. For years, I told myself boys and all that stuff would wait until after I got the full-ride scholarship to college I would need to get there. Then, it became after I finished college. A part of me was looking at Michael as we were getting married and wanted to run because I was thinking I didn't want it. Not because of him but because it was marriage. It was supposed to be forever."

"Did it end badly?" I would kill him with a smile on my face if he hurt her.

Her sigh is heavy. "When I was given a promotion that would require me to travel, he told me I couldn't take the job. And I was done. I took the job. The very next day, he turned off and tuned me out completely. As far as he was concerned, it was over. He started to do his own thing, which included other women. When he found one he liked best because she was young and stupid enough to be his new toy to shape and mold, he moved on."

She shakes her head. "The only thing I regret was not being the one to walk away. I stayed even though I knew it was over. There was a part of me too afraid of what life would be like outside of my marriage. It was safe. In the end, I was relieved when he left. Even though I thought I was safe, really, I was suffocating. Once he was gone, I could finally breathe again. "

"So he did not break your heart, my dear?" I have to know for sure. Once she finds out about his divorce, would she want another chance?

"I did care about him, but I never loved him—not even a little. It was my fault, too. I married him not sure I loved him. I believed it would come, and that wasn't fair to him either."

The relief is more intense than I imagined it would be. "Love and marriage. My uncle tells me marrying for love is the stupidest thing a person can do. My da told me it was the only way to marry despite not even liking my mother when they married. Who is to say what's the best way of doing it?"

She purses her lips in thought. "I mean, love was never a consideration hundreds of years ago. But at the same time, marriage is hard enough not to do it with someone you don't truly care about. What about you? How did you marry someone it didn't sound like you even liked?"

I hate the idea of telling her. In case she uses it against me later. Except she deserves to know. "It was my da's doing. He wanted me to take over from him. And I would need to be married to do it. Now, I think he probably heard his ticker acting up, and he knew it was coming."

Her eyes are filled with pity that I pretend I don't see.

"He went to Ireland and came back with the perfect bride, he said often. I think he believed that since she was younger, it would be easier for us to grow together. Her family is in the thick of our business in Ireland. So she knew how things were to go."

I shake my head as I remember that first meeting. "She was too young, though. When she came to Chicago, she did everything she could to put herself in the best light. All I cared about was she understood my life and wouldn't whine about it. She said she did. It didn't last long. My da kept urging me to give her time. I didn't and ended up pushing her away."

"Marriage isn't easy. Maybe your dad was urging you to because he and your mom went through the same thing."

"Hm, I don't know. I never saw my parents struggle with anything in their marriage. Then again, I was only a kid. There's no telling what went on behind closed doors. Tell me, what led you to go into accounting and not into business with your ex-husband?" I want to know everything about what went on in that mind of hers.

"Michael did suggest a switch, but I had a plan. I researched what degree would allow me to be my own boss and be in control of my work and workday. No matter what, people need an accountant, even if it's just at tax time. I had plans that once children came along, I could maybe work part-timeor open my own business. I wanted something that would allow me the most options wherever my life would take me. I was lucky that once I went into the program, I actually liked it." A trace of sadness is in her eyes.

"At least there weren't any children to muddy the water and make the divorce complicated." I offer, hating the sadness.

Her sigh is wistful. "And there never will be. I wouldn't have minded if…"

"What happened?" I'm not certain why a knot is forming in my stomach.